News: ‘The Linguists’ race to save vanishing languages on Babelgum

Found on Monster and Critics.com on 2 April 2009
By April MacIntyre

Technology and overpopulation have helped shrink the world’s languages at an alarming rate, and there are a handful of people who are diligently trying to record and save some of the more remote, arcane spoken languages left in the world.

Babelgum.com will air a film that follows two acclaimed scientists on a race against time to document the world’s vanishing languages.

Independent Web TV service Babelgum announced today that it has acquired the exclusive worldwide Internet and mobile rights to the feature documentary The Linguists.

Screened in the Documentary Spotlight Program at the Sundance Film Festival, the film will premiere on Babelgum on April 20th, 2009.

The Linguists, directed by Seth Kramer, Daniel A. Miller, and Jeremy Newberger, is a  poignant chronicle of two scientist-adventurers racing to document languages on the verge of extinction.

The Linguists was a breakout hit at the 2008 Sundance Film Festival and has screened at more than 40 film festivals worldwide and recently aired on PBS.

Speaking from Ironbound Films’ headquarters in Garrison, NY, CEO Jeremy Newberger says: “It is very fitting that The Linguists, a documentary celebrating language diversity, has its online premiere on Babelgum, a company named for the digital ‘gum’ with which it connects diverse communities globally. We hope to inspire as many viewers as possible with the message of The Linguists, and Babelgum, with its global brand recognition and unrivaled accessibility both online and via mobile devices, is the ideal platform. We anticipate an overwhelming response.”

Karol Martesko-Fenster, stated: “We are thrilled about our partnership with Ironbound Films. The filmmakers have crafted a compelling story that weaves travelogue together with the urgent sustainability issue of the world’s disappearing languages. The resulting documentary appeals to film fans and the growing group of linguists worldwide. Babelgum’s exclusive premiere of The Linguists reaffirms our mission to be the leading online and mobile destination for multi-lingual diverse forms of creative expression and cutting-edge independent film.”

Babelgum’s editorial focus is on music, comedy, film, urban culture, nature and the environment.

Russian-speaking Chinese wandering the streets of New York City

Found on Language Log on 1 April 2009
By Victor Mair

The following sign is posted in a New York City shop window:

The words are Russian and mean “We speak Chinese.” One wonders to whom the sign is directed. Chinese in New York City who do not know English would be even less likely to know Russian. An awareness of the futility of posting the sign in Russian is evident from the 10 yuan bill that has been affixed at the top. People from mainland China would at least get a hint from the 10 yuan bill that the shop is eager to deal with Chinese, though we cannot assume that they would necessarily be able to accept RMB for items purchased.

All in all, the signage in and around the shop is a bit mystifying (click on the image below for a larger version, or right-click “Open Link in New Window” for an even larger one):

Without making a detailed study of the words lurking about in the shadows and reflections, I see references to kosher, pharmacy, “White Chocolate Bliss” made from NAVAN Natural Vanilla Liqueur and Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur, and so forth. These are all things that I’m sure Russian-speaking Chinese wandering the streets of New York City are eager to spend their RMB on.

Seriously, though, the person who wrote the sign in Russian (or someone else in the shop) undoubtedly can speak Chinese (Mandarin), but almost certainly cannot write it.

[Hat tip to Victor Steinbok]

Bubblespeak: The Orwellian language of Wall Street finds its way to the Treasury Department

Found on Slate.com on 1 April 2009
By

The Orwellian language of Wall Street finds its way to the Treasury Department.

The Orwellian language of Wall Street finds its way to the Treasury Department.

In his timeless 1946 essay “Politics and the English Language,” George Orwell condemned political rhetoric as a tool used “to make lies sound truthful” and “to give an appear­ance of solidity to pure wind.” Were he alive today, Orwell might well be moved to pen a com­panion piece on the use of financial lingo. Remember those toxic assets? The poorly performing mortgages and collateralized debt obligations festering on the books of banks that made truly exe­crable lending decisions? In the latest federal bank rescue plan, they’ve been transformed into “legacy loans” and “lega­cy securities”—safe for professional in­vestors to purchase, provided, of course, they get lots of cheap government credit.

It’s as if some thoughtful person had amassed, through decades of careful hus­bandry, a valuable collection that’s now being left as a blessing for posterity. Using the word legacy to describe phenomena that are causing financial car­nage is “crazy,” according to George Lakoff, a Berkeley professor of cognitive science and linguistics, because “legacy typically suggests something positive.” More insidiously, the word is frequently deployed to deflect blame. Legacy finan­cial issues are, by definition, holdovers from prior regimes. Word sleuths advise me that legacy derives from an ancient In­do-Aryan root meaning, “It wasn’t my fault, and I should still get a bonus this year even though we lost billions of dollars.”

The (not so) Big Three auto companies routinely refer to the now-unaffordable pension and health care commitments en­tered into by prior management as “legacy costs.” (And why not? They’ve convinced us to regard used cars as “pre-owned.”) Citi CEO Vikram Pandit last month told employees that “we are profitable through the first two months of 2009 and are hav­ing our best quarter-to-date performance since the third quarter of 2007.” Huh? Citi, currently connected to a taxpayer-funded multibillion-dollar feeding tube, is “prof­itable” only if you ignore the losses it con­tinues to incur on lending decisions made in the previous years—legacy loans made by legacy bankers.

In this new paradigm, a legacy, usually a gift, is a burden. A potential loss is spun as a potential gain. War is peace. See what I mean by Orwellian?

The legacy gambit is necessary, in part, because the prior nomenclature used to describe the stuff in question was so cor­rosive. “Toxic is one of those words that is so negative that it’s just hyperbole,” said Jesse Sheidlower, editor-at-large of the Oxford English Dictionary. The phrase toxic assets, used widely in 2008, was ei­ther a sign of admirable reality or an at­tempt to scare people into action. A mid­dle ground of sorts was reached last fall when then-Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson rolled out the Troubled Asset Relief Program. Of course, calling some of those mortgage assets “troubled” was a little like calling Charles Manson a troubled person.

In trying to rebrand dodgy financial in­struments, treasury secretaries like Paul­son and Timothy Geithner are continuing a recent tradition. So much of the finance sector’s innovation in the past 30 years, it turns out, wasn’t developing new stuff, but rather developing new ways of talking about pre-existing stuff. In the 1980s, la­beling risky debt offerings as junk bonds was an intentionally ironic feint (pros knew that the instruments pos­sessed real value). But as junk bonds went mainstream in the 1990s, they evolved into “high-yield debt”—their liability be­came an asset. Frank Partnoy, a reformed derivatives trader who teaches law at the University of San Diego, recalls that at Morgan Stanley in the 1990s, “we were constantly coming up with new acronyms” to describe similar financial in­struments. The goal: to present products, some of which had been discredited, in a more favorable light.

At the height of the housing frenzy, I visited a large subprime lender in Irvine, Calif. These folks would have made a $425,000, no-money-down, negative-amortization loan to a 12-year-old presenting nothing more than Pokémon cards as collateral. Were they engaged in subprime lending? Absolutely not. This outfit, they informed me proudly, made “nonprime” loans.

The late Sen. Daniel Patrick Moyni­han lamented declining societal standards in an essay titled “Defining Deviancy Down.” The language employed in the late credit bubble—let’s rebrand it the Dumb Money Era—helped define solvency down. And words, even if they’re thrown mostly by sophisticated professionals at other sophisticated professionals, can be just as damaging as sticks and stones.

The people on Wall Street believed so fervently in their own rhetoric that they bet their financial houses on it. They chugged the Kool-Aid through funnels. “If you call a mortgage-backed security AAA for long enough, you forget that its value could get cut in half,” says Frank Partnoy.

The problem isn’t that words intended to change the conversation aren’t accu­rate. Rather, the accepted terms turned out not to mean what people think they mean. Instead of helping to reduce risk, securitization—chopping up debt and distributing it—spread risk. Nonprime mortgages frequently turned out to be subprime. A lot of high-yield debt turned out to be junk. This confusion over the meaning of financial terms, and the skep­ticism it engenders, may be the real legacy of the Dumb Money Era.

A version of this article appears in this week’s Newsweek.

New short vowel discovered

Found on Language Log on 1 April 2009
By Roger Shuy

Geoff Pullum gave us a really neat lesson on Finnish short vowels a few months ago, pointing out things that nobody but native speakers have ever known — that Finns produce a subtle duration of short /Ih/ vowels that the rest of us don’t even hear. But hey, The Finnish vowel duration distinction doesn’t come close to what’s going on in a remote part of Tanzania.

A really, really short /Ih/ has been discovered by phonetic scientists who study vowel duration. Phoneticians in East Africa recently have stumbled upon the shortest vowel ever known to humankind. They discovered that the duration of the /Ih/ vowel, already known for its very short length in languages like English (to say nothing about it’s tremendous importance in Finnish), is produced in .11 hundredths of a second by a small band of speakers of Kwatnaksa, who live on an otherwise unoccupied island in the Indian Ocean. Well, at least linguists thought the name of that language was Kwatnaksa, but never before had they noticed the very short /Ih/ squeezed between the /t/ and the /n/, and also obtruding effortlessly but noiselessly into other hitherto believed consonant clusters. They were shocked, therefore, when a 98 year-old native, speech slowed by age, clearly produced the vowel /Ih/, with an extremely short duration in all such contexts.

When extensively interviewed, the old man answered with an abundance of very brief /Ih/ sounds in the middle of what the research team had hitherto believed to be consonant clusters. Intensive research quickly followed, revealing that the name of that language is actually Kiwatinakisa, sending National Geographic cartographers into a frenzy. “Once we started listening for that very short /Ih/, we began to hear it everywhere,” said Dr. Brno Von Hurringville III, one of the lead researchers on the team. “In fact, there appear to be no consonant clusters at all in this God-forsaken language.”

Puzzled about what to do about their discovery, the research team promptly requested help from the Tanzanian Overseeing Council on Vowels and Consonants (TOCOVAC), at its headquarters in Arusha. Sadly, the researchers report, they have not yet received a response.

In an apparently misguided effort to preserve the until-now perceived original spelling of Kwatnaksa, a UN disaster relief agency has offered immediate aid, promising to send in a supply of speech therapists and to provide dozens of much needed consonant clusters to this bleak Tanzanian island. It remains unclear to most observers whether TOCOVAC will accept this kind humanitarian offer, but some feel that there are strong indications that it is not likely to be received kindly. One clue is that the UN’s offer was addressed to:
TCVC
Lngg Rsrch Tm
Rsh, Tnzn.

9 Words That Don’t Mean What You Think

Found on Cracked.com on 19 March 2009

By CRACKED Staff, Tim Cameron

The English language is under assault by stupid people who use words they don’t understand, and is defended by pompous asses who like to correct those people. We’re not sure who to side with.

So, here are some words that you’ll see used incorrectly on a daily basis, and a helpful guide as to just how big of a dick you’d have to be to correct people on it. We have also included many pictures of these words being read by women with large boobs.

Irregardless

People think it means:
Regardless.

Actually means:
Not a damned thing.

This is not a word. Now, we have no problem with making up words (if a particular scent can only be described as “fartalicious,” we reserve the right to call it so). The problem with this one is “regardless” already means something isn’t worth regard (that’s why the “less” is there) so adding the “ir” to it means… it’s worth regarding again? Who knows.

Should you care?
If there’s ever a time to speak up, this is probably it. Mainly because this is one of those words used almost exclusively by people trying to sound smarter than they are. Remind them that when using fake words to at least try to use ones that have some kind of meaning, if they want to avoid unnecessary cockulance when speaking.

Dick Rating:
As in, “How big of a dick are you if you insist people use it the right way?”

Peruse

People think it means:
To skim over or browse something.

Actually means:
Almost the opposite of that.

Peruse means “to read with thoroughness or care.” If you peruse a book, you leave no page unturned. This makes sense when you consider the Middle English per use, meaning “to wear out or use up.” Unfortunately, if you “consider the Middle English” very often when speaking, you’re probably not exactly the life of the party.

Should you care?
You could make the argument that the way people use it is so far off from the original meaning that it’s worth fighting for, but there is almost no way to do it tactfully:

“What are you doing, Chris?”
“Oh, just perusing the report here before the meeting.”
“Well you better GET OUT THE MICROSCOPE, RETARD! HA HA HA HA HA!!!”

So, perhaps the best thing is to just lead by example and start using the word correctly yourself. But, this can create its own problems:

“Hey Sharon, What’s Chris doing?”
“Oh, he said he was perusing that new report.”
“Then why is he hunched over it with his tongue out, re-reading the opening page for the ninth time?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. I guess he must be clinically retarded.”

Dick Rating:

Ironic

People think it means:
Any kind of amusing coincidence.

Actually means:
An outcome that is the opposite of what you’d expect.

So, if a porn star moved to Virgin, Utah, that would be ironic. If the same porn star bought a house in Boner Knob, Montana that would not be ironic.

Should you care?
We realize this is a technical point. But, it’s almost worth taking a stand because the word has been abused to the point that it can mean anything.

“She always said she wanted to marry a dentist! And then she married Bob, who is a dentist! Isn’t that ironic?”

“I went on my cigarette break, but there was a No Smoking sign! Isn’t that ironic?”

“I just pooped in your aquarium! Isn’t that ironic?”

We have to draw the line somewhere, don’t we?

Dick Rating:

Pristine

People think it means:
“Spotless” or “as good as new.”

Actually means:
“Ancient, primeval; in a state virtually unchanged from the original.”

It’s therefore perfectly possible to have a pristine mountain of fossilized brontosaurus shit, but if you were to buff that mountain to a lustrous shine, it would no longer be pristine.

Should you care?
The meanings are close enough that correcting somebody sounds like grammar Nazi hair-splitting. That’s a shame, because there were lots of words that mean “clean” but none that have the exact same meaning as “pristine.”

If you use pristine correctly yourself, you probably won’t land yourself in too much trouble, unless someone buys your “pristine” house on eBay without realizing that it’s an authentic 14th century dung hovel complete with never-been-used plague rats.

Dick Rating:

Nonplussed

People think it means:
Unperturbed, not worried.

Actually means:
Utterly perplexed or confused. It comes from the Latin non plus (a state in which nothing more can be done).

The misunderstanding would seem to stem from people making semi-educated guesses as to the word’s meaning, which kind of sounds like it means “unruffled” or something like that.

Should you care?
If your roommate says:

“The doctor called about your herpes test. He sounded nonplussed.”

Then, yeah, it’s pretty important that you know what he meant. Either the doc wasn’t worried, or the doc was perplexed by the sight of some strand of alien herpes he had never witnessed prior, depending on whether or not your roommate knows how to use the word.

Though, if any of your friends actually start using words like “nonplussed” in conversation, regardless of the meaning, they may deserve a good cock punching anyway.

Dick Rating:

Bemused

People think it means:
Mildly amused.

Actually means:
Bewildered or confused.

If you were to say “I was bemused by your dead baby joke,” you wouldn’t be saying the joke was funny. You’d be saying that you completely failed to understand it. You were following the story up to and including the bit about the trowel, but you’d lost the thread way before the Ku Klux masturbation climax.

Should you care?
It’s hard to blame people for getting this one wrong, the word just sounds like it means, “sort of amused.” We blame the people who originally invented the word. You should probably let the new meaning take over unless, you know, you’re a dick.

Dick Rating:

Enormity

People think it means:
Enormous.

Actually means:
Outrageous or heinous on a grand scale.

War crimes are enormities. Extra-big bouncy castles are not.

Should you care?
This is one of those words you really don’t need to be using anyway, unless you’re giving a speech at the U.N. Just remember that if you say to your girl, “I hope you’re prepared for the enormity of my dick,” you’re implying that your penis is responsible for several acts of evil on the scale of ethnic genocide. This may or may not turn her on, depending on the girl.

Dick Rating:

Plethora

People think it means:
A lot of something.

Actually means:
Too much of something, an over-abundance.

It’s the difference between:

“Dude, I am jonesing to go snort a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates right now.”

And …

“Dude, I just snorted a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates, and now there are hundreds of terrifying arachnids crawling out of my penis. They all have human lips.”

Should you care?
As with “enormity,” you’re courting a certain amount of dickery by using “plethora” at all; most of the time, you can get the same point across by saying “a big ol’ shitload.” However, the original meaning of over-abundance is worth hanging onto, because it seems as if there’s no direct replacement other than “too many big ol’shitloads,” which doesn’t have quite the same degree of pith.

Interestingly, “plethora” once meant “an over-abundance of bodily fluids” so if you heard your doctor say this back in the 1700s, it meant they were about to stick a bunch of leeches on you.

Dick Rating:

Deceptively

People think it means:
Nobody is sure.

Actually means:
Nobody is sure.

Specifically, we’re talking about when the word is used with some other adjective. Like if somebody says, “The turd pool is deceptively shallow,” does that mean it’s deeper than it appears, or not as deep?

If you’re not sure, don’t feel bad. The American Heritage Dictionary asked their word experts and they said they had no fucking idea, either. So … nobody knows.

Should you care?
So, if you say (to a lady, perhaps), “I possess a deceptively large set of balls,” you could mean that your modest bulge belies the real heft of your testicles, which are actually so pendulous that you’re forced to strap them to your legs. However, you could also mean that you have tiny love eggs, and that your ball-shaped jean protrusions are actually caused by the hideous malformation of your wang. This is obviously something you want to avoid.

If ever there was a case to be made for clarity of language, this is it. If you use it at all, make sure the context makes the meaning totally clear. “My balls are deceptively large,” you could say, “because I have just inflated my genitalia with a bicycle pump.”

What this also means is that technically the usage is never wrong … or right. If you’re the type who just likes to correct people to be a dick, well, this one is a gold mine.

Dick Rating:

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