How Did "Liberal" Become A Bad Word?

HISTORIAN JOHN LUCAKS ANSWERS THIS QUESTION.

As to why it happened, the nut of his answer is this:

Beneath these political and ideological sentiments there was the sense,

more or less apparent, of a general disappointment with liberal ideals.

There was the inclination, sometimes fatal, of liberals to take the

ideas of the Enlightenment to extremes: to propagate a public morality

devoid of, if not altogether opposed to, religion; to insist more and

more on institutionalizing the promotion of justice, at times even at

the expense of truth; to emphasize freedom of speech, often at the

expense of thought; to make abortion legal; to approve same-sex

marriages and affirmative action.

To an increasing mass of Americans, "liberal" began to mean — rightly

or wrongly — a toleration, if not a promotion, of what many considered

to be immoralities.

That’s why it happened, but the context of when and how it happened is most interesting.

CHECK IT OUT.

Columnist Goes Monkeyfishing

So . . .

HERE’S A STORY ABOUT NEW INTERNET TERMS

(Specifically, "monkeyfishing," "jump the shark," and "pajamahadeen.")

It correctly explains the origin and meaning of the term "monkeyfishing" (which, as an item of Internet jargon, refers to a form of excessive credulity, particularly in the media; offline it refers to using electricity or explosives to go fishing.)

He also gets the origin and meaning of "pajamahadeen" right (i.e., a term originating in the Dan Rather forged documents scandal meaning, more or less, "bloggers who aggressively fact check things").

But when it comes to "jump the shark" the author get it dramatically wrong!

He claims (correctly) that it has its reputed origin in a Happy Days epsidoe in which Fonzie goes water skiing and literally jumps a shark but he goes on to (incorrectly) explain its meaning as follows:

"Jumping the shark" thus came to mean any wildly
excessive activity designed to attract attention to a person or group
in a popularity tailspin. As, for example, "Aging poptart Britney
Spears finally jumped the shark by marrying a high school friend for
two days in Las Vegas."

Wrong.

Engaging in excessive activity to attract attention is something one can do in the act of jumping the shark, but that’s not what the term means.

Jumping the shark is the point at which a TV series (or something else) passes its peak of quality and begins to markedly decline in quality. This is, in fact, explained on the premier site devoted to jumping the shark, namely, JumpTheShark.Com:

It’s a moment. A defining moment when you know that your favorite television program has reached its peak. That instant that you know from now on . . . it’s all downhill. Some call it the climax. We call it jumping the shark.

And it’s not just those folks who say this. For example, check out Wikipedia’s discussion of the term.

In fact, if you check the dictionaries Onelook lists as having the term, they all agree on the "past its peak" definition.

So, what happend? Did the author of the column just not cross-check the story he’d got on the meaning of "jump the shark"?

Sounds like monkeyfishing to me.

I hope this paper hasn’t jumped the shark.

Call in the pajamahadeen!

Those Scalawags!

Okay.

So I’m reading on WorldWideWords.Org and they have this section on (allegedly) "weird words."

On the page for hornswoggle, they state that it is "often assumed to be one of those highfalutin words like absquatulate and rambunctious that frontier Americans were so fond of creating."

WHAT???

I’ll gladly admit (in fact, I’ll proudly insist) that 19th century Americans had a real word-factory going, but by what set of criteria is rambunctious a "highfalutin" word???

That’s a real sockdolager! Those scalawags are trying to hornswoggle us on this one! I’ve a mind to absquatulate their web site and skedaddle! What a bunch of consarned snollygosters!

[DICTIONARY LINK FOR THE 19TH-CENTURALLY CHALLENGED.]

Greek Pronunciation

A reader(‘s son) writes:

I am a 14-year-old high schooler and am trying to teach myself ancient
Greek. I am using the Athenaze series.

Because I have no teacher to help with pronunciation, I was wondering if
you could help me with some questions I have. My mom reads your blog and
said that you are skilled at ancient languages. I know you are very busy
and hope you can find the time to answer my questions.

Here are my questions:

I want to know if the Greek letter chi is pronounced as the letter "k" is
pronounced, or as the letter combination "ch" in the English language?

It’s neither. The letter chi represents a sound that we either don’t have or that we barely use in standard American English. Ancient Greek textbooks will often say that this is like the "ch" in the Scottish pronunciation of "Loch" (a very harsh sound) but in modern Greek it’s more like the "h" on the front of "Hugh" (a less harsh sound). You also hear it compared to the "ch" in the German pronunciation of "Bach."

I know that it is pronounced as a softer sound in modern Greek but don’t know for sure whether it was harsher or softer in ancient Greek. Any of the above pronunciations (i.e., from "Loch," "Bach," and "Hugh") will get you in the ballpark, though.

A similar question for the letter phi and the letter psi.

The first is easy. Pronounce phi just like the letter "f."

Psi is a little harder for English-speakers at first. It is pronounced like the letters "ps" in the word "lips." You can’t drop off the "p" sound (as we do in English when we say "psychiatrist" and pronounce it /sai-kai-ah-trist/). Neither should you exaggerate the "p" sound and say "pea" (like the Animaniacs do when they say "pea-sai-kai-ah-trist"). It’s just like the "ps" in "lips" or "cops" or "chaps."

The difficulty is caused by the fact that, though we use this sound in English, we don’t put it on the front of words. The Greeks did. To get used to saying it on the front of a Greek word (like "psuche" [meaning "soul"]), you might try adding an extra syllable on the front of the word as a kind of "training wheel" that you can take off once you feel comfortable putting the sound up front. For example, you might say /cops-oo-chay/ (note that this has the chi-sound in it!)  and then drop the /co-/ to arrive at the correct pronunciation, /psoo-chay/.

Thank you very much. If you can suggest another series that might provide
more help than the Athenaze series, I would appreicate it.

I’m familiar with Athenaze, but I haven’t used it myself, so I don’t have a feel for how the program works. That makes it hard to recommend something better. If it were me, though, I’d probably try learning either Koine or modern Greek first, since there are very good tools for learning these (see recommendations below), and then afterwards learn the kind of classical that Athenaze covers.

My mom bought me the book on heiroglyphics that you recommended last year
and I really enjoy it. Actually I like languages a lot. My school doesn’t
offer Latin or Greek, so I am studying German. I am the top student in
the school.

Congratulations! Incidentally, your German will serve you well in learning Latin and Greek. The noun system in Latin and Greek works the same general way that the German noun system does (i.e., it has cases and declensions). Also glad you like the hieroglyphics book!

Also, can you recommend a resource to learn koine Greek? I am interested
in learning that so I can study the old Bible texts.

The best resource to really start studying Koine Greek in a serious way is William Mounce’s Basics of Biblical Greek. It offers tremendous help to the student that other courses don’t offer.

On the other hand, if it’s a little advanced for you, you might try Mounce’s Greek For The Rest Of Us or James Found’s Basic Greek In 30 Minutes A Day.

MORE KOINE GREEK RECOMMENDATIONS HERE.

The best resource for starting to learn modern Greek is Pimsleur. You might try one of the smaller, cheaper sets and see if you like the program.

Hope this helps, and good luck with your language studies!

Qapla'!

So I was watching this episode of DS9 where Dr. Brashir is whining about the fact he was salutatorian rather than valedictorian at Starfleet Medical (because, as revealed in another episode, he deliberately missed a question on a test [because, as revealed in yet another episode, he is a genetically modified human who didn’t want to blow his cover]).

And I get to thinking about the word valedictorian.

Obvious Latin roots.

Looks like it has the roots to mean "farewell" and "to speak" in it.

And, indeed, it does.

Latin: valedicere = vale (farewell) + dicere (to speak); to bid farewell.

A valedictory is thus a "farewell speech" and a valedictorian is the person who gives it at a commencement, usually the highest scoring student.

Then I started thinking about the word vale.

Where does it come from? Looks like an imperative form of valere. But what does valere mean?

"To be strong, to be powerful, to be healthy, to prevail, to succeed."

To succeed?

So "Vale!" might be translated as "Succeed!"

That’s (more or less) what Klingons say to bid each other as a farewell: Qapla’!

I wonder if on Qo’noS they call valedictory a Qapla’SoQ? (Qapla’ = success + SoQ = speech).

Probably the most combat-proficient student gets to give it.

Qapla’!

So I was watching this episode of DS9 where Dr. Brashir is whining about the fact he was salutatorian rather than valedictorian at Starfleet Medical (because, as revealed in another episode, he deliberately missed a question on a test [because, as revealed in yet another episode, he is a genetically modified human who didn’t want to blow his cover]).

And I get to thinking about the word valedictorian.

Obvious Latin roots.

Looks like it has the roots to mean "farewell" and "to speak" in it.

And, indeed, it does.

Latin: valedicere = vale (farewell) + dicere (to speak); to bid farewell.

A valedictory is thus a "farewell speech" and a valedictorian is the person who gives it at a commencement, usually the highest scoring student.

Then I started thinking about the word vale.

Where does it come from? Looks like an imperative form of valere. But what does valere mean?

"To be strong, to be powerful, to be healthy, to prevail, to succeed."

To succeed?

So "Vale!" might be translated as "Succeed!"

That’s (more or less) what Klingons say to bid each other as a farewell: Qapla’!

I wonder if on Qo’noS they call valedictory a Qapla’SoQ? (Qapla’ = success + SoQ = speech).

Probably the most combat-proficient student gets to give it.

"Your Namesake"

So right now I’m reading Plato’s dialogue Theaetetus, in which the

definition of knowledge is discussed, and the edition I’m reading from

is a diaglot with English on one page and Greek on the other. The Greek

is a different dialect than I’m used to, but I can still make out a

good bit, and when I encounter an interesting word or phrase in

English, I’ll look over at the Greek out of curiosity to see what it is

translating.

I’m finding that the translation (by Harold North Fowler) is not as literal as I would have hoped. Oh, well.

But I ran across a funny.

At one point Theaetetus (a young man) is talking to Socrates (the famous philosopher) about one of his compansions, and he says:

It may seem easy just now, Socrates, as you put it; but you

are probably asking the kind of thing that came up among us lately when

your namesake, Socrates here, and I were talking together [147c].

"’Namesake’ . . . ?" I thought. "That’s an interesting word." So I

looked over in Greek for the phrase corresponding to "your namsake" and

saw that it was tO, sO, homOnumO, [little o is omicron, big O is omega, and comma is an iota subscript].

tO, is the dative form of the definite article (i.e., "the"), which Greek likes to throw into noun

phrases a lot more than English does, so this phrase is

literalistically "the your nameake."

sO, is apparently the dative form of the pronoun "you" in Plato’s

dialect (Attic Greek). From Koine Greek I’m used to the dative "you"

being soi.

homOnumO, is the word equivalent to "namesake." It’s also a dative form. I kind of wrinkled my nose for a second while I analyzed its meaning, then suddenly it hit me like a flash: Of course, that’s the Greek word for "namesake"! It makes perfect sense! There’s even an English equivalent!

Continue reading “"Your Namesake"”

“Your Namesake”

So right now I’m reading Plato’s dialogue Theaetetus, in which the
definition of knowledge is discussed, and the edition I’m reading from
is a diaglot with English on one page and Greek on the other. The Greek
is a different dialect than I’m used to, but I can still make out a
good bit, and when I encounter an interesting word or phrase in
English, I’ll look over at the Greek out of curiosity to see what it is
translating.

I’m finding that the translation (by Harold North Fowler) is not as literal as I would have hoped. Oh, well.

But I ran across a funny.

At one point Theaetetus (a young man) is talking to Socrates (the famous philosopher) about one of his compansions, and he says:

It may seem easy just now, Socrates, as you put it; but you
are probably asking the kind of thing that came up among us lately when
your namesake, Socrates here, and I were talking together [147c].

"’Namesake’ . . . ?" I thought. "That’s an interesting word." So I
looked over in Greek for the phrase corresponding to "your namsake" and
saw that it was tO, sO, homOnumO, [little o is omicron, big O is omega, and comma is an iota subscript].

tO, is the dative form of the definite article (i.e., "the"), which Greek likes to throw into noun
phrases a lot more than English does, so this phrase is
literalistically "the your nameake."

sO, is apparently the dative form of the pronoun "you" in Plato’s
dialect (Attic Greek). From Koine Greek I’m used to the dative "you"
being soi.

homOnumO, is the word equivalent to "namesake." It’s also a dative form. I kind of wrinkled my nose for a second while I analyzed its meaning, then suddenly it hit me like a flash: Of course, that’s the Greek word for "namesake"! It makes perfect sense! There’s even an English equivalent!

Continue reading ““Your Namesake””

Beans Snack!!!

Beansnack1
Y’all may remember a while ago I mentioned that when I go to the Japanese market for low-carb noodles, that–just to figure out what kind of product I’m holding in my hand–I often have to rely on tiny nutritional labels slapped on by the importer. Sometimes the product name on the label is kind of comically descriptive, like “Corn Snack.”

Well, I can’t eat Corn Snack (too high in carbs), but I just found one I can eat: Beans Snack!

I am so totally amused by Beans Snack. It has so many great things going for it.

1) With only six grams of carb per serving, and three of that fiber, I can indulge in Beans Snack . . . in moderation.

2) It has a really cool package with all these little green pea Japanese warrior-lookin’ dudes performing incomprehensible tasks. They are so cool! I wonder if they’re the Japanese equivalent of the California Raisins (remember those “Heard It Through The Grape Vine” commercials about fifteen years ago?). Maybe the Beans Snack pea-warriors are part of a major advertising campaign over there or something. I sure hope so.

Beansnack2
3) The helpful English nutritional label was written by someone who speaks Japanese rather than English as his native language. You can tell because of the Engrish name of the product: “Beans Snack.”

Now, obviously that’s not what we could call such a product in English. We’d have fancy-schmancy made-up name like “Beanoritos” or something. But I assume that’s the case in Japanese, too. “Beans Snack” is probably an attempted description and not a translation of the product’s name (which I assume is either “Calbee” or “Saya Endo Sappari Shio-Aji”; probably the latter). Yet a native-English speaker wouldn’t have called it that, as you can tell by two things:

a) The principle ingredient of Beans Snack isn’t beans at all but green peas (hence the little green pea warrior dudes). A native English-speaker would know that green peas aren’t considered beans (at least the way they are popularly spoken of, regardless of what a botanist might tell you).

b) We’ve got a plural adjective here: “Beans.” The thing is, English doesn’t have plural adjectives. We pluralize our nouns, but not our adjectives. Thus we might have “a bunch of grapes” (“grape” functioning as a noun) but not “grapes soda” (“grape” functioning as an adjective). In Japanese, the rules regarding pluralization are very different: There isn’t any, at least normally. Japanese nouns (and adjectives) don’t inflect (change form) for number, so they are neither singular nor plural (or both singular and plural, depending on how you look at it).

Beansnack3
The Japanese-speaking label-writer knew that English does have plural nouns and misinterpreted “bean” as a noun in this case. Since peas normally come in a group, he used what he thought was a proper English plural form, not realizing that here the word is an adjective and adjectives in English don’t inflect for number.

4) Beans Snack actually tastes good! It has a kind of . . . well, green pea taste. A little salty. A little sweet, but not very much. It has a nice, crunchy texture. After sampling it, I find myself thinking “Hey, I’d like some more Beans Snack now!” It’s one of those hard-to-eat-just-one snacks.

Low carb . . . cute package . . . comical and interesting language issue . . . good taste. What more could you want in a snack?

Three cheers for Beans Snack!!!

Latin Update

I wanted to thank everybody for taking the time to look at the experimental Latin lessons and leave feedback. I haven’t done an exact count, but the split seems roughly even between those who like format #1 and those who like format #2, with perhaps a modest majority for format #1 (though that’s just an impression).

Several have asked whether I’m working on a book or web site teaching Latin by this method, and the answer is “maybe.” I initially did the lessons as an experiment–just to see how this teaching technique would work and whether people would find it useful. The response has been quite positive (though that may be because those who didn’t like the lessons didn’t bother to write in).

As a result of the positive feedback, I’m continuing to develop new lessons using this technique. I’m not sure whether I’ll put them together as a book or a website or first-a-website-and-then-a-book. I’ll need to get a few more lessons done before I make that decision.

As far as formatting, I’ll probably continue to write in format #1, which is the easier format to write in. Then, afterwards, I can rearrange the information into format #2 if that turns out to be the way to go.

I’ll let y’all know how it goes, and will share some more lessons soon to get more feedback.

Much obliged, folks!

P.S. To touch on a few things folks raised in the comments boxes:

1) I *don’t* think that Latin needs to be learned before Greek. In fact, I find Greek grammar easier than Latin (the noun system in Greek is *half* the complexity of the noun system in Latin, e.g.), and there are much better Greek textbooks out there. For example, William Mounce’s Basics of Biblical Greek is the best there is (at least until the one I’ve worked on off-and-on over the years gets published maybe someday).

2) I *loathe* John Collins’ Primer of Ecclesiastical Latin. It is the book I learned from, and its pedagogy is horrendous and seems to be designed to make things as difficult on the student as possible. You really need a good teacher if you’re going to get through this one, but it can be done. Unfortunatley, I don’t know of a better text on ecclesiastical Latin to recommend. I know there are some; I just don’t have them and so haven’t looked at them and am thus unable to recommend any. There is one that’s half-classical/half-ecclesiastical Latin that I like, but the author’s name and its exact title escape me at the moment (language textbooks tend to have such similar titles).

3) One person suggested using ecclesiastical texts in addition to Scripture in the course I’m designing, and I had been semi-planning to do that. After working through Mark a logical switch would be to the text of the Mass. Anyway, we’ll see.