Learn less interesting stuff like density, chemistry and all that rot at its entry in WebElements and its entry at Chemicool.
Whaddya mean, ``normally open''??!!!
Used to be a member of EFTA; like Iceland it has stayed out of the EU.
Here's the Norway page of an X.500 directory.
There's a Laurel-and-Hardy movie where Ollie rhetorically asks Stan Laurel (the generally sheepish one) if he knows how to spell ``not.'' Stan spells it out in response: ``en, oh, ott.''
In Italy, the Laurel-and-Hardy movies were long-ago dubbed using bad accents (i.e., the accents of Anglophones with poor ability to pronounce Italian). Even today, the Anglophone accent in Italian is known as lorelenardi.
(The definition was once a tone-setting feminist slogan.)
How's the weather on the sun, aside from hot? Find out here.
Oh.
They (mostly Xe) do form a small number of not-very-stable compounds, as well as some plain unstable compounds called excimers. Another way that noble-gas atoms can be bound chemically is in endohedral fullerenes -- fullerenes with nonbonded chemical species inside. The common notation for a Xe inside the standard 60-carbon fullerene is Xe@C60 (and it's a tight fit; He@C60 rattles around).
The closed electronic structure makes atoms of these elements chemically very unreactive -- hence the adjective ``noble''. They are also commonly called ``inert gases'' and ``rare gases,'' but these terms are better thought of as descriptions than names. The term ``inert gas'' can be ambiguous because it (and ``inert atmosphere'') are sometimes applied to non-oxidizing gases or to gases that are nonreactive in a particular situation (including nitrogen, carbon dioxide and even hydrogen, depending on context). The term ``rare gas'' is of questionable accuracy: helium, the lightest noble gas, is the second-most common element (at least of normal matter) in the universe, even if it is relatively rare on earth. Argon is 1% of the atmosphere by volume.
Another consequence of the spherically symmetric and ``rigid'' electronic structure is that their mutual van der Waals interactions are weak, so they have very low boiling and melting points (hence ``gases'').
[In fact, 4He does not even have a solid phase at ordinary pressure for any temperature. It undergoes a transition from a normal liquid state to a superfluid phase at 4.3 K. The superfluid phase is a sort of macroscopic equivalent of an atomic ground state: just as quantum mechanically, an atom in its ground state cannot lose energy even though it has positive kinetic energy, so the superfluid fraction of helium-4 does not lose energy by fluid friction. Yes, that's oversimplifying things a bit. For reassuringly normal behavior, raise the pressure to 26 atmospheres, and helium-4 solidifies just below 1 K.]
The noble gases are the group of elements in the rightmost column of standard periodic tables: group 8A in the sensible CAS group numbering traditionally used in the US and 18 in the stupid IUPAC compromise group numbering adopted in 1985.
Resistance to oxidation arises from multiple causes, but these can be broadly classed as thermodynamic and kinematic. Thermodynamics determines whether the oxidation is energetically favorable, kinematics determines how fast a thermodynamically favored oxidation will occur. Many metals, including gold and such non-noble metals as the pure metal aluminum and the alloys called stainless steels, form a thin but dense layer of oxide that prevents further oxidation. Hence oxidation of the bulk is prevented under conditions where it might be thermodynamically favorable.
Kinematic factors can depend dramatically on the oxidants and nonmonotonically on their densities, so they're a bit tricky to quantify. If you want a simple guide to just how noble an element is, thermodynamics is a better bet. In particular, I recommend the reduction potential, since I have a list of reduction potentials of common metals handy:
| Reduction Half-Reaction | Standard Reduction Potential (volts) |
|---|---|
| Au+(aq) + e- --> Au(s) | +1.83 |
| Pt2+(aq) + 2e- --> Pt(s) | +1.19 |
| Ir3+(aq) + 3e- --> Ir(s) | +1.16 |
| Pd2+(aq) + 2e- --> Pd(s) | +0.99 |
| Hg+(aq) + e- --> Hg(s) | +0.80 |
| Ru2+(aq) + 2e- --> Ru(s) | +0.8 |
| Ag+(aq) + e- --> Ag(s) | +0.80 |
| Rh3+(aq) + 3e- --> Rh(s) | +0.76 |
| Cu+(aq) + e- --> Cu(s) | +0.52 |
| Bi3+(aq) + 3e- --> Bi(s) | +0.32 |
| 2H+(aq) + 2e- --> H2(g) | +0.00 |
| Pb2+(aq) + 2e- --> Pb(s) | -0.13 |
| Sn2+(aq) + 2e- --> Sn(s) | -0.14 |
(Many of the metals listed have other oxidation states; I have given the reduction potentials for half-reaction from the lowest positive oxidation number.) Positive reduction potentials essentially correspond to oxidizing agents rather than reducing agents. Metals with positive reduction potentials do not react with ordinary acids to yield hydrogen gas. (Sulfuric acid is another story -- it's not just a strong acid but also an oxidizing agent.) Generally, more positive reduction potentials mean higher resistance to oxidation. Hence, a reasonable definition of noble metals might be those with reduction potentials above a particular value.
A better-defined group of elements including gold is its column of elements in the periodic table, sometimes called the ``coinage metal.''
``Good night'' in Spanish is buenas noches, literally `good nights.' I have no idea why. ``Good day'' can be done with either number: buen día or buenos días.
If making no comment by not commenting is too difficult for one's spokesman, perhaps the solution is to have no spokesman (spokesperson? spoker?) at all. As of 2007, Senator Hillary Clinton has a number of spokers. One is her Senate spokesman, Philippe Reines. Commenting in May on two new biographies of Clinton, Reines asked ``Is it possible to be quoted yawning?'' (``Aw-oouahhh''?)
In Joseph Heller's Good As Gold, the hero electrifies (it's a metaphor, okay?) a White House flack by coining the original phrase ``I don't know.'' Later, a presidential spokesman deploys this work of rhetorical art during a press conference, and everyone is stunned. I'm working from memory here, so some details may be off.//
/**/
There used to be an advertising campaign for a cigar: a heart attack waiting to happen -- a sedentary suit, unconcerned by his BMI, planted on a plush leather chair -- would issue the stirring ad slogan: ``We're gonna getcha.'' He meant that you couldn't resist becoming a White Castle cigar smoker. As if their tobacco were addictive or something. Hah! Usually, when somebody smiles confidently and says that ``we're gonna getcha,'' it's not a friendly smile. The we refers to less retiring persons who have been delegated the task of ``getting you,'' possibly with some discretion as to how they instantiate or ``concretize'' the relatively vague promise.
This is a meaty topic. I'll fill in some more stuff later.
Oh wait -- I think it was White Owl cigars, not White Castle. Whatever.
Some of you more inquisitive readers are probably wondering why this particular phrase. It doesn't look like a take-home exam problem. I was not vouchsafed this information. I provided the Latin translation on a don't-ask-don't-tell basis. Furthermore, the resemblance of the Latin verb sistere and the English word sister is purely coincidental, and does not reflect any special message tailoring on anyone's part.
Hmm -- I can see that some of you more inquisitive types just won't give up. You want to know ``well then, what was the sex of your email correspondent''? Look, you must realize that if I start giving out detailed information like that you'll be able to guess the identity of the person who made the query. Then, given your filthy imagination, you will probably go and destroy this probably-innocent coed's reputation. Therefore I vow to tell you nothing about my correspondent unless you drag it out of me.
It's important to know that there's a singular-plural distinction even in the imperative. If she had been commanding more than one person to not stop, she would want to say Nolite sistere! I provided this information just in case (JIC). Things have been known to get kinky at that school.
BTW, there are other verbs that translate `stop,' and slightly milder ways of expressing an imperative (specifically, by using the ``jussive'' sense of the subjunctive; `may you not stop').
In his nomenclature essay, Price was concerned with the direct psychosocial consequences of certain names; how these exert an irresistible force on one's fate. For example: ``Cora has good posture and a severe hairdo.'' He notes that, as a 1920's Roger, he had been destined to a life of near-sighted studiousness and giving the class oration at high school commencement. (In clear confirmation of his prediction, these things had in fact already come to pass. My own research has determined that Norberts are at high risk of becoming dix-huitièmistes. See also our advisory on Virginia at the NJCA entry.) Price failed to adduce another strong piece of evidence for his hypothesis: the well-known cases of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Woodrow Wilson, and Werner Erhard (the est guy), who changed their names and their lives. Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. (A bit more on Woody and Werner at the electrical banana entry. BTW, Mad Libs came into the world as Roger Price was in the kitchen carving a banana. Bananas have the highest humor content of any tropical fruit.)
The meanings Price was concerned with had little to do with the original meanings of the names -- their etymologies. If you want to know about given-name etymologies, the site to visit is Behind the Name. See also IncompeTech's NameDB.
Not really appropriate to this entry, but I don't have another place to list them right now, are The Funny Name Server and Name of the Month. See also the Kabalarian Philosophy Home Page (``Teaching the Principles of Mental Freedom''). The Kabalarian Philosophy is similar to the idea of this entry, but they seem to be in dead earnest, so I concede they might be a lot funnier. On the other hand, we are informative.
This glossary entry is concerned with names that have an evident meaning, whether that is the same as the original meaning or not, where those names have operated magically, molding their bearers so that the names would come to be ironic commentary.
One way or another, the idea that the meaning of a name affects its bearer
has a classical provenance:
Nomen est omenoccurs in a battuta of a comedy of Plautus. (Persa 623 ss.)
Agricola's most famous work, De Re Metallica, was published in 1556, when he was already sleeping with the minerals. Yes, that was a lame joke. We know -- we're experts at that sort of thing. We only included it here because we want to expose you to every kind of humor (diverse humor includes differently-abled humor, ha, ha). Otherwise, we'd have written that it wasn't about the rock group. That would have had you ROTFL, because it puns both on Metallica and rock group. (It would have. It hasn't because of the timing. We know. Another thing about timing: Georg Agricola was a near contemporary of Paracelsus, another physician. Paracelsus was the first great champion of medicinal chemistry. The novelty of Paracelsus's idea might be inferred from the fact that Agricola, a physician interested in chemical processes (in mining and metallurgy) wrote little or nothing about medicinal chemistry. Then again, Agricola wrote only what he knew; Paracelsus went beyond what he knew and so was able to say a great deal (pretty much all of it nonsense, alas).
Oh wait -- his name was German: Georg Bauer. (Bauer meant `peasant'; in Latin translation he gave himself a free upgrade.) So his books were actually by Georgius Agricola -- the mixed German and Latin is sloppy and misleading. Hmmph. Oh well.
De Re Metallica was Englished by Herbert Clark Hoover (an engineer who became famous as organizer of relief efforts in Europe after WWI and later became president of the US) in collaboration with his wife Lou Henry Hoover. (And look, if a girl gets Henry as her surname, how much sense does it require to avoid giving her a name like Lou as well? People surnamed Henry should be able to see this coming and make appropriate preparations.) The Hoovers also collaborated on an English translation of the De Architectura of Vitruvius Pollio.
There's a Georg-Agricola-Gesellschaft, e.V. (founded in 1926), but it's not primarily about him. It's ``zur Förderung der Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften und der Technik'' (`for the advancement of the history of the natural sciences and technology').
Alpha was founded because of the high quality and quantity of limestone deposits found there. The limestone attracted the cement industry, which flourished in the early part of the twentieth century. Alpha was incorporated in 1911 and is named after the Alpha Portland Cement Company.
I should probably clarify the ``first municipality you notice'' thing. It has to do with geometry, but the details will have to wait until the next time I'm east-bound in that area. I really want to clear this priority thing up and find out which is the real alpha town, but all I can tell you now is what I witnessed the last time I left New Jersey on I-78. Near the 3.8 mile marker, there's a sign announcing that you're entering the township of Hopatcong. Then, just 0.4 miles later: ``Entering the Boro of Alpha.'' But wait-- at the 2.8 MM, ``Entering the Twp. of Hopatcong.'' I didn't realize I'd left. But Alpha comes roaring back! Again after just 0.4 miles: entering Alpha. Things quiet down. At 1.8 miles, no Hopatcong riposte, 1.4 miles, 1 mile, looks like Alpha is going to take it to the finish line. But wait! At 0.8 miles -- Hopatcong! The tension mounts! Help me, Dashboard Jesus, I can hardly steer! At 0.6 miles, 0.5 miles, Alpha is silent. It's 0.4 miles, still haven't seen a sign, 0.3 .... The bridge is coming into view, still no new entering sign. Is this it? Just before the bridge -- I see a sign! A SIGN! Hang on tight -- it's gonna be a cliffhanger! At 0.1 miles, just feet from the shore, I see -- ``Entering... the town of Phillipsburg''! Gasp! It's over! It's alll over!! Oh my heart! Omigod! Ohh--mega!
(For those of you who sincerely care: I-78 bypasses Alpha in a semicircle around the south. It avoids the residential streets but goes through a couple of arms of the roughly star-shaped incorporated area.)
Jonathan T. Schmitz, a waiter in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, agreed in 1995 to appear on the Jenny Jones talk show, where he was told that he would learn the identity of a secret admirer. When the show was taped in Chicago on Monday, March 6, he learned that his acquaintance Amedure was the secret admirer. According to Jim Paratore, president of Telepictures Productions (which produced the show), ``We observed nothing confrontational or any signs of embarrassment between any of the guests before, during or after the taping.''
On account of adverse publicity or whatever, that show was never aired, but it was screened by the jury in Schmitz's trial for murder the next year. During the show, Amedure outlined his sexual fantasies about Schmitz, which involved "whipped cream and champagne" and focused on Schmitz's ``cute, little hard body.'' All members of the jury agreed that they observed signs of embarrassment.
Schmitz said later that he thought he had handled the situation well and was putting it behind him. On Thursday morning, Schmitz found a note attached to his apartment door. The note ``contained sexual references,'' as they say. (That makes me think of C++, but I'm pretty perverted.) In reaction, Schmitz bought a 12-gauge shotgun and five rounds of ammunition, and drove to Amedure's Orion Township, Mich., mobile home, confirmed that Amedure had written the note, and shot him twice in the chest, allegedly. I like to add ``allegedly'' because it shows that I'm being careful to cover my ass. Don't want to be provocative.
Interestingly, there's another, unrelated guy with the same name -- Lance Armstrong -- who also races for the USPS team, though not as successfully. He gets regular autograph requests. (You wouldn't think it'd be a likely mistake for fans to make, since he's a black man and the famous Lance Armstrong is a blonde, but I guess the name is everything. Or maybe we've finally achieved the true ``color-blind'' society!) Knowing the post office, they probably get each others' mail as well. Evidently there's something about the name that predisposes one to bike race for the post office.
I don't believe in Peter Pan,
Frankenstein, or Superman.
-- ``Bicycle Race'' (Queen)
And on the subject of surprising final aitches, don't forget Jean Anouilh.
Well, I guess I'll tell you more about it later. Right now I feel a sore throat coming on.
The image at right shows Shelley Long and Harry Baals on the set of the NBC show ``Cheers'' in 1984. Shelley Long is the one to the left. Hmmm. I think maybe the guy with her is actually the actor Ted Danson. I guess I don't have a picture of Harry Baals. I can't honestly say that bothers me very much.
Also not shown at right is Britney Spears. Why do I mention Britney Spears? The reason I mention Britney Spears, and Britney Spears images in particular, is that if you have (or even just mention) pictures of Britney Spears on your web page, you can increase your hit count. This is what's called ``shameless promotion.'' It's nothing special, and I didn't invent it. I should probably mention Brittany Speers as well -- it'll rank high in searches on the misspelled name. If you want to know how to spell her name (it's an odd variant), go to Britney's record producer's official webpage and see Britney Spears's name written in big letters. They also have pictures of Britney's album covers.
December 2, 2001: I just checked on Google: the ``Brittany Speers'' thing
hasn't worked so well -- this page only ranked thirteenth out of ``about
193'' (most of those unintentional mispellings). I'm going to type it
in a third time now and see what happens: Brittany Speers.
Oh yes: nekkid.
It's obvious that you just can't get enough of this stuff. Go see the Alana Miles entry.
April 14, 2002: We're up to third of ``about 706.'' YES! (Google is trying hard to help steer people to pages with the name spelled properly, but we know you're looking for us.) And we'll also try to get you with brittany spears.
In 1959, Mr. Ball founded an advertising and PR agency in Worcester, Massachusetts. In 1963, one of his clients, State Mutual Life Assurance Company of America, asked him to help with the reassurance of workers in the wake of a merger. According to Ball's claim, corroborated by issues of the Worcester Times & Gazette of that time, and by State Mutual Life company records, that was the beginning of the smiley face. It stands to reason: the meaningless smiley originated as a meaningless feel-good PR gesture substituting for a substantive assurance of continued work or placement and transition help? Oh well. State Mutual Life is now Allmerica Financial Corporation. Ball recalled that he was paid $45 for his artwork and never applied for a trademark or copyright. At least he wasn't fined.
According to the AP, the smiley's popularity peaked in 1971, when fifty million smiley buttons were sold. In 1999, the USPS issued a smiley-face stamp. Who says there isn't a distinctive American culture?
In 1989, Charlie Alzamora stepped forward to dispute Ball's claim of priority. You wouldn't think, by that time, it would be anything that anyone outside the post office would want to claim credit for. Alzamora, by then program director for New York radio station WMCA (AM 570; I don't think it had religious programming in those days), told the New York Times that a happy face with a slightly crooked smile was developed by the station in 1962 as a promotion for its DJ's. The face, with the slogan ``the WMCA good guys,'' was printed on thousands of sweatshirts distributed by the station.
They say that success has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan. This must be an exceptional case.
In an interview with Reuters, she explained that ``It's fine if they're uncomfortable but it's still discrimination.'' But apparently it's not fine if she's uncomfortable.
He's a vegetarian and very active animal-rights advocate. He co-hosted the 1986 PATSY awards with a dog named Mike.
When you consider the position of the hands, barajar naipes (`to shuffle cards') resembles Christian prayer. Maybe the Spanish word comes from the Arab-speaking Muslim world, as playing cards themselves did. (Okay, Corominas y Pascual reject an Arabic origin, which proves that if barajar has an Arabic origin, they're wrong.) Arabic, another Semitic language, has a cognate of the Hebrew root. The same Arabic word was adopted into Swahili, a Bantu language of coastal East Africa. Although Swahili is the native language of only a minority of Bantu-speakers, it is widely used as a commercial lingua franca. US Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) is the son of a Kenyan, and his first name means `blessed.'
It's plausible to speculate that Baroja is a ``New Christian'' name -- i.e., a surname of (Roman Catholic) Spaniards descended from converted Jews. It is much more probable that the name is simply derived from the place name Baroja (annexed to the municipality of Peñacerrada in the province of Álava). The name of Álava is derived from Basque and means `intermountain region.' Interestingly, however, Álava is a homophone of alaba (`[he] praises') except that the stress in the latter word is on the penult. Serafín Baroja, a mining engineer (born 1840 in San Sebastián), was a writer of popular cantos in Basque (lyrics that various others later set to music). I don't have to tell you what Serafín means and that it's derived from Hebrew, do I? Good.
Pío, also born in San Sebastián (Dec. 28, 1872), like his father had a practical profession but is remembered for his artistic work (novels and literary essays, mostly). He became a physician and practiced for two years in Cestona, but that life was too dull and he moved to Madrid. There he tried his hand at various businesses, and successfully established a bakery with his brother Ricardo (a painter and self-taught engraver). You don't need to know this, but then you don't need not to know it either. All you really need to know you learned in kindergarten, so stop reading and get back to work.
The first sentence of his Memorias is
Yo no tengo la costumbre de mentir.(`I am not in the habit of lying.') This may suggest to sensitive persons like me that he was an unselfaware scold. Referring in the memoir to the publication of El Árbol de la Ciencia in 1911, he noted that he put in it his concerns as a physician and as an amateur philosopher. He adds that this novel ``es el libro más acabado y completo de todos los míos, escrito en el tiempo que yo estaba en el máximo de energía intelectual.'' (That `it is the most finished and complete of all my books, written at the peak of my intellectual energies.')
The title El Árbol de la Ciencia is an obvious allusion to the Biblical ``tree of the knowledge of good and evil,'' so right there you've got your nomen-est-omen money's worth. (The title is the traditional, now archaic, expression of `The Tree of Knowledge.' See árbol entry for details.) The novel follows one Andrés Hurtado. Hurtado sounds like it ought to be related to huerto, `garden' (< Latin hortus), and therefore stand as another reference to the Garden of Eden. Then again, maybe not. Hurtado is a common surname in the Spanish-speaking world, so common that one never thinks of its meaning: `stolen' or `hidden.' Hanks and Hodges suggest that ``the reference was probably to an illegitimate offspring, whose existence was concealed, or to a kidnapped child. (Portuguese has the equivalent surname Furtado. Both surnames are the past participle of a verb -- hurtar, furtar -- ultimately derived from the Latin fur, `thief.')
Let's take a closer look at that novel, then (and let's call it Tree, which rhymes with brevity). The book follows Hurtado from the beginning of his medical education (hey -- write what you know). Paragraph three is this sentence:
Por una de estas anomalias clásicas de España, aquellos estudiantes que esperaban en el patio de la Escuela de Arquitectura no eran arquitectos del porvenir, sinó futuros médicos y farmacéuticos.[`By one of these classic anomalies of Spain, those students waiting in the courtyard of the Architecture School were not architects to be, but rather future physicians and pharmacists.']
It turns out that the general chemistry class for first-year students in medicine and pharmacy was taught in an old converted chapel, and that the entrance to that was via the Architecture courtyard. I mention this not because it is interesting in itself, but because it is not interesting in itself. It's not unusual in any large educational institution for classroom space to be taken where it can be found; to find in this some indication of Spanish singularity suggests a limited experience. It's too bad, because the novel fairly bursts with broad assertions about national and regional character which I wish I could pass along in good conscience. Instead, I shall have to pass them along with a bad conscience.
Yes, I will finish this entry, honest. Where did I put the book???!!
I found the book! Maybe later I'll use it.
Baroja is considered an important influence on Ernest Hemingway and on John Dos Passos. Hemingway is said to have adopted the ``spare realism'' of Baroja. This sort of thing is always relative. Cervantes was celebrated in part for his unwordy style. Look, not to take anything away from Cervantes or even Baroja, but Spanish as ordinarily spoken and written is often verbose and embellished and wordy. Any competent writer of any century who wants to maintain his readers' interest must write more tersely than average.
In Farsi, Ladan means nasturtium and Laleh means tulip. Ladan and Laleh were twin sisters born in Tehran on Jan. 17, 1974, conjoined at the head (two brains, joined skulls). They made headlines (sorry about that) around the world when they underwent an operation to become separate.
They took their gamble at the Raffles Hospital in Singapore. The operation began at 10 AM Sunday, July 6, 2003, with one team removing a vein from Ladan's thigh and another spending a reported six hours to saw through the skull. The vein was needed for grafting into Ladan's brain; conjoined, the twins shared one vein). On Monday evening, 32 hours into the operation, the grafted vein had blocked. This was not immediately fatal -- presumably because their circulatory systems were still joined and apparently because there were a number of collateral blood vessels. It was decided to continue the operation, and around noon on Tuesday they were separated and placed on separate operating tables. Then blood vessels in the bases of both of their brains burst, and despite strenuous efforts both died -- Ladan after 2 hours and Laleh 90 minutes later.
The preceding paragraph is the most coherent account of the operation that I was able to reconstruct from a review of press accounts at the time. There were a number of conflicting and even incomprehensible reports at the time, which I'll try to sort out later.
In a July 10 Op-Ed for the New York Times William Safire wrote: ``In the 19th century, Chang and Eng had no such choice, and lived out their lives as sideshow curiosities, often called monstrosities, though they managed to father 22 children. [SBF: I guess they spent a lot of time in bed.] In our time, two famed Iranian sisters, ...29-year-old law school graduates whose brains were linked in the womb... found a hospital in Singapore and a score of neurosurgeons willing to carry out [their] decision to risk their lives for physical independence.''
Alexis de Tocqueville, writing about the French monarchy, observed that when a regime tries to reform itself, it can trigger a revolution by kindling hope in those who had despaired: ``Patiently endured so long as it seemed beyond redress, a grievance comes to appear intolerable once the possibility of removing it crosses men's minds.'' The French revolution was also known for the separation of heads, by a procedure invented by one Doctor Joseph Ignace Guillotin.
The Bijani sisters returned to Iran in separate coffins.
According to the 2005 Encyclopedia Britannica, he was a ``French playwright whose works, linked with the avant-garde theatre, examined human relationships and found them doomed to failure.'' Love it.
His daughter Raphaëlle Biletdoux is a novelist and scriptwriter. A Virginie Billetdoux acted in various movies between 1974 and 1980 (mostly French, but the 1980 was Spanish), but that's as much as I know about her.
Milk of magnesia is a white suspension of magnesium hydroxide (Mg(OH)2) in water, used today as an antacid and mild laxative. Magnesia alba is magnesium carbonate (MgCO2). It's a mildly basic salt, rather than a base like milk of magnesia, so it's not very useful as an antacid, but it was a popular laxative at the time of Black's historic study.
Not that it has aught to do with any of this, but Joseph Black was a Scotsman born in Bordeaux. (That's in France, okay? My amusing observations are more amusing if you know enough to be mildly surprised.) His father and maternal grandfather worked there as factors (in the wine trade). Once in Procter Hall (the graduate college dining hall) I asked an economics Ph.D. student I was talking with what she was doing her dissertation on, and she said something like ``factors in widget production,'' although it wasn't widgets but something I've forgotten, lo, these 25 years later. So I said, approximately, ``oh, I know -- don't tell me -- factors are uh, uh... commissioned commercial agents!'' I was heartbreakingly pleased with myself for knowing this bit of economic arcana, but I hadn't guessed what she meant. She just gave me the look. On another occasion, in a different food service facility (The Debasement Bar, downstairs from the dining hall) a different economics graduate student (name withheld because I don't remember it) gave me a virtually identical look, and then explained it with the memorable words ``I can have any man I want here.'' [Believe me: I would not, could not, make this up.] She obviously understood the law of supply and demand, even if she could not recognize intellectual enthusiasm. So perhaps the factors woman's look meant the same thing -- it was in the same toxic male:female ratio.
And the point here is about mathematics. At the time it didn't occur to me to associate any mathematical sense of the word factor with economics, because economic behavior, like all human behavior, seems too slippery to make any very sophisticated mathematical analysis appropriate (I was right, of course). Joseph Black is remembered as the father of modern quantitative chemistry. (It's also said that he weighed the guineas his students paid to attend his popular courses.)
To those who are more concerned with post-Columbian civilizations, Dumbarton Oaks is best known as the site of high-level discussions among the major WWII Allies that led to the creation of the UN. These were officially known as the ``Washington Conversations on International Peace and Security Organization'' and better known by the short (I believe unofficial) name of ``Dumbarton Oaks Conference.''
Vocabulary word for this lesson: bob.
[Cue the falling calendar tear sheets to indicate the passage of time.]
Well, I checked some library catalogues, and it turns out that the Borings are an industrious tribe. So far, though, I've only found historians, a theologian, a probate lawyer (hmmm...looks promising), an agricultural entomologist, and a psychologist. I will keep digging.
[Cue the tick-tock sound to indicate the passage of time. Use some echo-chamber effect to make it sound a little ominous, build to anticlimax. Why are you reading this? These are the editing directions!]
You know, I think I was just confusing Dull and Boring. (But if you think I was just confusing, dull, and boring, why are you still reading?)
Well anyway, here's some of the Boring fare I found:
Boyle discovered that for a fixed quantity of gas at a constant temperature, pressure and volume vary inversely, publishing this fact in 1662. A mere quelques années plus tard (1676), the Frenchman Edme (Peter) Mariotte also discovered this law. For this reason, we all call it la loi de Boyle-Mariotte.
In October 2002, a 35-year-old man in Braunschweig was arrested for kicking his pet and biting it on the nose. He was reprimanded, and the dog,a black and white husky crossbreed, was put in a shelter to await a new owner. Considering that this was a classic case of man bites dog, it's surprising how little coverage this story received. Even the newswires didn't bite.
[Braunschweig is known as Brunswick in English. Both names are derived from the personal name Bruno (related to brown). The second part of the name (also spelled -wich in various English place names) comes from a widely-used Indo-European root for a collection of houses. The Latin reflex is vicus, `village, row of houses.']
The videos are advertised on late-night television and sold by mail-order and also what might be called mail-disorder. Also in July 2004, Mantra Films agreed to pay nearly $1.1 million to settle FTC claims that the company shipped video tapes or DVD's to people who had not ordered them, then billed these ``customers.'' (It's a lot like sample issues, free!)
As part of the settlement, the company pays more than $548,000 to people who received the materials and returned them but were not reimbursed for shipping costs. Money is due at least 84,000 victims. Mantra has gotten off too easily so far; there should be triple indemnity for fraud, and damages for harassment and emotional distress. As a society, we are sometimes not nearly litigious enough. As of August 2004, racketeering and other charges are pending against Francis in Florida.
After the 1945 season, the NFL-champion Cleveland Rams became the first pro football team to move to the west coast, becoming the LA Rams for 1946. Also in 1946, one of the most successful competitors of the NFL was created in the AAFC.
Paul Brown was already a college coaching legend when Art ``Mickey'' McBride, founder of the AAFC Cleveland team, hired him to be the first coach and named the team after him. Paul Brown was a great innovator, and one relatively innovative thing he did in 1946 was to hire a couple of brown-eyed players.
``Brown-eyed'' is a coy way of saying dark-skinned. I think this is clear enough in Murray McLauchlin's ``Brown-Eyed Man'' and in Chuck Berry's ``Brown Eyed Handsome Man.'' It might count as something like an in-joke, since I don't think I've ever heard any white people use it, unless Van Morrison counts. He was quoted in books published in 1996 and 2006 to the effect that the title was originally meant to be ``Brown-Skinned Girl'' (reflecting the fact that it was ``a kind of Jamaican song'') and that he absentmindedly changed the title to ``Brown Eyed Girl,'' not noticing he had done so until after recording it. He apparently didn't explain how he happened to change the chorus to match the mistaken title. The explanations are a bit confusing. The 1996 book is entitled Inarticulate Speech of the Heart. Look, I like the song, and I think the word ``eyed'' works better musically, but songs associated with Jamaica seem to induce linguistic lapses. For another example, see the ``Louie, Louie'' material under Mojo Risin, Mr.
(I can't think of any convincing evidence for my claim at the beginning of the previous paragraph, so I guess it's time to switch the subject with an irrelevant personal anecdote. When I was filling out the application for my first driver's license, I asked a guy filling out his own form next to me what color my eyes were and he said ``hazel.'' Eventually I had a look at my eyes in the mirror and decided that they were brown. Well, they are mostly white, but the iris is brown. When people say ``eye color'' they normally mean iris color, unless they're talking about jaundice or bloodshot eyes or something. Also, when people name colors, there's a certain amount of context. To the guy I asked, who was black, ``brown'' was probably the color of his own eyes, while mine, being lighter, required some other term -- hence ``hazel.'' But they're not as light as those that I would call hazel, so I think of them as brown, and I changed that. I also remeasured myself and raised my height a half an inch the last time I renewed, and I think somewhere along the line I may have changed my middle initial. Someday when I go to renew my license I'll probably be arrested for stealing my own identity.)
Paul Brown coached the Cleveland Browns from its first season in 1946 to 1962, when the third owner (also an Art M. -- television executive Arthur B. Modell) fired him at the end of the season. One of greatest running backs of all time, fullback Jim Brown, played his entire career (1957-1965) at Cleveland. Paul and Jim were inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1967 and 1971, resp.
Paul Brown later went on to be majority owner and first coach (1968 to 1975) of the Cincinnati Bengals, whose home field today is in ``Paul Brown Stadium.''
Don't confuse Charles Bullion with the powerful and more interesting Duke of Bouillon. The duke and his duchy straddled the border of the Bourbon-Habsburg battlefield. In 1642, as the Cardinal was slowly dying, Bouillon took part in the treason organized by the marquis de Cinq Mars. It failed, and Bouillon was in the soup. After negotiations with Richelieu, he ended up ceding the fortress capital of Sedan to the crown, more-or-less in exchange for his own life. [For another pair of names involving oui and non, and for the example set by a renowned mathematical physicist of how one should deal with those odious sniveling cretins who conflate them, see the Liouville entry.]
But perhaps I should mention that Sedan was of some broad military and consequently political significance later on. On September 1, 1870, German armies (of the Second Reich) under Bismarck's leadership broke through French defenses at Sedan, forcing the capitulation of Emperor Napoleon III. This led to the overthrow of the ``Second Empire'' (the Second French Empire, by a counting that not too unreasonably excludes Charlemagne's) and its replacement by the Third Republic in 1876. The German victory in the Franco-Prussian war established the new European order that would prevail until WWI.
On May 15, 1940, German armies (Third Reich this time) broke through the French defenses of the Meuse and surrounded Sedan. Once the full extent of the defeat became clear, it was simply a matter of time until France sought an armistice. Hitler dictated the terms, which became known on June 20 and were signed on June 22. In after years it became popular to claim that Marshal Pétain staged a coup that overthrew the Third Republic, but it is more accurate to say that the National Assembly ratified its own suspension and the end of the republic on July 10, 1940.
The Fifth Republic was created in 1958 as a constitutional republican government of, for, and by Charles de Gaulle, but has progressed into a benevolent dictatorship of the bureaucrats, all eager to become Eurocrats. If the Fifth Republic lasts until 2033, it will surpass the Third Republic as France's longest-lasting experiment in democracy. I write this in 2003. A lot may happen in 30 years, and a lot may not.
``How do you know I'm mad?'' said Alice.
``You must be,'' said the Cat, ``or you wouldn't have come here.''
Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on ``And how do you know that you're mad?''
``To begin with,'' said the Cat, ``a dog's not mad. You grant that?''
``I suppose so,'' said Alice.
``Well, then,'' the Cat went on, ``you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad.''
``I call it purring, not growling,'' said Alice.
``Call it what you like,'' said the Cat. ``Do you play croquet with the Queen to-day?''
``I should like it very much,'' said Alice, ``but I haven't been invited yet.''
``You'll see me there,'' said the Cat, and vanished.
Anyway, I thought it interesting that someone named Carabine should have gotten into the corrections business. Carabine is an alternate English spelling, and the standard French spelling, of carbine (i.e. carbine rifle).
Vocabulary word for this lesson: arachibutyrophobia. (Meaning: `fear of having spiders get into your butter,' I think, but be sure to check at the granola entry.)
I guess that when I wrote this subentry, I must have thought that there couldn't not be some ironic connection between his name and some aspect of his research into peanut products. I still feel that way, but I haven't discovered it yet (unless you count the fact that of all the peanut products he came up with, none was peanut butter). That's how it is sometimes.
Stacey is a guy. On New Year's Eve 2005, his band played a bar in Toronto. The act that followed his was a mock pillow fight put on by a local burlesque troupe. Women from the audience came forward hoping to participate. An idea was born.
For a number of Schaum's outlines in accounting, Cashin collaborated with Joel L. Lerner, M.S., P.D., once chairman of Faculty of Business at Sullivan County Community College. [One that is ready to hand is Schaum's Outline of Theory and Problems of Accounting II, (McGraw-Hill, 1974). There were subsequent editions in 1981, 1989 (by which time he was retired), 1994, and 1999, not counting translations into Spanish, French, and Chinese, so you might say he cashed in, or amortized the original investment of effort. Not to mention Principles of Accounting, (McGraw-Hill, 2001) ``based on Schaum's Principles of Accounting I.'']
In 1974 he published More Joy of Sex and in 1991 The New Joy of Sex. Similar titles coming soon to a glossary entry near you.
The preceding summary is based mostly on The Voyages of Captain James Cook, copyright 1999 by Richard P. Aulie. Part of this is available online from the Captain Cook Society (CCS). What really happened is controversial, which probably means that if I read something else I'll only get confused.
Not to keep you in suspense any longer, the reason that Cortés is listed here is that he came from a noble family and studied law, and his name means `courts' ... almost. Actually, his name means `courteous'; courts would be cortes (no accent; accentual stress on penult instead of ult). In Spanish as in English, the words for courtesy (or courtly behavior) and courtesan were derived from the word for court. The enciclopedia has listings for some individuals with the surname Cortés and somewhat fewer with surname Cortes. And I've seen the name of this particular conquistador written every which way, final ess or final zee, accent either way. Look, we're going to stick to the court angle; I really don't want to get into what happened in Mexico. There was both diplomacy and mayhem involved.
Incidentally (or ``BTW'' as we net-savvy cool people say), the names Hernán and Hernando are versions of Fernando (in Spanish) and Ferdinand (English). One of the major sound shifts in Spanish was for eff to become aitch. More about that at some other entry, maybe Spanish. For stuff about the similar-sounding name Herman, see SN.
The coworker saw a boa constrictor's head pop out from under Collison's shirt and called Ms. Creamer. Speaking to reporters later, she said ``it was hilarious. He kept saying he wasn't taking anything, but those snakes were just moving around and one was under his shirt, and he was doing all kinds of strange things and trying to keep it in there.'' Then the snake in his trousers poked out of his pocket. It was a milk snake. Ms. Creamer called 911.
The standing joke about Davis is that his personality reflects his name, but Gray is darker than that.
Joe Klein doubtless realized that the point of that ``standing joke'' is not about saturation level (in the color sense), but about being ``colorless.'' Joe Klein was the anonymous author of a best-selling book about a much more colorful politician, entitled Primary Colors. I guess that was a pun, too. Coincidentally or not, it was in the 2002 primary that Gray Davis was darkest, spending a reported ten million dollars in the Republican primary to help defeat the person who would clearly have been the stronger candidate in the general election (LA mayor Richard Riordan).
For another terminal name, see ENDE.
It was not uncommon to give the name Finis to the last child in a family. Sometimes I imagine it was given by mistake. Sometimes the mother's death in childbirth certified the name. Jane Davis survived the birth of her son Jefferson in 1808 and lived until 1845. But she was born in 1760 some time, so the name was not unreasonably chosen. Jefferson Davis (named after Thomas Jefferson, of course) dropped the Finis in his twenties.
A specialist in infectious diseases, De Cock's professional publications had often concerned condoms to some degree. However, until news reports quoted him in connection with the circumcision studies (in a BBC item: results a ``significant scientific advance,'' but ``[m]en must not consider themselves protected'') he had never achieved public prominence that was ironic commentary on the entirety of his two-part surname.
Before his appointment to the WHO position, in March 2006, De Cock had severed, sorry, served for six years as Director of the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Kenya. Thus, it may be that he has some professional connection with US NIH-sponsored studies in Kenya and Uganda. I just don't know yet. However, the nomen-est-omen significance of the results already obtained are so striking that we've decided to cut short further investigation and release this sub-entry now.
None of that is of any interest, which is why I wanted to get it out of the way first. Cecil was also occasionally used as a given name in the Middle Ages. In that time, it represented the English form of the Latin Caecilius, an old Roman gentilicium. The popularity of this name in Medieval Europe is probably due to the fact that it was borne by a minor saint of the third century, a friend of St. Cyprian.
More to the point, however, Caecilius was originally derived from the byname Caecus, meaning `blind.' Cecil B. DeMille was one of the most successful filmmakers of all time so far.
Rose Friedman, widow of Milton Friedman and a like-minded economist, is the former Rose Director.
(In retrospect, this looks like a possible instance of prosecutorial abuse. The case in which the charges were brought was one that prosecutors in the office of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr stumbled across in 1994 while focused on other issues. It was always clear that charges were threatened and brought in order to put pressure on the defendants to cooperate with Starr's investigation; prosecutors were always eager for a plea bargain. Of course, investigators' guesses about facts they cannot prove are part of what they use to decide whether witnesses are cooperating.)
Residents of Tokyo, feeling secure from enemy attack, did not take seriously the air raid drill that coincidentally had been scheduled for that morning. The drill ended at noon, about the time that the Doolittle party arrived. From the ground, many assumed the planes were part of the drill, until the bombs exploded.
In terms of damage to military targets, the raid did indeed do little. In terms of morale on the Allied side, and fear and misjudgment on the enemy side, it did a great deal. Doolittle, decorated and promoted, went on to do a little acting in other theaters of the war.
The story of the raid is told in Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, by Capt. Ted W. Lawson (Random House, 1943). The first paragraph reads
I helped bomb Tokyo on the Doolittle raid of April 18, 1942. I crashed in the China Sea. I learned the meaning of the term ``United Nations'' from men and women whose language I couldn't speak. I watched a buddy of mine saw off my left leg. And finally I got home to my wife after being flown, shipped and carried around the world.
(For a similar contemporary use of ``United Nations,'' see the VOA entry.)
This treatise on mathematics has been prepared primarily for engineers. In this we would include (1) engineers who want a quick and convenient reference, (2) engineers who have grown somewhat rusty in their mathematics, and (3) engineers who feel the need of a text for the study of mathematics.
``The Sweet Hereafter''
(1997; director and scriptwriter): 112 minutes
Marginal case: see the fellow van den Ende (`of the end') in the He entry.
For another terminal name, see Davis.
Another name-appropriate church spokesman: GOODNESS.
Fairplay earned his place in this glossary at the Fox Reality Channel's Really (yes, really) Awards on October 2, 2007. Danny Bonaduce (age 48) was on stage when Fairplay (33) walked on uninvited and made a ``derogatory statement,'' according to the police report. Fairplay jumped on Bonaduce and ``wrapped his arms and legs around the suspect and thrust his pelvis into the suspect's body'' while the audience booed. The ``suspect'' was Bonaduce, who threw Fairplay over his shoulders.
Fairplay was a survivor but he landed on his face, and he said later that he underwent 2½ hours of dental surgery. Poor baby! He said he had only given Bonaduce a hug, one of his signature moves as a performer. Moves in what kinds of movies, I wonder. The DA's office declined to prosecute, citing insufficient evidence of intent to injure, and the fact that Fairplay ``initiated contact and acted offensively.'' Bonaduce's ``actions fell within the realm of self-defense,'' according to Deputy DA Jeffrey Boxer, who needs another apposite turn in the public eye to earn a glossary subentry of his own. Why is the WWE sitting on its hands?
Bonaduce was a child star on ``The Partridge Family.'' In 2005 he starred in the reality show ``Breaking Bonaduce,'' but that's not how this one worked out.
By 1929 there were three thousand rabcors [workers operating as amateur press correspondents] in France, some of them employed in state arsenals or in factories where war materials were manufactured. The ostensible purpose of their contributions to the Communist press was to denounce the poor working conditions to which they were subjected, but they could hardly do so without supplying bits and pieces of information about the work itself. The more revealing articles were never published. They were passed to the Soviet embassy in Paris, which forwarded them to Moscow. If a given rabcor seemed well informed on a subject of really worthwhile interest, an agent would call and question him until a complete picture had been built up.This highly profitable organization functioned with undisturbed efficiency for three whole years. In February, in 1932, a denunciation was laid before the French police. Despite this lucky break, it took the superintendent in charge of the case -- a man with the disquieting name of Faux-Pas-Bidet--more than six months to dismantle the network. His reports are unsparing in their praise of the spies he was endeavoring to track down. ...
Now, as the author of the French original well understood, Faux-Pas-Bidet is more than a merely disquieting name. An approximate English equivalent might be `Misstep-Chamberpot.' It is an exceedingly unlikely sort of name. Author Perrault seems to suggest that this is the person's real name, possibly his hyphenated last name. If he knew the real name and deliberately withheld it, that would be a bit disingenuous. If he didn't know the real name, then it probably means that his comments on the reports are second-hand. If he knew that this is the man's real name, then it's hard to square with what Trotsky wrote in his 1930 autobiography (Moia zhizn), recalling events of 1916 and 1918.
Here is an English translation by, umm, it's not clear. It was published by Pathfinder Press in 1970, and it has an introduction by Joseph Hansen -- an admiring reminiscence of his days on L. D. Trotsky's staff during the last years in exile in Coyoacán, Mexico, with a few little jabs at Trotsky's biographer Isaac Deutscher. Trotsky lived another eleven years after finishing his autobiography, and he had a secretariat that regularly translated his work in a sequence of multiple drafts critiqued in detail by Trotsky (see the obvious entry), so perhaps the translation was a team effort by his staff.
For much of his life, Trotsky was an inconvenient foreigner seeking safety and freedom away from a Russian dictatorial government (Tsarist, which he sought to overthrow, or Soviet, which he at one point had at least the second-greatest role in preserving). In 1916, Trotsky was dumped at the Spanish border by the French police. He traveled to Madrid, where he was soon arrested. One is struck by the bourgeois courtesy of the French and Spanish police that L.D. describes. Like a number of other communists who suffered at the hands of the GPU, he also used the old Tsarist secret police as a standard of incivility against which to castigate others by invidious comparison. On the way from Madrid to Cadiz, he asked the agents escorting him how they had come to capture him so quickly. They readily volunteered that a telegram from Paris had alerted them to a dangerous anarchist (sic) in their country. Trotsky writes
In all this the chief of the so-called juridical police, Bidet-``Fauxpas,'' played an important part. He was the heart and soul of my shadowing and expulsion; he was distinguishable from his colleagues only by his exceptional rudeness and malice. He tried to speak to me in a tone that even the Czar's officers of the secret police never allowed themselves to assume. My conversations with him always ended in explosions. As I was leaving him, I would feel a look of hate behind my back. At the prison meeting with Gabier [a French socialist L.D. met while under house arrest in Madrid], I expressed my conviction that my arrest had been prearranged by Bidet-``Fauxpas,'' and the name, started by my lucky stroke, circulated through the Spanish press.Less than two years later, the fates willed me an entirely unexpected satisfaction at M. Bidet's expense. In the summer of 1918, a telephone call to the War Commissariat informed me that Bidet--the Thunderer, Bidet!--was under arrest in one of the Soviet prisons. I could not believe my ears. But it seemed that the French government had put him on the staff of the military mission to engage in spying and conspiracy in the Soviet republic, and he had been so careless as to get caught. One could hardly ask for a greater satisfaction from Nemesis, especially if one adds the fact that Malvy, the French minister of the Interior who signed the order for my expulsion, was himself soon after expelled from France by the Clémenceau government on a charge of pacifist intrigues. What a concurrence of circumstances, as if intended for a film plot!
When Bidet was brought to me at the Commissariat, I could not recognize him at first. The Thunderer had become transformed into an ordinary mortal, and a seedy one at that. I looked at him in amazement.
``mais oui, monsieur,'' he said as he bowed his head, ``c'est moi.''
Yes, it was Bidet. But how had it happened? I was genuinely astonished. Bidet spread out his hands philosophically, and with the assurance of a police stoic, remarked ``C'est la marche des évènements.'' Exactly--a magnificent formula! There floated before my eyes the figure of the dark fatalist who had conducted me to San Sebastian: ``There is no freedom of choice; everything is predetermined.''
``But, Monsieur Bidet, you were not very polite to me in Paris.''
``Alas, I must admit it, Mr. People's Commissary, sorry as I am. I have thought often of it as I sat in my cell. It does a man good sometimes,'' he added significantly, ``to get acquainted with prison from the inside. But I still hope my Paris behavior will not have any unpleasant consequences for me.''
I reassured him.
``When I return to France, I will change my occupation.''
``Will you Monsieur Bidet? On revient toujours à ses premiers amours.'' (I have described this scene to my friends so often that I remember our dialogue as if it took place yesterday.) Later Bidet was allowed to go back to France as one of the exchange prisoners. I have no information as to his subsequent fate.
(At this point, L.D. returns to continue the story of his passage through Spain. I'll mention some of this at the Cuba entry, eventually.)