Eric The Blue

John McIntyre: You don't say

John McIntyre, proprietor of the You Don't Say blog, reports that his readers, unless their appetites can be satisfied by fifteen free page views per month, will soon need to purchase an electronic subscription to the Baltimore Sun. The details persuade me that judicious, spaced visits will make it possible to read all his posts without a subscription.  That's good, because I'd hate to do without such vigorous, sensible posts as this one, on the Occupy Wall Street protests.  Of course, McIntyre's bailiwick is language--he's the Sun's chief copy guy--and he's a fount of good sense on that subject, too: see, for just one for instance, his take down of those whose rules do not allow for sentences beginning with conjunctions.  It's a bit of nonsense that would require a lot of editing symbols in the margins of the King James version of the Bible.

Which reminds me of a story about Churchill.  He took pains with his prose, and once, when an editor had recast one of his sentences so as to avoid ending it with a preposition, is supposed to have fumed: "That's the kind of English up with which I will not put!" 

I'm against it

Sometimes--frequently--I get so annoyed by stuff I hear or read that I can hardly think of anything else till I've expressed my annoyance, thereby achieving a sort of exorcism.  Thus a blog.  It doesn't even matter if anyone reads it.  I doubt the therapeutic effect could be any greater if my posts were published on the editorial page of The New York Times.

Yesterday the Star Tribune newspaper printed on its editorial page a long, pompous editorial by Mitch Pearlstein, the director of a local conservative think tank.  He really annoys me.  Yesterday's piece was about family breakdown.  Oh woe! woe! woe!  Nobody wants to acknowledge that family breakdown is a leading cause of the gap between "haves" and "have nots."  But he will trod where only big thinkers dare go.  Oh woe! woe! woe!  The sociologists all concur it's terrible!  Oh woe! woe! woe!  We must permit vouchers for private school education.  And so on.

Here's a typical Pearlstein gambit.  Having appealed to reasonable people by fussily charging "liberals" and "conservatives" of different sins on the issue of wealth inequality, he writes:

Might I respectfully add here that it is impossible for me to imagine how liberal friends could not be at least as concerned as I am from the conservative side of the aisle about the thinning of marriage and its straight line to social class rupture.

Emphasis in original.  He is so concerned.  He can't imagine why his "liberal friends" aren't.  Permit him to respectfully point out that he's better than they are.  His actual meaning would be clearer if the italics came two words later. 

You might think that the need for private school education does not necessarily follow from data about wealth inequality and family disintegration.  But Pearlstein has decided that vouchers would be a good thing and consequently every possible social observation attests to the necessity of adopting his view.  Here he is performing the pivot:

I asked [the] principal of a Catholic elementary school in the Twin Cities what her institution's mission was.  "To manifest God's love in every child," she said, or words close to that.  As educational mission statements go, this was one of the briefiest yet meatiest ever drafted.

No, it's tied with a million others for the most meaningless.  "To manifest God's love in every child" is just the empty cant of a dull nun.  It doesn't mean anything.  I hate the way we are all expected to bow down and pay obeisance soon as anyone suggests that their view is supported by religion.  I guess if you disagree with Mitch Pearlstein, then you must be against making God's love manifest in children.

Well, count me among that small group.  No tax dollars should support religious schools.  No God's love manifest in young children.  No taking time out from math and reading for lessons concerning the Virgin Mary.  I'm against it, and I'm feeling better.

Trades

My Twins, who have scored one run in five consecutive games, and who were shut out in the game before that, have traded slugger Jim Thome to the Indians for a player to be named later: maybe they think they can score a run per game without him.  Meanwhile, on my Blog Roll I've traded Majikthise for John McIntyre's You Don't Say.  You got redirected when trying to link to Majikthise, and anyway I am the kind of dweeb who takes an interest in the questions that occupy copy editors like McIntyre.  Plus he is another Johnsonian.  About one post in ten makes mention of the man whom James Wolcott has called, in a post that introduced me to McIntyre, a "poet, critic, journalist, lexicographer, biographer, extemporaneous genius, befriender of the ragged and accomplished, and sputtering misshapen force of nature."  Not to mention: "one of the greatest men to grace mankind."  (McIntyre would probably say that Wolcott probably should have written "one of the greatest men to have graced mankind.)  According to Wolcott, McIntyre is the "Dave Brubeck of the art and craft of copy editing." Quite the epigram maker, he.

I know, I know, language and copy editing: what could be duller?  Who cares where or whether you place a comma?  However:

I. I didn't marry Bob because I wanted a settled family life.

II. I didn't marry Bob, because I wanted a settled family life.

The words are the same, but you will perceive that, while the speakers are in agreement about the potential for enjoying a settled family life with Bob, (I.) married him and (II.) did not. If this is not the kind of subject matter that swells your corpuscles, there is a lot of plain good sense and a video joke of the week that's usually so bad it'll make you laugh.

Language woes

I made fun the other day of an absurdly bloated lead-in to a year-end retrospective on the editorial page of the Star Tribune newspaper:

As we travel through life, buffeted by internal and external forces, sometimes we reach a fork in the road, and new thinking emerges. . . .

Yech.  The whole buffeting business is overwrought.  And the fork in the road--one wishes the buffeting wind could have blown away such a stale metaphor but I guess not.  There is nothing for your local community college composition teacher to like here. 

Saturday, a Star Tribune editorial called forth by the end of Pawlenty's time as governor included this observation:

But more than any of his recent predecessors, this governor seemed disinterested in forging bipartisan compromise. . . .

If you know the difference between "disinterested" (a synonym for "impartial") and "uninterested" (which means something close to "bored"), then you are ahead of the team of writers and editors responsible for one insipid editorial after another.  This particular one on Pawlenty appears to have been written by someone who hates him and then edited by someone who doesn't.  That will never work. 

Pompous, dumb

Speaking of dopey year-end journalistic retrospectives, check out this one, courtesy of the Star Tribune.  The one beneath the headline "The Election," by Chairman of the Board Mike Sweeney, is particularly dumb.  This notion that divided government is a good thing and that voters know it and choose it--what is the evidence for the claim?  There isn't any.  I'd like to see Mr Sweeney take up the question of why voters deserve praise for an outcome that hardly any of them, as individuals, sought. 

How many voted for a Republican for state legislature and for Mark Dayton for governor?  A hundred and ten town drunks.  Attributing the outcome to the "remarkable" and "fundamental" "wisdom" of the voters is a vacant piety.  Actually, Democrats voted for Democrats, Republicans for Republicans, and this, together with the complications added by a lot of moving parts, including especially Tom Horner's presence in the statewide governor's race, resulted in Republicans winning the legislature while Dayton prevailed (very narrowly) in the gubernatorial election.

Hendrik Hertzberg has more on what the real evidence shows. 

I also want to call attention to the laughably awful, bloated lead-in to the piece: "As we travel through life, buffeted by external and internal forces, sometimes we reach a fork in the road"--and feel the need to say something pompous and dumb.

Erik Paulsen puts his best foot forward; Eric the Blue notices the bunions

Erik Paulsen, R-Minn., is not worth two posts in a row from any but the lowliest of bloggers, so here comes #2 on the whimpering weasel.  He went to the same college as I and it's sort of embarrassing.  Here he is putting his best foot forward on his website:

Erik Paulsen represents Minnesota's Third District in the US House of Representatives; a district made up of the western suburbs of Minneapolis. Paulsen is serving his first term in the House of Representatives with a heavy focus on job creation, fiscal discipline, veterans’ issues and constituents service.

Paulsen is a member of the House Financial Services Committee where he has been a champion of fiscal responsibility with a focus on greater transparency and accountability of taxpayer dollars. During his first months in office he successfully passed legislation to create broad authority for a Special Inspector General to oversee bailout spending through the Troubled Asset Relief Program as well as a bill he authored to strengthen small businesses hampered by the recession.  He is also co-sponsoring legislation that will provide reform for taxpayers and small business while creating a strong economic climate for job growth.

Alas, the first two grafs of his autobiography are representative of the whole.  Perhaps while in college the lessons of freshman composition were not a heavy focus of his.  I like how referring to himself in the third person gives the piece a fake journalistic feel, as if it's the straight dope instead of just him trying to brag about airy nothing.  Have you ever noticed, when reading a piece of really terrible writing, how often the bloviations tend to obscure the bullshit?  Take the phrase "he successfully passed legislation."  First time through, he earns the taunt:  "As opposed to unsuccessfully passed legislation, you blockhead?"  But second time through you notice that "unsuccessfully" does serve a subliterate rhetorical function.  If you take it out, the sentence is pared down, with the result that the reader, instead of gliding along mindlessly on puffy cumulus, is called back to the ground, where it will likely occur to him that Paulsen, an obscure back-bencher of the minority party in a congress of 435, could not himself have passed anything.  For small blessings we should all be thankful.

On the one hand, the facts of the case; and, for balance, bullshit

The local daily yesterday printed, under the headline "Summit displayed deep philosophical gulf on health care," an article, labeled "Analysis," by Dan Balz of the Washington Post.  We learn in the first sentence that, regarding the debate on health care reform, "it's clear that both sides are certain they are right on substance" and that there is "a genuine difference" between the Dems and the R's.  The two sides agree that the health care system is "ailing" but disagree about the remedy:

Democrats think more government is the answer; Republicans say the opposite, that market competition is the best antidote to the ailing system.

Let's begin our analysis of Mr. Balz's analysis with a language note.  An antidote is something taken for poison.  In the above sentence, "the ailing system" stands for the person who, on account of having swallowed poison, is in mortal danger.  The antidote is not to the ailing thing; it's to the poison; and, consequently, the sentence should have been edited--or, if it was edited, unedited.

What is the evidence that Republicans agree that the health care system is in need of repair?  George Bush was president from 2001 through 2008.  For most of that time, Republicans were in the majority in Congress.  Where were their proposals then, when they could have enacted them?  I think, on the evidence, that the Republicans do not regard the failing health care system as a problem.  They constantly repeat the line about our health care system being the best in the world, and wonder aloud, their jowly faces contorted by crooked grins, where Canadiens will get their health care if we "reform" our system.  I take them at their word.

Since the article is allegedly "analysis," you might expect some evaluation of the opposing claims.  What you get instead is the Republican party's talking point about the Dems' solution--"more government"--and a complete failure to address the absurd whopper at the heart of the Republicans' call for market solutions.  What do they think we have now?  It's the market system that has failed.  It doesn't work.  When companies try to profit by selling health insurance, they do things like deny coverage to people with pre-existing conditions.  In tough times, when healthy people decide to do without insurance, they raise rates on their increasingly unhealthy (and desperate) pool of customers, thereby driving out the remaining healthy ones, so that rates must be raised again, and so on.  The result is run-away costs and millions of uninsured.  That's what the vaunted market has wrought. 

If one side were to say that the square root of sixteen is four, and the other were to insist that, no, it's five, Dan Balz would probably write an article praising the "intelligent" and "civil" dialogue of the antagonists before concluding that, since this is a democracy and the different views cannot be reconciled, the voters will decide what is the square root of sixteen.  How wonderful!

Language notes

This morning, on NPR, I heard the on-air personality refer to Lou Cannon as "Ronald Reagan's former biographer."  Are you only the author of a book while you are working on it?  "Philip Roth, former author of American Pastoral, is the current author of a work whose title is still unknown."  No, no, no, no.

At the store, express check-out lanes are reserved for those with "less than 10 items."  That sounds wrong, doesn't it?  To get in that line you should have in your basket fewer than ten items.  If you're talking about things you can count, fewer.  A smaller volume of something calls for less.  I think that's the rule.  Less water.  Fewer molecules.

On a graver note, Amy Davidson takes on "unprosecutable," as in, from the Washington Post, fifty of the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay

are too dangerous to release but are unprosecutable and should be held under the laws of war, according to recommendations by a Justice Department-led review of all detainee cases.

It seems clear that what the Post, by way of the Justice Department, means by "unprosecutable" is "unconvictable."  For these prisoners could be prosecuted.  But that isn't going to happen, because if it did, they would likely be acquitted.  How is it that "unprosecutable" applies to these circumstances?  It doesn't. But it makes it easier for the mind to glide over some rough spots.

 

Write like Palin

There's a show on NPR over the weekend--"Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me"?--in which contestants are read three "news" stories and have to identify the one that's real.  Since Sarah Palin has published Going Rogue, and Slate has challenged its readers to submit a single sentence in a "Write Like Palin" contest, I thought I might challenge my hordes of readers to distinguish entries in the contest from sentences in the book.  So here goes!  Of the following four sentences, two are quoted from Going Rogue, and the other two are entrants in the "Write Like Palin" contest.

1. As the soles of my shoes hit the soft ground, I pushed past the tall cottonwood trees in a euphoric cadence, and meandered through willow branches that the moose munched on.

2. The minute I was on that stage in Florida with all those lights in my eyes and the smell of Alaska still on my fingertips and my family, too, all around out there, I was where I dreamed of all those years on the basketball court and in Alaskas's God given beauty which we must cherish and use as God gave it us to use and in honor of the troops, also.

3. Reaching the peak of Igikpak, that majestic mount, feeling the smooth Alaskan wind rustle against my cheeks, watching over this vast yet tender land that epitomized so much of America's resplendent pulchritude, and slowly squeezing the trigger on the wolf cub I'd been tracking through my crosshairs, I suddenly felt in my heart something I had always known to be true: the capital-gains tax must be eliminated.

4. I breathed in an autumn bouquet that combined everything small-town America with rugged splashes of the Last Frontier.

Spoiler alert: the solution is in the last paragraph. 

This is all a lot of fun but we should remember that Sarah Palin, a manifest dope, is a leading figure in the Republican party and could become president if Obama fails, which he might.  It's hard to overstate the irresponsibility exhibited by John McCain in selecting her.  On the other hand, given the composition of the modern Republican party, the odds were against the selection of a serious person.  Had McCain picked at random a Republican member of Congress there would have been a high likelihood of a real crackpot--though, I have to admit, a relative few are in Palin's class.

Sentences (2) and (3) are entrants in the contest.  The first and fourth are from Going Rogue: An American Life, by Sarah Palin.  Via Andrew Sullivan.  Here is the winner in the contest: "One night after a long day of campaigning, when the haters had made my spirits reach a nadir, I looked into Todd’s eyes, which were as blue as the stripes on Old Glory, and too representing truth and loyalty, and he looked back at me with a twinkle of determination which I hadn’t seen since I told him my goal of having another baby in my fifties and naming it Tron, then did I know for sure that I could carry on, like he, and we, have done together all of these years on this long, Iron Dog race of a marriage that is at once grueling and celestial, onerous and majestic."  (You have to love "blue as the stripes on Old Glory.")

Sarah Palin on Facebook

She's back!--and her Facebook page is being subjected to close textual analysis by those hoping to find a clue to her unsteady behavior.  Let's have a look ourselves at what she has to say.

On this Independence Day, I am so very proud of all those who have chosen to serve our great nation and I honor their selflessness and the sacrifices of their families, too.

If I may, I would like to take a moment to reflect on the last 24 hours and share my thoughts with you.

Not as intersting as a cliche or a platitude, but on to her "thoughts."

First, I want to thank you for your support and hard work on the values we share. Those values led me to the decision my family and I made. Yesterday, my family and I announced a decision that is in Alaska’s best interest and it always feels good to do what is right. We have accomplished more during this one term than most governors do in two – and I am proud of the great team that helped to build these wonderful successes. Energy independence and national security, fiscal restraint, smaller government, and local control have been my priorities and will remain my priorities.

You shouldn't say "first" unless there is a "second."  Is it her goal to say "family" as many times as possible?  She made the decision, not her family.  She made the announcement, not her family.  The logical connection between sentences is weak: was it her "values," or her "family," or doing right by Alaska that caused her to quit with more than a year left in her term?  The fatuous claim that "national security" has been a high priority of the governor of Alaska reminds us of one of her "greatest hits" from the campaign--namely, that from where she sits, you can see Russia.  I like how she says she's accomplished more in one term than most governors do in two.  It would be more accurate, but not more truthful, to claim that she had accomplished more in two-thirds of one term than most governors do in one.  She continues:

For months now, I have consulted with friends and family, and with the Lieutenant Governor, about what is best for our wonderful state. I even made a few administrative changes over that course in time in preparation for yesterday. We have accomplished so much and there’s much more to do, but my family and I determined after prayerful consideration that sacrificing my title helps Alaska most. And once I decided not to run for re-election, my decision was that much easier – I’ve never been one to waste time or resources. Those who know me know this is the right decision and obvious decision at that, including Senator John McCain. I thank him for his kind, insightful comments.

Her family is now joined by friends and the lieutenant governor in her elevated ruminations.  We don't know which family members or friends she has been consulting with for lo these many months.  The lieutenant governor, however, is Sean Parnell, and in news reports he is said to be "among the people stunned by her move," which he learned about 48 hours before the official announcement.  Maybe the amount of "prayerful consideration" she gave to the decision is exaggerated, too.  Are we to be impressed by unspecified "administrative changes"?  And doesn't she mean to say these changes were  to prepare not for "yesterday" but for the transition period ahead?  Notice the phrase "sacrificing my title," quite a lofty way to pronounce "quit."  Some might even suggest that the word, "sacrifice," should not be applied both to the burdens borne by military families and to this heavy one she has imposed upon herself by quitting her job.  The penultimate sentence seems to be missing at least one word but who really cares?  When she says exactly what she means, it doesn't make sense anyway.  McCain has made no statement asserting that her resignation is a good or obvious move.  She hurdles ahead:

The response in the main stream media has been most predictable, ironic, and as always, detached from the lives of ordinary Americans who are sick of the “politics of personal destruction”. How sad that Washington and the media will never understand; it’s about country. And though it's honorable for countless others to leave their positions for a higher calling and without finishing a term, of course we know by now, for some reason a different standard applies for the decisions I make. But every American understands what it takes to make a decision because it’s right for all, including your family.

"Mainstream" is one word but, alack, this is not a mistake spell check can catch.  The puffed-up "it's about country" recalls the theme of the McCain campaign, which his choice of her for running mate proved a lie.  I think these "others" she refers to are "countless" not because there are so many of them but  because there is not a single one.  It's a Republican trope that all the whining claimers of victim status should shut up and get to work, so why not her?  Whose complaints have ever had less merit?  Katie Couric does her homework but the dog always eats Palin's.  Regarding the last sentence: it occurred to her that she hadn't mentioned her family for awhile.  The ringing conclusion:

I shared with you yesterday my heartfelt and candid reasons for this change; I’ve never thought I needed a title before one’s name to forge progress in America. I am now looking ahead and how we can advance this country together with our values of less government intervention, greater energy independence, stronger national security, and much-needed fiscal restraint. I hope you will join me. Now is the time to rebuild and help our nation achieve greatness!

No, if it had been "candid" everyone would have an idea what it meant, what motivated her, and what her intentions might be.  If she's going to say I needed, then she should say my name, not one's name.  And what is this business about a "title" again?  It's almost as prevalent as "family."  Did you notice how she said applies for instead of applies to?  Now she says and when (I think) she means to:  the smallest words confuse her. 

I know, I know, these criticisms are "elitist."  You can't judge Republicans by standards that apply in Freshman Composition.  But does anyone seriously believe that the person behind this Facebook communication is a candidate for leading a nation to greatness?  She can't lead herself to mediocrity.

 

Letter to the editor

The editors of the Star Tribune seem to regard Mitch Pearlstein, head thinker at the Center of the American Experiment think tank, as one of the bright lights among local conservatives.  So what does he have to say?  Judging by his latest headlining contribution to the editorial page, mainly portentous questions beginning "What will it take"--as in, for example, "What will it take to reinstitutionalize marriage in many parts of this country?"

The swollen "reinstitutionalize" at the load-bearing part of the sentence is one of Mitch's calling cards.   He's taken a five syllable adjective and added an engine and a caboose to make a seven syllable verb that doesn't mean anything.  It's the same technique employed by the authors of college themes trying to disguise the fact that they have nothing to say.  And neither does Mitch.

Nevertheless, he drones on: "Whatever one thinks about Bush administration policy in Iraq and Afghanistan, the remarkable--some might argue, miraculous--fact is the American homeland has been safe for more than seven years, ever since 9/11."  One attack like that in the history of the world and it's a "miracle" there weren't a half dozen during Bush's time in office!  No wonder he attributes his own views to unnamed phantoms.  And why won't he say what he thinks about Bush administration policy in Iraq?

The mincing syntax, the preening diction--you can't ignore them, because it's all there is.

What will it take for the Star Tribune to flick a switch and turn off this dim bulb?  Even I, an inveterate bleeding heart, have to believe there's a wingnut in town who could make a case.

Orwell

I have been following the advice of George Packer, who in the closing days of the campaign recommended the essays of George Orwell as an antidote for all the lazy empty (but inflated) journalistic chatter that goes by the name Political Discourse.  Packer, however, may have a vested interest in the therapy he prescribes, as he is the editor of what look like two handsome new volumes of Orwell's collected essays.  Wish I had the time for all that.  I've been taking his advice in miniature, meaning I have pulled from the shelf Eight Modern Essayists, edited by William Smart, and read the Orwell section, which is made of "Shooting an Elephant," "Marrakech," "The Art of Donald McGill," "Politics and the English Language" (of course), and "Why I Write."

The best known of these, "Politics and the English Language," includes near its conclusion six rules for writers.  It is impossible therefore to read Orwell's essays without trying to make his sentences conform more perfectly to his own rules.  In "Shooting an Elephant," for example, one reads: "As soon as I saw the elephant I knew with perfect certainty that I ought not to shoot him."  In honor of Orwell's third rule--"If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out"--I propose the following: "As soon as I saw the elephant, I knew that I ought not to shoot him."  On the same principle writers should avoid such expressions as "fairly unique" and "completely destroyed."

As long as we're talking about it maybe the third rule should have been, "If it is possible to cut a word out, cut it out."

I know you are wondering about the identities of the seven other "modern essayists."  They are Virginia Woolf, E.B. White, Lewis Thomas, James Baldwin, Edward Hoagland, Joan Didion, and Alice Walker.  The book is clearly intended to be used in a college composition course, and one consequence is that Smart has included, where possible, essays in which the author takes up his or her own thoughts on writing.  Thus we have two essays with the same title, the one I like better, by Joan Didion, commencing:

Of course I stole the title for this talk from George Orwell.  One reason I stole it was that I like the sound of the words:  Why I Write.  There you have three short unambiguous words that share a sound, and the sound they share is this: 

I

I

I

Orwell's most memorable essay, of the ones I know, is here.

Massive category

I'm introducing a new category called "loose language" in which I will complain about careless usage and assorted other instances of mind-numbing abuses of our native tongue that I come across while prosecuting the daily routine.  I was inspired by the current cloying ubiquity, in Minnesota journalism, of the adjective "massive," usually in connection with the recount of ballots in our US Senate race.  The effort is massive.

While I was typing that paragraph, I heard someone being interviewed on NPR say that the United States is a "massive borrowing nation."

Now, "massive" is connected to "mass," so I think it is suspect when applied to incorporeal concepts such as the effort required to hand count 2,900,000 ballots.  But, even when applied to things with mass, the word seems to have become nothing more than a hyperventilating synonym for "big" or "lots."  The United States is a big country that borrows lots of money.

Edmund Wilson, in The Bit Between My Teeth, devotes three essays--"Words of Ill Omen," "A Postscript to Fowler: Current Cliches and Solecisms," and "More Notes on Current Cliches"--to my new category.  He discusses "massive" in all three, and speculates on the role that the doctrine of "massive retaliation" enunciated by John Foster Dulles, Eisenhower's secretary of state, may have played in the teeming frequency of this word--which, he further notes, occurs four times in David Copperfield and three times (twice in one paragraph) in a contemporaneous short essay by Lionel Trilling.  (The Bit Between My Teeth is a "literary chronicle" of the period 1950-1965.)  Well, the beat goes on, and, whatever the original cause, I attribute the massive overuse of "massive" to the tendency toward puffery--the desire to be noticed and the accompanying need to exaggerate.  It's the same instinct that leads local news anchors and others to resort, for example, to "totally destroyed."  Formerly, "destroyed" meant "destroyed," but now apparently it means "partially destroyed," thereby requiring "totally destroyed" when the thing is, like, really totally wrecked. 

Words through loose use lose their edge.  When the trend turns massive, meaning is altogether lost.

By the way, George Packer has a nice compilation of some words that worked overtime during the past campaign season.  And speaking of Packer, check out this exercise in expert vituperation.  The subject is deserving.