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 Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
readme:
Well, this is it, kids. 2012, the mother lode and epicenter of ominous predictions. Just remember, whatever else may happen, that there’s gonna be a lot of space to fill on the lesser cable channels come a year from now, so get your ideas into development asap.
Am I the only person around here who is having real trouble typing the numerals 2012? I know what year it is (most of the time, anyway), but my muscle memory has apparently had a mini-meltdown.
So, this just in: I’ve always been a bit of a news junkie, hardwired into cable news and the internet, but watching one popular uprising after another around the world produce nothing but a new roster of corrupt autocratic stooges (on top of our somewhat more sedate domestic iteration of the same dreary process) has finally, at least temporarily, burned out my political synapses. So I’ve decided to throw in the towel for a while and submerge myself in the soothing balm of the collected works of PG Wodehouse, which I first read many years ago but now seem even funnier. So for the next few weeks months years I plan to use Jeeves’ soothing purr to drown out the barking of the crowd outside.
Meanwhile, for those of you who persist in paying attention, I suggest you take a gander at All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace, a three-part documentary made by the remarkable Adam Curtis for the BBC in 2010. It is available, along with many of his other films, at the Internet Archive. Fascinating stuff. It explains the connections between, among other things, Ayn Rand, communes of the 60s, systems theory, the “balance of nature” and the rise of computers.
Speaking of Skynet, I seem to have acquired a NOOK Simple Touch e-reader just in time to watch Barnes & Noble implode completely. Well, it was both cheaper and snappier than the equivalent Kindle, and, unlike the Kindle, lets me add my own books in the widely-used epub format, so if B&N really does buy the farm it won’t be just a paperweight. The rationale for the acquisition (it was a Christmas gift) is that my left hand is largely dysfunctional because of the ms (and my right hand isn’t what it was either). This makes it impossible to handle a large book, especially a hardback. So now I have this little thing, just a bit  bigger than a mass-market paperback, on which I am painlessly reading Haruki Murakami’s 944 page 1Q84 , which weighs in at about three pounds in hardback, well beyond my comfort zone (I can’t even hold a coffee cup in my left hand). I wish the screen were a bit brighter, but I like the fact that it can’t do anything but show you a book. I actually find reading on this thing very natural, and the fact that I can make the type as large as I like takes away all the stress of trying to focus my eyes on a printed page. I still prefer paper, however, and hope real books are around for a long, long time.
Incidentally, I stopped by the local B&N the other day to buy a simple case for my Nook, and I was taken aback by the palpable desperation of the woman who showed me my choices. She strongly urged me to bring the little fellow in for a visit, perhaps take a class in Advanced Nookery (for a machine that comes with a three-page instruction manual?), buy some Nook bling, or just hang out in the Cafe, guzzling expensive bad coffee while reading ebooks for free. Wow. It was like those old Maytag commercials with Jesse White as the lonely repair guy.
Continue reading this post » » »
Exit stage whatever.
Dear Word Detective: Why is right “right” but left “sinister”? I just read your treatise on good/god and evil/devil, when I started to wonder why “right” (opposite of left) is “right” (opposite of wrong) but “left” from Latin has gotten such a bum rap. — Topi Linkala.
That’s an interesting question. The column you mention was a response to a newspaper clipping, sent along by a reader, which read “If you start dwelling on the fact that you only have to add a ‘d’ to evil to get devil, you soon notice that by taking an ‘o’ away from good, you end up with God.” I wasn’t certain what that was supposed to prove in the first place, but I went ahead and explained, at length, that “good,” “god,” “evil” and “devil” are all completely unrelated words. Readers interested in the details can find the column at www.word-detective.com/2010/09/10/good-god-evil-and-devil.
While it apparently seems to many people that there must be a connection between “good” and “god” and “evil” and “devil,” I’d be willing to bet that many people assume that the “right” of “right-hand turn” is probably a different word from the “right” of “right and wrong” or the “right” of “civil rights.” But there really only one “right” in that lineup. From your “right” to vote to “righting” a capsized boat, it’s all one word.
The root sense of “right” (from the Indo-European root “reg”) is “to move in a straight line” or, figuratively, “to rule or guide.” In Latin, the derivative “rectus” meant “straight” (and gave us such words as “rectify” and “rectitude”), and “rex,” drawn from the same source, meant “leader or king.”
As the ancestors of our modern noun “right” percolated through various European languages, the basic sense was “that which is proper, just and good,” which became the initial sense in English as well. This was the origin of our modern sense of “rights” (things we are entitled to do or have) as well as “right” meaning “correct” in both the moral sense and the logical sense (e.g., the “right” answer to a math problem). “Right” as an adjective was also used to mean simply “straight” (as in a “right road”), but that usage is now obsolete.
The use of “right” as the opposite of “left” came from the simple fact that most humans are “right-handed” and that was considered the “proper” or “correct” hand because it was generally the stronger and more dexterous (a word which comes from the Latin “dexter,” meaning both “skillful” and “right” as in “right-handed”). This use of “right” as a relative direction arose in English in the early 13th century. “Right” went on to develop dozens of meanings in all these senses (stronger hand, morally upright, individual rights, etc.) and was a smashing popular success.
“Left,” on the other hand (yuk yuk), has had a hard time from day one. The word “left” itself comes from Old English roots meaning “weak” or “foolish,” and it didn’t assume its place as the opposite of “right” until the 13th century. Interestingly, “left” replaced the Old English “winestra” as the common term for the side of the body opposite to “right.” Oddly enough, the old “winestra” also meant “friendlier,” and the name is thought to have been a euphemism employed to avoid antagonizing the evil spirits that were thought to dwell in the left side of the body. (Seriously. Have you ever taken a good look at your left hand?)
The Latin word for “left” was “sinister,” which may have come, as did the English “left,” from roots meaning “weaker.” But some authorities think the source of “sinister” was the Sanskrit “saniyan,” meaning “more useful” or “friendlier,” which would make “sinister” another pathetic attempt to butter up the evil left side. If so, the attempt to placate those evil spirits ran aground when “sinister” in Latin eventually took on the meanings of “unfavorable” and “dangerous,” which carried over into our modern English adjective “sinister.”
Incidentally, the use of “left” and “right” as political categories has nothing to do with any of this beyond a simple designation of position. It originated with the seating arrangements in French National Assembly in 1789, where the conservative nobility was seated to the presiding official’s right side and the radicals of the Third Estate to his left.
A mystery doused in enigma sauce.
Dear Word Detective: I have used the term “had the radish” for as long as I can remember. It is used to express the demise of something, like a TV or a lawn mower It can also be used to express pending doom, such as during the period after driving off the road and before hitting the tree. Recently I used the phrase and the person I said it to had never heard it. So I went on the internet to find the origin, and after several hours the only thing I found was other people asking the same question or using it in a sentence. If you can’t help me I understand, but if you can I would really appreciate it. — David Dempsey, Brookfield, VT.
Yes, but will you still appreciate my help a few years after you asked the question? I was going through my old email today (hey, it beats mowing the lawn), and noticed yours because I had flagged it as important when I received it. As soon as I re-read it, I remembered spending quite a long time researching “had the radish” the first time around. Unfortunately, I had failed to find out much of anything and succeeded only in giving myself a blinding headache. I guess it’s true that the mind doesn’t really remember pain, because I immediately started looking again. And looked. Then I ate lunch. Then I looked again. Sunset, sunrise. Empires crumbled to sand, and still I soldiered on.
I remembered, as you mentioned, seeing many people online asking about “had the radish,” and there seem to be even more now. This is actually a good sign, because it means that the phrase is (or was) widespread. It’s when you go looking for a phrase online and you get just three hits, all based on bizarre typographical errors, that you start to wonder if the questioner just misheard something.
On the other hand, the few theories I found online about the origin of “had the radish” were pushing the envelope of possibility, to put it politely. Several folks suggested that the phrase referred to the point in “Gone With the Wind,” Margaret Mitchell’s Civil War opus, when Scarlett O’Hara is reduced to scrounging for food and ends up eating a either a radish or a turnip (opinions vary) while vowing, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!” But while GWTW was an immensely popular book and movie, there are problems with it being the source of this phrase. For one thing, Scarlett was defiantly vowing to overcome adversity in that scene, not announcing “Rats, now my goose is really cooked,” so the senses don’t match. Secondly, “had the radish” appears to be really popular mostly in northern New England. If GWTW were the source, such a regional limitation would be extremely unlikely.
I hate beginning sentences with “unfortunately,” but at this point I’m forced to announce that I have not, so far, found a slam-dunk origin of (or airtight explanation for) the use of “had the radish” to mean “kaput,” “in big trouble” or “doomed.” But I have made a rather intriguing discovery that may go a long way to retiring Scarlett O’Hara as the inspiration of the phrase.
I was browsing through the Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE), which sends researchers out into the hinterlands all over the US in search of obscure folk locutions, and I came across what appears to be a close relative of “had the radish.” According to DARE, in northern New England “to have the pork” means “to be in trouble” or (in coastal Maine) “to be caught red-handed,” i.e., in the act of committing, or holding irrefutable evidence of, a crime. Although this specifies “pork” rather than a radish, it certainly matches the structure and meaning of our quarry.
My guess, and we’re deep into guessing here, is that the original saying was “had the pork,” and it referred to someone caught with stolen goods. It may well have been the punchline of a joke involving pigs. At some point, “radish” was substituted, but the general sense of “in deep trouble” carried over. As I said, that’s just a guess, and I’m hoping that some helpful reader will be able to fill in the blanks for us.
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Trivia
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Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
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