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''??!!!
A member of EFTA; like Iceland it has stayed out of the EU.
Here's the Norway page of an X.500 directory, but you probably can't access it.
Like Japanese particles generally, it is written using the hiragana syllabary. Those who study Japanese as a foreign language usually encounter mnemonics to help them learn the roughly 100 basic kana (hiragana plus katakana) symbols. Here's a good one for the hiragana no if you already know Hebrew. (The following paragraph is reproduced as image content below, which may help if your browser does not display the non-Latin characters properly.)
The Hebrew word for of is שׁﬥ (transliterated ``shel''). The first Hebrew letter (on the right, since Hebrew is written RTL) is shin. The modern cursive form of shin is . The Japanese particle -no does not mean `of' (or shel) exactly. It means 's, so it follows the possessor and precedes the possession. However, Japanese is now written left-to-right. If you read it right-to-left, like Hebrew, a phrase with -no will have the possession-of-possessor order. So naturally the cursive Hebrew shin should be flipped over to produce the hiragana no: の
Here's a png of the preceding paragraph:
[Interestingly, the word shel has undergone a semantic evolution similar to that of de (loosely `of') in Latin. In Classical Latin the genitive case was used for simple possession and attribution, and the use of de was more restricted. In Vulgar Latin, the case distinctions broke down or went away, and de came to be used more generally to mark the possessive. Somewhat similarly, Biblical Hebrew frequently can indicate possession with suffixes that mean `my, our, your,' etc., whereas Modern Hebrew makes do with ``shel.'']
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.)
Here is a relevant, if loose, parallel: during a scientific conference in 1938, Enrico was approached informally regarding the Nobel in physics for that year (the story is told Atoms in the Family). He was told that he was being considered for it. Because he was an Italian national, and because the Italian government had put in place some stringent laws on the movement of currency (and given the rules on collecting the prize within a certain period after the award), there was a question whether an award at that time might not be inconvenient to the awardee, hence the consultation. Fermi said it would be okay, and the following November it was announced that he had won. (The Fermis took the opportunity of the trip to Sweden to emigrate to the US.)
The 1919 edition of the Encyclopedia Americana, in its evidently rather poorly edited article on the Nobel Prizes (in vol. 20, accessible as a Google ebook), lists the laureates from 1901 to 1914 in the five categories. (The ``Nobel Memorial Prize in Economics'' had not yet been invented.) The only American to receive the Nobel Prize in physics during that period, as the listing correctly indicates, was Albert A. Michelson. Following the listing, there is this paragraph (my comments are in square brackets):
From the list it is seen that six Americans were awarded prizes: Elihu Root  and Theodore Roosevelt  for their labors in behalf of peace; A. Carrel in medicine [1912; listed as French in the preceding list, apparently correctly, though he did work in the US from 1904 to 1912, and the work for which he was awarded the Nobel was done at the Rockefeller Institute]; Prof. Theodore Richard of Harvard University in chemistry ; and A. A. Michelson , Thomas A. Edison [nope] and Nikola Tesla [nope] in physics. [As this is seven names, they presumably meant to mention Carrel in some oblique way.] No awards were made in 1914-15. In 1916 the prize for literature was awarded to Verner Heidenstam, Sweden. In 1917 the peace prize was awarded the International Red Cross of Geneva. No 1918 prize was awarded. In 1918 Theodore Roosevelt, with the consent of Congress, distributed his prize among war charities. Consult Mosenthal, "The Inventor of Dynamite" in the Nineteenth Century (1898); `Les Prix Nobel' published annually at Stockholm. [Many of the WWI-era Nobels were awarded in the years immediately following the war.]
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 thr-- er, 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.
Back when I worked at Arizona State University (ASU), one of our Japanese post-docs, Nobu, took a short vacation in Mexico and returned with a dusty, impressively old-looking tome. He explained gleefully that the vendor had sold it to him cheap because it was old. Nobu didn't happen to know Spanish, so he asked me to read some and tell him what the book was about. I found it difficult to understand, like medieval Catalan or... something. As you can guess from the entry in which you're reading this story, it was actually Italian. However, since I had this idea fija (`idée fixe' in English) that it was just ``really weird Spanish,'' the nickel didn't drop for a minute or so. We went to Rita (a grad student from Sardinia), who confirmed that it was (fairly modern) Italian. I don't remember what the book was about.
A somewhat related story about Enrico Fermi and his sister and a physics book is retold by Laura Fermi in her biography of her husband Enrico, Atoms in the Family. I'll try to put that in here later.
I was reading an Italian mystery last year (I picked up a bit of Italian since my time at ASU) and having trouble with one longish and idiom-laden sentence. Then, as I walked through the library not far from a small group talking in polite library tones, I distinctly heard one of them say noi -- a word that, afaik, doesn't occur in any western Romance language other than Italian. I rushed back to where I was sitting and got the book. I approached them and asked (in English) for help. They said they'd try, but soon admitted defeat. When I tried to discuss the problematic text with them, it turned out they didn't know Italian... We continued the discussion in Spanish. I wanted to know ``¿¡qué palabra es `noy'!?'' It turned out that what I had heard (which would be written ``noy'' in Spanish) was a slurring of ``no oí,'' Spanish for `I didn't hear.' Precisely.
I suppose that as they had been speaking in somewhat hushed tones, it was natural that one of them should have said it, and said it a bit louder than usual. That's my excuse. For a related story involving Nobu and no and n', see the nimporta entry.
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.)
Not editorializing or anything, but this whole student-athlete charade is unfair. No one asked Einstein to run a minimum 5-second 40, did they? So this guy is a wide-receiving genius -- why should he have to stay awake through a bunch of boring lectures just to play farm-team football for scraps and peanuts, under the tyranny of well-compensated coaches (guys who lacked the skills to earn a hyper-rich retirement in their playing years)?
Anyway, Ambles meandered around the no-TV-coverage backwaters of college football for a while (places -- like Arizona Western Community College -- that are so little-known they might be fictitious) before reemerging in 2013. In April it was announced that he had signed with the Houston Cougars, to arrive on campus (there isn't much irony content in this entry; all this detail is just due diligence and digging for ironic dirt) in the summer, able to play immediately and with two years of eligibility remaining. The Cougars play in the Big East, and Ambles, teamed with WR Deontay Greenberry, should give them one of the best receiving groups in that conference.
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 the murder of Amedure 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 was found guilty of second degree murder and sentenced to 25 to 50 years in prison. The conviction was overturned on appeal, and confirmed in a second trial, where the original sentence was reinstated.)
Schmitz said later that he thought he had handled the situation well and was putting it behind him. The following Thursday morning, however, 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, Michigan, mobile home. There he confirmed that Amedure had written the note and then 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 or raced for the USPS team, though not as successfully. He would get 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)
Before the officers resigned, Godina had confessed to having had sex with Fisher ``on the clock'' (kinky!) three to five times in 2008 and was fired, possibly without the option of resigning instead. In her confession, she also volunteered that she wanted to leave her post at the records office to become a police officer. Now that she's out of the records office, it would be harder for her to change her own employment records (not to mention time sheets), and her termination from this job might be a problem if she does try to become a police officer somewhere. Maybe she should change her name, or at least its termination. I suggest changing -ina to -iva.
No wait: according to a news report, ``Police say Godina confessed to having sex with Fisher because she wanted to leave the records office and become a police officer.'' Now I get it: she really didn't have the opportunity to resign, so she had to get herself fired. She should sue the police department for violating her thirteenth-amendment rights.
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 President Barack Obama 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.
Beers has been quoted as saying that ``I had my first kiss while I had a bottle of Coke in my hand. Coca-Cola isn't about taste; it's about my life.'' Take it from an ad executive, I guess.
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, Billetdoux 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 Billetdoux 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.
The surname Bittman arose in a few ways, but as it happens, none of them seems to be related to the English word bite or bit. Edward Schneider also contributes to the Diner's Journal blog, and schneider literally means `cutter' in German. (Yeah, yeah, a less literal translation would be `tailor.' Picky, picky! Go pick at your food.) Maybe this Schneider should have his own subentry, but yesterday he blogged about pork-stuffed cabbage: ``A batch lasts through several meals, even when we have company to help eat it, and perhaps that is why I don't need to make it more frequently than I do.'' Ahem. And perhaps he should follow this train of reasoning a bit further.
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 at Princeton University) 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.)
The man fired was Eckersley, 33 (first name not stated). Now he's running ``for a seat long held by [Roy, Matt, or perhaps Scott] Blunt's father, outgoing U.S. . [sic].'' Also: ``It is ironic how the whole thing has played out,'' Eckersley told at [sic] his campaign office in , [sic] the Blunts' hometown. ``But what a great story to come full circle and show that not only can a whistleblower stand up and make a difference ... [explicit ellipsis too... this story's got it all... missing] (but also) take that experience and pack it up and take it to . [Sic.]''
One paragraph begins with a comma: ``, the head of the political science department at in Springfield, said he thinks....'' In the old days, these lacunae might have suggested that the author (Blank) had neglected to insert appropriate TK's or or . I suppose what happened here was that the missing text was incorrectly marked up, although there aren't any stray tags visible in the source.
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.
He reported the surgery (``he'' Bobbs, that is) to the Indiana State Medical Society in May 1868. He was at the time president of its surgery section. In fact, he was a founder and first secretary of the Indianapolis Medical Society in 1848, and was instrumental in organizing the Indiana State Medical Society the following year. [I don't know whether he was wind-instrumental or string-instrumental or what. I'm basically just quoting a brief memorial by Charles A. Bonsett, M.D. (MS Word doc here).]
The nomen-est-omenicity that accounts for this sub-entry of the glossary is the relevance of ``bob'' (doubtless ``bobb'' in some antient spelyng) to Bobbs' calling and fame, but I only put this in so as to amortize the lucubration required for my great kidney stone witticism. See bob or the Loreena BOBBITT item above if you don't get the ``bob'' connection.
There is a lack of consensus regarding the precise vital dates of John Stough Bobbs. Most agree that he was born on December 28, 1809, but according to Find A Grave, it was December 22. And while most sites that mention it give his date of death as April 12, 1870 (probably based on each other, with the original date guess arising spontaneously as a quantum fluctuation), Dr. Bonsett and Find A Grave agree that it was May 1.
In 1995, confirming years of tabloid-press rumors, Chas ``came out'' in a cover story in The Advocate (the oldest and largest now-LGBT publication in the US). I suppose, in principle, that a lesbian may be as chaste as anyone else. Nevertheless, chastity is a traditional conservative notion, and out-of-the-closet lesbianism isn't.
Is having a lesbian daughter some kind of occupational hazard of Republican pols (like her late father Sonny Bono, former US Vice President Dick Cheney, and Alan Keyes), or is it just statistical chance? In her 1998 book Family Outing: A Guide to the Coming Out Process for Gays, Lesbians, and Their Families, wrote that, "as a child, I always felt there was something different about me. I'd look at other girls my age and feel perplexed by their obvious interest in the latest fashion, which boy in class was the cutest, and who looked the most like cover girl Christie Brinkley. When I was 13, I finally found a name for exactly how I was different. I realized I was gay.'' At the time, her father was not yet a politician, but he was when she came out.
More recently, Bono has been saying something slightly different. Eventually Ms. Bono underwent gender reassignment surgery, keeping the same girlfriend for a while as she (Chas) and then he (now Chaz Salvatore Bono) did so. Gosh, the things people will do for a chance to compete on Dancing With The Stars. Maybe the parents tempted fate, word-playing around with the Sun/Sonny thing. Anyway, he's been saying now that he knew from an early age that he was born in the wrong body. I swear, after the next gender change, I may have to start taking these self-discoveries with a grain of salt.
The Kamchatka-Kurils region is seismically very active, and therefore of particular interest to seismologists around the Pacific rim. Jody Bourgeois is a professor in the professor in the department of Earth and Space Sciences at the University of Washington, and she has been studying the Kamchatka-Kurils region. (Here's an article on her research, from a UW house organ.)
[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. Nose-to-the-grindstone type of folk, as you'd expect. 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.']
Bright's birth name was Cameron Douglas Crigger. (Wait, don't tell me -- problem was, there was already someone registered with the SAG under the name ``Cameron Douglas Crigger,'' right?) Anyway, he took his stage name long before he was cast in Ultraviolet. His first lead role was in the movie Godsend (a 2004 release starring Robert De Niro, Greg Kinnear, and Rebecca Romijn), filmed in 2002, when he was nine. Bright's first acting work (it was in a commercial) was when he was six. That was also his name in Ultraviolet -- Six, a nine-year-old boy.
TMI yet? I don't know when Ultraviolet was filmed, but on the evidence of the semi-final product, editing needn't have taken long. There was some delay, however, because the studio was unhappy with the original version, which they saw as ``too emotional.'' They butchered it down from 120 minutes to 88 and achieved a PG-13 rating, and on release, March 5, 2006, Bright was a couple of months past his own 13th birthday.
Jovovich played Violet Song Jat Shariff; her role got the lion's share of the proper proper-noun nouns, but even that name includes ``violet'' and ``song.'' Dramatis personae include a Detective Cross and Detective Breeder. (To say nothing of Six. We don't want to mention ``BF-1'' either. Oops, too late!) If poor judgment is conserved or nondecreasing, then we should all be grateful that they concentrated so much of it into this one disposable movie. The thing was written and directed by Kurt Wimmer, who also created ``Gun Kata'' (a ``unique blend of gunfighting and martial arts'') for his previous film, Equilibrium. It is said that Jovovich used a more ``authentic'' version of Gun Kata in this movie, relieving me of the need to invent such a claim for your amusement.
But maybe, as Wimmer and many of his fans believe, this was a far better film before the studio's complete re-edit. Do we have any other evidence regarding Wimmer's brightness level? Yes we do! While on the set, Kurt Wimmer asked Milla Jovovich to punch him so he could get a feel for the intensity she was putting into her action sequences. For several days afterwards, Wimmer directed the film with a literal black eye. Thank you, Milla.
Y'know, back there where I wrote ``TMI,'' I thought of my friend Fu, a
naturalized US citizen. He's originally from Shanghai. Casting for
this movie was done in Hong Kong; filming was in Shanghai and perhaps
also Hong Kong. I suppose Shanghai is to Hong Kong what Vancouver is
to Hollywood -- a convenient and less expensive filming venue up north
along the Pacific. Cameron Bright was born in Victoria, BC, and as of
2013 -- so far as
knows -- still lives on Vancouver Island. As I shouldn't have to
remind you, this item is all about Cameron Bright and his name. Insert
your own Shanghai joke here:
Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk:-)
When he went to register to vote (in Missouri), Fu took his US passport as ID, and the registrar, or recorder, or whatever the idiot's title was, wouldn't accept it as proof of age because it didn't state his age (only his date of birth). Perhaps there was some confusion as to the reason, but it's not the first time I've heard of election officials in the US refusing to accept a US passport as ID.
Remember that anecdote. The next time you're on TV doing election-night analysis and have a weird result from ``bell-wether'' Missouri, this will explain it no matter whither the wether wandered off to.
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.
(The Bronfman family is associated with Seagram's. It should be noted, however, that Samuel Bronfman actually founded a liquor distributor, Distillers Corporation Limited, in 1924. The company later acquired Joseph E. Seagram & Sons and took over the Seagram name, so it is incorrect to say, as some do, that Bronfman founded Seagram. Even Seagram didn't found Seagram. The distillery was originally founded in 1857; Joseph E. Seagram only became a partner in 1869, then sole owner in 1883. He died in 1919 and his heirs sold it to Bronfman in 1928. Starting in the mid-1990's, Seagram's assets were sold to various other companies, and the Seagram Company Ltd. went out of business in 2000.)
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.''
Pilgrim's Way as I shall continue to call it, refers often to pilgrims and pilgrimage. It alludes to and often simply evokes Pilgrim's Progress, and no wonder. Here is a paragraph from chapter I, recalling Buchan's childhood. (The phrase ``people the woods'' below seems to mean something like `provide personalities to think about as he grew up in a woodland area near the Firth of Forth.')
One other book disputed the claim of the Bible to people the woods--The Pilgrim's Progress. On Sundays it was a rule that secular books were barred, but we children did not find the embargo much of a penance, for we discovered a fruity line in missionary adventure, we wallowed in martyrologies, we had The Bible in Spain, and above all we had Bunyan. From The Holy War I acquired my first interest in military operations, which cannot have been the intention of the author, while The Pilgrim's Progress became my constant companion. Even to-day I think that, if the text were lost, I could restore most of it from memory. My delight in it came partly from the rhythms of its prose, which, save in King James's Bible, have not been equalled in our literature; there are passages, such as the death of Mr. Valiant-for-Truth, which all my life have made music in my ear. But its spell was largely due to its plain narrative, its picture of life as a pilgrimage over hill and dale, where surprising adventures lurked by the wayside, a hard road with now and then long views to cheer the traveller and a great brightness at the end of it. John Bunyan claimed our woods as his own. There was the Wicket-gate at the back of the colliery, where one entered them; the Hill Difficulty--more than one; the Slough of Despond--various specimens; the Plain called Ease; Doubting Castle--a disused gravel-pit; the Enchanted Land--a bog full of orchises; the Land of Beulah--a pleasant grassy place where tinkers made their fires. There was no River at the end, which was fortunate perhaps, for otherwise my brothers and I might have been drowned in trying to ford it.
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.
If only his name had been Bird, he would have made it 100% of the way to the North Pole. (Actually, he was born in Winchester, Virginia. So perhaps the relevant criterion is whether he was an authentic member of the illustrious Byrd family of Virginia. See FFV if this does not compute.)
As it happens, one way that he's based in Harlem is that he founded and runs a charter school there. But he's originally from the South Bronx. I learned this from a PBS TV program created and hosted by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. The particular episode I saw was focused on the genealogies of Canada (evidently a major undertaking) and Barbara Walters. It turns out that Canada had ancestors who were surnamed Cannaday when they emerged from slavery. His earliest traceable ancestor with that name was the son of a slave woman on a plantation owned by a man named Cannaday in Franklin County, Virginia. Circumstantial evidence and available genetic evidence suggest that the surname is justified by parentage as well as plantation of origin. ``Cannaday'' is evidently a variant form of the common Irish name Kennedy. I'll try to remember to learn something about the name now that I'm back home in Indiana.
``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.'']
I became aware of Christ (I like to write that) because of a coincidence of titles. The classicist Peter Green wrote The Laughter of Aphrodite: An Historical Novel about Sappho (Murray, 1965). Carol P. Christ wrote a collection of essays called The Laughter of Aphrodite: Reflections on a Journey to the Goddess, (Harper and Row, 1987). Another coincidence involving Carol P. Christ is that Carol T. Christ is a prominent academic (a scholar of Victorian literature).
I mention this Churchill here because the most famous man he shares a surname with is also known for his military campaigns and his narrative stylistics. There is also a connection between Winston S. Churchill and Latin; the former was famously defeated by the latter.
Ironically enough, the same university (UCB) is famous for another Churchill, also quite combative. In July 2009, after years of litigation, it seems they were finally able to make Prof. Ward Churchill's firing stick.
Video of the scene went viral. Shortly after the jury's verdict was read, Marin covered his mouth with his hand, which seems natural enough, and appeared to press the palm toward his lips, which does not. He seems to have taken a suspected second pill surreptitiously as proceedings continued, and he took drinks from a drink bottle that I don't think TSA would have allowed. The possibility of suicide by poison pill was immediately suspected, but toxicology results won't be back for months from this writing.
The charge on which he was convicted was felony arson of an occupied structure, which carries a penalty of from 7 to 21 years in prison. The structure was his own mansion, occupied by himself. Marin, a retired Wall Street trader, had tried to raffle off the mansion earlier, but the raffle had been deemed illegal. At the time of the blaze he had $50 left in the bank, thousands of dollars in delinquent debts, and a $2.3 million balloon payment coming due.
He climbed down a rope ladder from a second-floor window of the burning house, wearing scuba gear. (SCUBA, as you may learn at its entry, stands for Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, but it evidently works in smoke as well as under water.) The house was described as ``engulfed in flames,'' and was later found to have begun at four separate ignition points, and firefighters ``were forced to assume a defensive mode after learning that no one was in the house,'' according to a Phoenix New Times article August 27, 2009, about a week after Marin's arrest. It does appear that an occupant was endangered, even if it was the setter of the blaze himself.
A mountain climber who had reached the summit of Mr. Everest, and a former Wall Street trader whose art collection included 18 original Picasso works, Marin seems to have been a more imaginative and ambitious planner than the average person. I suppose the timing of the fire (before dawn on July 5, 2009) may have been part of a calculation based on the Independence Day work load of firefighters. (Fortunately, at the time of the fire the art works and various other valuables were at a modest home Marin had in nearby Gilbert -- about 10 miles from where I used to have a modest home in Tempe.)
The case went to trial when plea-bargain negotiations broke down. A spokesman for the prosecutor's office said that a sentence of somewhere between 10.5 and 21 years in prison would have been sought after conviction. Experts quoted in news reports said that, based on comparable cases (similar and worse crimes were cited) this would have been a relatively harsh sentence, and that a plea bargain would have resulted in a lighter one. Of course, in plea bargaining the prosecutor's office has to factor in the possibility of an acquital, whereas in sentencing a judge does not. Had there been one I, for one, am certain Clemency would have asked for a certain clemency.
This reminds me that the main sewer of ancient Rome was known as the cloaca.
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.
Of course, ``Hawaii'' is a Hawaiian name. When Captain Cook discovered the islands in 1778, he named them the Sandwich Islands (after the Earl of Sandwich).
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 stunt, or the experience, is modeled on the 1982 flight of Larry Walters, who was three miles above Los Angeles when he surprised an airline pilot, who radioed the control tower that he had just passed ``a guy in a lawn chair.'' Walters paid a $1,500 penalty for violating air traffic rules.
Others have emulated Walters, but none has had a more appropriate name.
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.
But Mr. Collison was just a piker. On November 21, 2009, a man was arrested at Los Angeles International Airport with 15 live lizards strapped to his chest -- two geckos, two monitor lizards (monitor lizards!) and 11 skinks.
Finally, veteran CBS reporter Bill Plante offered the generous suggestion that ``He made a mistake, and you can't admit it.'' At 74 years of age, Mr. Plante hasn't much to lose and can afford to scratch thin skin. After some more Carney stammering and reporter ridicule, Plante said ``You're standing up there twisting yourself in knots.'' At the end of the week, former White House reporter Joseph Curl wrote a column for the Washington Times entitled ``Carney is twisting himself into knots.'' I thought the juxtaposition of that title and that byline was cute. I hope you did too.
The standing joke about Davis is that his personality reflects his name, but Gray is darker than that.
(That's the only joke I can think of that contrasts two parameters of color. See HSV.) Joe Klein also wrote a best-selling book about a politician (Bill Clinton) who is not colorless, although he (or who even) was described as the first black president of the US. (I guess this eased the way for Mr. O'Bamaugh, our first black Irish president.) The book, published anonymously until the authorship was discovered by text analysis, was entitled Primary Colors. That puns at least a couple of ways, since the story focuses on Clinton's primary campaign in 1992. 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 opponent to Davis 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 is 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 item might work better if Drew had stopped not drawing comics. Someone please let me know when that happens.
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.
[Yeah, there's a verb sticken usually meaning `embroider,' cognate with English stitch. Note that stecken (meaning `put'), the obvious cognate of the English verb stick, is (at least now) a regular verb, so there are no stem changes into stick....)
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.)
There were no charges against Fielder-Civil or against Winehouse arising from their alleged violent fights in August 2007, but there was periodic drama afterwards. When Amy Winehouse died in July 2011, he was in prison at the beginning of a 32 month sentence for burglary and possession of an imitation firearm. He was denied release to attend the funeral.
He was released at the end of July 2012, and a few days later overdosed and was hospitalized, spending more than a week in a coma. His mom claimed that he hadn't been able to have his phone in prison, and that on his return home he came across an old handset with messages from Amy, including one in which she said she'd like to be godmother to his son Jack -- born in spring 2011. This, his mom claimed (according to the Daily Mail, anyway) pushed him over the edge. It just goes to show what I've always said: voicemail is the source of all the trouble in the world. But the thing that strikes me about this whole knot of people is how family-oriented they are. I mean that all most sincerely. Or almost sincerely. Their parents are always being quoted in the tabloids about how it was someone else's fault, and now we have this godmother thing.
It turns out that the coma that got Blake hospitalized was only due to an alleged drug overdose, and he came out of it. He gave an interview to The Sun after being released (from the hospital, that is). He said that he had been relieved to learn from the coroner's report that Amy hadn't died of a drug overdose, because it was he who had introduced her to drugs. I'm sure he meant alleged drugs.
The Food Network star, known for his creative facial hair, over-the-top personality and love of diner food, was attending a bash at New Orleans's Second Line Studios when bouncers denied him entry beyond the velvet ropes, Us Weekly reports.
Fieri responded by causing a scene, bystanders said. He was then ejected from the venue.
``He didn't have the right bracelet, and nobody in New Orleans knows who anyone is,'' one partygoer explained.
The Italian surname Fieri is simply the plural of the surname Fiero. In principle, the plural is supposed to indicate a noble family, but the frequency of -i names is suspicious. The word fiero is cognate with the English word `fierce.' That's also what it means in Spanish. In Italian it means that and more. The principal senses now seem to have to do with pride. It means either `proud' or `disdainful.' Ultimately, these f-words are derived from the Latin ferus, meaning `wild animal.' (Source also of the English word feral.) For something about f-words describing not-very-wild animals, see the ferrous entry.
Need I point out that poisson is French for `fish'? Of course not, that would be an insult to your learnedness, your sophistication.
This entry is under reconstruction.
As he drove on, Tommy Fox heard the fox reviving in the back seat. He looked around for a way to keep the fox from biting him, and as he was thus distracted, his SUV crossed the centerline, went into a ditch, and flipped over (and stopped). One Fox suffered minor injuries and was treated at the scene; another fox was found dead in the SUV. I guess we know who was wearing a seat belt.
The precise cause of death of the fox was not determined. Dale Grandstaff, a wildlife officer with the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, explained to the Leaf Chronicle (an appropriately sylvan name) that fox tails ``are real bushy and pretty and thick this time of year.'' He also explained that foxes don't like to be caged, especially when they are alive, according to the deadpan report in the Leaf Chronicle. (The story was also reported on <FOXNews.com>.)
(FWIW, Sigmund is a popular old name meaning `defender of victory.' This doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but the folks who came up with it are no longer around to explain what they had in mind. I imagine one could come up with obscure connections to psychoanalysis, or with connections to the obscurity of psychoanalysis, but I won't. There comes a point where, if you're willing to accept any tenuous connection, then the fact of a connection existing becomes insignificant. It's like the freshman exercise of discovering the phallic symbolism of everything that isn't perfectly spherical: if everything except a basketball is ``phallic,'' then ``phallic'' is meaningless.)
The modern German word Frieden comes from the Old High German word fridu, which meant something like `protection or shelter from armed attack.' Consider the kind of world, 1500 years ago, where it was handy to have a compact word for this concept. Are we better off now? Give me 500 words by tomorrow. Anyway, the only extant English words related to this root seem to be belfry (originally a kind of shelter for besiegers or besieged) and afraid (from the cognate Late Latin fridus, fridum). (The Latin word pax, similarly, meant not only `peace,' in various senses of the English word, but also `pact.'
The irony, if you chose to see it that way, is that this name that (now at least) suggests peace was popularized by the highly successful Holy Roman Emperors Friedrich I Barbarossa (there's some stuff about him at the linked entry -- you just gotta drill down, as the suits say) and his grandson Friedrich II. There is a certain aptness in the name, however, because international politics in the Middle Ages was a game of shifting alliances and frequent treacheries, and what the alliances offered and the treacheries withdrew was often protection from armed attack. The first two Kaisers held the title 1154-1190 and 1220-1250. Both Friedrichs played the game quite successfully, and the subsequent popularity of the name Friedrich in German, and its adoption in other languages, is laid to their success.
Cathy Salcedo, a spokeswoman for the city, stressed that local authorities were not trying to prohibit home Bible study, but that the Fromms had transformed a residential area. Their Bible study group meets on Sunday mornings and Thursday afternoons with up to 50 persons, ``with impacts on the residential neighborhood on street access and parking.'' Brad Dacus, an attorney for PJI, said the Fromms live in a semi-rural area and have not caused any parking problems for neighbors.
The famous mathematician Guido Fubini (1879-1943) is known for theorems about multiple integration. Specifically, he proved theorems concerning the conditions under which interchanging the order of integration does not change the result of the (multiple) integration.
On April 17, 2000, she delivered Skidmore College's Harder Lecture (named after F. William Harder).
A furlong, I don't have to tell you, is an eighth of a mile.
The furlong was supposed to represent a reasonable distance for an animal to pull a plow before taking a rest, and hence is a fairly appropriate measure for horseraces.
[Huerta comes from the Latin hortus, `garden.' The gender flip was presumably intentional -- it's a standard way to indicate a slight shift in meaning. The male gender of the Latin original is preserved in the Spanish huerto, `orchard.' It's not certain whether the word orchard itself is also derived from hortus (as the first element in a compound with the Germanic yard).]
In a July 9, 2003, CNN/Money article by Chris Morris, Gee is quoted explaining that there ``was a push to put thinking principles in schools in the 1980's,'' but that ``... in the 90s, though, we made a real return to 'skill and drill' and we lost this way of having people think in complex ways. ... Games recruit a deeper way of thinking.'' (One of these days when I'm feeling appropriately low, I will add an entry on ``critical thinking skills.'' For now let me just say, ``the blind leading the deaf.'')
Rudi Gernreich (1922-1985) was a famous, controversialist designer of clothes, and ``joyful'' seems like a fair description. Playful might be better. I don't know how rich you can get making clothes only a model would dare to wear. In 1964, he came out with the monokini, a one-piece topless bathing suit intended to be worn by men or women who had shaved off all head and body hair. From the posed pictures of that time, it seems clear that it was easier in those days to find models, female as well as male, willing to pose topless than any models willing to shave off all their hair. The monokini was the centerpiece of Gernreich's famous UNISEX Project. (Well, the idea of ``unisex'' clothing was famous, his UNISEX Project less so.)
Alice Ghostley is best remembered for her role on the long-running TV show ``Bewitched'' (1964-9, the Dick York era, and 1969-72, the Dick Sargent years). There she played ``Esmerelda'' from 1969 to 1972. She had an earlier guest appearance there, 1966, as the klutzy maid Naomi in episode 53: ``Maid to Order.'' The Esmerelda character, which appeared in fifteen episodes, was a bumbling witch.
(I've also seen the character name with the more usual ``Esmeralda'' spelling, but I couldn't account for the widespread use of the triple-e spelling if that had not in fact been used in the credits.)
Three well-known US authors died in 2007 -- Kurt Vonnegut, William Styron, and Norman Mailer. The AP sent out a chin-scratcher on this for November 15, 2007. The item included the intriguing observation that ``Vonnegut was the American Mark Twain.'' This was attributed to Mailer's literary executioner -- sorry, that's executor. For the first time ever, I actually felt a little sympathy for Mailer.
Gioia was quoted in the article on the subject of Vonnegut's greater popularity: ``First of all, Vonnegut's funny, and humor has a broad appeal.''
More recently, one Just Gjessing wrote a review of ``Resource Communities, Settlement and Workforce Issues'' for the Dutch publication Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie [vol. 81, no. 5, p. 393 (1990)]. As of this writing (July 2001), JG is a professor emeritus at the Geography Institute at the University of Oslo.
I originally read about the statistics professor Just Gjessing in a statistics book and figured it was probably a joke. From this entry in a Science Jokes page, it seems at least to be a very popular joke.
NHL Commissioner Gary BETTMAN will eventually get his own subentry. Business is a kind of gambling, but in the short term the lockout was a sure thing: the league knew what it wouldn't spend and what revenues wouldn't come in, and on balance the loss was smaller than it stood to be if there was a season. (Yeah, yeah: there was the unrealized loss of franchise value, but that represents an estimate of long-term profitability, which was going down the toilet anyway.) Until Bettman gets his, just let me note that everybody who ever cared became disgusted with both sides in the dispute. I don't want to disappoint my fans, so I'll eventually find a way to line up with the general view that both sides deserve blame. It won't be hard.
Another name-appropriate church spokesman: ENGLAND.
It seems that all her years have been good, in retrospect: ``I think I only remember the amusing things; I don't remember any depressing things,'' Ms. Goodyear said in an interview. ``I think I just put them out of my mind. I know everybody has things that they want to forget, but I dont even have to forget. I just dont remember.''
Gorey's middle name was St. John. Didn't St. John lose his head?
``As superdelegates, we have the opportunity to change our mind, so she's just connecting with me,'' Gosh said. ``I couldn't believe she was able to fit in calls like that [in]to her incredibly busy schedule.''
Gosh, that's super!
Grimes was a pitcher who threw the spitball. In 1920, major league baseball banned the spitball, but grandfathered-in seventeen established spitball pitchers. Grimes was only 26 at the time, and he was the last of those to retire, making him the last pitcher in the bigs officially allowed to throw that filthy pitch. (I wish I could add that he was burly too, but according to this online Baseball Almanac stat sheet, he was 5'10" and weighed 175 lb.)
The connection here is not just with ``head'' but with ``liquid-foods packaging'': the German noun Kopf, meaning `head,' and the English word cup, meaning `cup,' are both early borrowings of the Latin cuppa, meaning `cup.' It is supposed that in German, the word came to be used metaphorically, the skull or head being a sort of receptacle for the brain. (For more on the food angle, see the BRAINIAC entry.) A likely story, sure. Maybe the medieval Germans did what the Scythians were reputed to have done, and made cups out of skulls no longer serving (one hopes) their original owners.
There's a further fluid-container connection, which you'll probably regret my mentioning, but it's all in service of a pun. The most common kind of pathologically large head (back before this was reliably diagnosed and treated) was hydrocephaly (physicians now prefer the term hydrocephalus), called ``water on the brain.'' This is an intracranial accumulation of CSF, usually caused by spina bifida or some other ventricular block. Hydrocephalus in infants can cause rapid skull expansion and a small face. In adults, with the skull not able to expand, neurological dysfunction may be a greater danger, but the really extreme intellectual deficits occur with a pathology known as a ``swelled head.''
A man whose surname can be parsed to mean about the same thing as Grosskopf was Robert Grosseteste. He was a scholar at Oxford in the first half of the thirteenth century, remembered today (especially thanks to the encomia of Roger Bacon) for his early advocacy of the experimental method in science. He was also a philologist -- a careful one by the standards of his time -- and he wrote on a wide variety of scientific, philosophical, and ecclesiastic topics. He was a renaissance man somewhat avant la lettre. I suppose you might say he had a capacious mind.
In court the airline was represented by Bill Burden, who explained that the airline was suffering under the weight of ``a downturn in the economy and we've got the events of Sept. 11 and most recently the [decline] of the Canadian dollar, [which] affects this organization's ability to pay some of its American lessors.'' Canada 3000 had indicated that same Thursday that it would continue flying.
Constitutionally, the legislators ought to have followed an impeachment procedure. Given the exigencies of the moment, however, they followed the creative suggestion of Congressman Ramiro Rivera, who moved that since Gutiérrez had not complied faithfully with the responsibilities of the presidency, he was effectively absent. Thus, acting under the clause of the constitution allowing Congress to replace a president who abandons his responsibilities, they declared the office vacant. Debate took less than an hour, and the vote was 62-0. (The full Congress, the country's unicameral legislature, has 100 members.) Congress replaced Gutiérrez with the vice-president (who had come to be a political opponent of the president after their ticket was elected). In 1997, when this sequence of brief governments began, President Bucaram had been ousted for ``mental incapacity.'' The details in this paragraph don't really have much to do with the anyone's name, but I find them amusing and you should too.
Meanwhile, ex-president Gutiérrez ordered ex-president Bucaram out of the country. Adm. Victor Hugo Rosero (did the country run out of Spanish names?), head of the joint chiefs of staff, announced that the armed forces were withdrawing their support for the ex-president. That evening, Gutiérrez abandoned the presidential palace by helicopter, and there were conflicting reports of where he was seeking political asylum. Acting Attorney General Cecilia Armas issued an arrest warrant for Gutiérrez for his alleged role in violently suppressing the recent violent protests across the country. (Cecilia is the female form of Cecil, a Latin name meaning `blind.' Armas is just Spanish for `weapons.' The Attorney General heads the ministry of justice. Justice is traditionally represented as a woman wearing a blinder and carrying a sword. She also carries a pair of scales, which I suppose could serve as a blunt instrument.)
The only reason I put this subentry in is that Lucio is an Italian given name pronounced in that language as lucho is pronounced in Spanish. The Spanish word lucho means `I fight' or `I do battle,' and many news reports described President Gutiérrez as ``embattled.''
The successor of Gutiérrez, his former vice-president Alfredo Palacio, didn't make to the palace that day. He and a large number of congressmen were stuck in the CIESPAL building where the Congressmen had held their vote earlier. (It's a lovely building, by the way, and there's some irony in the name.) The building was surrounded by protesters, who chanted ``Acabamos con el presidente, ahora vamos por el Congreso!'' (`We're done with the president, now we're going for the Congress!') Amid chants demanding the dissolution of Congress, congressmen who tried to leave the building were attacked and pelted with heavy objects.
All these events took place in the nation's capital, Quito. One doesn't usually think of it in this context, but the word quito in Spanish means `I take away.' (I suppose that to an ignorant Anglophone, it looks like it means `I quit.') In a country on the Equator that is named for it, perhaps these names should be taken seriously.
Douglas C. Hall is a member of the Devices and Materials Group (DMG). In the analysis of electronic devices and materials, it is general practice to distinguish two fundamental kinds of simple signal: sinusoidally varying in time (alternating current -- ``A. C.'') and constant in time (direct current -- ``D. C.'').
A useful probe of conductivity properties is the Hall Effect, named after its discoverer Edwin C. Hall. The Hall effect is frequency-dependent, although the low-frequency Hall effect is substantially constant and most directly useful for determining carrier density in ordinary conductors. Hence, one often distinguishes DC Hall effect and AC Hall effect.
Just down the hall from D. C. Hall's office is that of Alan Seabaugh -- A. C. Seabaugh. Between their offices is that of Robert L. Stevenson.
[T]he owner's duty, as in other similar situations, to provide against resulting injuries is a function of three variables: (1) The probability that she will break away; (2) the gravity of the resulting injury, if she does; (3) the burden of adequate precautions. Possibly it serves to bring this notion into relief to state it in algebraic terms: if the probability be called P; the injury, L; and the burden, B; liability depends upon whether B is less than L multiplied by P: i.e., whether B < PL.
The judge was usually referred to as ``Learned Hand.'' (We have more on unusual judge names.) Learned Hand had a less-well-known cousin, also a judge, named Augustus Noble. Over the course of many years they served together on two different courts. They probably enjoyed a situation requiring them to be called by more than just their surnames.
He was appointed to Bolivia's highest court (la Corte Suprema de Justicia) at the beginning of 1993 or thereabouts, and became president of the court (something like chief justice) in mid-1999. At the beginning of January 2001, he resigned for health reasons. He explicitly denied that his resignation was due to political pressure or any other reason; over the last two months of 2000, he had been the target of criticism from his colleagues, for his lenience with the Consejo de la Judicatura, an administrative and disciplinary body subordinate to the Judiciary.
Since at least July of 2001 (last checked July 2005), he has been a member of CNE.
[Both CNN and Fox News drew the same erroneous conclusion when Justice John Roberts, reading the majority decision he had written, declared that the mandate was unconstitutional as an act regulating interstate commerce (i.e., Congress did not have the power to impose the mandate under the powers granted it by the Commerce Clause of the US constitution). However, the majority decided that the penalty for not obeying the mandate should be regarded as a tax, and that this was constitutional under the powers of Congress to impose a tax. (Probably 8 out of 9 Supreme Court Justices -- many suspect 9 of 9 -- understood how stupid this reasoning is, since it gives the government the power to compel anything, so long as the penalty for not doing it can be regarded as a tax.) I don't know why CNN got more criticism than Fox for jumping the gun.]
Marcelline, Grace Hall Hemingway's first child, was born January 15, 1898. She was held back from entering grade school so that she and Ernest (born July 21, 1899) could be together in the same grade. In 1917, Ernest was rejected for service in the US Army on account of a vision problem. In order to get in on the action (WWI), in early 1918 he lied about his age to join the Red Cross and drive ambulances for the Italian army. He gave his birth year as 1898, and ever since then many biographies have been getting it wrong. It's odd -- you wouldn't imagine that the Red Cross records or eligibility rules would be many biographies' source for his vital statistics.
Grace Hemingway seems to have made a project of getting her children confused, or making them confusing or something. The fourth of six children was named Madelaine and used the nickname ``Sunny.''
No, Julius Caesar wasn't a professional philosopher.
``We have to put asses in seats. Notre Dame will fill us up. The way the system is now, if we don't sell our tickets [a mere $100 a pop], we're in the hole.''
Those few of you who wonder why ``Art Hertz'' is listed here probably think that football is all about brains -- mental alertness and a healthy lifestyle and such. In fact, there's an art to it.
As a circuit judge in 1957, he presided over the trial in which William Tines was condemned to death. Tines's execution in 1960 was Tennessee's last until 2000.
The song ``A Boy Named Sue'' was written by Shel Silverstein and popularized by the late great Johnny Cash. It is often claimed that Sue K. Hicks was the inspiration for the song, but I haven't read anything definite. Silverstein died in 1999, so it's conceivable we may never know. We have more on unusual judge names.
This is probably the right place to mention Eugène Sue. He was a French limousine liberal -- a socialist with family money. Well, he wasn't a red-diaper baby. Apparently his views evolved. He eventually wrote a lot of soppy serial novels. He used the pen name Marie-joseph Sue -- now how smart is that?
The hippo part of the name means `horse,' of course, and no one can talk to a... Oh, sorry, got carried away there. The combined name thus suggests someone who breaks horses. Instead of fulfilling that destiny, he was pulled apart by horses, on orders of Poseidon.
(I think that pulling apart by horses captured the medieval imagination. I've seen the trope in one or two medieval stories, but the usual means of execution was hanging.)
A hogg, in case you don't know, is a sheep. The BSE outbreak probably began because brains (along with other unsalable bits) of sheep infected with scrapie were ground up and added to cattle feed.
In 1802, James Hogg (probably no relation) and Walter Scott met. They shared a passion for the culturally rich Borders that was their home, for poetry, and specifically for the rich poetry of the Scots language. Hogg (1770-1835) and Scott (1771-1832) began a friendship that lasted the rest of Scott's life. Scott was middle-class and correct, while Hogg was usually poor and unapologetically earthy, and they lived in a time and a place where class counted for much. (Hogg's day job was shepherding.) Hogg even wrote, in his Familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott, that his acceptance by Scott's very status-jealous wife was somewhat exceptional. Some of Scott's other, ``classy'' friends did not stop at mere disdain, but deliberately misquoted and misrepresented Hogg's literary output in their reviews. It's well known that fear of legal and other reprisal is the reason that so much writing of the eighteenth and nineteenth century was published over pseudonyms. People tend to forget that much of that feared retribution would have been completely justified. [For another example, see this bit from Matthew Arnold.]
The Scott scholar Ian Duncan suggests [ftnt. 35] that the character of the homonymous Gurth in Scott's Ivanhoe is modeled on Hogg. Gurth becomes the loyal feudal follower of the knight Ivanhoe, evidently reflecting Scott's feudalistic ideal of his own relationship with Hogg. The character Gurth is a swineherd.
One particular problem considered in the book was that of the powered space flight maneuvers needed to transfer a satellite from an initial circular orbit to a higher-altitude final circular orbit in the same orbital plane. His low-energy solution to that problem is known as the Hohmann transfer maneuver. (Hohmann believed that his proposal was a minimal-energy transfer, but in some cases bi-elliptic transfer is more efficient.)
I noticed D. Holz because of an article he published in the journal Holzforschung (Forschung means `research'): ``Tropical hardwoods used in musical instruments -- Can we substitute them by temperate zone species?'' (vol. 50, #2, pp. 121-9). The answer is: only to a limited extent. Tropical woods are strong.
I have been asked what connection there might be between this person's surname and his profession. One is that the word pornography is ultimately derived from the Greek porne, `prostitute,' and graphein. Less literally, hookers and pornographers both work at the nexus of sex and money.
I hope I can eventually remember why I put this entry in here.
You know, this is really starting to bother me. It probably had something to do with the earlier Hoyle's unquestioned authority, which led to the expression ``according to Hoyle'' meaning perfectly in accord with the accepted rules.
The crime took place on June 28, 1990, and Hunter was sentenced the following January 31. Hunter was represented by the public defender, so possibly the sentence amounted to time served awaiting trial. I don't know; the only report I could find of this interesting case was an AP wire story the day after sentencing. The case is mentioned (with fewer details) in Roland Sweet's Law and Disorder: Weird News of Crime and Punishment (Signet, January 1994), p. 35.
Although I didn't block-capitalize Charles above, I'd like to add that a charle is a kind of hard hooked burr, kind of like a heavy gumball seedpod. Unfortunately, I don't know this to be particularly true in any known language. On the bright side, there are plenty of languages I don't know about.
At the time of the corporate acquisition, Jager owned two cats and two dogs, to the extent that one can be said to ``own'' a cat. He noted that more households have pets than children [by chronological rather than emotional-maturity definition, I assume]. According to P & G, on average, pet owners spend over $150/yr. on health and nutrition products for their pets, and only $60 on laundry products.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens: -- O, how quick is love! --
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
However, although chi in Ancient Greek had a ``hard'' (an aspirated) k sound, in Slavic languages the derived letter represents an aitch, and is typically transliterated by "k" or "kh" in English. In Croatian, which is written with Roman characters, Christ is Krist (Croatia was proselytized by the Western church). In addition, the alternate Hristos is recognized in Croatian; it's the standard Roman spelling of the Serbian word (normally written in a slightly extended Cyrillic).
Hristo is essentially the Slavic version of English `Chris.' Hristo Jivkov plays Pilate in Mel Gibson's ``The Passion of the Christ.''
Note, BTW, that various Slavic languages have another aitch sound. The letter derived from Greek gamma, which was devoiced into the Roman c (originally with a uniformly ``hard sound'' -- unaspirated k), was devoiced differently for Cyrillic orthography. The Cyrillic letter we recognize as a gamma is pronounced like our aitch in Russian and Ukrainian. So the name Igor is pronounced ``EE-hore'' in the places where it is most common. (The same gamma letter occurs in the usual Greek loan words where we use g, and leads to a common feature of the Russian accent in Western languages.)
John H. Kellogg is probably the best known Kellogg who ever lived, especially as the Kellogg-Briand Pact fades into history (leaving behind nothing but Nobel Peace prizes for Frank B. Kellogg and Aristide Briand). John Harvey Kellogg was a vegetarian, and a physician in charge of a Seventh-Day Adventist sanitarium in Battle Creek, Michigan. (It's now called the Battle Creek Health Center, and no longer associated with the SDA. Also, Kellogg was excommunicated.) There he developed nut and vegetable products for the patients. He did not invent cornflakes; his cornflake innovation was to serve them for breakfast. John Harvey's younger brother W.K. (Will Keith, who also lived over 91 years: April 7, 1860-Oct. 6, 1951) co-founded a company with his brother, to manufacture toasted cornflakes for former patients and even a few other interested parties.
John Harvey had the majority share, but he distributed shares to other physicians at the Sanatorium. Bad move. While brother John (are you sleeping?) was visiting Pavlov in Russia, brother W.K. bought up enough shares from John's fellow physicians to take a controlling interest. (I imagine this sort of thing happened during the dot-com boom too, when many start-ups paid their employees in shares.) Once W.K. got control, he changed the company name to W.K. Kellogg Company. The box lost the silly sanatorium picture and got W.K.'s signature in exchange. They started adding sugar and making money, and later offered some other dry breakfast cereals.
A former patient, C.W. Post, afterwards went into the same business. (Yeah, there's some name stuff happening there, but we have high standards, so he won't get his own entry.) I seem to recall there were some alleged-violation-of-nondisclosure sorts of issues between Kellogg and Post. Can't we all just be friends?
Sevan Kevorkian, late of San Diego, Ca., was someone else. Not a known relation of the doctor, he nevertheless was also unusual, and he could probably have used some how-to information from that doctor. Oddly, however, things eventually sort of worked out. You could move the ``oddly'' around in that sentence and see how that works out. On Saturday, January 26, 2008, his girlfriend found him (Sevan, in case that was unclear) hanging unconscious from what I would call a hanger rod in a closet of his apartment. She cut him down and revived him. This was not a Snow White moment; Kevorkian was apparently unhappy about his revival. He attacked his girlfriend and started pulling her around the room by her hair. The scene attracted the attention of a neighborhood couple that was parking at a nearby curb. The man climbed into the apartment through a window to stop the assault and put Kevorkian in a carotid restraint (a/k/a ``sleeper hold''). A picture accompanying one news report showed that Kevorkian, age 36, had a thick, football-linemanish neck. Nevertheless, he lost consciousness again and was taken to a hospital, where he died five days later (11:58pm, Jan. 31). The good Samaritan who intervened in the altercation will be charged with second-degree murder for assisting in Kevorkian's Rube-Goldberg suicide (no, no, just a joke, of course... I hope).
Until 2002 there were only three orders within Subclass Apterygota: Archaeognatha (commonly: the jumping bristletails), Monura (extinct), and Thysanura (the common bristletails: silverfish and firebrats). Silverfish are commonly found in the basement of my old house.
Since 1914, no new insect order had been added to the 33 known within the entire Class Insecta, until Oliver Zompro, a graduate student at the MPI Plön, tried to classify an Eocene-era wingless insect encased in amber. He eventually found two similar museum specimens and suspected they were part of a new order. He sent them to Klass, who agreed. Order Mantophasmatodea of Subclass Apterygota was announced in April 2002. Before the year was out, living members of the order had been identified in Namibia, South Africa, and Tanzania. (They didn't get around much, did they?)
In the West, by contrast, there are no crazy cures. Already in the twentieth century, for example, tuberculosis was prevented with synthetic cures. (I've temporarily misplaced a link to a Edward Lovett's hand drawn map, showing 60 places around West London where you could -- in 1914 -- buy necklaces of blue (and also some yellow) beads to protect against TB.
Incidentally, if you're thinking that cow piss could never pass for compote, you're thinking along the wrong lines. As the Wikipedia Compote entry used to warn: ``Not to be confused with Kompot.'' Fwiw, the dish (more like bowl) that my South American family calls compota is even more liquid than the Polish Kompot.
Also at the time, she was the mayor of Arlington. Arlington had a population of about 500, so it's fair to say that the constituents she upset were village people (just not The Village People). Anyway, there was a recall election in late February, and she lost her job by a vote of 142 to 139. An opinion widely bruited about the blogosphere is that ``they're'' fake (not the pictures). I guess the voters wanted a mayor they could believe in. (But I say, if they don't come off with the bra, that's real enough. Go to the entry for pancreas -- located just below the bra -- for Jean Kerr's relevant thought on this matter.)
The mayor position is unpaid. She also worked as a bookkeeper for the local fire department, managed the rural health clinic office in town, and was a lifeguard at the town pool.
Most of the Lackland facilites are in New Jersey, the most densely populated state and the state which, as of 2010, had achieved the highest per-capita property-tax collections in the US. (It's just behind first-place Texas in average property-tax rates, but Texas has lower average property values. Texas also has no state income tax.)
The name Kyle is derived from a Scottish topographic term meaning narrow strait or channel.
Charles grew up to become a writer of poetry, plays, an influential book of dramatic criticism, and various other now-forgotten works. His least-forgotten work was a series of essays for the London Magazine, published from 1820 to 1823 under the pen-name Elia.
Probably the best-remembered essay of Lamb, published in 1823, was the evidently self-serving (or is that self-preserving?) A Dissertation upon Roast Pig.
In Italian, the noun rocca (plural rocche) originally meant `rock,' from the Latin rocca. In that acception, the word has been replaced by roccia (from French roche). Rocca now has a principal acception derived from an earlier transferred sense of `fortress, stronghold.' That broad sense (along with the earlier sense of `rock') is found in Dante, and Rocca is the first element in many old place names. (All these Romance rocks are of female gender, by the way.)
Current usage is a bit narrower: a rocca now describes a fortress built on high land, or the highest local point, and protected by steep walls or rock faces. Rocche are found in population centers founded a long time ago, and in Italy that's a long time ago indeed.
As a technical term (that is, senso stretto), a rocca refers to military architecture of the Renaissance -- fortified works generally more squat and more massive than medieval castles.
(Florence's Belvedere was built at the end of the cinquecento -- completed 1595. It was originally named Forte di S. Maria; it quickly got its popular and current name from its great view of the city from a point high above the Arno. Its walls have slanted but steep bastions. I don't know what they did wrong -- maybe the villa in the middle looks too daintily out of place. Anyway, it's usually called a forte, less often a fortezza. In 1951, the Italian Army transferred it (back, I guess) to the city government, and after restoration it opened to tourists in 1955. When I visited in 1987 or so, I looked down one of the walls and saw some guy tending a little microfarm that abutted the fort. You know, maybe it's not entirely a bad thing that Europe is headed for negative population growth, crowded as it is.)
The word rocca has other, mostly attributive senses. A homograph of the word is discussed at the Rock entry. Also worth mentioning is the noun phrase rocca forte, commonly contracted (roccaforte). This tends to be used more loosely, and may be translated `stronghold.' It may refer to a fortress, or to a walled, fortified, or naturally protected city, and the term is usually used figuratively. The regular plural is roccheforti (or rocche forti); interestingly, the variant roccaforti is common when the term is used figuratively. Yes, we have a Roquefort entry.
In 1992 there was a spectacular scandal involving sexual abuse by Rev. James R. Porter. That year a national meeting of US bishops acknowledged that mistakes-were-made in handling abuse cases and announced a new policy of openness in dealing with allegations. In January 1993 Cardinal Law implemented what he described as a rigorous new policy to remove dangerous priests from service.
The Roman Catholic Church does not have an FOIA, so determining who knew what when is a bit difficult. In the case of one priest, Paul J. Mahan, a Boston Globe investigation (reported Feb. 19, 2002) found evidence that some of the psychological evaluations finding that Mahan was incorrigible and likely to reabuse were known to Law many years before Mahan was finally defrocked in 1997. With Mahan as with many others over the years, when the Boston archdiocese would finally stop recycling a sexual predator through different parishes, Law defrocked him but avoided getting the organs of state law involved. However, this was perfectly legal: the Massachusetts laws that require most other caregivers to report incidents of sex abuse to police for possible prosecution specifically exempt clergymen. Thank God -- otherwise Law might have gotten in trouble with the law!
The problems that eventually brought him down in 2002 began in the first year of the rule of Law. They centered on John Geoghan, a priest who was accused of molesting boys. Following the accusations, Law moved him to a new parish in September 1984. In 1998, Geoghan was defrocked. The Boston Archdiocese has been negotiating with upwards of 450 of his victims, and by December 2002 its accountants recommended that the archdiocese file for bankruptcy, since it doesn't have the 100 million dollars needed to pay the negotiated settlements. More later.
SatireWire noticed the irony of Law's name also.
She also had the associated hormone therapy, of course. ``I am a woman,'' insisted Lawless, who adopted her new name from classic-movie star Lana Turner but declines to discuss her previous name. ``I've lost muscle mass. I don't have big guns [biceps]. They give you a drug that stops you from producing testosterone. Your muscles atrophy. In about seven months, I went from 245 pounds to 175 pounds. I've gained back a little bit, but I feel like I don't have any power.''
The reason for her insistence is that on October 22, 2008, she won the World Long Drive (women's) Championship at Mesquite, Nevada. Lawless doesn't sound as powerless as she claims. Lawless is open about her gender history (I guess ``sexual history'' wouldn't quite capture the idea). In 2005, the USGA approved transgender involvement in golf competition. Various rules were devised to govern transgender golf competition, and Lawless was required to provide doctor reports, lab results showing that her hormone levels were within normal female limits, and had to submit to onsite testing. Still, this is much like deciding to allow participation by people who have used banned steroids -- the steroids in this case are natural, but even after they have been flushed, many of their effects remain.
Let's put it another way. Women who used to be men probably represent a tiny fraction of women who play golf (or tennis, for that matter). That even one should win a women's world championship suggests that such women are statistically over-represented, which is as much as to say they have a systematic advantage. Lana Lawless didn't break any rules or laws. What some may regard as ``lawless,'' at least relatively so, is the situation itself. Less than a month after the Lawless win, the situation (the women's division championship) itself went out of existence. For the official explanation, see the entry for WLD Champion.
On Tuesday, October 18, 1898, at 8 pm, memorial services were held in New York in honor of Prince Otto von Bismarck, who had died the previous July 30. They were held at the Metropolitan Opera House, with the assistance of Madame Johanna Gadski, soprano. Participating in the services were the Liederkranz and Arion Societies, and the United Singers of New York. The service was followed by a torchlight procession that lasted from 10 pm to midnight. Here is the price of seats, as given in the classified ad in the October 17 New York Times:
Orchestra Chairs . . . . . . . . . $2.50 Orchestra Seats . . . . . . . . . 2.00 Dress Circle . . . . . . . . . . 1.50 Balcony . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.00 Family Circle . . . . . . . . . . 0.50 General Admission . . . . . . . . 1.00 Boxes, 6 Seats . . . . . . . . . . 25.00 Boxes, 4 Seats . . . . . . . . . . 15.00The headlined eulogies were delivered by Prof. Marion Dexter Learned (in English) and by the Hon. Carl Schurz (in German). Learned's talk was reported in detail; Schurz's talk was described in brief generalities.
On July 9, 1900, Prof. Marion D. Learned was elected president of the National German-American Teachers' Association.
On December 15, 1900, when the College Entrance Examination Board of the Middle States and Maryland made public the Board of Examiners for 1901, Prof. M.D. Learned of the University of Pennsylvania was named as the chief examiner for German. I'm sure you want to know the whole list of chief examiners. You can find it at the CEEB entry.
In 1909, a special Report to the New York Times, dateline May 1, Berlin, reported that Prof. M.D. Learned of the University of Pennsylvania and Prof. E.T. Pierce, President of the California State Normal College at Los Angeles, were visiting Berlin. It was noted that Prof. Learned had been honored with an invitation to deliver one of the lectures at the previous week's annual celebration of Shakespeares's birthday, held at Weimar by the German Shakespeare Society.
You know, if you only came here following a link to the stuff about Professor Learned, you should scroll back up a bit and read about Nancy Laytart. I think that's pretty cool, and it's more recent. See also Billings Learned Hand.
``William S. Learned served the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching as a staff officer from 1913 until his retirement in 1946. During the third of a century of his professional labor as the `Scholar of 522 Fifth Avenue,' he participated in generously financed exploratory research as a member of the foundation's Division of Educational Enquiry. ... His reputation was most widely based on his work as founder and director of the Graduate Record Examination....''
The quoted text is from page 9 of Paul Douglass's Teaching for Self-Education As a Life Goal (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1960), a biography of Learned.
Physico-theology was essentially worthless, and Lesser gave much more of it.
The comparative and superlative (nonabsolute) forms of adjectives present an interesting asymmetry: these forms are thought of as expressing ``more'' of the same, even when the same expresses a notion of less (privative). This is explicit in the periphrastic forms: longer is more long, but shorter (less long) is also more short. Fewer are less than few, but more few. (If you already knew what I meant, then what I wrote won't have confused you.)
The copyright is assigned to the publisher, and one might wonder whether the author name is a pseudonym. The introduction, however, is subscribed with the author's name and an unnecessarily specific address in Greater London. Moreover, the same author is credited (I think that's the word) with other works, including at least one book of sports insults, and The Big Book of Sex ``Quotes'': 1001 Quips and Quotes.
Linker also serves as a kind of human link -- between political journals that don't have a lot of contributors (or past contributors) in common -- because he's a political turncoat. Linker has had essays published in Commentary, National Review, and The Weekly Standard, journals with great prestige on the political right. He was also published in the Wall Street Journal, whose editorial staff leans right. From May 2001 to February 2005, he worked at First Things, an important politically conservative monthly with an emphasis on religion, first as associate editor and then as editor. Then in 2006 he published The Theocons: Secular America Under Siege. I don't think he's welcome at his old haunts any more.
``Just as there is a lifelong search for the fountain of youth, there is a lifelong search for an easy way to lose weight.''
He was commenting on the prospects for the then-new diet drug orlistat (brand name Xenical), which had recently been approved for sale in the US. Loss, with HSBC Securities, said it had ``the potential to be a Viagra-type product in a different field.''
Lost City is a reasonably well-defined place, about 45 miles east of Tulsa, OK. But if you went looking for a city there you might indeed conclude that it was lost. Lost City is not an incorporated municipality and as such has no official boundaries. It is the name of a locally commonly recognized little concentration of human population, and the US census bureau defines its boundaries for statistical purposes. Within the 23.3 square miles of that CDP, the 2000 census gave a population of 809.
Sometimes love is not all you need.
Virginia, of course, was named after Elizabeth I -- ``the virgin queen.'' In the 1960's or 70's, the state of Virginia began an advertising campaign to promote tourism with the slogan ``Virginia is for Lovers.''
Anyway, Wanda was very lucky not to have been there at the time, because it seems she may have been a target. She and her husband Stewart (the same) were recently estranged, and she was a CNA on the staff at the home.
In 1900, Karl Lueger was elected mayor of Vienna. He was the first European politician to gain significant office with a prominently antisemitic campaign.
Lumière means `light' in French. It's not entirely relevant to the people described in this entry, but I feel like pointing out, that lumière in French has a range of meanings similar to that of `light' in English. In particular, it refers both to light of the sort that always travels at the speed of light, and to lights that are relatively stationary and emit light of the other kind. There is also, in English, what one might regard as a semantically offset ambiguity in the word lamp, which conventionally refers to an device that provides light, but may refer more specifically to the light source that is part of the device. Anglophone lighting engineers have a solution to this problem: they use the word lamp only for a light source, and they use the French word luminaire for a lighting unit, including one or more lamps as well as the housing and related paraphernalia. For a bit more on the semantics, see the LUZ item below.
Madonna, as you probably know, is an adherent of a Hollywood variant of Kabbalah, and Kabbalah is a Jewish thing. So the old Material Girl has a lot in common with the Virgin Mary, who was Jewish (and probably still is, by some accounts, though she is getting on in years) and had a boy named Jesus. Jesus Luz, a Brazilian model, dated Madonna from the end of the (US) fall semester until around spring break, when she announced the break-up during a ten-minute chat with fans on Twitter. (No, I don't think he's still in school. He was 22 in most reports, though one of his former girlfriends was still 18 when her opinions of the Madonna fling were published.)
As of this writing, she is trying to resign from the National Guard, and looks forward to pursuing a modeling and entertainment career. She used the future subjunctive in commenting that ``my family is going to stay here, but I do have plans to pursue anything that comes my way, whether it be in LA or New York or Hollywood.'' Thirty-year-old Manhart has two children; her husband is also in the military. Manhart disappointed grammarians, who had started to become interested, by continuing thus: ``As far as moving on in my life, I'm happy. I hope this works out for my family and me.''
This name and that of former UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali suggest to me that repeated name elements are a relatively popular style among Copts, but I'm not sure. All I can add is that Boutros is the Coptic form of Peter (Greek Petros), and that Boutros Ghali (born 1846) was a Coptic statesman. His assassination on February 21, 1910, ``sparked serious quarrels between Copts and Muslims, lasting throughout the years before World War I'' according to the article on him in (by Doris Behrens-Abuseif) in the Coptic Encyclopedia (ed. Aziz S. Atiya).
There is also a Bishoy (Metropolitan of two or more places I can't parse in Egypt; read it yourself) who is listed by Amazon.com as an author named ``Bishoy Bishoy Nicola.'' I suspect that this is just another instance of Amazon.com's mangling of author names, and that other on-line bookstores are following Amazon's lead error, but I don't plan to order the book to find out. His original name was Makram Eskander Nicola, and he was named Toma El-Souriani upon consecration as a monk. He received a number of promotions, mostly reportedly against his will, and at some point became Bishop Bishoy, before being elevated to the rank of Metropolitan.
When I first saw the ad with Mariscal's name highlighted, my immediate thought was that mariscos (loosely `shellfish') are a popular food in Spain. The word marisco is a nominalized old Spanish adjective meaning `marine.' The word mariscal is not. It's another French loan, this one of maréchal. The DLE, the TLF, and the OED all agree on a Germanic origin with the ultimate sense of `horse servant.' The marshal has evidently come up in the world, over the past couple of thousand years. Perhaps I should mention that the Spanish are sort of the Chinese of Europe: they're, um, gastronomically adventuresome. So if we adjust the sense to `horse server,' we have a more legitimate instance of nomen est omen.
[The common Germanic etymology of marshall, maréchal, and mariscal will be more intuitive if you remember the English word mare. The Latin word mare, as discussed at the mar entry, gave rise to various other words besides marisco. A more precise definition of mariscos would be `marine invertebrates, especially edible crustaceans and mollusks.']
Jose Matada of Mozambique (if you're good I'll look up the meanings in Portuguese) was a landing-gear stowaway on a Heathrow-bound jet in September 2013. He fell out when the plane deployed its landing gear on approach, at an altitude of 2000 feet. [Reports of such incidents often include phrasing like ``fell to his death,'' but the conditions at cruising altitude are vicious -- temperatures of around -48 deg. F and pressures of about 0.3 atmospheres at 30,000 feet, according to the FAA -- so only that minority who aren't crushed to death in the machinery and don't freeze to death or suffocate from the low oxygen pressure may die by hitting the ground fast. The rest are dead on arrival. I figure the ones who fall out near the destination are more likely to be the ones who died en route anyway.]
Gwinnett had some other bigamy cases in 2006 that issued in the arrests of two men in September. Over the course of half a year Alvin Lorenzo Murdock allegedly took six brides. Another, William James (``Woody'') Fairley, married eight women over one year in Gwinnett alone. Mr. Fairley, a cook in College Park, Georgia, married at least twice more in Cobb County. Gwinnett issues close to 4000 marriage licenses a year, so the three separate magistrates who each married him twice in Gwinnett might be excused for not recognizing that Fairley, a 6-foot, 230-pound man with a thin mustache, was a ``regular.'' Of Fairley's ten wives, six were from Ghana and the others were from Cameroon, Kenya, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. They ranged in age from 28 to 45.
``Green-card marriages'' are not unusual, of course, but the usual pattern seems to be for a broker to charge between $2,500 and $6,000 to match an individual US citizen, single, with a foreigner (often from Ghana) seeking sham marriage and permanent residence.
Mobutu made some other cosmetic changes, the most immediately visible one being the proscription of formal civilian Western attire in favor of a tunic outfit called l'abacost (q.v.). (On the subject of cosmetic changes, incidentally -- skin lighteners were illegal.)
The most fateful changes he made were not, however, qualitative innovations. He and his mismanagement team, as we might say, were corrupt and economically disastrous for the country in the usual ways, only more so. Apparently the word kleptocracy was specifically coined for his régime. He was usually aligned with the West during the Cold War, though he effectively played the two sides. In his early days he is reputed to have played informant to Belgian intelligence, the French were a solid ally, and he usually took the US side in the regional skirmishes of the Cold War. He was rewarded with foreign aid, at least. Therefore, all the bad stuff he did was the fault of the US, and if it hadn't been for the CIA, the former Belgian Congo would today be an advanced industrial democracy.
Anyway, enough trivia. The new name that Mobutu adopted for himself (Sese Seko...) was typically described in news reports as having the official or usual translation `the all-powerful warrior who, because of his endurance and inflexible will to win, will go from conquest to conquest leaving fire in his wake' (with some variation in tense and hyphenation). In case that looks embellished, I've also encountered `the earthy, the peppery, all-powerful warrior who, by his endurance and will to win, goes from contest to contest leaving fire in his wake.' I should probably leave it at that, except to say that in May 1997, as a rebellion led by Laurent Kabila chased him from power, his own elite guard, left behind, fired on the cargo plane he used to flee the country.
But I just can't leave well enough alone. I'd figure that the official translation, if there really was one, would be into French first. French newspapers, it turns out, generally gave the official translation as `l'homme qui vole de victoire en victoire et ne laisse rien derrière lui.' English of that would have to be close to `the man who flies [or flees] from victory to victory and leaves nothing behind him.' Considering the thorough three-decade-long looting of the country, the ``flees ... and ... leaves nothing behind him'' was not far off the mark. Even the little economic infrastructure left behind by the Belgians was mostly allowed to fall into disrepair, and nationalization of foreign-owned businesses scared away foreign investment (duh). And when he left, of course, it was indeed a great victory -- for his decades-long adversary Laurent-Désiré Kabila. If there is in fact a single word that might be translated both rien (`nothing') and `fire,' it might be ashes.
It would probably help to know what the source language was, so it might help to know that Mobutu was a member of the Ngbandi tribe. I see the word Ngbendu as part of his name. Perhaps some variable interpolation took place in the translation process. That might begin to explain the alternate translation that was often given: `the rooster in the farmyard who covers all the hens' (`le coq de la basse-cour qui couvre toutes les poules').
Anyway, here's what I glean from Chronologie der Naturwissenschaften, ed. Karl-Heinz Schlote (Verlag Harri Deutsch, 2002): in 1719 Moitrel d'Element described techniques for working with gases over water. According to A Short History of Chemistry, by J.R. Partington (various publishers, 3/e 1957; Dover reprint 1989): ``The manipulation of air over water was described by Moitrel d'Element in 1719.'' Neither source gives his first initial. (I found that here; for 3000 euros I can buy a book that contains various texts of Moitrel as an appendix.) Apparently his work was entitled La manière de rendre l'air visible and republished in 1777.
Easton was Hugh Everett Moore's home from 1947 until his death in 1972, age 85. Moore got into the paper cup business the same way Kellogg got into the breakfast cereal business: practical idealism. Moore was in his second year at Harvard in 1907 when he became interested in an idea of his brother-in-law Lawrence Luellen: to replace the common (unsanitary!) tin dipper with water vendors and individual paper cups. He gave up his newspaper job and dropped out of Harvard the next year. You can make money selling water.
He married in 1917 and had two sons (one named Hugh). From the 1940's to the 1960's he was heavily involved with Planned Parenthood and other organizations that oppose population growth.
Hugh Moore was also editor (1833-4) of the Burlington (Vermont) Sentinel.
He also coauthored A Concise Handbook of English Composition (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1972) with Karl F. Knight.
None of this is really as funny as I feel I had a right to expect.
One set of meanings of the word mould (spelled mold in the US, but R.J. Moulds is British) have to do with giving form. One who molds gives shape, paradigmatically to a viscous substance that subsequently hardens into the imparted form. Moulds's chapter is concerned with bonding by adhesives which are applied in viscous liquid form and subsequently harden. Moulds is concerned specifically with how the geometry of the bond -- the way the bond is molded -- affects the strength of the bond.
That was according to a New York Times Magazine article of March 10, 1996, pp. 37ff: ``The Morality of Fat,'' by Molly O'Neill, p. 38. Update June 2007: It's now the ``Department of Nutrition and Food Studies,'' and Marion Nestle is currently the Chair.
In a New York Daily News exclusive (July 15, 2002, cover and p. 7), she is quoted as saying ``I want my son off the street, but I don't just want him in jail. He deserves worse than that ... the death penalty.'' Her son Andre Neverson, one of ten siblings, allegedly shot his older sister Patricia in a dispute over money. Andre called their father to tell him he'd never see his daughter again. ``He can't be my son and kill my daughter,'' said Denzil Humphrey.
On page xii, Neville points out that in 1986, historian Edward Ingram ``compared Henderson's lack of competence and professionalism with that of Shirley Temple Black.'' STOP RIGHT THERE! Praise by self-evidently misguided criticism. Case closed.
The Rams were obviously ``struggling,'' as they call it, and had been for a few years. It would be petty of me to wallow in this if I didn't didn't point out that, although Null's rank among all those who have ever played in the NFL is in five digits, to reached that level of play is an enormous achievement, and his college record in the Lone Star conference was epic, but now I have so it's okay. Null tossed five interceptions in his first game, but closed out his season (four starts) with only nine, and a won-lost record of 0-4. He was picked up by the Carolina Panthers the next year and actually made it on to their active roster. He never played in any more professional games, though, so he never endangered his record of zero wins.
This is an example of her nonmusical work.
The sorrow doesn't end there. At the time the laicizations were announced, a number of lawsuits were still pending; in September 2004, the diocese filed for bankruptcy, saying it needed court protection because of legal costs from sexual abuse lawsuits.
Not to be confused with Francine Prose.
Paracelsus was the first enthusiastic champion of ``better living through chemistry,'' During his journeyman years, he took an interest not only in matters directly of medical importance, but also in mining. See Agricola.
He is often described as having been a keen observer, and he left many colorful writings. Here is his description of a comet that appeared in 1528 (when Paré himself was about 18) quoted in English translation by Robert S. Richardson in his The Fascinating World of Astronomy (McGraw-Hill, 1960), pp.162-3:
This comet was so horrible and frightful, and produced such great terror among the populace, that some died of fear; others fell sick. It appeared as a star of excessive length and of the color of blood; at its summit was seen the figure of a bent arm holding a great sword in its hand, as if about to strike. At this point there were three stars. On both sides of the rays of this comet were seen a great number of axes, knives, spaces colored with blood, among which were a great number of hideous human faces with beards and bristling hair!
(Italics in Richardson.) I wouldn't cut any of it.
As far as pop is concerned, Paycheck was a one-hit wonder in 1978 with the name-consistent ``Take This Job And Shove It,'' but his usual work is considerably bluesier, reflecting his life, which has given a lot of material for both blues and reflection.
The 1951 issue of HSCP was devoted to this scholar, and a list of his publications found there includes ``List of Plants on Three Mile Island,'' in Appalachia, vol. 12 (#3), pp. 266-76 (1911). The Three Mile Island he investigated is not the famous one in Pennsylvania but the one in the Lost River region of Maine that was owned by the Appalachian Mountain Club, based in Boston, that published Appalachia. Information on Three Mile Island is available online.
In volume 15 of HSCP (1904), pp. 29-59, he had article entitled ``Notes on Some Uses of Bells Among the Greeks and Romans.''
What is it about the name Penny that seems so inadequate that it must be buttressed with an explanatory word? The secretary at Bond's (James Bond's) home office was Miss Moneypenny.
We were throwing out a block of earnest booklets of good advice called Better Buymanship Series, published by Household Finance Corporation and edited mostly by its Consumer Education Department (some, like #8, ``Better Buymanship, Use and Care: Furs, are credited to the Department of Research). Generally speaking, I feel better if I can salvage some utterly valueless datum out of any printed material before it is recycled, and I noticed that Mrs. Pepper was acknowledged as a consultant for the booklets ``Money Management: Your Shopping Dollar'' (copyright 1950 HFC) and ``Money Management: Your Food Dollar'' (copyright 1951 HFC). She was already chief of the Consumer Section in those years. She was even acknowledged in the 1947 ``Better Buymanship, Use and Care: Dairy Products'' (another from the Research Dept.). She had the same job title, but HFC listed her then as at the ``Dominion Department of Agriculture.'' The reasons for this, if any, are probably lost to history, but history doesn't seem very concerned about the loss.
Proof that if you make a good name for yourself, you can have a sixteenth minute of fame. You can hear her voice here. She says ``toh-maahh-toe.''
A pike is basically a pole with a sharp end, possibly barbed. If you knew anything about medieval warfare, you wouldn't have to ask.
Porch, 46, might not have died had his collapse occurred any other time of year. He died on Friday, November 2, 2012. When the mail carrier came by that morning, he saw Porch on the steps of his porch but mistook him for a mannequin left over from Halloween. Porch's grown son found him an hour later, around noon, but efforts to resuscitate Dale Porch were unsuccessful. The family speculated that, had the mailman called for help, he might have survived. They noted that the body was still warm at noon. But, FWIW, if his was any normal kind of graveyard shift, and if the ride home was not extravagantly delayed or long, then he had probably been lying on the porch for a couple of hours before he was ignored by the postman.
You could use a pole to point, but a pike would be more intimidating.
Another point about 1884 is that in that year, the Washington Monument was capped with a pyramid of cast aluminum. That monument is far the highest structure in the area, so it must function as a lightning arrestor. That represents a lot of electromagnetic flow too.
(If you want to get technical, ``crown prince,'' as an ordinary compound noun rather than as a royal title, is applied to a male heir apparent, and not necessarily to a male heir presumptive. Franz Ferdinand was only heir presumptive: Emperor Franz Josef, who turned 84 in 1914, had been a widower since the 1898 assassination of Empress Elizabeth. If he had sired a son, that would have trumped [not a technical term here] the archduke's claim.)
It seems to have become something of a tradition for Habsburg royals to be predeceased by the violent deaths of their partners. Crown Prince Rudolf shot one of his mistresses to death before killing himself; it was reportedly a suicide pact. Gavrilo aimed for Franz Ferdinand but shot his wife Sophie in the abdomen first; the second shot mortally wounded Franz Ferdinand.
Gavrilo Princip was a member of the Black Hand, a terrorist group that sought unification of Slavic peoples in a greater Serbia. Why does this sound familiar? Anyway, Princip and the other assassins (one lost his nerve, the bomb of a second bounced clear and exploded under another car in the motorcade, others bided their chance) all were given cyanide capsules. In those days, the suicide component of terrorism was explicitly understood as a precaution to protect the secrecy of the rest of the terror group, or infrastructure, as we now say.
Tense logic dines on operators such as `It will be the case that' in the way that modal logic sups on `It must be the case that.' If you don't know what modal logic is, then this is probably not much help. Okay look, it's like this: in traditional logics, concepts of time occur in the propositions, which are timelessly true. For example: it is always true that Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 BCE. Temporal logic can qualify truth values in time, and consider the question whether it is true in 50 BCE that Caesar will cross the Rubicon. I don't know; it seems pretty obvious that this kind of logic can only be approximately coherent. As we have known since 1905, ``before'' and ``after'' are not attributes solely of the events they describe, but also of the observer -- the frame of reference. [For example, if your July 1, 52 BCE (the kalends of July) coincides with Caesar's kalends of July, 52 BCE (i.e., if you two synchronize your water clocks then), but if you happen to go off and approach the speed of light shortly thereafter (a constant acceleration of one g starting in August will do nicely), then Julius will cross the Rubicon long before 49 BCE, your time. (Of course, in your frame of reference July was Quintilis and August Sextilis; but in Caesar's, Quintilis became Julius no later than 44 BCE.)] In other words, relativity makes virtually any proposition that is not true a priori undecidable in a tense logic with only two truth values. I suppose it must be fun as a mathematical exercise, at some time. Sometimes it's called temporal logic. (Maybe you should see the entry on modal logic after all.)
The first significant presentation of a tense logic was in Prior's Time and Modality (Oxford: Clarendon Pr., 1957). One of Prior's main expositions of tense logic was Past, Present and Future (Oxford: Clarendon Pr., 1967). Prior died before his Worlds, Times and Selves was published in 1977. He died too early -- aet. 54 (born 1914, died 1969). Come to think of it, so did Caesar: the March he died was in 44BCE, so he died before Sextilis was Julius. It wasn't called 44 BCE either. You know, this isn't logic; this is just making unnecessary difficulties.
One of Prior's more generous contributions to my amusement was published in Analysis, vol. 21, #2, pp. 38-39 (December 1960). The title was ``The Runabout Inference-Ticket,'' and he commented (I mean: it is true now that he commented then) that he (I think it was him) was ``much helped in [his] understanding of the notion by ... some notes of Mr. Hare's.''
Later in the same volume (pp. 124-8), J. T. Stevenson replied with ``Roundabout the Runabout Inference-Ticket.'' Is it too late to give these people a speeding ticket?
The movie Journey among Women was released in 1977. Here's a bit of Australian government-sponsored synopsis: ``In the earliest years of Australian settlement, Elizabeth Harrington, a high-born and headstrong young woman (Jeune Pritchard) helps a group of convict women to escape constant rape by their jailers.'' Also, Pritchard was doing rock music reporting at least as far back as 1973, when she interviewed Lillian Roxon. Roxon died young, FWIW, later that year. (To be fair, she had already been in declining health before the interview.)
The Einstein's-birthday edition of the Atlantic (well, it was dated March 14, 2012) had an article by Patrick Hruby entitled ``Basketball Players of the NCAA, Unite!'' Hruby made the case that the college basketball players are sorely exploited and should strike for fair compensation. The only NBA player interviewed for the article was Profit, and one can't help wonder if his name hadn't something to do with that. He was quoted saying ``We never talked about a strike, but we used to have the whole compensation discussion. We're the ones in practice, going through drills. But it's the coaches making millions--not only off their university contracts, but also through shoe deals and talk shows. Meanwhile, we were getting penalized if we took an extra pair of sneakers.''
Not to be confused with Susan Page.
© S. Greenbaum, R. Quirk, G. Leech, J. Svartvik 1900
(The book is essentially an abridged version of A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language (1985), on which the authors had worked in collaboration with Geoffrey Leech and Jan Svartik. I assume the 1900 is just a typo -- possibly the fault of the Chinese printer.)
``Rad,'' ``radn.,'' ``rad-n'' and similar forms serve as abbreviations for ``radiation,'' which killed over 300 experimental animals and sickened many others in that test at Bikini. FWIW, Gilda Radner's ultimately fatal cancer was treated with radiation therapy (as well as chemotherapy).
The rad is also a unit of radiation exposure. If the test animals had been men then rem might have been a more informative unit (rem stands for ``Röntgen-equivalent man'' -- a measure of radiation exposure computed with an energy- and particle-dependent scaling). If Gilda had been a man, it's not likely that she would have died of ovarian cancer. (I know this is in poor taste, but we artistic types must have our liberty. It's edgy humor. She'd have appreciated that.)
Okay, it's this: Rage (I don't know how that's pronounced) is a community leader with the Omaha Somali-American Community Organization, and he's serving as an advocate and spokesman for Muslim workers at the JBS Swift & Co. meatpacking plant in Grand Island, Nebraska. In September 2008, those workers sought break times to allow prayer at sunset during Ramadan. I infer that some accommodation was made, as some non-Muslims were claiming that their Muslim co-workers were getting preferential treatment. There were walkouts during the week of September 14, and Rage said that nearly 200 Somali Muslims have been fired. At the time, the company was confirming 86 firings.
When he asked her if she had any drugs in the car (a pink Honda Accord), she admitted that she had some ``happy pills.'' (As she explained on her blog later that evening, she would take one or two of these sometimes before going to a club.) Many news reports describe the pills as ``illegal narcotics'' and also as ``prescription pills.'' Possibly they were prescribed in some way to someone, and possibly they were narcotic, but Justis and the Department of Safety definitely agree that they were illegal, and there was no mention of drugs in the citation resulting from the traffic stop.
According to her blog (taken down shortly after this story broke) or to the video interview she gave to the Knoxville News Sentinel, he pointed out to her that a drug charge would prevent her from traveling out of state. She started crying and explained that she has to commute to Los Angeles for her work. (According to an article I read in the early 1990's, the industry is actually concentrated along Van Nuys Boulevard north of the hills, but I guess such precision is not required. I think the article was written by Shere Hite and appeared in the Atlantic; will check.)
That was not the end of his investigation. Indeed, his probe expanded. Back in the squad car, he checked out her website and they watched sex videos on a laptop computer. His laptop.
He eventually decided to toss her pills in the brush by the side of the road. Mr. Romance also asked her, ``What does it cost for someone like me to get anything like you?'' I'd like to mention here that Richert is a form of the name Richard, but it is also possible to construe it as `enriches.' [That is the meaning of the German word reichert. If the verb were conjugated with a stem change (and historically perhaps it was), that would likely be spelled richert.] Many news reports described Justis (i.e., ``Barbie Cummings'') as a ``star'' of pornographic movies. (I think that articulates with ``starlet'' or ``co-star'' in less X-ly rated movies. If they use the missionary position, I suppose this is a supporting role. Sorry, sorry -- I couldn't restrain myself.)
Later, they went to a secluded place outside the car, where she thanked him for not giving her a ticket for the drugs. In her words ``I offered him an oral favor as a nice gesture.'' (We're not talking about a mint candy here.) Also, she (he, in some reports) apparently took video of this gesture, and she posted stills on her blog. Then, ``[h]e called me the night after it happened and asked if he could tell some of his co-workers and give them my website. [I can't give a rational explanation for this.] I said sure.'' Maybe she should have said ``You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law....''
The traffic stop took place on May 7, 2007. The next day an internal complaint was filed against the trooper. Talk about moving fast! On May 24, the trooper (James ``Randy'' Moss -- I was holding back on the full name until I could think of a way to wedge in a rolling-stone-gathers-no-moss angle, but I didn't get lucky) received a letter of termination; charges were pending. A week later, he was allowed to resign rather than be fired, and it was reported that he would not be charged for throwing out the ``small amount of drugs.''
Justis said she planned to appear in court to address the speeding charge (92 in a 70 zone; she was hurrying to her aunt's house). You know, if you contest the charge and the citing officer doesn't show up, you usually get off, in a manner of speaking. Contrariwise, if you don't show up to contest the charge, then you don't, even if the citing officer has been terminated. That's apparently what happened to Justis when she failed to appear for her hearing on June 29; she consequently had to pay her $159 speeding ticket, within two weeks. Some 16 other motorists did show up, however, and had their tickets dismissed.
After Moss resigned, other women (none of them porn stars) came forward with allegations that Moss had behaved inappropriately during traffic stops; in many instances he had reportedly asked to see their breasts. Look, I know this is a pathetic entry, but you don't have to read it. The DA was said to be planning to file misconduct charges although some of the complaints were said to be too old to prosecute. Not all, however. In October 2007, Moss was arrested after a grand jury indicted him on 10 charges related to his traffic stops. The charges included tampering with evidence, official misconduct, and official oppression. Moss was booked into the Wilson County Jail and later released on a $2,500 bond. The following January, he agreed to a plea deal which keeps him out of jail if he stays out of trouble during a term of probation (this is a typical ``diversion'' agreement).
Salza is a fair pun on salsa, the Italian word for `sauce.' The word ricotti (I don't know in detail about the surname) is virtually the same as ricotta: both can be translated as `recooked,' `reheated,' `annealed' vel sim. (The -i is the typical plural male ending and -a the singular female. The distinction is not reflected in translation, of course, because each English adjective has a single form that agrees grammatically with any noun. The -i at one time functioned as a nobility marker in Italian surnames.) Ricotta is made by reheating whey.
The fumigation involves a propellant, and the propellant is typically violently combustible. Here are a few unplanned ignition experiments involving these devices.
In 1946-47, Tennessee Williams wrote ``A Streetcar Named Desire'' while living in a third-floor apartment in the French Quarter of New Orleans. On March 12, 1995, a woman who had just rented the apartment set off six aerosol cans in the 8-by-10-foot kitchen (recommended treatment is one can for a 20-by-30-foot room). The fumes were apparently ignited by the water-heater flame. The tenant suffered cuts and bruises in the explosion, as did a passer-by who was struck by a falling door.
On December 13, 1995, a homeowner performed this standard experiment in absentia. He left his home in Cessnock, near Sydney, Australia, after setting off a roach bomb within. When he returned later that evening, the house had burned down. On the 30th of the same month, in nearby Burwood, a woman placed a bomb in a cupboard in her laundry room. Fumes leaked out and were apparently ignited by the nearby water heater. Senior firefighter Mick Holton was quoted as saying ``[i]t literally looked like a bomb had gone off.'' Pest control expert Shane Clarke was quoted as saying that such explosions were ``reasonably common.'' (I suppose this depends on what you think is reasonable.) Burwood Fire Brigade had once earlier responded to an explosion that occurred when a roach bomb placed in the back of a truck was apparently set off by the heat of the engine.
With Billy Graham and Rex Humbard, Oral Roberts was one of the great pioneers in televangelism. It was Roberts who made the great discovery that people are more willing to cough up money for big bricks-and-mortar projects than for things like money to stay on the air. Hence, Oral Roberts University and its ``Prayer Tower,'' and an ambitious building campaign that included his City of Faith Medical and Research Center, founded in 1981 and closed or repurposed in 1989... In the 1980's he was hamstrung by something like a Laffer curve for charitable donations: to increase contributions, he started devoting a larger fraction of his air time to schnorring, until the whole show was nothing but a hectoring appeal for money. This from a fellow who had pioneered the use of secular entertainers to hook audiences. From 1980 through 1986, Roberts lost 59 percent of his audience. In the late 1980's he also suffered from the general erosion of, uh, faith, due to the scandals swirling around various other televangelists.
A nine-hundred-foot vision of Jesus had assured him that the medical center would be finished, and a message from God told him that ``the'' cure for cancer would be found there, but faith was not enough: he needed money, and in 1987 he announced that if he didn't raise $8 million quick, God would ``call me home.'' (He made other, similar appeals, on TV and by mail. Televangelists never ask just once.) He eventually was called home -- at least he departed -- on December 15, 2009 (Cupcake Day). According to ORU's page about him, at the time of his death he had ``13 grandchildren, one of whom is in heaven...'' Certainty is one of the benefits of faith.
Back when I was in grad school, one of the Dans I knew in the Music Department was a composer -- named Dan. It seems that one of his life-changing experiences was working as a clerk in a bookstore. It was not a university bookstore. Guns and Ammo was popular there. One day someone came in wanting a copy of ``Oral Roberts' Rules of Order.'' He was bound to be disappointed.
The hawk, whose mate flies the official team colors, is clearly an avian member of Sox Nation, and was evidently confused. The hawk meant to attack Alex Rodriguez (``A-Rod''), a star Yankees hitter. The hawk had attacked a photographer in the park a day or two previously. I wonder what's going on at the Seattle football field.
According to wildlife officials, the hawk has built nests in the park since 2002, though there the hawk had not laid a (literal) egg until 2008. This is not a picture of reproductive success. A single egg was found in this year's nest, which was located in an overhang near the stadium's press booth. The nest and the egg were removed ``in hopes of keeping the hawk away.''
[The Jane Roe in this case, Norma McCorvey, revealed her identity publicly in the 1970's when she wrote an autobiography (I Am Roe: My Life, Roe v. Wade, and Freedom of Choice). This apparently made it easy for her to get work at clinics where abortions are performed, a step up from the bartending and carnie work the ninth-grade drop-out had been getting before. She was working at a Dallas women's clinic when the pro-life group Operation Rescue moved its offices next door. She struck up an acquaintance with Rev. Phillip Benham, Operation Rescue's national director, whom she would meet when she went outside for cigarette breaks. Eventually she became a born-again Christian and a pro-life activist.]
The Roe v. Wade decision had many political effects. One intriguing effect is a demographically mediated backlash. It seems reasonable to assume that women who are pro-choice will be more likely to take advantage of the abortion option opened by the decision, and would therefore have fewer children, on average, than they would have had otherwise. The Roe Effect (or better Roe Effects) refers to the electoral consequences of that demographic shift. The earliest effect is that relatively liberal ``blue states'' will tend to have a lower rate of natural increase than otherwise, lowering their electoral clout in the House of Representatives and in the Electoral College (see EV). If one assumes not unreasonably that the children of conservative parents (or socially conservative parents, or at least pro-life parents) are more conservative than the aborted children of pro-choice parents would have been, then a second effect is that the electorate as a whole, in all states affected by the Roe v. Wade decision, drifts further right, or less far to the left, than it would have absent that decision.
The nomen est omen aspect of this is just that the named effect arises when large numbers of potential offspring are prevented from entering the population. Roe are fish eggs, and as caviar and similar foods, they are also prevented from maturing. (Of course, they are normally harvested before fertilization.)
Roxon was born Liliana Ropschitz in Alassio, Italy, on February 8, 1932. The family immigrated to Australia in 1937 to flee fascism and antisemitic laws. In November 1940 the family Anglicized their name to Roxon. The name was little Lillian's suggestion. She became a journalist, and from the late 1950's was a New York-based correspondent for various Australian publications, becoming the first full-time female employee at the Sydney Morning Herald's New York office. During the 1960's she became interested in rock music. She became part of the rock music in-crowd and wrote serious rock music criticism when I suppose that may have been a rare thing. (Maybe it still is.) In 1969 she published her now famous Rock Encyclopedia. It republished in 1971, and posthumously in 1980 with revisions by Eddie Naha. Finally in 2013 I bought a copy for a dollar, hence this note.
There's ancient legal maxim that ``justice delayed is justice denied.'' The idea is partly codified in statutes of limitation and in laws requiring that arrestees be charged or released in a timely manner. There are also stipulations in some laws that defendants pleading certain extenuations must announce their intention within a certain period of being charged. For statutory reasons like these, both defense and prosecution (or plaintiffs) often want to act quickly at the beginning of a legal proceeding. That's two ``rushes.'' On the other hand, once the technical requirements have been met, the reality of the maxim would seem to dictate that any party not interested in justice would prefer delay. Delay as a defense strategy is described by Arthur Train in his My Day In Court. That's one ``delay.'' (The main cause of delay seems to be the bottleneck of packed court dockets. But maybe this isn't the law firm's responsibility.)
It surprises me that no one suggested that perhaps there ought to be a barrier there. It reminds me of a book by Daniel Patrick Moynihan with the somewhat apposite title of Traffic Safety and the Health of the Body Politic (1966 -- possibly his first). I don't have the book to hand, and I'm paraphrasing roughly from memory, but in it he commented that with millions of cars on the road, collisions are not accidental -- they're statistically inevitable.
And now, my dear Mr. Butler, let me give you a little good advice. If you wish to make yourself agreeable to the female sex, never hint to a woman that she writes or has written `with care'. Nothing enrages her so much, and it is only the exceptional sweetness of my disposition that enables me, with some effort, I confess, to forgive this little blunder on your part.
He could have used this Apology Letter Generator, or maybe flowers. There has been much speculation about why they didn't marry, and whether either of them wished they had. Apparently Butler felt that he was expected to make a proposal, but he didn't want to. He made a lot of excuses to himself about it, and after she died he set aside the Way manuscript largely because it called up painful memories of Miss Savage. One of his last literary acts was to assemble and edit his correspondence with her; Way was published posthumously. To the extent that anyone can say this for anyone else, it seems fair to say that he loved her. It was suggested by some that he didn't ask because she wasn't pretty (litotes alert).
The following appears in Hesketh Pearson's Bernard Shaw (1942), p. 310:
A strange lady giving an address in Zurich wrote him [Shaw] a proposal, thus: `You have the greatest brain in the world, and I have the most beautiful body; so we ought to produce the most perfect child.' Shaw asked: `What if the child inherits my body and your brains?'Interestingly, this seems to repudiate Shaw's neo-Lamarckianism (expounded in the preface to ``Back to Methuselah''). Samuel Butler also had heterodox ideas about inheritance and evolution, which Way was intended to illustrate.
er sagt ,,ich schade'' he says ``I harm'' er sagt dass er schadet he says that he harms er sagt er schade he says he harms
In the US presidential election of 2000, Democrat Albert Gore won a thin but clear popular majority over Republican George W. Bush. Ralph Nader, as the Green Party standard-bearer, ran a distant third. Still, he received far more votes than any other third-party candidate, and far more than the margin of difference in votes between Bush and Gore. It is reasonable to suspect that if Nader had not run, a large majority of the votes cast for him would have gone to Gore. One percent or so of the votes cast for Nader would have given Gore Florida and the election. (More on this at the EV entry.)
In 2004, Linda Schade was a spokeswoman for Ralph Nader's presidential exploratory committee. On February 20, a Friday, she announced that on NBC's ``Meet the Press'' the following Sunday, Nader would ``be discussing his role in the presidential election.'' She said that ``[h]e's felt there is a role for an independent candidate to play.'' Spoiler.
Of course, if you were for Bush, this was beautiful. The following Sunday, to no one's surprise, Nader announced that he would run.
Incidentally, many westerners who encounter the creator-destroyer-preserver description may wonder why the big cults worship Shiva and Vishnu, while Brahma (creator) gets short shrift. It may be helpful to rephrase things thus:
Brahma ==> Manufacturer
Shiva ==> Recycler
Vishnu ==> Reuser
You're welcome, I'm sure.
French Foreign Minister Aristide Briand had already shared the Nobel Peace Prize in 1926 with German FM Gustav Stresemann. [Briand and Stresemann had negotiated the Locarno Pact in 1925. (That was a non-aggression pact between their two countries; Briand got to sign it as French Premier late in 1925.)] In 1929, US Secretary of State Frank Kellogg got his own Nobel Peace Prize for his work on the Paris Pact.
In 1931, Japan invaded China. Japan was a signatory to the Paris Pact, and was consequently in violation of international law! The Paris Pact has no enforcement provisions.
NASA doesn't like this little side business of the Russians, because it makes it too obvious that an astronaut is basically a ``man in a can'' or ``spam in a can'' (the original form and the coiner of the expression are uncertain; the Chuck Yeager character speaks the latter form in The Right Stuff). Carrying tourists takes the glamour out of it, makes it look like something even a septuagenarian ex-Senator could do without endangering his health. Mark was probably shuttle-worthy too.
Arguably the most influential bishop of the post-Vatican-II era in Asia, Cardinal Sin played a major role in bringing down two Philippine presidents. (That sounds better than it looks.) In both cases, their successors were women. La chica means ``the girl'' in Spanish.
In order to position yourself for a career change, you have to understand how to communicate the value that you can provide in a new role. What are the existing skills and qualifications that you can leverage? What are some possible weaknesses and how can you present them in the best light? Why should an employer or investor want to ally with you and your brand?
Slagtersnek means `butcher's neck' in Afrikaans. The Afrikaner side in that war memorialized the events of Slagtersnek as a war atrocity.
Snell won gold in the 800 meters at the Rome Olympics of 1960, in record-setting time. He successfully defended the 800-meter title at Tokyo in 1964 and went on take gold in the 1,500 meters as well.
Traditionally, protection against sophisticated forms of crime has required the kind of expertise found mostly among the criminals. For example, forgers and con artists are among the best detectors of forgery and fraud. Thus, law enforcement and private security organizations regularly turn to, or try to turn, criminals and former criminals. (Sometimes this can be quite problematic. It can create legal incentives for making progress in illegal activities.)
In computer security, although the legal issues are occasionally cloudier, it is also common to hire foxes to guard the henhouses. Window Snyder is one such fox, and she has been particularly involved drawing hacker expertise into the security community. The surname Snyder is one form of the common Germanic occupational name meaning `tailor,' written Schneider in German. Literally, the word means `cutter,' and that's a fair synonym of hacker. In September 2006, Mozilla Corp. hired Snyder to lead the efforts to secure its open-source software, particularly its Firefox browser. The principal strategy that she mentioned, when her appointment became official, was cutting: removing old code whose cost in vulnerability is greater than its value in functionality. I despise that. It's the same philosophy that has turned cars into nannymobiles. You can't do anything unless it's something that a designer decided millions of other users would also want to do.
Sôrós means `heap' or `pile' in Ancient Greek. On the other hand, sorós, with the first vowel an omicron rather than an omega, was `vessel.' Mostly it referred to a cinerary urn, and it was used as a nickname for old men and women (examples occur in the writings of that funny dead white guy Aristophanes). George Soros turned 74 in 2003.
Actually, George Soros was born George Schwartz. (In Hungary, so maybe that was György Schwarcz or Swarcz or similar.) When he was a boy his parents changed the family name to the vaguely Hungarian-sounding name Soros. George's dad was an active Esperantist, and in Esperanto the word soros is the future tense of the verb `to soar.' What is this, a hat trick?
(This is a 109-minute remake of the 105-minute Argentine movie Hombre Mirando al Sudeste (1986) [`Man Looking Southeast']. (I know, I know -- ``so what?'')
James Brady was President Reagan's first press secretary; he was crippled in the assassination attempt on Reagan on March 30, 1981, and was unable to return to work. However, he retained his title, and Larry Speakes filled in, handling daily press briefings under the job title of ``Deputy Assistant to the President and Deputy Press Secretary'' (from June 17, 1981) and then ``Assistant to the President and Principal Deputy Press Secretary'' (from August 5, 1983, until January 1987, when he resigned and was succeeded by Marlin Fitzwater).
Spikes have sharp points, like pikes.
When I get around to finding out what RWE stands for, I'll mention that in its own entry. Another water utility is Vivendi, mentioned at the A&M Records entry.
In Aristotle's model of the universe, a concentric sequence of ``crystalline'' (hard transparent) spheres held the planets and turned them around the earth (at the center). The rotation of the various spheres in this Russian-doll model was driven by the outermost sphere, which was turned by a ``prime mover.'' When Aristotlian philosophy was ``rediscovered'' and reintroduced from the Moslem world in the latter half of the Middle Ages, Christian theologians syncretized this model, making of the outer sphere heaven, and of the prime mover God.
You think you are big enough to make me, you little wimp? Come on. Come over here and make me, I dare you. You little fruitcake. You little fruitcake. I said you are a fruitcake.
Later, on the House floor, McInnis (age 50) stated that he had interpreted the Stark remarks as ``serious. I considered the threat a bodily threat.'' McInnis is a former state trooper, so he might have some relevant experience to back up the claim. Denying that his remarks had implied a threat of physical violence, 71-year-old Stark said:
I'm an elderly gentleman. I haven't been in a fight involving bodily contact in sixty years. Look, I fall trying to put on my underwear in the morning.
Some German commission took up the suggestion in 1924, but recommended the use of Roman numerals instead of Arabic, and a space instead of a hyphen (but, just as in Stock's suggestion, no space between the numeral and the name preceding it). Hence, CuO is copper(II) oxide (instead of cupric oxide). Stock's simple system is congenial to German, which resisted the adoption of Latinate chemical terminology. Sadly, the system has come into general use.
It's hard to think of something more embarrassingly trivial to be famous for, and Stock's name has been deservedly condemned to the immortality of faint praise. The clumsy practice (in the form recommended by that German commission) is sometimes referred to as Stock's system or the Stock System. More frequently, the Roman numeral is referred to as the Stock number.
Stoker loaded the gun and placed it in his mouth. Then Johnny Joslin pulled the gun out of Stoker's mouth, saying ``if you have to shoot somebody, shoot me.'' The shotgun discharged, hitting Joslin in the chest and killing him. Stoker was arrested and charged with murder in the first degree.
By now perhaps both have figured out an answer to the question. The reason I put this entry here is that I immediately thought -- ``he's stoking the flames of hell!'' Well, not really in those words: if you pay close attention, you'll notice that thoughts aren't necessarily verbal. But mainly I thought, this should go in the glossary. Where? Since you're going to read the glossary straight through anyway, you shouldn't mind particularly where. It's not as if I interrupted the train of thought you had about Stevenson that you didn't want to forget when you read about Stone, huh?
And now for something completely related. Previous laureates are an important outside source of Nobel prize nominations. That doesn't work so well with the Darwin Awards, partly because they are so often awarded posthumously. (Only the living may be nominated for a Nobel, although posthumous awards are allowed.) I have a candidate or two for the Darwin.
Okay, update on that. Darwin Awards has considered my submission and informs me that ``unfortunately'' -- oh, no! Rejected! I missed the cut. Not good enough for the Darwin's high standards of low inteligense. The ``moderators'' (their scores may still be on-line) were blasé, dismissive, and univocal (scored ``Definitely Toss''), and frankly cruel. What have they got against alcohol-assisted stupidity!? After all, it takes some native stupidity to get staggeringly drunk! I'm sorry, I---I'm feeling a bit low now. Rejection is so hard! It's so belittling to have one's submission turned down without a second thought. I mean really--what qualifies them to decide what is deeply stupid? Are they stupid or something? Pthah! Stupidity stumbles onward! Real stupidity will triumph in the end.
... took great pride in his ability to remain absolutely still for the duration of Dorothy's song, which often included several encores. One reviewer noted that ``when Mr. Stone is first lifted on the stage and leaned against the stile very few believe that the figure is that of a live man. They think it to be a rag dummy, a veritable scarecrow, and nearly all of those in the audience who are witnessing the extravaganza for the first time are convinced that this manikin will presently be replaced, to the accompaniment of some hocus-pocus, by the real man so essential to the play. Thus, when Dorothy rubs the magic ring and the figure exhibits signs of life there is a gasp of astonishment all over the theatre.''
Fred Stone wrote an autobiography entitled Rolling Stone (NY: McGraw-Hill, Whittlesey House, 1945). There (p. 133) he described his difficulties in the premiere, when he spent eighteen minutes with his weight balanced on the side of his ankle. Only the prolonged applause of the surprised audience gave time, as he leaned on Anna Laughlin's Dorothy, to lose the numbness so he could perform his dance.
Stones come in plums, don't they? The source for the linked entry is p. 65 of the Swartz book.
Apparently some members of the security detail hired prostitutes; others have been accused of interfering with an investigation. Interfering with a criminal investigation is generally illegal (and often easy to prove), irrespective of whether any crime has been committed (something Martha Stewart won't forget next time). Prostitution is legal in parts of Cartagena.
The way the scandal got started is that there was a dispute between Dania and her customer over her agreed price. (Surprisingly, despite their usual reflexive allegeds and allegedlies, the US media seemed to take at face value Miss Suárez's claim that they had agreed on a price of $800. Journalists can be amazingly naive.) She called the cops, and the dispute is said to have been settled for about $200. It does not seem to be disputed that she did call the cops, so I suppose this all took place in a part of Cartagena where this sort of thing is legal. (Indeed, failure to pay for an illegal act is unlikely to be a crime, since contracts for illegal activities are not enforceable, though the IRS may still seek its cut. Still, it's not a good situation to find oneself in, if the verbal contract itself was criminal.) One week later, about half of the accused Secret Service men have been more or less involuntarily separated from their jobs, and the investigation continues.
In Spanish, Dania is pronounced like daña. (There might be a distinction in some dialects, but it would be an exceedingly fine one.) Daña means `she harms' or `he harms.' (Or `it harms.' Spanish is a pro-drop language; a third-person singular pronoun is implied by the verb form.)
(Incidentally, Cartagena is the Spanish name of Carthage -- transfered to the New World in the usual way.)
Oh, alright, he also did stuff like Year of the Dragon: Legends & Lore (May 2003). It's perfectly understandable, of course, that he did text for The Book of Sea Monsters and for other books illustrated by Bob Eggleton, who naturally draws reptiles, dragons, birds, and hybrids of these.
I wonder if this is the same Michael Superman who was a ``Fuller brush [door-to-door sales]man'' in the Los Angeles area 20 years before. Art Ryon had a jokey column in the LAT entitled ``Ham on Ryon.'' The lead item on Nov. 11, 1957, reported this (p. B5). In December 2011, there was an attorney Martin Cohn practicing in Santa Barbara.
One of the ``real men'' she quoted in the article was ``Chris Suttile, a single guy in Chicago.'' The subtlety he was quoted as an authority for was that of not talking about plans to have children. (I believe brief discussions of contraception are permitted.) Anyway, sottile and sutil are `subtle' in Modern Italian and Spanish, resp. I haven't the time to check now, but if there isn't some Mediterranean speech in which suttile means or meant `subtle,' I'll eat my granola.
I'm not sure if this is a pseudonym. Another person quoted is ``Maria Amor of San Diego,'' but the rest have unremarkable names.
He's a cousin of Jerry Lee Lewis, a singer and piano player like him. Well, like him in general. Jerry Lee Lewis's career nosedived when it was revealed that he had married an adolescent cousin. Jimmy Lee Swaggart's career nosedived when it was discovered (October 1991?) that he had been patronizing a prostitute.
In 1987, Takeshita and two other close supporters of Kakuei Tanaka -- Shin Kanemaru and Ichiro Ozawa -- took over control of Kaku-san's machine. [It was an essentially typical patronage-and-power political machine. Goodies for the folks back home included roads and bridges, and getting the route of the bullet train to go through his district. Tanaka was Japan's Finance Minister (1962-1965) and became Prime Minister in 1972. The Lockheed bribery scandal forced Tanaka out of office in 1974, but he maintained effective control of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) even as he faced indictment, trial, conviction, and extended appeals (on those and other corruption charges). His machine continued to dominate Japan until 1993.]
The troika of Takeshita, Kanemaru and Ozawa staged their internal coup while Tanaka, in addition to his legal troubles, was ill. Takeshita became PM in 1987, but resigned under pressure due to scandals in 1989. He was arguably Japan's worst post-WWII PM (a distinction for which there is substantial competition).
(FWIW, Kanemaru had become the new don in 1987, a role he played until he was arrested for tax evasion in 1992. That left only Ozawa, who turned reformer, and for the first time in 1993 the LDP lost a national election.)
(Interestingly, Tanaka rose to the top of Japanese politics despite having only an elementary-school education. Most Japanese PM's have been college graduates -- many from the University of Tokyo, Japan's most prestigious university. On the other hand, Taro Aso (LDP), who served as PM from September 2008 to September 2009, came to be ridiculed for misreading common kanji in his own speeches. His given name Taro became a schoolyard epithet meaning `stupid.' Taro is a common given name, so this likely won't last.)
Dr. Lionel Tiger is Charles Darwin Professor of Anthropology at Rutgers University.
``Whether Torquemada's ways of ferreting out and punishing heretics were justifiable is a matter that has to be decided not only by comparison with the penal standard of the fifteenth century, but also, and chiefly, by an inquiry into their necessity for the preservation of Christian Spain.''
In 2000, Pope John Paul II apologized and said it wouldn't happen again.
The English word organ is derived from the Greek word organon, which means `tool.'
There is a website <http://toothacre.com/> ``[f]or resources and information on Arm pains and Pain'' including toothache. They also have surname links. I feel like I've been set up for a trip to the Twilight Zone.
William Jefferson's nickname when he was a congressman (and a member of the House Ways and Means Committee) was ``Dollar Bill.'' Several members of his former staff are in prison after pleading guilty to charges of conspiracy. A businessman has already pleaded guilty to bribing him. It's reported that there are tapes of W.J. soliciting bribes. It would appear that the feds have the goods on him, but what seems likely to really ice the case -- the icing on the cake, so to speak -- was the discovery of $90,000 of that $100,000 in a nonmetaphorical freezer at W.J.'s D.C.-area residence. The money (in marked $100's) had been divided up into chunks, wrapped in aluminum foil, and stuffed into nonmetaphorical but possibly symbolic boxes of Boca burgers and Pillsbury pie crusts. They say the four-and-twenty blackbirds were a political metaphor, but exculpatory stories about that green are even harder to swallow.
Trout are famous for swimming against the stream and almost dying in the effort, but this case may require more than your run-of-the-water-mill fish ladder. At the start of his opening statement on June 16, 2009, Robert Trout remarked to the jury, ``I almost think I should begin with a joke about cold cash or frozen assets.'' It'll be a historic tragedy if it turns out that the freezer didn't have any fish. I hope full details come out during the trial. (Boca burgers are ersatz meat made from milk and vegetables, and probably taste better than paper. US paper money is printed on an ersatz ``currency paper'' that is about 25% linen and 75% cotton, plus some red and blue synthetic fibers, but no one has claimed that those $100 bills were also counterfeit, despite the unreal safebox.) At the start of the trial, it looks like the defense is going to be that when he wasn't drunk or making inadequately documented and implausible but perfectly legal transactions, W.J. was, okay, doing a lot of things that were tasteless, maybe even unkosher, but not quite, technically, letter-of-the-law illegal. Sure, you'd have better odds against dam-riding grizzlies, but you can't always have your choice of venue.
(Just for balance, and not to have egg-beaters on my face in case of acquittal, I should point out that despite how bad a lot of W.J.'s videotaped actions apparently look, the prosecution has its own obstacles. For one thing, sting operations arouse some skepticism in juries, and the feds' original star witness, the woman who gave W.J. that $100,000, will not be testifying for the prosecution. No reason for this decision has been made public. It does prevent the prosecution from introducing into evidence unrecorded conversations between her and W.J., but a lot of their conversations were recorded. Another problem for the prosecution is that W.J.'s alleged crimes are not simple quid pro quo bribery, but rather a form of influence peddling. Essentially, he traded on his connections in West Africa, offering to grease the skids for business transactions with money to be funneled through companies owned by his family.)
Undercoffer was assigned by the White House to review FBI background files on aides seeking permanent White House passes.
As W.T. Koiter explains in the introduction, ``Professor Valid [uses] modern coordinate-free analysis in the mechanics of continuous media. The approach is typical of a French school of applied mathematics and engineering science. Professor Germain's eloquent recommendation to engineers in his preface to the original French edition of this work therefore applies even more strongly outside France.''
Prof. Germain (in the ``foreword'' of the English edition) is concerned because ``the reader who takes up the book without being familiar with the concepts and notations that Roger Valid handles so masterfully will find this ... perhaps a little disconcerting at first.'' Germain's task is to convice this reader that the mathematics is germane to his problems, and that Valid's is a valid approach to his problems.
(Don't tell me I'm stretching things too far. The book is all about elasticity!)
Twenty years later, San Francisco became one of the centers in the epidemic of AIDS, whose spread was facilitated by gay bars. A vector, in biology, is a disease-transmitting organism (as opposed to a vehicle, which is inanimate).
Das Volk is German for `the people,' but has a narrower, somehow more political connotation than `people' can have: das Volk refers to an ethnos, a particular people connected by a common culture or nationality. In English, you can use the null article to remove this particularity: a phrase beginning ``people say'' or ``people are'' is clearly general, and if a particular group is meant, the restriction must be indicated by context. To get the same generalizing effect in German, you have to switch words and begin ``die Leute sagen'' or ``die Leute sind.''
(The German word Volk is cognate with the English word folk, of course, and they are pronounced similarly. In particular, the German v is pronounced like an English f, and the vowels are close enough, considering the variation in vowel pronunciation across dialects. The main difference is in the l, which is clearly articulated in German, but ``dark'' in English.)
Oh, the 100,000 good people or so of Waco want you to know that they're only responsible for Baylor University (a/k/a Harvard of the Southern Baptists, also ``Thee University''). Still, if you go the seat of McLennan County, you might as well also visit the former site of the Mount Carmel compound of the Branch Davidians in nearby Elk (five miles east of the Waco city limits) or the ranch of US President George W. Bush in Crawford (ten miles west of the city limits). Then again, better not.
Waco also has an M&M candies facility and a Haircolor Headquarters. ``Headquarters'' -- nice pun, but overly militaristic overtones and highlights.
Comedian Steve Martin grew up in Waco -- need I say more? Okay, more at the Hfuhruhurr entry.
A wagon is a wheeled vehicle without the power to propel itself. That seems pretty significant right there. A wagoner is a wagon driver or, as the OED has for its first definition s.v.: ``[o]ne who has charge of a wagon as driver.''
The name Richard was introduced into Britain by the Normans. It is composed of the roots ric (`power') and hard (`brave, strong').
Historic Watertown, on the Charles River about 6 miles northwest of Boston, has a population of almost 33,000 and thus represents more than 1% of the population served by the main and affected by the boil-water order. What, you were expecting maybe 2%? See the Detroit entry.
One week later, it is believed that the break was caused by the failure of a 15-foot-long, one-ton metal ``clamp'' (a/k/a a Brico coupling). It affected Boston and 29 of its surrounding communities, including Brookline and Swampscott.
Hey, hey, Paula!
In 1937 he married a woman whose last name was Herbert. Two years later, Laura (neé Herbert) and Evelyn were not divorced. At this time he was Catholic. It's good he had waited until 1930 to convert: in those days, it was pretty hard to get an annulment -- it was until death did you part (and then I suppose you could be a bigamist in the afterlife).
He seems to have had a bit of a self-destructive impulse. In 1925 he tried committing suicide by swimming out to sea, but he was stung by a jellyfish and turned back. In 1939, Waugh (full name Evelyn Arthur Saint John Waugh) used his political connections to get into the Royal Marines, and eventually transferred to an Army commando unit.
He was editor of the Atlantic Monthly Press (the magazine's book-publishing arm) from 1928 to 1937, and moved back to the magazine in 1938 as its ninth editor and, by the time he retired in 1966, its longest-serving one. After his retirement in 1966, Weeks served as consultant and senior editor of the Atlantic Monthly Press until 1987 and continued writing. After retiring from this active retirement, he was editor emeritus at the Monthly and Press. He came in to work until two days before he died (Saturday, March 11, 1989) age 91.
In English, of course, (you already know everything articulated in this and the next paragraph) the Wiener surname is pronounced ``WEE-ner,'' presumably because in English, ei and ie are not usually distinguished except as misspellings. (That is, if either order is correct in the spelling of some word, then a spelling with the other order usually represents a recognizable misspelling rather than some distinct word or intended pronunciation distinction. There's a rule about it. Typically, the exceptions are recent foreign loans like lei.) In fact, weiner is a common-enough misspelling of wiener that it might be deemed an acceptable variant. (For example, googling on <<+wiener "hot dog" -anthony>> (the plus sign mostly prevents Google from returning pages that only have the weiner spelling) yields ``[a]bout 3,880,000'' ghits, while doing the same with weiner yields ``[a]bout 1,480,000.'')
Weiner is an informal name for a hot dog (a/k/a frankfurter), and is also, for obvious reasons, a (somewhat childish) euphemism for penis. (Yes, yes, I do parenthesize (quite) a lot, and my parenthesizing of modifiers is almost idiosyncratic. I can't help it -- I'm a dick.) The various euphemisms and dysphemisms for penis are also widely used as pejoratives. Under the circumstances, reportage and comment on the long-drawn-out Weiner story featured a lot of punning and references to punning (or to the commenter's meritorious abstinence therefrom, etc.). Even the ``wee nerd'' pun gets a few ghits with this story.
In German, wiener (capitalized only as a noun) means `Viennese,' and wiener Würstchen can be translated literally if awkwardly as `little Vienna sausage' or `Vienna sausagelet.' In the usual way, Wiener alone is understood (in appropriate contexts) to stand for wiener Würstchen. Also in German as in English, Würstchen, Wiener, and Frankfurter are among the vulgar synonyms for Penis. (In the German Sprachraum, a frank is normally all-pork, while a wiener is pork-and-beef.) In German, however, ie and ei have different pronunciations and are carefully distinguished, so the pun on Weiner's name does not work the same way.
Weiner is a common surname in Germany, an old contracted form of Wagner, which still means `wagon-maker' in southern Germany. There is an unrelated root in the verb weinen, which means `weep' and is cognate with the English whine. From this verb one has Weiner again as a common noun meaning `weeper.' In the June 7 news conference at which Rep. Weiner first admitted that it was indeed he who had sent the offending picture, he dabbed theatrically at his eyes and perhaps shed a genuine tear for his damaged and endangered political career.
[Obsessive detail, representing some of my research: You won't find Weiner in most German or German-English dictionaries. The Grimm has an entry with many examples of its use, however, as well as an entry for the female form Weinerin. A synonym that usually does get an entry is Weinende (same form for male and female). One reason that the common noun Weiner may not get an entry while Weinende does is that Weiner is regularly formed from the verb, using the productive ending -er (like whiner from whine), and German dictionaries tend not to define such regular derivations unless the meaning or usage is somehow other than what one would expect. In contrast, a construction from the adverb, like Geweinde, may or may not be accepted, so an entry for that is warranted. A possible second reason may be that Geweinde has become more common than Weiner. (It's hard to tell from ghits: even if the common noun Weiner were 70 times as common as Geweinde, it would still represent only 1% of the total Weiner ghits, most of which are for the surname or misspellings of Wiener. The inflected forms -- Weiners and Weinern -- are similarly swamped.) Fwiw, my mom doesn't recognize Geweinde and considers Weiner the translation of weeper, but she hasn't resided in Germany since 1938. She does wonder if there is a meaning of Weiner related to Wein (`wine'). The Grimm managed to uncover one such instance from the year 1470.]
If you're interested in this subject, you should see the minireview by C.H. Eisemann, W.K. Jorgensen, D.J. Merritt, M.J. Rice, B.W. Cribb, P.D. Webb, and M.P. Zalucki, ``Do insects feel pain? - A biological view,'' in Experimentia, vol. 40, pp. 164-167 (1984).
On July 23, 2011, she was found in her apartment -- dead at age 27. Everyone seemed to agree that the Winehouse death had to do with alcohol... somehow. There were reports that she had gone on (and perhaps after) a fatal binge, but family and close friends claimed the opposite: that her doctors had advised her to cut down slowly on her heavy drinking, but that she could only quit cold turkey. (Not wild turkey -- to only have quit that would have been incremental.) The day before she died, her doctor gave her a clean bill of health. Her parents, boyfriend, and manager all believed she had died from quitting too abruptly. It gives fresh meaning to ``physical dependence.'' Toxicology results eventially showed that her blood alcohol level was five times the legal limit for driving. I'm sure her family and friends would all insist that she wasn't driving at the time, but the coroner ruled that she died from drinking too much alcohol.
Ervin became known for the homespun, common-sense indignation he expressed at Executive-Branch activities revealed in testimony before his committee. Conveniently, the president in office was of the opposite party, posing no partisan restraint on his wit. Ervin was known primarily for his wit (in the modern sense of humor), and only secondarily for his wisdom. Bill Wise's book demonstrates in detail just how imaginatively Ervin expressed his unimaginative opinions.
Whodunit Math Puzzles is a children's book by one Bill Wise (illustrated by Lucy Corvino). If this is the same Wise, he seems to have a thing about the intelligence gathered by criminal investigation.
A William Wise wrote the children's book Dinosaurs Forever (illustrated by Lynn Munsinger). The novel The Tail of the Dragon was written by Robert L. Wise and William Louis, Jr. Wilson. Only Wise is credited on the cover. The other fellow, regardless his connection with the book, is not some Wilson who was named after William Louis, Jr. It's just amazon.com's weird way with names. Similarly, Stephen R. Wise has contributed a volume to a series of books edited by ``William N., Jr. Still.''
They say the child is father to the man. In March 2005, Paul Wolfowitz was nominated and confirmed as Wolfensohn's successor. Wolfowitz is a family name equivalent to Wolfensohn, a patronymic constructed using a Slavic rather than Germanic suffix. Of course, it's written using the letter w to represent a sound normally written with a vee in English, because its original Latin-character spelling was in German and Polish. In German, incidentally, the word Witz means `joke,' cognate with English wit. (I'm sorry, I've exceeded my quota of ``the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce'' citations. You'll have to find a more complete description deep inside the pea entry or the Charlie's Angels entry.)
With the nomination of Wolfensohn to replace Lewis Preston as president of the World Bank in March 1995, US Pres. Clinton disappointed environmentalist and development groups that had hoped he would pick W. Bowman (``Bo'') Cutter, a top White House economic advisor. (Since you ask, Cutter was deputy head of the White House National Economic Council, with responsibility for trade policy and international economic issues.) Wolfensohn, who had little experience in the development field, made the case that he would be a cutter of superfluous World Bank staff. (Sorry, I can't cut out the superfluous punning stuff.) The following May 5, the Wall Street Journal reported that ahead of his June 1 start, ``fear'' gripped the World Bank: ``he is seen at the 9,000-employee institution as a cost cutter.'' Looks now like he went native.
The wolf was native to the forests of Europe and (or including) Britain, and was a common basis for names. Wolfgang is still a common German given name. The Latin word for wolf was `lupus,' whence Spanish lobo and the English surname Lovell (the -ell is a diminutive ending). A Lovell is mentioned in this glossary in connection with Odyssey.
Incidentally, another candidate passed over for the WB post in 1995 was Lawrence Summers, US Treasury Dept. undersecretary for international affairs and a former World Bank chief economist. His cause had been backed some US Treasury and senior World Bank officials. I don't know how disappointed Summers was at the time, but he went on to become a president anyway -- of Harvard University. His tenure there was characterized by sober attempts to just, you know, like, suggest that maybe some tenets of political correctness might not, ah, be entirely, uh, fact, and by his subsequent desparate and spineless apologies. After five years as president, he resigned (as he announced on February 21, 2006) or was forced out, effective the end of the 2005-6 academic year.
But Gerard Baker is not. Gerard Baker is better known as the US editor of the Times of London, but the following is from a column he contributed to the American political magazine The Weekly Standard, May 22, 2006: ``...Prescott [see Prezza], 67, a brutish former seaman with a capacity to mangle the English language that makes George W. Bush sound like Wordsworth, had been exposed as having an affair with a jaunty 43-year-old lass who worked in his office.''
As of summer 2002, he's working on a series of Bible commentaries, one for each book of the bible. These were originally intended to replace, but will now be published along side of, the old Barclay commentaries.
Zuckerbrot is a German word literally meaning `sweet bread,' but like the English sweetmeat, it applies to any sweet delicacy -- candy, candied fruit, sweet pastry, whatever. Just like the word sweetmeat, Zuckerbrot has gone somewhat out of use. Konfekt and confectionary are more common. The English word sweetbread, of course, is something else again.
Zuckerbrot survives as a common surname and also in the stock phrase ``Zuckerbrot und Peitsche,'' meaning `carrot and stick.' (Peitsche, as you recall from reading Nietzsche, means `whip.') The German version strikes me as more pointed.
Charles Zuker is a neuroscientist at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute. In 2001, he announced an important research finding concerning sugar: while there are more than 30 genes coding for bitter receptors in human taste buds, and a corresponding large number of different bitter receptors, there is only a single gene and a single kind of receptor for the sweet taste. Biochemists at Senomyx, a company cofounded by Zuker, eventually demonstrated that the two subunits of the sweet receptor each has a separate binding site. (This accounts for a synergy effect: a mix of sweeteners tastes sweeter than equivalent larger amounts of either one separately.)
Back in June or July 1999, most of the wait staff at the local Denny's quit about all at once, and service declined to abysmal. They were so short of personnel that they couldn't man their third shift (10pm-6am). When I came back a couple of months later, the only person I recognized was a cop, a fellow regular. When I told the seater ``one non'' he asked ``you mean nonsmoking?'' Still getting the kinks out. (Actually, they never got the kinks out.)
(Some time later, Val took third shift at the Hollywood Diner, my next regular spot, and I asked her what had happened that all the waitresses and the waiter had quit Denny's. She explained that they got a new night manager, and that manager would stay in the back office, supposedly doing books, and never help out in front no matter how heavy the traffic got. That occasional help had made all the difference.)
Surveys continue to report that a declining minority of Americans smoke, but you wouldn't guess it from 24-hour restaurants. I guess it's a class thing. The dives are all-smoking, whether the law allows it or not. The nicer sort of all-night diners are at most one-third non-smoking. Even allowing for the fact that smokers stay longer and that some nonsmokers accept seats in smoking sections, the clear majority of 3AM clientele smokes.
Seaters should seat the don't-cares in the part of smoking adjacent to nonsmoking; that would help.
When Robert was visiting from the Democratic People's Republic of California, he was shocked to learn that we ``still'' have nonsmoking sections here in the red state of Indiana. He hadn't realized that smoking was still permitted at all. I should have told him not to worry -- that most of our restaurants don't have nonsmoking sections. Then if he never read this entry, he might remain blissfully unaware of what that meant: that you can nonsmoke (or smoke) anywhere you like. And another thing if you visit -- if you forgot your motorcycle helmet, don't worry your head about it. (I don't think that's why it's called a ``red'' state.) (Starting April 10, 2006, however, most restaurants in this county (St. Joseph) are nonsmoking.)
For much more on this, much of it speculative but all of it just fascinating, see a couple of postings from the Classics List: (1) (2)
In fact, nonce means, essentially, this once, the present occasion, and the phrase ``for the nonce'' originally meant something more like ``just this once'' or ``as a one-off.'' The word nonce arose from an ignorant analysis of the Middle English phrase for then once, in which then was a dative singular form of the article the. (Cf. German ``für den eins.'')
This faulty analysis is evidently a problem particularly with the nasal en. Other examples can be found at the adder entry.
The term was invented by Ben Bradlee, managing editor of the Washington Post during that newspaper's investigation of the Watergate scandal. If you remember the value of aitch-bar-cee in folksy units, then you'll find this mnemonic useful for remembering the time of the Watergate scandal.
There was widespread feeling among the nobility that Japan needed reform to create a more national -- centralized and integrated -- government. In October, one of Japan's feudal lords (daimyo) formally requested that the shogun resign his powers. Shogun Keiki resigned in November, in the full expection that this was a formality preceding his appointment as the head of a new government. Instead, I decided to take a break from writing this glossary entry. Can you stand the suspense? You know, all I wanted to do here was insert a little item of interest, and I find myself having to write a thumbnail summary of the Meiji restoration just so it makes sense. So what I'm going do is put the motivating quote in now, and if it doesn't resonate yet, you can come back later and read the context I haven't written yet.
Reporting from Yokohama in March 1868, A. R. C. Portman wrote Secretary of State Seward:
The real sovereign of this country is not the Mikado ..., neither is it the Tycoon; .. the ruler is the Spirit of Evil, which appears to be all powerful, and to control every nobleman in this country.(Spirit, not axis. That came later.)
R. B. van Valkenburgh, the American Minister (viz. ambassador) to Japan had proclaimed US neutrality in the civil war and refused to allow delivery of a naval ram, the Stonewall, that had been purchased by the shogunate. Portman approved the decision and wrote that
in view of the utter unreliability of the ruling classes in Japan, such terrible engines for mischief as ironclads should never be permitted to get into their possession. ... The supply of rifles cannot well be stopped... that of ironclads, I sincerely hope, may not be a difficult matter, as they can only be built in the United States, England, and France.
A discussion of nuclear mispronunciations, which have been perpetrated by many US presidents from Eisenhower on, was the subject of a ``Fresh Air'' commentary by Geoff Nunberg in October 2002. An amateur but useful discussion can be found at the Random House Word-of-the-Day feature for April 14, 2000.
Jimmy Carter, who had more marbles in his mouth than in his brain, pronounced the word as ``nookyer.'' He was often described as a nuclear engineer.
You can learn a little about the intellectual context of this intellectual word for the sphere of intelligence at the biosphere entry. The word is constructed from Ancient Greek roots. The word (and the scientific-vocabulary morpheme) sphere comes from the sphaîra, originally meaning `ball.' The first root in noosphere is nóos, meaning `mind,' which is related to the common British English word nous, q.v.
Out of the Noösphere (Simon & Schuster / Fireside, 1998) is subtitled Adventure, Sports, Travel, and the Environment: The Best of Outside Magazine. As you may guess, Outside is something of an intellectual's magazine for not-so-intellectual pursuits. I first learned of it on the (Greek and Roman) Classics mailing list, where Mark Williams, a professor of Classics at Calvin College, pointed out an article of interest in the December 2000 issue: ``Columnist Mark Jenkins writes of kayaking the Dardanelles and visiting Troy and Gallipoli, among other sites. His travelling companion seems to be up on Herodotus. The article is available on-line....''
NORA explains the change on its About Us page:
NORA was established in 1985 as the National Oil Recylers Association with the primary mission of fighting the hazardous waste designation of used oil [ah-ha] and aided in the development of the EPA's used oil management standards.
The name was later changed to NORA, An Association of Responsible Recyclers as the business functions of the membership grew. Today, NORA represents the leading liquid recycling companies in the following area: used oil, anti-freeze, oil filters & absorbents, parts cleaning, waste water and chemicals.
FWIW, here's the mission statement (circa 1997): ``To encourage and promote the proper recycling of used oil, oil filters, used antifreeze and other automotive and industrial materials through education and the development of legislation and regulations at the Federal, state, and local levels which will protect human health and the environment.''
<AllBusiness.com> serves a page with some quantitative detail on NORA.
You know, how much one knew or knows about weapons systems has a great deal to do with how tight-lipped the various military organizations have been. The depth of NORAD's hole in Colorado was better known than, say, the name of NORAD's Soviet counterpart (PVO Strany). Hence the following.
In prefaces or acknowledgments, authors normally dish up mostly thanks. An exception is Nigel Calder, in the ``Author's Note'' (pp. v-vi) to Nuclear Nightmare:
Custom allows me the privilege of thanking the BBC and the many other people who have made this book possible. The reader would be misled, though, if I gave the impression that cooperation was fulsome everywhere that Peter Batty and I went while we were investigating the subject of nuclear war for the BBC and its coproducers. The British Ministry of Defence and the U.S. Navy evaded our interest in their nuclear affairs by simple procrastination. The French Ministry of Defense, on the other hand, was very quick to say no to our request. The Israeli government was silent. The White House was very cordial until we asked awkward questions. Our varied and often promising efforts to secure a Soviet spokesman were systematically blocked. Individuals who had important things to say in private often declined to repeat them for the record.
That makes me appreciate all the more those who were eager to help. Among the warriors, special thanks are due to the U.S. Department of Defense; to the U.S. Air Force and its Strategic Air Command, North American Air Defense Command, Space and Missiles Systems Organization, and the Tactical Air Forces in Europe; to the U.S. Army, particularly V Corps and its Eleventh Armored Cavalry Regiment; and to the German Ministry of Defense. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe were as helpful as secrecy and political inhibitions allowed. ...
He also thanked various people and nongovernmental and nonmilitary governmental organizations. I haven't really given very much information about NORAD, have I? Oh well, there's a bit more at the DEW Line entry. [The primary source for that entry is the Encyclopedia USA, a comprehensive but incomplete (and possibly abandoned?) effort. That entry cites various articles in Aviation Week & Space Technology (and its predecessor Aviation Week) as main source.]
The relative social prestige of selected occupations is reported in General Social Surveys 1972-1996: Cumulative Codebook (Chicago: NORC, 1996) on pp. 1077-1085. The results are about what you'd guess (so we won't list any), and yet they're interesting anyway (so tough).
After the post office confused itself and convinced the phone company that I had moved away, I had to resubscribe for phone service. Checking to see if I qualified for DSL self-installation, the customer service representative (saleswoman) listed possible equipment that I might currently be using. When she mentioned rotary phone, I guffawed. She told me some people still use that. Okay, it was still new forty years ago.
I probably shouldn't be mentioning that here -- this file is pretty bloated already.
Apparently, it refers in part to the directionless, surrealistic search of the befuddled hero/common man around the country for a fictional character. [In Shakespeare's tragedy Hamlet (Act II, Scene II), Hamlet is quoted as saying: "I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw."] The archetypal hero only finds a resolution to his disorientation and troubles by traveling from New York to Chicago by train and then flying north by Northwest (Airlines) to South Dakota and Mount Rushmore, a northwesterly trajectory. The allusion to traveling 'North' by Northwest (airlines) seems to be the most probable explanation for the film's title. [At various stages of the script, the original working titles were Breathless, In a Northwesterly Direction, and The Man on Lincoln's Nose.]
The square-bracketed material is in the original review, and not placed there by me. If you're an adult who reads English, you shouldn't need a gloss explaining who wrote Hamlet. The actual direction (along the straight -- i.e., great-circle -- route) is closer to west than westnorthwest, let alone ``northwesterly'' or plausibly ``north.'' Moreover, the direction from Chicago to Rapid City is not described as northwesterly in the movie itself...
A referendum on May 22, 1998 ratified the Good Friday Agreement, and the following June 25, the first elections were held, seating ``moderates'' as the largest parties on both the ``nationalist'' and ``unionist'' sides. (See SDLP and UUP.) The assembly was suspended a few times. The fourth time was in October 2002. A year later, the British government announced elections for November 26, 2003, in which the largest parties were ``hard line.''
No part of New York State is ever referred to as ``North York,'' which is just as well because then North York might be confusingly close to North York.
The above statements are geographically more exact if one takes ``North'' as geomagnetic North (a bit to the west of true north, from Toronto), because whoever laid out Lake Ontario was not a big fan of rectilinear coordinates.
You wouldn't think this would be a very challenging canine vocation, given the size of an elk (a small moose) and the splat they probably make on landing, and you'd be right. Norwegian Elkhounds are mutts that dropped out of bird-dog school.
``NOS'' is sometimes interpreted as ``New Old Stuff.'' ``NOS'' has also been interpreted as ``Never Out of Stock.''
One obsolete-parts dealer for Harleys is actually called NOS Parts. Hey, get a load of the next entry, nudge, nudge.
It's been suggested to me that the trademarked name NOSCAR involves some kind of pun. Oh, I get it! It's a pun on Oscar, the Sesame Street character. Oscar performs with somebody's arm up his ass. (It's the arm of Caroll Spinney. Get it?) He spends most of his time in a garbage can and his trademark song is ``I Love Trash.'' Appropriately, he has no nose. He also has a pet orange worm named Slimey. Despite a lifestyle that would seem to predispose him to disease, and despite having Caroll Spinney's hand constantly performing operations on his head, he doesn't seem to get sick. (He only seems to suffer from dyspepsia, but in his case the condition is not a disease. Grouch is his species.)
Perhaps I should have realized that the signs weren't official from the fact that they faced the road instead of the traffic. In a way I do feel vindicated: those black-on-orange ``END CONSTRUCTION'' signs always strike me as signs of protest.
The Portuguese have been much more cooperative, giving us a present-tense indicative in the third person plural: notam, `they note.' (You know who ``they'' are.)
Oh, Rome did offer something in the way of a noun -- notam, the accusative of nota, -ae, a `mark.' But what can you do with that? It's hard to indicate case distinctions with English nouns unless you use phrases, like veni, notam vidi, volavi. (`I came, I saw the mark, I flew.')
A more specialized (talmudic use) of notarikon is for a mnemonic word constructed from the initials of key words. I.e., an acronym constructed mostly as a memory aid, and possibly not meant to signify anything in se. For a recent example from medicine, see JONES. Other, classical examples, mostly spurious (CABAL, NEWS), can be found in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (s.v. notarikon).
But people who wear ``Notre Dame Engineering'' tee shirts all seem to be Notre Dame Engineers. Like it's not a popular spectator sport or something. I suppose it could be worse: I don't see anybody wearing ``Notre Dame Sociology'' or ``Notre Dame Theology'' tees (with or without collar). To be more precise, I don't see any of them in the computer lab at 3 AM, but that must be a representative sample, after all.
From Chuck Shepherd's online autobiography, January 2002:
I'm now 56 years old, in good health, live in Tampa, and work harder than I should in pursuit of my mission to monitor a civilization in decline, generally working every day until I get dizzy. But when I'm tempted to slow down, I just remember: No, the millions and millions of judgment-challenged people in the world are not taking time off; they're still knocking themselves out committing weird news; and I must persevere.
SBF salutes Chuck Shepherd.
German doesn't have this problem, because adjectives are adjectives are Adjektive and nouns (nouns substantive) are Hauptwörter.
The French word that translates noun is nom, and it has undergone an evolution parallel to that of the English word, so it is also a synonym of its earlier qualifier substantif (which is still used).
French also has a word numéro which, like the Spanish word número, occupies only part of the semantic field covered by English number: the Romance words are used to mean `numeral' but are not normally used in an expression like ``a number of [countable things].'' For the latter sense of English number, French has nombre.
In Spanish, you would be more likely to use the word cantidad (i.e., `quantity') for that sense of the word number, but Spanish does have a word nombre, which means ... `noun.' In Spanish, the common terminology broke differently, and it is standard to refer to nouns (in the modern sense of the word) as substantivos. Adjectives are adjetivos. A proper noun is un nombre propio, literally `a name of [its] own.'
In this glossary, we generally use the word noun in its modern sense, and the word substantive where confusion or discomfort might arise for someone familiar with both words. One of our peer information content providers, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) used sb. for nouns substantive in the first edition, but since OED2 (1989) has conformed with our general practice (using n.).
Let me think. I'm not articulate enough to just toss off a complete entry in one editing session.
Various definitions of noun are offered, typically elaborations of the idea that roughly, a noun names a thing. The most fundamental problem with any such definition is that essentially all it does is substitute more undefined terms (name, thing) for the term noun. The search for more fundamental definitions in terms of concepts that by some magic require no definition is chimerical, a symptom of a fatal disease called philosophy. Any productive approach to grammar abandons such essentialist definitions and states facts about the relations among different concepts. For example, one may say about a noun that it is the kind of grammatical object that may serve as the subject of a sentence. This is not a very effective approach from a philosophical perspective, but that is a nugatory criticism, since there are no ultimately successful approaches in philosophy. The point of identifying operational or relational facts about terms that remain undefined is that by accumulating enough such facts, one learns what one needs to know. This is the scientific approach. A physicist does not waste effort in defining what mass, force, position, and time are, in any deep, fundamental way -- except to state precisely some of their relations (Newton's laws, say) and some approximate facts about particular masses, forces, etc. (e.g., an equivalence principle between inertial and gravitational mass, Hooke's law). When you can measure and make accurate predictions about the objects of your study, you eventually come to see fundamental definitions of an essentialist sort as superfluous. Indeed, insofar as such definitions go beyond what is measurable or somehow observable, they are metaphysically uncertain.
In the process of nailing down physical law or grammatical practice, the terms one finds convenient to use are not uniquely determined by the phenomena described. In his famous Lectures in Physics series, Richard Feynman noted that he was using the term action in a different sense than was traditional, because the new definition was more convenient (not more correct). The new sense has stuck.
The older sense of noun was especially appropriate for Greek and Latin, where noun and adjective declensions are closely related, and where adjectives can very easily become substantives. English uses little inflection, and words promiscuously change their function among verb, adjective, and noun roles, so suppressing or subordinating the distinction between adjectives and substantives gains one less. Moreover, attributive nouns (adjectives coined from substantives) function slightly differently than native adjectives. Hence, the shifted sense of the word noun has some practicality. For a study of how inconstant have been the ``parts of speech'' in English, and how various their definitions, see English Grammatical Categories and the Tradition to 1800, by Ian Michael (CUP, 1970).
The French word nous is pronounced like the Yiddish word nu, a word so wonderfully expressive that it is almost devoid of meaning.
The most famous literary disambiguation-by-nickname, of course, was of the Samuel Butlers: Samuel ``Hudibras'' Butler (1612-1680) and Samuel ``Erewhon'' Butler (1835-1902). The latter is better-known today for ``The Way of All Flesh.'' Novels wear better than utopian visions, perhaps.
Ancient journalistic conventions decree that ``respectable'' papers cannot break gossip stories, but must wait until NOW or some other bottom-feeder has broken the story, whereupon the story can be carried not as gossip but ``as reported in the racy British tabloid News of the World.''
It is not possible to confuse NOTW with NOW.
During the long period when O. J. Simpson and the murder of his ex-wife were in the news, the National Enquirer reporter who was covering that story (with great success and accuracy) went around speechifying to this effect, and also arguing that nevertheless, to the public at large there was not a great difference between the quality papers and the supermarket-distributed cat-box liners (not his wording).
The technique of using a bold or bolder newspaper as an excuse to introduce discussion of a taboo topic is not limited to respectable papers. At one point, in the stiflingly corrupt and coercive Japanese Diet, Takeko Doi broached debate of a topic (I think it was the Recruit scandal) via the back door of discussing how its appearance in US newspapers [stage direction: hold up front page of NY Times] was affecting the international perception and reputation of Japan. Japanese newspapers are not bold.
When nitrous oxides are present in the atmosphere, they react with the oxygen present and establish a multicomponent equilibrium (solar radiation catalyzes the reactions). In the higher temperatures of summer, the equilibrium shifts toward NO2 (nitrogen dioxide), which gives smog its characteristic brown color. All the oxides dissolve in water, and when it rains they come down as more or less acidic rain (depending on the gas mix; each oxide forms its own acid, but nitric anhydride, which would give a very strong acid, has a very low concentration at ordinary pressures). The main source of acidity in acid rain is sulfur oxides.
Portrait at right is courtesy of Chuck Gathard, taken in 1986.
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