Archivio per “la categoria della latta di rifiuti„
L'inglese è principalmente una lingua germanica con qualche francese gettato dentro a causa della conquista (francese) normanna dell'Inghilterra, in modo da è un tempo grande fare rivivere e godere in una parola tedesca usata quello spesso ma specialmente propos questo annoschadenfreude.
Tradotto approssimativamente, schadenfreude mezzi “gioia sopra suffering e perdite della gente.„
Con il cerchio dei millionaires e dei billionaires del grasso-gatto ora che sono portati singlehandedly giù da Bernie Madoff ed il suo schema di $50-billion Wall Street Ponzi, possiamo tutto l'introito un certo piacere nel vedere altri ottenere che cosa è dovuto loro. Se noi stessi abbiamo sofferto le perdite questo anno (sollevi la vostra mano per unire mine se avete), l' affaire Madoff è giusto che cosa il medico ha ordinato.
L'economista ed il columnist Thomas Sowell dice ad un fable grande di che taglia al cuore schadenfreude- e natura umana.
Due contadini russi, uno chiamato Ivan ed un Boris, vivono di massima-e-cadono esistenza nella foresta, ma Boris (o Ivan, non posso ricordare chi) ha un obiettivo e un Ivan non ha niente.
Un giorno Ivan inciampa su un genie in foresta che offre di assegnargli un desiderio ma un desiderio soltanto. Così che cosa Ivan chiede?
“Faccia la capra del Boris morire.„
Mi ricordo di indietro in High School che excoriated da un insegnante inglese di che detto, in effetti, “non potete dire una miriade. La miriade è un aggettivo. “
Così, ciecamente, ho creduto che per le parecchie decadi prossime fino… ad oggi.
Infine lo ho osservato in su. Risulta miriade iniziato fuori come significato di nome “innumerevole„ o letteralmente “10.000„ (considerato una volta una somma “innumerevole„).
Allora nel diciannovesimo secolo, Samuel Taylor Coleridge ha aiutato il convertito esso in un aggettivo quando ha scritto la frase, “miriade delle vite innumerevoli.„
Non sicuro a che cosa quello ha significato o si riferito, ma di conseguenza, ora abbiamo miriade come sia il nome che aggettivo ad abuso.
My day gig these days has me doing research on labor law and employment issues, and today I came across a nonprofit hospital posting from North Carolina, which announced that new acronyms were being added to hospital jargon during our current economic difficulties.
The author mentioned two: PIK, or payment in kind, which refers to paying one’s bills with something other than money, and DCOH, or days’ cash on hand–a measure of how long one can survive.
The second one is truly scary, but I was calculating that for myself up until I landed this recent gig a month ago.
Come next year, I may be back to counting DCOH.
Following yesterday’s post about phrases, I guess I should’ve looked up "calling a spade a spade" before using it, but I think it conveys what I want.
The subject is the recent terrorist attacks in Mumbai and the PC foxtrot that most of the media used to report about it. Fearful of linking the murderous rampage to Muslims or Islam, many media labeled the terrorists by various euphemisms, for instance, "gunmen," "militants," "practitioners" and then this–"teenage gunmen," as used in this sentence from the newspaper The Australian: "An Adelaide woman in India for her wedding is lucky to be alive after teenage gunmen ran amok."
I think they did a bit more than running amok. They obviously set out on a preplanned and premeditated terrorist assault to try to bring the financial capital of India to a halt, just as al Qaeda operatives did in 2001 to New York.
The Associated Press even felt sorry that Muslims "found themselves on the defensive once again about bloodshed being linked to their religion."
What next, tea with Obama at Camp David where he’ll apologize of all of us mean-spirited and prejudiced Americans, him excluded, of course?
I owe this all to Mark Steyn and his syndicated column, which you can read here.
I saw a blog title today using the phrase above, annus horribilis (which the writer mispelled by using two l’s), and I had to go look it up. Not even I know everything. LOL
To my rescue came a handy site named Phrase Finder.
Turns out that annus horribilis is annus mirabilis–"year of miracles"–turned on its head to mean "year of horrors." It was popularized in 1992 by Queen Elizabeth II.
Found at EngrishFunny.com (among other pictures, so check them out):
I stumbled upon a Web effort by MSN today to discover and name the "11 Lamest Blogs." I was actually hoping to be named on the list, so I could get some zillions of vistors. Alas, I didn’t make it, but you all know how lame I am. LOL.
Someone whom Donald Trump detests (me too!) did make the list, however, and she’s none other than acerbic (read: bitchy) TV/movie/talk show/radio failure Rosie O’Donnell.
MSN gigs her for her absolutely lame usage of English, in which nothing is capitalized or punctuated (read the assessment). However, I have a bigger beef. I just went to her Rosie.com site and couldn’t even stay on her home page for more than a second before it lurched me over to some stupid fund-raising effort called "Rosie’s Broadway Kids."
Maybe Rosie realized how pathetic her site is and decided instead to use her name to raise money. No doubt, 90 percent of funds raised will go to Ms. O’Donnell for administrative costs, but the kids might get a nickel here and a dime there.
READ ‘TOP ELEVEN LAMEST BLOGS."
Back when I was a cub reporter and every kid had to walk five miles in the snow to go to school in a little red shack at the far end of the earth, copyeditors reigned supreme at newspapers, and there’s no way I could’ve gotten away with what T.J. Simes did Saturday in the Los Angeles Times.
Simers, a sarcastic (he would no doubt prefer sardonic) sports columnist, was ripping apart the UCLA Bruins football team and their quarterback, Kevin Craft, when he wrote:
And so watching Kevin Craft play quarterback for the Bruins on Friday night, while amusing in its oddity and folly, it became painful to watch.
Granted, this was only in the print edition, and someone corrected it online, but note that Simers has two subjects for one verb. The first–and the actually intended–subject is watching, which is a gerund (verb turned into a noun). The second subject is it, which immediately precedes the verb became. The inclusion of it just renders the sentence awakward, grammatically incorrect and harder to understand.
The fact, however, that someone caught the error means that the column was probably rushed to print to make the deadline, but still, no excuses, folks.
(I wonder if some copyeditor actually added the it and then someone, perhaps Simers, caught it and had it corrected online. That would be even worse!)
…I’d write more posts for this blog and I’d correct that subjunctive clause to its proper form: "If I were a rich man…."
Seeing as how I’m nowhere near rich, I have to grovel like everyone else to make a few bucks and keep the bankruptcy court at bay as long as I can.
When I applied for my latest writing gig, one of the interviewers asked me my pet peeve with misused English, and I answered "the subjunctive mood," which is clearly evident in the song, "If I Was a Rich Man," and in almost everyone’s everyday English when discussing conditional matters in an if construction.
However, I’d also have to rank verb coordination right there with the subjunctive.
For instance, look at this sentence:
"Neither he nor I are happy about this."
Anything wrong here?
Yes, indeed, there is. In a neither/nor or either/or construction, there are two subjects, and sometimes one is singular and one is plural, or one is third person and one is first person, as in this example.
Since you can have only one verb in neither/nor, either/or sentence, which of the two subjects determines the verb? English rules dictate that the second subject determines the verb form. Therefore, the above sentence should read:
"Neither he nor I am happy about this."
Sounds strange, huh? But just like the people who predicted our current economic meltdown a year ago were considered strange, this proper usage is far from strange but absolutely spot on.
I picked up a copy of the New York Times on Thursday, but only because there were photos of a California wine shop I frequent and a story, of sorts, about its owner.
Somehow, in the process I stumped upon a weird feature with weirder photos and still weirder writing in the same section. A piece by someone named Mike Albo entitled "No Frown Is Left Unturned," unfortunately, sucked me in and gobbled up precious moments of my time better spent in things like, um, daydreaming, shouting at my dog or doing nothing.
Anyway, I was about five paragraphs into this guy’s piece when I realized a) he has no clue how to use modifiers and clauses correctly and b) he’s a far-left-leaning, America-hating Vladimir Ilyich Lenin striker (Navy term for apprentice).
Check out this whopper of a misconstructed but totally revealing sentence of his:
It’s totally weird, but after a quick promenade through the store, some deeply repressed part of myself [sic-- me if he wants to use correct English] that has been buried for years under a morose cloud of apocalyptic doom was finally freed.
Ok, but who did the "quick promenade"? There is no subject in the sentence who can take a promenade. This ungrammatical part could’ve been cured by writing, "…after I made a quick promenade…."
I can cure the English grammar (though not the overwrough English), but no one can cure this person who hates the very country he lives in, and thus himself in the bargain.
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