In a recent editorial we solicited our readership’s non-
Moreover, we are in no need of your collected teenage diaries, college notebooks, or the yellowed coloring books you half-
Indeed, to forestall further efforts along those lines, we shall give as a cautionary example for the unwary only the most flagrant recent attempt by a soi-
Finally, he cleared his throat and we asked, “If your contributions are so high-
After an equally expectant, as in “Oops,” pause, the distinguished gentleman, henceforth to be referred to as PS (for Peevin’ Stinker), responded, “It’s not as if you lot have the editorial training to recognize quality, really.”
“So, ‘quality’ is a Humpty-
“My dear sir,” PS responded, still somewhat distinctive and chiseled, “quality is determined by a ranking of esthetic and cognitive constraints.”
“Optimality theory is tautological, really, so basically ‘quality’ is a Humpty-
“What would a computational linguist know about OT?”
“No, no,” pointing, “he’s the compling. I’m the morphologist.”
The distinguished gentleman, clearly an old-
“Yes, binding on your party, not ours.”
Amid the almost audible bristling of our raised hackles, the histling in attendance said, “Anyway, I at least find your proposal fascinating and am interested in subscribing to your newsletter. Please, tell me more, more, more! What specific proposals would that entail?”
Smiling, he answered, “Oh, nothing that would constitute a hindrance to the exercise of truly healthy, refined, classical wit, though as you yourself have made perfectly clear, that might be a hindrance for you.” We shushed the sudden explosion of Juvenal, Martial, Aristophanes, and Goethe in the original and sat smiling and expectant, like grad students eager for the next stage of monastic discipline complete with hair shirts (the major fashion accessory separating grad students from SG interns), as he cleared his throat in surprise and continued, “To start, of course, certain sensible, wholesome restrictions on place and language names, especially those of a potentially, er, well, salacious coloration.”
We sat smiling even more broadly as he looked expectantly from face to face, and finally giving in he said, “Well, for starters, you will not be allowed to use the names Bangkok or Phuket
“Excessive risk of appalling color-
Our Scottish epigone sat up and took notice and a note on this point and then ran out the door.
We looked at each other and shrugged, “What can you do?”
Our visitor continued, “Or Novosibirsk...”
“Novosibirsk? I fail to see quite where that fits in...”
With an unpleasant grin, PS stated, “Well, no, you wouldn’t, would you? However, others of your coterie are neither so obtusely ignorant nor over-
“But you forget that we also have a largish Hispanophobe readership that would not look kindly on such encroachments on a sovereign language’s orthographic autonomy. And are you sure the alternate spelling’s not something equally bad in Czech?”
“That perversion would not surprise me from a lot whose word for ‘fun house’ is panoptikum, but as there are only ten million Czech speakers and over half a billion Spanish speakers, it is clear who must give way.”
Another of us piped up, “When you talk about Spanish speakers, you’re not including Catalan in there, I hope.”
With a steely gaze PS replied with increasingly fading calm, “Would that even matter? Just look at the numbers, woman.” After this curt dismissal he added quickly so as to forestall further skirmishes, “Additionally, you are not allowed to use the word ‘books’ in any articles that also include any content related to Mongolia or Mongolian. Singular subjective or objective, yes; plural and/or possessive, no.”
At this a certain pair of our number began murmuring, “rhubarb rhubarb,” or rather, “бажууна бажууна,” and as one of them grumbled, “Come now, come now, my good man, no one of us would ever show such an egregious breach of good taste,” the more, shall we say, specially learned of them muttered, “Damn, why didn’t I ever think of that?” He then grimaced and shouted, “This aggression will not stand, Man!” and, as usual when he got into such a state, had to be escorted out with a satisfying surfeit of violence.
“Now that the, er, deadwood has been cleared away,” PS continued, “I would like to note that this proposal is fully acceptable to all members of our coalition, the League of Linguistic Decency, and merely needs your signature.”
“So basically,” one of us retorted, “you want us to become just like Linguistic Inquiry or Natural Language & Linguistic Theory? All those guys who started out less funny than Bob Hope in his dotage and simply recycle the same jokes with slight changes at the edges like some sort of phonological cycle? I mean, cripes, how many changes can you ring on that stupid old joke about the Principle of Last Resort? I’ve never seen a борщ-
“That is an unkind way of putting it, but essentially, yes.”
“Why would we want to become like that?”
After polishing his glasses and peering at all of his interlocutors in turn with a steely gaze, he replied, “You do prefer to remain in print, correct? I will just close by saying that we welcome your agreement to our proposal since it is rumored that the more influential of your number are not entirely bereft of either good sense or good taste.”
We put our heads together and replied, “What is this good taste of which you speak? Does it involve marmot chitlings? ’Coz those are yummy.”
PS, at this point distinctly grizzled and scarlet-
1 In its silence.
2 Though a couple of our editorial board who shall remain nameless did think the contributions of L.W. to the weekly newsletter of Grace Baptist Church of Lower Possum Trot, Arkansas, were hilarious. “Positively out of Theocritus,” one of them said.
3 With a baseball bat. Wrapped in barbed wire. And wielded by a robot assassin.
4 Geez, F.X.Q., you couldn’t color within the lines by the time you were eight? Have you considered seeing a neurologist? And that color scheme
5 Our interns were properly chastened to learn that in fact, no, life for the subalterns is not any better in academia, so at least this visit was good for something.
|The CAPE of Good Hope
|SpecGram Vol CLXXXI, No 2 Contents