Unthinkable Wings

I came across a post on Language Log - the story which inspired it is well worth clicking through, too, as it's the tale of one Australian farmer* trying to get rid of her 'arsehole geese' on social media with radical honesty.

What brought me up short, though, was the author's observation that

Most dictionaries I consulted classify "arsehole" as vulgar and offensive, but I always thought of it as a jocular, watered-down version of another word.

And I sat there racking my brains as to what on earth 'arsehole' could be a jocular euphemism for. I mean, surely he couldn't mean 'cunt', because it's not the same body part at all....

The comments shed more light, and a consensus emerged that North Americans seem likely to think that 'arsehole' is a humorous/ archaic term that's less offensive than 'asshole', whereas British and Australians tend to think that 'asshole' is a relatively harmless Americanism.

They then continue on to a brief discussion of the difficulties nonnative speakers have in working out how offensive particular swearwords are (see: the baffling belief of many Germans that 'fuck' is not actually that rude). But it's fascinating to see the same phenomenon at work between two regional varieties of the same language!


* Though I'm not sure how long they've been farming; I could have told you geese were potentially trouble!

Um. Have been browsing the Vulcan language dictionary; the religion section in particular is fascinating; though it's not clear what's archaic and what isn't. It looks as if Vulcan started out as polytheists and became monotheists; but rather surprisingly, they appear to have a concept analogous to angels (I'm thinking Platonic intelligences), and also to sin and redemption. Though it's not clear precisely what that would mean to a Vulcan, and to what extent this is the result of a lexicographer from a Jewish or Christian background trying to put things in his own terms...

I have also been trying to work out how you would express 'detachment', in the Ekhartian sense, in Vulcan.

Furthermore, I have discovered the lexeme Vashaya, and have decided that this is the term by which Vulcans will describe the catastrophe we see in the latest movie.

And, yes, I do have other stuff to do....

1. A body of water, smaller than a river, contained within relatively narrow banks.
A burn. Unless, of course, it's a canal. (Or unless I'm in the North-west of England, in which case I tend to start calling it a beck)

2. What the thing you push around the grocery store is called.
Shopping trolley

3. A metal container to carry a meal in.
Um- I've never actually seen one. I've seen pictures of them in India, so I'd probably either call them a tiffin tin, because I vaguely remember that that's what they're called there, or just describe them. I put sandwiches in a lunchbox, if that's any help, but they're usually made of plastic. Plastic boxes for food I tend to call tupperware, regardless of their actual provenance.

4. The thing that you cook bacon and eggs in.
Frying pan. Although actually I cook bacon under the grill, but I know what's meant :)

5. The piece of furniture that seats three people.
Settee. Or sofa. If it's wooden and highbacked, it's a settle (which is my Lancastrian side coming out...)

6. The device on the outside of the house that carries rain off the roof.
Drainpipe. Although the horizontal pipe directly below the eaves I'd call the rhoan, unless, of course, I was talking to an English person, in which case I'd say 'gutter'.

7. The covered area outside a house where people sit in the evening.
Veranda, I suppose. But I don't think I know anyone who has one of these - they're generally open (and are terraces or patios).

8. Carbonated, sweetened, non-alcoholic beverages.
Fizzy drinks.

9. A flat, round breakfast food served with syrup.
Pancakes.

10. A long sandwich designed to be a whole meal in itself.
Baguette if it's the French type of bread, otherwise hoagy (a term I believe to be pretty exclusively East Coast Scots, and possibly just Fifish)


11. The piece of clothing worn by men at the beach.
I assume we're talking about trunks, here.

12. Shoes worn for sports.
Trainers.

13. Putting a room in order.
Tidying up.

14. A flying insect that glows in the dark.
Glow worm

15. The little insect that curls up into a ball.
A slater. I assume that's what's meant (woodlice, as the standard English term goes), anyway, as it would also fit pillbugs, but they are longer, thinner, blacker, and a good deal less loveable.

16. The children's playground equipment where one kid sits on one side and goes up while the other sits on the other side and goes down.
See-saw.

17. How do you eat your pizza?
Usually I chop it into slightly thinner slices, then fold them over and eat them with my fingers (unless the base is too thick, of course)

18. What's it called when private citizens put up signs and sell their used stuff?
Not a British concept - you might take them to a car-boot (sale), though, or donate them to a charity shop.

19. What's the evening meal?
Dinner, or tea, depending on how early or elaborate it is (if it's before six o'clock, or not the main meal of the day, it isn't dinner).

20. The thing under a house where the furnace and perhaps a rec room are?
A cellar, not that I've got one. Modern British houses generally don't. A shame, actually.

21. What do you call the thing that you can get water out of to drink in public places?
Drinking fountain if it's the kind you have to stoop over and drink directly from; water cooler if you mean the American sort that come with paper or plastic cups and chill the water too hard...

Am: educated twenty-something Lowland Scot, more precisely Edinburgh but strongly influenced by my mother's Berwickshire tendencies and weakly by the fact that my father is originally from urban Lancashire; also somewhat by a period living in Fife.

For a while, I've been noticing the cat macro (lolcat) popping up on people's flists - though I have the impression that the spate is slackening. Be that as it may, here are a couple of interesting speculations about the linguistic significance of the mangled English, or rather the manner in which it's mangled:

This one also has some interesting background info about various internet picture macros which was new to me - I certainly didn't know that the O RLY? picture really did originate with the snowy owl).

Mark Liberman at Language Log reacts to the previous post here, suggesting that it's not so much a pidgin as baby language. Actually, of course, it's netspeak and thus more associated with teenagers than anything else, although there may be a parallel 'infantilize the cute animal!' process going on.