Fritinancy

February Linkfest

Short takes for a short month:

A couple of weeks ago, Time magazine—galled and galvanized by Comcast's name change to Xfinity—published its 10 Worst Corporate Name Changes. (Also on the list: Syfy and Xe.) Before you dash of a congratulatory letter to the editor, read "The New Laws of Naming," Alan Brew's response to the list. Brew, a veteran brand strategist at RiechesBaird in Southern California, reminds us, first and foremost, that "all name changes are going to be controversial." No. 2 on Brew's list: "There will always be people who don't like a name change for whatever reason, and newspapers will always find them for a quote." Amen, brother.

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Two beautifully written pieces on the movie critic Roger Ebert: a profile by Chris Jones in Esquire, and journalist/blogger Nancy Nall's terrific tribute. They aren't eulogies; Ebert is very much alive. But he lost his jaw to thyroid cancer and has been unable to eat, speak, or drink since 2006. Cancer can't touch his love of movies or his writing ability, though. He tweets all day, every day, and writes a blog about movies (mostly) for the Chicago Sun-Times. Read Ebert's response to the Chris Jones piece. (The photo may shock you, but, as Ebert says, "That's how I look, after all.")

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More journalism to make you stop, think, and support your local paper: This column by SF Gate's Mark Morford on the disappointingness of it all. Morford writes: "Hell, what with the economy and job situation, the housing market and the overall feel and texture of the nation right now, it's no wonder Americans are, by and large, a goddamn miserable bunch. We don't like anything right now. No politician, no decision, no situation, no inhale, no exhale. We are sick to death of all of it, including ourselves." Read the rest.

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The portmanteaus keep on coming! Ben Zimmer examines snow portmanteaus—snowpocalypse, snowmageddon—at Visual Thesaurus. In a comment, Jan Freeman of the excellent Throw Grammar from the Train blog contributed snowdenfreude and snow-how.

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The Wall Street Journal (you read that right) asks: Are all the good band names taken? My response: Not as long as there's a Band Name Generator to create names like Order of the Happy Cat and Fistful of Thumbs. Hat tips to Mike Lipsey (@StoicMike) for the former and to Chris Smith (@CSWriter) for the latter.

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Finally, here's one for everyone in the 510, with a special shout-out to those of the geekish persuasion: a Facebook petition to make "hella" the SI Prefix for 10^27. (Via Benjamin Tseng.) For those of you outside the Bay Area: a definition of "hella." 

November Linkfest

In honor of Thanksgiving, a multi-course menu of links.

Naming

Fellow namer Anthony Shore, formerly of Landor, has been writing terrific stuff on his blog, Operative Words. He recently published the English translation of his interview with Grasp, a Spanish naming blog. No permalinks (what's up with that, Anth?), so look for Part 1 on Nov. 9 and Part 2 on Nov. 10.

I've also been enjoying Beg to Differ, from Canadian brand consultancy Brandvelope. I recommend the three-part series on how to name a chicken sandwich, about Brandvelope's work with KFC Canada. (The link goes to Part 1; scroll down to find links to the other posts.)

Slang

In a recent column, Jon Carroll elliptically referred to the number 66 as "double boxcars," a term Jon says he learned from Herb Caen, the late Chronicle columnist. That sent me to The Google, where I discovered not just the origin of "double boxcars"—a rolled pair of sixes—but an entire glossary of craps terms. Did you know that "yo" means "eleven"? It's short for "yo-leven."

This glossary of narco-terms from Mexico's drug war is more macabre but no less fascinating. A plaza, for example, is "not the quaint public square you see in nearly every Mexican town, but rather any defined drug marketplace, such as a smuggling point." (Via my brother Michael.)

Simpsons

Remember "Jolly Gummi Bears: They Hibernate in Your Colon"? Revisit it and ten other ingenious signs from The Simpsons. From a blog called 11 Points, "because Top 10 lists are for cowards."

I've made something of a study of fake brands on The Simpsons (see my Brand-o-Rama posts from 2007, 2008, and 2009), but I wasn't familiar with some of "The 14 Most Awesome Fake Products on The Simpsons." TUBBB!, for example, consisted of "nothing but the white cream filling from Oreos." (Via Karen.)

Speaking of "awesome"

"Our generation is either in a state of near-perpetual awe, or in a state of a complete lack of awe. What’s more probable, and less tongue-in-cheek, is that the word’s meaning has simply devalued. And I mean no value judgement. It is arguably as pointless to bemoan a shift in lexical meaning as it is to gripe at the rising tide for turning your sandcastle into an amorphous lump." Irish blogger Stan Carey on the awe-purpose adjective: "How Awesome Is Awesome?"

Generators

Attention, academics: Use this sentence generator (from the U. of Chicago's writing program, believe it or not) for your next paper, or even your dissertation, and no one, including you, will be the wiser. Here's a sample: "The reification of pop culture opens a space for the ideology of linguistic transparency."

A generatorpalooza for writers! Name that gnome, that female French character, that Chinese restaurant, that "lurid imprecation." Generatrix Manon says: "Many of my generators deal either with the fantasy genre or with Les Misérables, of which I am inordinately fond." There are also links to off-site generators. Knock yourself out.

This title scorer from print-on-demand publisher Lulu claims to be based on the study of 50 years' worth of fiction bestsellers. Don't take it too seriously, though. The fine print says: "For all the work that went it, the Lulu Titlescorer is capable of giving high scores to titles that most of us would rate as weird, if not terrible. Meanwhile, of course, it also gives low scores to the titles of novels (e.g. The Da Vinci Code) which, in fact, topped the New York Times bestseller list for long periods." (Via NancyCC.)

Speaking of books

From College Humor, classic titles made sarcastic with quotation marks, e.g., The Red Badge of "Courage."  You'll need to create an account to view the comments. (Via Karen, again!)

LOLiterature: LOLcats humor for the literati. This one cracked me up.

And for dessert

Peach Melba, Lady Baltimore cake, Charlotte Russe, Bananas Foster, and other eponymous desserts, explained (and charmingly illustrated) by CakeSpy. Recipes, too. Did you know that German chocolate cake isn't from Germany?

Friday Names Roundup

It's been an omnium-gatherum kind of week, so let's finish in the same spirit.

1. A highly subjective (and very amusing) list of the ten worst restaurant names in Houston. My favorite: a sushi restaurant named Todai. I imagine the food is to die for. (Via @she_eats). See also "Nine of the Weirdest Restaurant Names in Existence." Although the latter list first appeared in the SF Weekly, the editors missed a famous local landmark, the Fly Trap. (It's now called Zaré at Fly Trap, but they can't fool me.)

2. Does global warming need a porn name? A New Scientist blog wonders whether a sexier appellation would "provoke a ... passionate response from the apathetic masses." Apparently "global burning" is popular with Christian groups. (Via Jon Carroll.)

3. Speaking of smut, Isabella Rossellini has produced Green Porno, a series of short films about animals' reproductive habits. Watch here, on the Sundance Channel site. Then get yourself a new name from the Green Porno name generator. I'm Linda Larvae!

4. I'm probably the last person in the Bay Area to learn that there's a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants named Merkin Valdez. I realize he was born in the Dominican Republic, but still: couldn't someone have told his parents what "merkin" means? (Hint: It doesn't mean this.)

The Plot Thickens

A disclosure: I've never read Dan Brown's best-selling novels—Angels and Demons, The Da Vinci Code. Nor have I seen the movie adaptations. But that hasn't stopped me from enjoying the creative snarkfest that greeted the release last week of Brown's latest potboiler, The Lost Symbol. For example:

1. The Globe and Mail's Brian Joseph Davis edits excerpts from the first two chapters of The Da Vinci Code and adds a helpful memo for the author: "I’ve left it in track changes, a file format I’m guessing your editor has never shown you."

2. Create your own Dan Brown sequel with Slate's interactive generator: "Plug in a city and a sect, and our computer will do the rest." The sect menu includes Scientologists, Shriners, Skull and Bones, and the Sierra Club (among many others).

3. Sam Anderson of New York Magazine has set up the Vulture Reading Room as a discussion forum for The Lost Symbol, but don't go there looking for earnest analysis or giddy fan mail. Anderson has posted a "cringingly funny" parody (says Language Log) that begins: "New York Magazine book critic Sam Anderson closed his heavily marked-up copy of The Lost Symbol with a sudden sense of dread." And it just gets better. Keep coming back for updates; there's already an excellent contribution from linguist Geoffrey Pullum—excuse me, renowned linguist Geoffrey Pullum—and more persons of renown are standing in the on-deck circle.

4. The Telegraph (UK) selects 20 of the worst Dan Brown sentences from all five of his published novels. Commenters suggest many, many more. Most would qualify for consideration in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. One of my favorites, from The Da Vinci Code, Chapter 5: "Only those with a keen eye would notice his 14-karat gold bishop's ring with purple amethyst, large diamonds, and hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué." The Telegraph: "A keen eye indeed."

5. Then there's this sentence from The Lost Symbol: "The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in his palms." Steven Poole, who writes the excellent Unspeak blog, uses those 16 words to illuminate the murky secrets at the throbbing heart of Brownian prose:

The author then types on with some description of a big room, but it is no shame for us to admit that his best work is already accomplished: the concept of an initiate holding a human skull (hollow like a bowl) filled with bloodred wine and cradled in his palms is a kind of chorus that insists on being heard again, and it is not long before the reader is thus pleasured:

The initiate had been told every room in this building held a secret, and yet he knew no room held deeper secrets than the gigantic chamber in which he was currently kneeling with a skull cradled in his palms.

Oh, do read it all.

Zippy Extra Snappy Limited!

Graphic designers know "greeking" as a sequence of Latin words used to fill a space until actual copy is written. But they're no longer limited to the old standby, "Lorem ipsum dolor" et cetera. The Greeking Machine offers a choice of gobbledygook, including up to 50 paragraphs in the dialect known as Marketing:

You racy ordinary original now care agree. Spring if brings tasty, intense tangy. Also spectacular feel free choosy bigger tummy choose so free low-cost, vast really satisfied bigger. Shopping quality tummy high-tech generous rosy will go more challenge industry touch win choose. Limited catch sale lost lather grown absorbent remarkable, super desire ever tough tasty. Parents grand shine secure care goodbye. Zippy extra snappy limited our way value appetizing plush quite vast quenches, prevents.

Velvety parents happy, know one soaking unique it's incredible, desire. Than care also action yet sweet zippy drink amazing choice. Miracle secret just recommended, that 100% whiter available one, advertising permanent successful sporty. Care spectacular reduced surrender agree world's spacious takes valuable don't crunchy limited chocolatey win. That as talking feel wherever talking lower sporty. Fresh improved soothing out humongous surrender brighter spring aromatic, smooth racy magically quenches spectacular. Messy special comfort, tempt luxury look mountain action powerful compare fun luscious cool. Hurry spend wherever, great mouthwatering brand convenient, ever.

Also available in Hillbilly, Pseudo German ("Handercloppen stein glockenspiel und gestalt spritz"), Metropolitan ("Pedigree townhome polo stockmarket"), Technobabble, The Matrix, and, of course, Classical Latin.

February Linkfest

Short month; short attention span.

Anatoly Liberman explores the enigmatic etymology of akimbo at the OUP blog. Italian? Gaelic? Icelandic? Middle English? Liberman: "[W]e are still not quite sure where akimbo came from, but 'origin unknown' would be an unnecessarily harsh verdict."

Tom at Minor Tweaks shares his e-mail exchange with Pepperidge Farm, makers of Artisan Cheese Snack Sticks: "Each snack stick is like a tiny baguette, one that might be carried by a tiny French person who is walking along a miniature Seine smoking an extremely small cigarette, thinking about existentialism and surrender." (A lesser writer would have stopped with "existentialism.")

You know about those atheist ads on buses in the UK, right? ("There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and get on with your life."*) Now you can generate your own bus slogan. Beancounters shows us how it's done. And Christa Allan alerts us to the lookalike poster (real? generated?) in an English bus stop: "There's probably no bus. So don't just stand here, start walking."

Love this YouTube video for ESPN: Shaq plays Scrabble by his own rules. "How did you get so many Qs?" "Don't worry about it." (Via Grant McCracken, who has a nice appreciation of the ad on his blog.)

Speaking of sports, it's time for—cue flourish of trumpets—the Name of the Year tournament, the annual companion to March Madness. Early contenders include Harvard fencer Moonlit Wang, LSU football recruits Barkevious Mingo and Shavodrick Beaver, and CNN reporter Casanova Love. Get that office pool going!

Twitter circa 1649: "Enough I have had of King Henry. He be a veritable bag with which a woman doth douche." (Via Roadkill Refugee on Twitter.)

And as long as we're in the mid-seventeenth, I saw this T-shirt on a guy standing behind me in a movie line, and I almost fell over laughing. Thanks, anonymous movie-line guy! Oh, and if you don't get the joke, read this.

Image source: H_NGM_N.

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* They call it atheist. I say the "probably" makes it agnostic.

My Fifteen Minutes

There's an current exhibit at San Francisco's Contemporary Jewish Museum called "Warhol's Jews"—ten Andy Warhol portraits of famous 20th-century Jews such as Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, and Franz Kafka. Space limitations prevented the inclusion of an eleventh portrait, which I present here:

More photo fun at PhotoFunia. Hat tip to SueBob, who really went to town with this. And many thanks to Joyce Benna, who took that picture of me at an Oscars party almost five years ago. It remains the only picture of myself that I've liked in my entire life. Perhaps I should wear veiled hats and bling-y earrings more often.

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I had to futz with the image a bit to make it fit within the blog borders. Click on it to view an undistorted version.

November Linkfest

In this season of gratitude I'm giving thanks for...

1. Typocalypse, a set of fonts accompanied by the subliminal messages they're communicating. See image, left. (Via monKey Art Awards, which more typically takes aim at the ridiculous redundancy, and the redundant ridiculousness, of movie posters and movie advertising.)

2. The First Unitarian Jihad Name Generator, the perfect complement to Jon Carroll's 2005 column about Unitarian Jihad ("The vote of our God subcommittee is 10-8 in favor of one God, with two abstentions. Brother Flaming Sword of Moderation noted the possibility of there being no God at all, and his objection was noted with love by the secretary"). My Unitarian Jihad name: Sister Joyous Blade of Enlightened Enlightenment. And thank you for asking. (Hat tip: Everything You Know About English Is Wrong.)

3. The Secret Service Code Name Generator, which I learned about from someone on Twitter who I hope doesn't mind being anonymous. In real life, the Secret Serviced get to choose the first letter of their Secret Code Names; the Obamas—Renegade, Renaissance, Rosebud, and Radiance—are brought to you by the letter R.

4. Wordie's nutty compilation of names for mongrels and mutts, from a list "actually published by the American Canine Hybrid Club." Havamalt? Why, thanks; don't mind if I do.

5. Unfortunate Names, a blog devoted to the inadvertent double-entendre, the cringeworthy Engrish, and the creepily sincere. The blog's subtitle says it all: "Revel in the immaturity."

6. The funniest Internet error message ever. Period.

Baby Names, Palin Style

If your reaction to the names of Sarah and Todd Palin's children—Track, Bristol, Willow, Piper, and Trig—was "awesome!!! :-)," then you'll be delighted to discover the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator, which will guide you to your own set of kR33ATiv All-American names.

I put the SPBNG through its paces, using some friends' names. Results (first and middle names):

Fog Piles, Rust Mustang, Bash Budweiser, Knife Pile, Wood Corps. (Those are the girls, duh.)

Clop Clutch, Stick Freedom, Drill Swollen, Turbine Yukon, Flack Gobbler. (The boys.)

My own Palin-style name: Comma Liberty. Whoa. Does that thing know me? Free the serial comma!

(Hat tip: Beancounters, on Twitter.)

P.S. Last night, Writes Like She Talks hosted a liveblogged discussion of the second Sarah Palin interview on ABC. My favorite line came from "Renee" in reference to Palin's assertion that she understands foreign affairs because she can see Russia from Alaska: "I can see the moon. I should be in charge of space policy."

Make Your Own Error Message

It's surprisingly satisfying:

Make your own here, or borrow one from the gallery.

Hat tip to Mike Pope.