Avdat

Mapping stereotypes

Europe through American eyes:

This is pretty accurate, except for Austria, which everybody on this side of the Atlantic knows as Sound of Music Land.

You can see Europe as seen by Europeans here. It would appear that Scandinavia can be stereotyped in wonderfully imaginative ways.

HT.

What good is algebra?

It's good for computing the time it took the Beacon of Gondor to send an SOS to Rohan.

This is why I want to be a professor. To get summers off in which I can bring my vast knowledge to bear on pointless minutiae.

Summer Language Immersion Distraction

You may not know a lick of Spanish, but you recognize it when you hear it, by its sound. Same thing with French. Or German. But have you ever wondered what English sounds like to people who don't speak English? This Italian singer wrote a song with nonsense, English-sounding words so that English speakers could hear the sound of their native tongue through foreign ears:

See more funny videos and Music Videos at Today's Big Thing.

Turns out that to the rest of the world, we English speakers sound like a cross between Bob Dylan and any hip hop artist.

This week's philology lesson

Non-southerners are often surprised to discover that people down here use words to hide what they mean rather than say what they mean.  The most famous example might be, "Y'all don't rush off, now," which, roughly translated means, "Get off my property before I fetch my gun."  Closely related is, "Bless his/her/your heart," which, like flavoring added to medicine, helps any insult go down smoother.

My friend Katie Scarvey has identified a fairly recent development in SouthernSpeak.  In response to, "How are you?" one replies, "I'm fine; hope you are."

This is an ingenious conversation-stopper.  While the first speaker ponders this unexpected question in answer to his/her question, thinking, "Am I fine?  Sciatica?  Not so bad.  Kids?  Still in rehab.  Divorce?  Final in three weeks!" and then finally decides, "I am fine!" the person who said, "I'm fine; hope you are," has already slipped away unnoticed.

But maybe it's not so ingenious.  No southerner who asks "How are you?" really cares how you are.  Remember, Gentle Reader, we don't use words to say what we mean.  But we are pleasant folk.  No, scratch that.  We aren't pleasant because we don't care how you are.  But we'd rather be caught dead in drag than act unpleasant.  So rather than grunting at you like Yankees might do, we acknowledge your presence with the mild wide/inch deep, "How are you?" 

Which makes the clever "I'm fine; hope you are" unnecessary.  It'd do just as well, as my wife pointed out, to say, "I'm fine; how are you?" and keep walking.  Acknowledgement acknowledged without unnecessary conversation.

How being President ages you

Too funny to pass up.

A Thanksgiving like no other!

Three charged in Natalee Holloway's death.

Well, thank goodness!  Think of the millions of people huddled together today under the same roof.  Not because they like each other.  Or because they have anything in common.  Just because they're related to each other.  Now at least they have something to talk about.

And... the Detroit game is not shaping up to be something to be endured, as is the case in most years.  But has it really been eleven years since Wayne Fontes coached the Lions?

Be a Venture Capitalist

Laura and I learned about Kiva and the miracle of microfinance watching Frontline the other night.  This is even better than being Ndugu's pen pal.  When the kids go back to school, we're going to sit down before the computer and loan some people some money.

Seething v. Sadness

A very bad thing has happened in our community.  Several months ago, Michael Jason Brown died when his moped wrecked.  The Highway Patrol originally ruled the wreck an accident, but Brown's relatives disputed that judgment.  Not long ago, Brown's body was exhumed from his grave, and an autopsy performed.

Last week the other shoe dropped.  Six young adults were indicted for involuntary manslaughter.  It's alleged that they were in a car that struck and killed Brown, and that they left the scene of the accident. 

The charges, if true, are very serious, and merit strong punishment.  It's particularly disturbing that, for one of the accused, this is not the first time he's run afoul of the law.  Alstin Lee Vanderford was involved in a locally famous incident of ethnic intimidation when he and some friends abused an employee at the local Wendy's.  I wrote about the aftermath of that incident at The Ivy Bush.

But I'm saddened with the tone of the public conversation surrounding this case.  This letter-to-the-editor is a good example of the "throw the book at 'em" fury that's filling up the opinion page of The Salisbury Post.  Others wonder whether or not the Post's article about the accused, simply by providing biographical details, casts them in a more positive light than they deserve.

It's hard to make generalizations, but judging from letter-writers to the Post, there's an element in the community that's simply brimming with righteous indignation, and is eager to vent whenever someone brazenly violates the law. 

I just don't see how these published comments do any good.  The kids have been charged.  They'll be put through the meat grinder of the criminal justice system.  The family of the deceased will get some answers, but no peace from that process.  That has to come from a different quarter.  Unloading on the accused may make the letter-writer feel good, but it does nothing to affect the verdict, except perhaps taint the jury pool.

When I read the headline, I felt my stomach sinking, not in anger at the accused, but with worry for my own boys.  Am I raising them well enough so that they'll be prudent drivers when they turn 16?  Even a prudent 16-year-old driver is an inexperienced driver.  Lots bad can good wrong.  And if something does goes wrong, am I raising them in such a way that they'll take responsibility for their actions, and lend a helping hand to those in need?

Instead of walking around seething and gripping a pen, can't we all do better by having a heart-to-heart with our children and teens so that crimes like this aren't perpetrated in the future?  Wouldn't a few conversations like that do a lot more good than column inches of blowing off steam?

Stuff

Harry Potter.  Now that the release date for Deathly Hallows is set, I must say that I see no way that young Harry Potter will survive this seventh and last book.  J.K. Rowling has already demonstrated a willful lack of sentimentality when it comes to the livelihoods of our favorite characters.  Harry (or others in the novels) may or may not be a Christ figure, but he's sure shaping up to be a martyr.

You will say, "What about the prophecy?"  Prophecy, smophecy.  Voldemort offs Harry, only to be disposed of by Snape.  That's my prediction.  The Potions Master goes on to be elected Minister of Magic, a stunning reversal of fortunes not seen since Nixon won the Presidency.  Perhaps the appointment will soften up the Half-Blood we love to hate.

If Harry is done-for, one can only hope, for Rowling's sake, that she doesn't crash her car shortly after July 21 only to be rescued by her biggest fan.

Homework for Joe Biden:  Think of five "articulate" white people and praise them for it.  Come to think of it, do any white people know any "articulate" white people?

The United Church of Canada.  As explained to me this week by an admittedly biased Presbyterian Church of Canada pastor, the United Church fell out in this way:  In the run-up to the merger, the Canadian Methodists feared the Presbyterians' doctrine, and the Presbyterians feared the Methodists' "enthusiasm."  (In other words, each feared the strength of the other).  So they compromised.  Now you've got a denomination with all the doctrine of the Methodists, and all the enthusiasm of... the Presbyterians.

Preachers vs. Choir Directors:  You've heard the old joke--Q.  What's the difference between a terrorist and a choir director?  A.  You can negotiate with a terrorist.  Well, there's a reason for that (as explained to me this week by a pastor and former choir director).  Choir Directors are, by necessity, dictatorial.  Have you ever heard of a choir director saying, "Was that really Mezzo forte?  Let's vote on it, starting with the tenors."  No, of course not.  So naturally, choir directors are loathe to hold hands and sing Kum bah Ya in staff meetings and talk, talk, talk everything out.  Because, you know, if the preacher were a real leader, he'd be an executive in the business world, so why bother with him anyway?

One pastor at the Alban workshop confessed to being an "interim ministry specialist."  Which, she added, means that when you walk into a congregation you have but two tasks:

1. Fire the choir director.
2. Fire the secretary.

Fortunately we have an amazingly talented choir director and a sweet, kind secretary.

Molly Ivans:  Prophetic.

Monday Morning Jousting

Saturday, we made our annual pilgrimage to the Carolina Renaissance Festival.

Here's Sir Philippe (center) threatening to "taunt (Sir Henry) a second time."  Sir William, a dead ringer for Sting, rides stone-faced in the background.  He won the joust.  It became a duel to the death after Sir Philippe cheated and embarrassed the manhood of Sir Henry.

This plot is just so pre-November 7.  Next year, A Gay Sir Philippe will be the good guy.  You watch.

Best line all day:  Zilch, the spooneristic story-teller, says that a few of these Ren Fest people have gotten "beaten too much by the New Age stick."  He says there's nothing like watching a Mom yell at her toddler, "Serenity!  Serenity!  You're really pissin' me off!"  Then it was back to Goldilocks and the Three Bears taking "a falk in the worest."

Never get tired of it, no matter how many times I hear it.