My friend Chad Boliek turned what might have been a criticism into an advantage. Recall my having mentioned in a recent column that I had planned and planted misuses of the English language?
That week I received numerous e-mails, phone calls and hand-delivered responses to these assaults on the language, several people having caught expressions like “a blessing in the skies” and “cut off my nose despite my face.” But others, like Anne Kennedy, went beyond what I said was a deliberate misuse and corrected things I had not intended to be erroneous.
Well, after a lifetime of looking under rocks for comma splices, dangling modifiers and run-on sentences, I’ve almost reached the conclusion that one can justify virtually anything. Remember when beginning a sentence with “and” or “but” was verboten? Now we see it often, especially in advertising copy.
And a series of columns could be devoted just to the differences between what we in journalism refer to as AP Style and other manuals of style, often used by English teachers. Why do journalists omit the underline, the bracket and the serial comma, as I just did here? And why do English teachers insist on the serial comma (sometimes called the Harvard Comma) in sentences like “Eat, drink, and be merry”?
But back to Chad: When I told him some readers had found errors I hadn’t planted, he said, “That’s good! That way you can always claim that all the errors were deliberate. It’s called ‘covering your “assets.”’”
That last sentence, by the way, demonstrates a quote within a quote within a quote, a rare punctuational feature.
So, having revealed the error of my phrase and having done the mea culpa mambo, I now refer to a couple of interesting language uses on KFUN, Monday, which go under the rubric of “Did they really mean that word?”
Luna Community College president Pete Campos was on radio discussing the success some Luna students have enjoyed after setting out in the world. I don’t have the transcript with me, but I believe he referred to alumni who have “acquired ‘notoriety.’”
To which we ask, “Is that the word you wanted, Senator?” Notoriety does indeed refer to being well-known. But for what? For some bad quality or deed.
Al Capone was certainly well-known, and it was difficult to identify him without tacking on “notorious.” But that was for bad deeds. “Notoriety” is not synonymous with “popular,” or well-known.
So, let’s hope the deeds of our students after leaving LCC make the doers well-known, but not notorious.
Now is that the word Jesus Lopez intended? Lopez, who hosts a history program that follows that of Campos, was discussing former politicians, including President Lyndon Johnson. Lopez mentioned political movers and shakers, saying one of them “changed the complexity of America.”
To which we ask Lopez, “Is that the word you wanted?” We’ve been trained to expect the metaphor of “complexion” when it comes to sweeping changes. “Complexion” doesn’t refer solely to Clearasil. Had America of the ‘60s become exceedingly complex, and with a swipe of his veto pen, did Johnson change all that?
We all understand that “changing the complexion” of something represents broad, sweeping revisions, but “complexity” and “complexion” are not the same.
Both men, we all know, are extremely articulate, which makes me unable to phantom why they slipped up on those words.
• • •
What ages a language cop? What about gratuitous apostrophes writers sprinkle on words the way people pour pounds of pepper on their Huevo’s Rancheros.
Actually that breakfast item was the subject of an e-mail from Sara Harris, a fellow language observer, who wrote about ordering Huevo’s Rancheros during a family trip to Denver last week.
Sara says “‘Huevo’s Rancheros’ is the way it appeared on the menu.” An apostrophe in “huevo’s” indicates possession. It’s as if the eggs held a warranty deed, with the rancheros being their property.
But Sara explains it better:
“The huevo’s rancheros were very tasty. I don’t know about the huevos themselves.” So, the meal must have consisted of the rancheros that belonged to the eggs. As long as something was tasty, the meal was probably worth it.
• • •
The first time I heard “cahoots” was as a child. My older sisters, Dolores and Dorothy, were talking about classmates at Immaculate Conception School. “Those girls are really in cahoots,” one of them said. Hearing that word made me think of something nefarious. What is a cahoot? Is it something like a cootie, perhaps something you eat, like chicos, or a beat-up car, like a jalopy? Is cahoots a place, a state of mind perhaps?
It took some study to discover that the classmates in cahoots weren’t feuding, but colluding, conspiring secretly. The dictionary describes the word as “informal,” adding that the joint effort of those in cahoots is often unethical, shady, questionable or illegal.
So, for my part, I’d rather simply share secrets or even conspire with another than actually to be “in cahoots” with that person.
Veronna (Ronni) Roberts recently sent an e-mail on cahoots, and much more. The item is too lengthy to cover here, but some of its salient parts follow:
“I have been in many places, but I’ve never been in Cahoots. Apparently you can’t go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.”
Roberts’ e-mail covers diverse language expressions, such as “being in Cognito,” “being in Sane,” “being in Doubt” and “being In Flexible.”
Roberts will probably share the full e-mail with whoever requests it, rather than keeping readers “in Suspense,” wherever that is.
Funny, thanks.