Words Are Our Friends: Friend

Friend. Fuhrieeend. Frined. Friend. FRIEND. F-R-I-E-N-D. Sometimes when I see the word friend written out, I just don't recognize it. What is this word? I ponder to myself. Is that spelled right? "I before E except after C"--Isn't that the rule? What is this shit? It's got to be spelled right. But then I'm like no, friend, that's right, that's how it's spelled, I know it deep down. Instincts are wrong, conditioning is right. I don't know where this aphasia comes from, but suspect it must be psychological, right? And just like our language determines the manner in which we think, I believe it must be the manner in which I think that overdetermines my reaction to the word friend.

Words Are Our Friends: Bipartisan

Bipartisan is a loaded word. We say it like it's a good thing, that it's a neutral concept. But that's a falsehood. The word is supposed to be the ultimate word in non-biased democracy. The word, however, is neither non-biased or democratic. Bi means two, twice, or both, or derivatives thereof, I think we can agree upon. There are two sides. It is a word that admits defeat in democracy. There are two sides. It is a two-party system.

"Well, I believe I'll vote for a third-party candidate."
"Go ahead, throw your vote away."

Third parties are often little more than a joke in today's politics. More so in the United States than in Canada, third parties are little more than wild cards, acting as spoilers by stealing votes from other parties on the same side of the political spectrum. When they actually garner enough support to garner a role of representation, they lapse into political alliances with those same like-minded parties. In the language of politics, bipartisanship is a lie. In the politics of language, bipartisan is a political, biased word.

Weekly Wikipedia Find: Demimonde

The language, it is continually evolving, yet it stays the same. New words come up, yet our old words don't disappear. Some may label them archaic. They might not be gauche. But they still get the job done. And with style.

"Demimonde" was the "mistress" of the nineteenth century. That is, to say, mistress is the new demimonde.

But they are so much more than mere mistresses. While they enjoy the same kept-ness (captivity?) of the mistress, they also constitute their own social class.

Their decline is owed to ever rising tide of progress, time, feminism, and the middle class. Social mores are for the bourgeoisie; demimondes are for the wealthy.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Thirty-Eight: Haemophilia in European royalty
Week Thirty-Seven: Library of America
Week Thirty-Six: Honeypot
Week Thirty-Five: Glasgow smile
Week Thirty-Four: Hilbert's paradox of the Grand Hotel
Week Thirty-Three: Mono no aware
Week Thirty-Two: Royal intermarriage
Week Thirty-One: Amputee fetishism
Week Thirty: Turtles all the way down
Week Twenty-Nine: The Diogenes Club
Week Twenty-Eight: E pur si muove!
Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Weekly Wikipedia Find: Honeypot

The Honey trap or the Honeypot, when you realize it is a term, in the spy community, for recruitment involving sexual seduction, opens itself up to a lot of crude slangy references to certain genitalia of a certain sex, perhaps, in all likelihood, the fairer of two.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Thirty-Five: Glasgow smile
Week Thirty-Four: Hilbert's paradox of the Grand Hotel
Week Thirty-Three: Mono no aware
Week Thirty-Two: Royal intermarriage
Week Thirty-One: Amputee fetishism
Week Thirty: Turtles all the way down
Week Twenty-Nine: The Diogenes Club
Week Twenty-Eight: E pur si muove!
Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Weekly Wikipedia Find: Glasgow smile

This one's just a bit of the old slang.

Joker has one in The Dark Knight. The Black Dahlia had one in real life (in death). It is the Glasgow smile. Alternatively, it is known as the Chelsea grin. It was popular, among gangs, in Glasgow and Chelsea. It's where one cuts the face of their victim, mouth to ears. It ain't pretty.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Thirty-Four: Hilbert's paradox of the Grand Hotel
Week Thirty-Three: Mono no aware
Week Thirty-Two: Royal intermarriage
Week Thirty-One: Amputee fetishism
Week Thirty: Turtles all the way down
Week Twenty-Nine: The Diogenes Club
Week Twenty-Eight: E pur si muove!
Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Personal Cadence

I have a particular way of speaking that leads to confusion often. Specifically when I ask a question, casually, to someone. I drop pronouns and auxiliary verbs. So "Are you going to...?" becomes "Going to...?" out of my mouth. It's all in the rhythm. But since I speak in a mumbling monotone, my affectation is often missed. This results in people thinking I am referring to myself. They, sadly, are mistaken.