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You Can't Say That Either
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2006
"Breaking news" from that "community of learners" up in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan!
Lake Superior State University (official motto: "hey, we're over here!") has released its 2006 List of Words and Phrases Banished From the Queen's English for Mis-Use, Overuse, and General Uselessness.
The annual list is compiled by a committee from nominations received throughout the year, and released on New Year's Day. It's become a favorite topic of mine for Laughing Stalk columns, partly because I'm a lover of words, good or bad, but mostly because I don't have to do a lot of research for it.
Two years ago, I nominated "anything with the word 'izzle' in it," and it actually made the list. It was a proud moment, but I failed to capitalize on the fame and glory it would bring.
So I hoped that writing about the 2006 list would make me a "person of interest," but that's one of the phrases banned by the LSSU linguists. That's a shame, because I had hoped I would be invited to parties and movie premieres. But, according to nominator Melissa Carroll of Greensboro, North Carolina, it means "people with guns want to talk with you."
Then I decided to "hunker down" in the face of my disappointment. But I couldn't do that, since this phrase also made the banned list. A casualty of the news reports on hurricanes, politics, and Britney's baby, the idea of bracing oneself and waiting out the storm has been overdone.
We could blame FEMA for it, but alas, it too made the list -- more from General Uselessness than Overuse or Mis-Use, I suppose. They dedicated the entry to "the memory of a great federal agency consigned to the ash heap of parody."
(Q: How many FEMA officials does it take to change a light bulb? A: Us?! We thought YOU were going to change it!")
Coincidentally, George W. Bush's praising of FEMA head Michael Brown -- "Brownie, you're doing a heckuva job" -- just days before Brownie resigned is the Global Language Monitor's top Bushism of 2005.
Still, Brownie's resignation could hardly be considered "breaking news," especially after the way FEMA botched the Hurricane Katrina recovery. That, and "breaking news" has now been banned.
While it used to be limited to items of such newsworthiness that newspapers would literally stop their presses to put it on the front page, the term has now been reduced to celebrity factoids best confined to People and Us magazine.
Michael Raczko of Swanton, Ohio said, "Now they have to interrupt my supper to tell me that Katie Holmes is pregnant."
It looks like this "community of learners" isn't allowing much of anything. Including the phrase "community of learners."
"A five-dollar phrase on a nickel-errand," said the Banned Words website at www.lssu.edu. "Value-added into many higher education mission statements."
(Personally I'd like to add "value-added" to the list, and replace it with the simpler "more" or "better.")
And in the spirit of biting the hand that feeds you, it turns out the LSSU's School of Education has the very same phrase on their own mission statement. Will the School of Education have to remove the phrase, or will the Banned List retract the entry and issue an apology?
Probably not. I don't think it was anything more than "an accident that didn't have to happen," which was also added to the list. I have to assume it was added out of General Mis-Use, since an accident that doesn't need to happen is the true meaning of the word "accident." An accident that needed to happen is usually called "intentional."
But just like the whole "community of learners" debacle, I'm sure LSSU has faced some controversy over the past 31 years of the list's existence. But, they soldier on, year after year, determined to "Git-er-done."
And as someone who has never liked this particular phrase, I applaud LSSU for banning it. I, for one, have never known what " 'er" was, or what she needed done in the first place, but I'm tired of seeing it on bumper stickers, window decals, billboards, and yard signs. So it would be a nice gift under my "holiday tree" to know that Git-er-done finally "got did."
However -- thankfully -- we can't call it a "holiday tree" anymore. LSSU says it's ". . .. a silly name for what most folks hold as a Christmas tree, no matter your preference of religion."
Agreed. No one calls a Menorah a "holiday candlestick," so why should a Christmas tree be any different? Frankly, the whole thing strikes me as "surreal."
Uhh, at least it used to.
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Erik Deckers
(published week of January 6th, 2006)
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Alaska: Stay for the Winter
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2005
Erik is out of the office this week, so we are reprinting one of his columns from December 2002 to fill the empty hole in our hearts until he returns.
Think real hard. Does your city or state have a slogan?
I don't mean the state motto, found on your state seal. I mean the catchy little slogan your state's Tourism Office uses to entice hordes of tourists to clog up your highways and restaurants.
My home state's slogan is "Enjoy Indiana--The Welcome Mat Is Always Out," although one website thinks it should be "Indiana: 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free."
And while the real Indiana slogan is much more and inviting, I think more tourists would consider spending a week here when they learn about our complete lack of tidal activity throughout recorded history.
So why is any of this important?
Simple. Look at your official tourism slogan. Could you have written it yourself?
Of course you could.
Could you have done it for, say, less than $1,000?
Of course you could!
So this makes me wonder how the state of Massachusetts could only come up with "Massachusetts . . . Make it Yours" in exchange for a $300,000 retainer.
According to an October 17, 2002 story in the Boston Herald (official slogan: "Boston Herald . . . We Use Ink!"), Massachusetts state tourism officials originally held a contest asking people to submit their ideas for a "concise and memorable" slogan that would help attract tourists.
Some of the ideas included "Massachusetts: Where Freedom Begins," and "Come Share the Common Wealth."
I would have submitted "Massachusetts: We're 'Chewy' in the Center," but no one asked me.
But like most bureaucrats, Paul Sacco, the new Travel and Tourism director, thought he knew best. So he asked the state's advertising firm -- which received the $300,000 retainer from Sacco's office -- to come up with something much more bland and vague.
Okay, he didn't really ask for that, but that's what he got.
"Massachusetts . . . Make it Yours" was unveiled to an underwhelming response from state and regional tourism leaders who had originally hoped an exciting slogan would jump start their ailing tourism industry.
Ironically, Sacco was on vacation at the time of the unveiling, so he couldn't be reached for comment.
Maybe I don't know enough about tourism, but it seems to me that a slogan isn't going to boost an ailing tourism industry anymore than setting a giant purple blow-up gorilla on the Massachusetts state line.
Husband: Where would you like to go on vacation this year, dear?
Wife: Well, honey, I was hoping we could take a walking tour of European castles, but then I saw Massachusetts new travel slogan, and decided I wanted to go there instead.
Husband: You're right. Who wants to go see a 500-year-old castle in some exotic foreign locale, when we could visit the bar from 'Cheers'?" And we can wave to the gorilla on Interstate 90.
State officials described the new slogan as a "composite" of ideas from the public, but one official acknowledged that the state agency came up with "Make it Yours" all on their own.
I guess the composite part was that nearly every submission had "Massachusetts" in it.
But while some may argue that it was a waste of time and money to have an ad agency on retainer generate those three little words (and don't forget the . . . ellipse!), it's not nearly as bad as Rochester, New York's problem.
According to Bob Lonsberry, Rochester columnist and radio talk show host, city officials decided they needed a slogan. So, rather than reduce the high crime rate, overly strict business regulations, high taxes, and fix failing schools, city officials spent $400,000 and came up with "Rochester. Made for living" instead.
That's $100,000 per word, including the name of the city. Not too shabby for a day's work.
While some of you may be surprised that Rochester spent more than Massachusetts on their slogan, the extra money probably paid for a higher-caliber writer who didn't need to stick an ellipse in a four-word sentence. Hey, you get what you pay for.
But this made me realize that governmental and social reforms are not the miracle cure politicians claim they are. It's actually slogans that lead to prosperity. And I think Rochester may be onto something.
In fact, I am so impressed with their creative new approach to fixing city-wide problems that I believe with all my heart that "Rochester. Made for living" will turn their city around.
Schools will have more resources and teachers will be paid what they're worth. Crime will suddenly plummet as criminals realize, "They're right! Rochester IS made for living!" And the CEOs of large corporations will say, "Forget about cheap foreign labor! We've got to build our new factory in Rochester! It's made for living!"
So how much better could it be if they use the giant purple gorilla?
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Erik Deckers
(published week of January 13th, 2006)
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Roman Colosseum, 60 A.D., Sunday Matinee
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2006
"Here are our seats. Have you still got your ticket parchment, Virgil? We need it to get back into the Colosseum, in case we leave."
"Excellent. The first match will begin in a few moments."
"I don't know. I thought Magnus was facing a wild boar."
"We should get a program parchment. Where's a program merchant when you need -- there's one."
"You there, merchant. We would like a program parchment."
"Three Caligulas? Prices have certainly gone up lately. You could get a program parchment for a single Augustus when I was a boy."
"Let me search my coin pursue. . . here are two Claudiuses and a Tiberius. I believe I get a Tacitus in change."
"Here's your program parchment, son. Let's see, it appears Magnus is fighting Flavius, not a wild boar. An honest mistake, since both are hairy with huge teeth. Come to think of it, your grandmother could fight Magnus."
"No, no, don't tell your mother I said that. You know how much I love my mother-in-law. I just like to tease."
"No, I didn't -- look, here's a Tiberius. Now keep your mouth shut about this."
"Let's see, in the second match, Decius is fighting a bear and a boar. Ooh, and the main event is a group of these. . . Christians against a pride of lions."
"Hello, Vespasian. How goes the Senate?"
"Good, good. The Emperor Nero is certainly keeping you busy."
"My business? Oh, it's doing well. We're selling as many chariots as the Roman army can buy."
"Heh heh, as long as we keep expanding the Roman Empire, business is good."
"This is my son, Virgil. I thought I would bring him to the Games today. You know, a little father-son bonding."
"Have you heard any news about the rebel Spartacus?"
"Excellent. Maybe they'll bring him back to the Games soon. He was always a crowd favorite."
"Good day, Vespasian. Enjoy the Games. Hail Nero."
"I'm hungry. Are you hungry, Virg?"
"Do you fancy a Boar Burger or Bear Sausage?"
"Merchant! Two Bear Sausages, please. And a skin of wine."
"No, you cannot have your own skin of wine."
"Because Games food is expensive."
"Oh alright. Merchant, make that two skins of wine."
"Don't tell your mother, alright? She keeps nagging me about my diet. 'Roman men eat meat. Barbarians and Visigoths eat vegetables,' I tell her."
"She thinks we're at the theater watching 'Phantom of the Pantheon.'"
"Don't you dare tell her where we really were!"
"That's blackmail."
"You came with me!"
"Alright, you can have another Tiberius."
"Little blackmailer. I swear, if they ask for volunteers, I'm tossing you into the ring."
"The first battle is about to begin. Who do you favor, Magnus or Flavius?"
"Really? I always figured Magnus to be the better fighter. He's 31-0 against all others. Just last week, he defeated Severus by flinging a trident into his chest."
"Look, Virgil! Magnus has old Flavius on the run and -- Great Zeus' beard! Did you see that?! Flavius' head flew at least 20 feet!"
"What do you mean, you heard the Games were fake?"
"I don't care what Marcus' father said. This is the freakin' Colosseum, not the Roman Wrestling Federation and Heraclius-a-mania. You can't fake someone's head flying off like that!"
"You tell Marcus that we were sitting right here when Magnus lopped off Flavius the Hairy's head. Maybe the Germanic tribes would believe in such trickery, but not us Romans."
"Tell you what, if Marcus thinks its fake, get him to volunteer in next week's match. I hear they're looking for a new opponent for Magnus."
"Virgil, what are those spectators wearing on their heads?"
"Bears? Why would someone want to wear a bear on their head?"
"What do you mean, they're fans of the bear? Decius is fighting a bear in the second match. Why wouldn't they cheer for him?"
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"No, you cannot get a bear head."
"Because I want you to cheer for the human. I've always cheered for the humans in the gladiator matches, my father always cheered for the humans, and his father always cheered for the humans. Well, at least until one killed him in a 'take on all comers' match."
"But that's beside the point. We cheer for the humans in the human-wild animal matches, and that's final."
"You wouldn't."
"But I gave you two Tiberius coins for your silence."
"That's horrible. How can you do this to your own father?"
"Fine, you can get a bear's head to wear on your head, no matter how stupid it looks."
"Next I suppose you'll want a piece of giant foam cheese for your head."
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Erik Deckers
(published week of January 20th, 2006)
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It Beats Collecting Decorative Soaps
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2006
What's your most prized possession? What object, other than your children, pets, or big screen TV, would you save first in a fire?
We all have our own special items that occupy a place near and dear to our hearts. But it usually doesn't stop with one item. We're all packrats to some degree. We have collections of things that inspire us, whether it's first edition books, leather shoes, or limited edition Elvis Presley collection plates.
Collections are an analogy for our own lives: they create enjoyment and fun, they become more valuable as time goes on, and everyone else pretends to be interested in it.
For many collectors, there is a need to have a "complete set" of the object of our desire, like having every Beatles album or every 1977 Cincinnati Reds baseball card, including Johnny Bench (will accept all reasonable offers).
Whether it's a few items that hold great sentimental value for us like a ticket stub to the 2001 Super Bowl, or every single Beanie Baby ever made, we all have that near-obsessive urge that drives us to amass huge amounts of, well, junk. I started thinking about this a few weeks ago, when going through one of my old collections.
A couple of years ago, my dad dropped off a few boxes, declaring "you're not really an adult until all your stuff is gone from your parents' house."
My wife groaned in disappointment that I was bringing more of my "old crap" into the house, but I was secretly delighted. I had just been reunited with my prized boyhood collection: dozens of empty beer cans.
To answer your questions: 1) Yes, I said beer cans; 2) No, not just any beer cans, these are special hard-to-find cans; 3) No, I'm not the one who emptied them.
When I was eight years old, my family was visiting some friends, when their son, John, showed me his new beer can collection, about 20 cans total. He pointed out all the various brands, styles, and sizes.
As I stared at the brightly-colored display, something awoke in me. I had to have my own collection. I somehow thought that I could actually amass a complete collection of every beer can in the world. There had to be about 50, tops, I thought. Surely, it can't be that hard to collect them all, right? (I found out later that there are literally thousands of breweries around the world.)
"I want to start collecting beer cans," I told my father. He was sitting with John's dad, Gary, drinking Budweiser. He looked at the empty can in his hand, and without considering the potential ramifications of a nine-year-old boy collecting alcohol-based paraphernalia, said, "Okay, here."
My first can! My head spun, my palms got sweaty, and I felt like I was floating. It was the collector's high I'd heard so much about. Or maybe it was because I took a big whiff of the can right then. I took the can home, rinsed it out (having identified the cause of the earlier dizzy spell), and plonked it onto my shelf.
From there, my obsession knew no bounds. I prowled busy streets looking for strange cans. People who visited our house were urged to drink up to grow my collection. I even begged my parents to drink all sorts of new and different beers, which given my typical boy's behavior, was probably not too much of a sacrifice for them.
I finally had to curtail my mania though, when in the same week, I received a key to the city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, followed by a cease-and-desist letter from Alcoholics Anonymous.
After four years, my collection totaled over 300 different cans -- quite an accomplishment for a young boy, considering I didn't start making my own contributions until I was 16. . . err, I mean 21.
My collecting craze finally stopped, and when I left for college, I weeded out the cans I didn't want anymore, and reduced the collection to my top 50 cans, including that first Budweiser. I still have them.
I forgot all about the collection until my dad brought the boxes to my house two years ago. The collection was finally returned to me by the man who helped me start it in the first place. And even though I don't collect cans anymore, I'm sure my parents had fun helping me create it. So I know there's only one thing I could do to repay them for all the work they did for me all those years ago.
I'm going to help my dad start his very own porterhouse steak bone, beer bottle, and cigar band collection.
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Erik Deckers
(published week of January 27th, 2006)
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