Names and things

The English language is a wonderful thing.  It’s reputedly the international language of business, it’s definitely spoken all ’round the world, thanks to the Brits (the sun never sets on the British Empire) and it makes absosmurfly no sense at all.

An example, from right here in our neck of the woods, is the variance that occurs between the spelling of a place name and its actual pronouncication:

For instance (and these are just off the top of my head)

Quirpon, NL – say Carpoon.

Pouch Cove, NL – say Pooch Cove.

Baie D’Espoir, NL – say Bay Despair (a personal favourite).

Rusagonis, NB – say Rushagornish.

Fredericton, NB – say Freddickton.

Oromocto, NB – say Oromuckto.

Maugerville, NB – say Majorville.

L’Anse-au-Loup, NL – say Lance-a-Loop.

Musquodoboit, NS – say Muskodobbit.

Magaguadavic Lake, NB – say Makadavick Lake (although I stand to be corrected on that one).

And my all-time personal favourite:

St. John’s, NL – say Town.

Anybody got any more?

The Catholic Church’s secret weapons

It’s Youtube time in the Taylor-Hood household and Katherine is watching a snippet of The Sound of Music.

Katherine:  “Are these the guns?”

Pause.  Parental snorting.   “No dear.  Nuns.”

It’s official: I am uncool

Every work day I go for a lunchtime walk and get coffee for the office at the nearby Tim Horton’s. Do this for a year and a half and you get to know the staff and they you.

So when I wandered in yesterday, MP3 player on, one (obviously incredibly cool) server asked what I was listening to.

When she heard that it was an audiobook of The Hound of the Baskervilles, she rolled her eyes and said, “Ohh, I thought it was something interesting.”

Geekdom Forever!

The Sound of Silence

I think I’ve discovered a new hobby. Silent movies. One of my more offbeat Christmas presents was a DVD set of eight old adventure movies, the most recent of which is from 1955. Most of the others are silent swashbucklers from the 1920s starring Douglas Fairbanks.

So far, I’ve worked through Robin Hood (1922) and I’m half-way through The Thief of Bagdad (1924). There’s also The Three Musketeers (1921), The Iron Mask (1929), The Beloved Rogue (1927), The Son of Monte Cristo (1940), East of Borneo (1931) and Adventures of the Scarlet Pimpernel (1955). The last three are talkies, but still look cool.

There’s the hell of a lot of running, jumping, climbing, sliding, fencing, fighting, chases, escapes, true love, all done without a special effects department, CGI or much in the way of protection for the stunt guys. Fairbanks did just about all of his own stunts, anyway.

The stories are the familiar legends and some are now rather hackneyed, as they’ve been redone time and again, but these, among the first film incarnations of the tales, carry a certain joyful originality and spontaneity that’s been a stranger to most Hollywood productions since.

Just watching Kevin Costner and the Merry Men sleepwalk through their roles in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves gives one the undeniable impression that the actors believe that since the audience has seen this story a million times before, there’s no point in putting any effort into it. Now, Alan Rickman’s Sheriff of Nottingham is delightfully psychotic, but he’s one bright light in a sea of dim bulbs.

Silent film acting seems a very distinct craft and silent film itself a completely different animal than the talking pictures.  I’m looking forward to delving deeper into this hitherto-to-me unknown genre.  Anyone got any favourites?

Six things weird about me meme

Hmmph.  Skullduggery done gone and tagged me, so now I’ve got to come out with six of the weirdest things that make up my poor excuse for a personality.  This is actually an interesting one – what’s weird enough about me to make this list?  Let’s see. . . .

1.  I’m actually an elf in disguise.  I must be.  I like the woods and I’m fascinated by magic and shiny things.  The oddest thing, though as all you AD&D geeks out there know, elves get a +1 to hit with bow and sword.  Well, guess what?  I’ve got a got a bow and a sword.  Case closed.

2.  I usually wear one article of clothing inside out.  Keeps the evil spirits away.  Vicky’s already weighed in on this particular quirk of mine.

3.   I practice karate stances and techniques while alone in elevators.  Haven’t gotten caught so far.

4.   I spend way too much time trying to figure out what occupation I’d have if I’d lived in mediaeval England.  So far, I’ve got it narrowed down to a member of the clergy of some sort.  Although being a bowyer would be pretty cool. . . .

5.  I enjoy playing with the sortes biblicae method  of divination.   In the Christian tradition, you open the Bible at random, point to a passage with your eyes closed and it lets you know what colour socks you should wear today and whether you should avoid tall men with green eyes.  It gets to be really funny when you use different texts, like Monty Python scripts or one of those guides to good morals and etiquette so popular with folk of good breeding in the early twentieth century.

6.  I’ve always wondered whether Slartibartfast did the fiords on Newfoundland’s west coast too and whether they won any awards.

Insomnia Redux

It’s a quarter to four in the morning and the rain and wind are howling outside and the whole world is asleep except me, so here’s another random selection of my brain droppings:

There are surprisingly no good pictures of bohemian ear spoons on the Web. Anyone found any?

Quotes from C. Warren Hollister, Mediaeval Europe: A Short History:

Caption of a picture of Holy Roman Emperor Otto III (936-973 C.E.), holding an orb and sceptre – “The orb demonstrates that, despite American mythology about Columbus, educated medieval people knew that the earth was round. Otherwise, Otto III would be holding a spatula.”

“The violence of medieval London may be attributable in part to the existence (in 1309) of 354 taverns and more than 1300 ale shops – a fact that provides added meaning to the term ‘High Middle Ages.’”

Is a pseudopod really not a pod? If not, what is it?

Anyone who has to clean up dog doo in their yard in the Spring probably hums ABBA. “Scooper Pooper/I’m going to find you/Smelling in the sun/It’s sure you’re not number one.”

Sorry.

If aqua vitae is wine and an aquarium is a fish tank, would an aquavitaerium be a drunk tank?

“Fred” is the easiest name to type on a Qwerty keyboard.

Isn’t it kind of ironic that the nuclear weapons almost used in that period where the USA and the USSR were eyeballing each other over the missile silos had the potential to create a hot aftermath to a “Cold War?”

Use the phrase “hossenpfefforial hemorrhage” in a sentence. Leave a comment to tell me what you used. Bonus points for using it in conversation. Extra bonus for using it at a stifling cocktail party or the like.

A diphthong is not as exciting as it sounds.

“Cerebral cortex” sounds like a waterproof breathable liner for your brain. Not a bad idea really.

There are barristers and baristas. One’s a coffee jerk. The other’s just a jerk.

Are lawyers allowed in places with signs that say “No Soliciting?”

Can people named Wade swim?

Good night.