Bloody Well Write

If you saw or heard the Madonna interview with ABC News’ Cynthia McFadden, there’s a good chance that you’ve already thumbed through your hardback dictionary (are those still in existence?) or visited an online dictionary in search of the definition for reductive. No? Well, you’re in the right place.

Madonna was asked what she thinks about Lady Gaga, particularly about the similarities between Madonna’s song “Express Yourself” and Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” Madonna’s response?

“It feels, um, reductive.”

When asked if that is a good thing, Madonna replied, “Look it up.”

OK, fine. Here’s what Merriam-Webster has to say about it:

a procedure or theory that reduces complex data and phenomena to simple terms

And that’s the second definition — the one that makes the most sense in this context. So in essence (and correct me if I’m wrong, Madge), she’s saying that she is the original and Lady Gaga’s attempt at flattery or copycat-ery or whatever is a simplistic version, a dumbed-down version, a shallow version.

Sounds like sour grapes to me.

Don’t get me wrong: I think Madonna has had one hell of a career doing some crazy things, some smart things and some seriously questionable things. And I also think that she’s got more of it all coming our way. But her tone is dismissive of Lady Gaga’s success. Her crazy, smart, seriously questionable success. Her meat-dress-wearing, indulgent-Thanksgiving-show-performing, multisexual-bending success. And like Madonna, Lady Gaga is reaching audiences of varying ages, socioeconomic and ethnic backgrounds and sensibilities.

To refer to Lady Gaga’s work — or anyone else’s, for that matter — as reductive only brings Madonna down a notch in my mind. If you haven’t something nice to say, don’t say anything, yes?

On the other hand, it could be said that she was simply expressing herself. Or perhaps she can’t help but say what’s on her mind — maybe she was born that way.

Happy trails!

SAK

Yes, you knew this would have to be addressed at some point.

This is apparently how to spell that super-long word from “Mary Poppins”:

supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

The adjective — meaning something’s extraordinarily groovy to children and representing the longest word imaginable — isn’t in Merriam-Webster or Webster’s New World College dictionaries, but it is spelled thusly in several other dictionaries, so I’m claiming it as the correct spelling.

At 34 characters, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is, indeed, long. Wikipedia, however, lists three other words longer than supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Happy trails!

SAK

Chalk this one up in the “I had no idea” book: Stepping stone is supposed to be one word!

I went to a class a few years ago and learned how to use stained glass in stepping stones — er, steppingstones. I had such a great time at the class; it brought back the sense of creating something from scratch, much like what I experienced in college while studying theatre. One of the requirements of getting my theatre degree was to work in the scene shop, and I had a ball. Such fun to learn how to drill, cut, hammer, paint, affix, decorate and tear down sets with real power tools! Those were fun, creative times, and this particular steppingstone class, in which I learned how to use nippers, cutters and grinders, reminded me of those hands-on days.

Anyway, the point of all this is this: Since that class several years ago, I’ve made a couple of steppingstones on my own: One was a K-State Wildcat (I know! I know! It was a gift!) and one was an Armenian ‘A’ for my dad (who didn’t realize at first that it was an Armenian ‘A’ (which looks like an uppercase U with a tail); he was just so proud that I had made something for him, he didn’t care what was actually on the stone, and I thought that his reaction was absolutely worth all the effort). But just now, while flipping through my AP Stylebook for blog inspiration, I ran across steppingstone (again, one word — I’m flabbergasted).

So I had to verify this one-word concoction. And yes, both Merriam-Webster and Webster’s New World College dictionaries backed it up.

Happy trails!

SAK

Nearing the end of the weekend and still plenty to do around the house, I thought you lovers of all things wordy would like this quick post. Or maybe not, depending on what I’m about to write. Either way, here goes.

You know that modern convenience at nearly every fast-food joint in town? That window — or two windows — that you zoom around a building to get to in order to pay dollars and cents in exchange for hot, often-fried, not-all-that-healthy food? Or the line that you wait in at the bank, trying to extract some cash from a tube that zips from you to a smiling attendant? Or the short line with a long wait at the local pharmacy?

Yeah, that thing that saves you time but wastes gas — that thing. That thing that offered me solace and at the same time gave me a sense of responsibility in my very first job at McDonald’s. That thing is technically called a drive-through window. Or a drive-up window.

Not a drive-thru window.

Check out Merriam-Webster or Webster’s New World College dictionaries and you’ll see that I’m not just making it up to be difficult. I wouldn’t mind too much if thru were adopted as street-legal by either of these dictionaries. But alas, that day has yet to come, and so I stick to my guns and say to you: “Drive through the drive-through!”

Happy trails!

SAK

This is a short addition to the previous post on the correct pronunciation of pajamas (or, as the case may be, pajama).

One of my favorite albums is “Negotiations and Love Songs,” and one of my favorite songs on the album is “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” (which, by the way, debuted on his second album, “Paul Simon”). The very first line of the song goes like this:

The mama pajama rolled out of bed and she ran to the police station.

In this song, my friends, Paul sings it with that second a in pajama rhyming with mama. Not Pam or clam or jam or even jammies. But like llama. Like Obama. Like it should be pronounced, according to Merriam-Webster’s preference.

I suppose that’s enough on this subject. Just thought it would be another good way to get some decent tunes flowing.

Happy trails!

SAK

Leave it to one-time vice-presidential-hopeful Sarah Palin to continually provide grammar fodder for the media, as well as for bloggers (such as yours truly), Facebook addicts and Twitter hounds alike.

This past Sunday, Palin tweeted the following:

“Ground Zero Mosque supporters, doesn’t it stab you in the heart as it does ours throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, please refudiate.”

The popular assumption running around the Internet is that someone pointed the fact that “refudiate” isn’t a dictionary-recognized word out to Palin, who then deleted the first tweet and entered a new, presumably more-correct version:

“Peaceful New Yorkers, pls refute the Ground Zero mosque plan if you believe catastrophic pain caused @ Twin Towers site is too raw, too real.”

But the second version isn’t much better than the first — and that’s without even getting into the politics of what she’s trying, very unsuccessfully, to get across.

Palin was probably trying to use “repudiate” but may have been thinking about the word “refute” and, not fully comprehending (ahem) the distinction between the two, instead blended them into “refudiate.” Whether by accident or on purpose, the tweeted goof made far-reaching news and comedy gold.

Let’s look at the three words:

Refudiate = Not a recognized word. (If you don’t believe me, check with Merriam-Webster or your favorite dictionary. It ain’t in there.)

Refute = According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, the transitive verb means “to prove wrong by argument or evidence (show to be false or erroneous).” A secondary definition means “to deny the truth or accuracy of” something.

Repudiate = Also a transitive verb, “repudiate” has several meanings according to Merriam-Webster: “1) to divorce or separate formally from (a woman); 2) to refuse to have anything to do with; 3a) to refuse to accept; especially : to reject as unauthorized or as having no binding force; 3b) to reject as untrue or unjust; and 4) to refuse to acknowledge or pay.”

Take a look at the second tweet. Really, Palin should have chosen “repudiate” instead of “refute” because she’s urging New Yorkers to refuse to have anything to do with the possibility of a new cultural center (see the second “repudiate” reference).

OK, fine. So she screwed up and tried to fix it. That shows somewhat of a conscience, I suppose (but don’t quote me on that; it’s all I can do to refrain from saying what I really think of this tweeter). But then Palin tweeted yet a third time about the mistake:

“‘Refudiate,’ ‘misunderestimate,’ ‘wee-wee’d up.’ English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words too. Got to celebrate it!”

That hurt just copying and pasting.

I must say — and I quote the Bard himself — “the lady doth protest too much.” Good grief! Palin should not try to align herself with a master writer such as William Shakespeare. It’s just not believable, not on any account. She, like he? I think not. In the making-up-words category, Shakespeare can’t hold a candle to Palin.

If Palin wants to be a future presidential hopeful, she needs to ramp up her writing skills in a big, bad way because, as Bill wrote, “nothing can come of nothing.” And that’s saying something.

Happy trails!

SAK

I was reading an article in an aviation magazine today (true story) and ran across an article with a title that mentioned an ax to grind.

First problem: The title was split on two lines and the word ax was at the end of the first line, with to grind at the beginning of the second line. Ech. It’s no fun to read a typical phrase such as this one that’s been split in two as if it’s a banana flippin’ split.  Ruins the flow for the reader. Not to mention that the last word on the first line is a mere two letters long.

But I digress once again.

Second and, for the purpose of this entry, main problem: Ax was spelled ax. Two letters. It just looked wrong.

So what did I do?

(Wait for it.)

OK, don’t wait for it. You know the drill; I looked it up on Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary and — what the?! — ax is the preferred spelling! The dictionary gods must be crazy, but apparently they have deemed axe (three letters and the spelling that I grew up with, unless my memory is playing tricks on me) as the secondary spelling. The variant. The sub-par. Egads.

There you have it. I might not like ax right now, but I will after a few days of stewing. I hope that you will, too.

Happy trails!

SAK

I love reading to my kids. No matter what else happened that day — good or bad — and no matter how many times I reprimanded them throughout the day, at the dinner table or while getting ready for bed, that time spent snuggling head to head, cheek to cheek, shoulder to shoulder while flipping through a book that we’ve read 67 times before is, as they say, priceless.

And that doesn’t even include all the weird mistakes we find in said books. They’re real gems, those mistakes.

Tonight’s story was P.D. Eastman’s “Go, Dog. Go!” It’s especially fun for a word nerd like me because I get to point out three types of punctuation in the title alone, and I get such a thrill when my 4-year-old exclaims, “Explanation point, Mom! I found one!”

She makes me so proud.

But something always bugged me about the wording inside. There are two dogs, one male and one female, who periodically meet throughout the book. Both dogs wear various hats. The girl dog asks the boy dog if he likes her hat, and he always says some version of “No, I don’t like that hat.” So they part, the girl dog looking miffed and the boy dog looking oblivious. The last meeting ends amicably because the girl dog has gone all out — and I mean all out — in designing her hat; the boy dog finally agrees that her hat is pretty cool.

What got me, though, was how Eastman spelled good-by (without an ending “e”). It just doesn’t look right to me. And when that happens, that not-quite-right feeling, it’s best if I just look it up. And of course I did, but it took more than a year to do it (sort of like how I go into the kitchen with the intention of getting a glass of water but find dirty dishes in the sink, so I wash them and then realize that I need some bleach to clean up and go downstairs to get it but see an unfolded blanket in the living room, so I go ahead and fold it first, but then … you get the picture).

So I looked it up via Merriam-Webster. And I found good-bye (with a final “e”) to be the first (and thus most prominent) spelling. While good-by made the dictionary’s second spelling, it is still considered a variant.

And then I checked it out in the brand-spanking-new 2010 AP Stylebook (feel free to envy me) and, within those magical pages, goodbye exists, sans hyphen! Now that, my friends, made my day.

So goodbye it is, arrivederci,  auf wiedersehen and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Happy trails!

SAK

I was writing an article the other day and wanted to write about something being paid attention to in a timely and appropriate fashion and, for the life of me, I blanked on how to spell duly (as in duly noted). Is it dooly? Dooley? Duley? Duely?

Good grief. My mind must be slipping.

So I looked it up, as I always — and often — do when I’m not 100 percent sure of the spelling or definition. Good ol’ Merriam-Webster to the rescue! Dating back to the 14th century, this adverb means “in a due manner of time,” and properly, at that.

Dudley Do-Right always duly notes the evil doings of Snidely Whiplash

Another way to look at it is that the matter at hand will be receiving the attention and consideration it has due (although this sounds slightly you-OWE-me demanding to me, which doesn’t often sit well with some folks).

And its correct spelling? Duly.

Duly noted.

Happy trails!

SAK

I’ve been doing a fair amount of freelance copywriting lately and, while doing some much-needed research, ran across this little gem of grammatical confusion: What’s the difference between rigorous and vigorous?

Rigorous — According to Merriam-Webster, rigorous has to do with something very strict (e.g., The auto industry needs more-rigorous testing). Rigorous often refers to strictly following rules and procedures. It can also mean that something’s “scrupulously accurate” or “marked by extremes of temperature or climate.”

Vigorous — Merriam-Webster’s definition of vigor implies physical or mental strength or active force (e.g., the benefit of vigorous activity over moderate activity) or the act of carrying something out with force or energy.

Just goes to show: You learn something new every day. I do, anyway.

Happy trails!

SAK