Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Linguistic Rant Trifecta

I just checked my ol’ notebook and OUCH, I have been neglecting my words.  Sure, I’ve been writing a lot of emails, doing a fair amount of technical computer work and an unfair amount of housework, and have not been on the bus much where I get much of my best writing done, but really, it’s looking pretty weak.  I’ll toss one up here now and see if I can get a few of my ideas down in longhand soon enough to keep my hit-counts from actually dipping into negative numbers. 

PETULANT NERD ALERT: here comes a linguistic rant trifecta.  If words aren’t your thing, move along.  Assuming you haven’t done so already. 

There are three things that I’ve been thinking about too much lately.  They all have to do with words, they’re all petty, and none of them make any real difference to this sad old world of ours.  This is probably why I find it so infuriating that I can’t NOT think about them.  In the past, writing such things up often rid me of these unhealthy little obsessions.  I’m willing to give it one more shot.  SO:

ITEM: I can’t cite a source for this, but at some point in my early years I got it into my head somehow that a class distinction resided in the ubiquitous parallel phrases “pardon me” and “excuse me.” These are word combinations that are in such common parlance that they each almost constitute a single word.  These two phrases often stand in for each other as perfect synonyms, in any situation where the polite thing is to utter some expression of recognition for imposing on others the minor inconveniences of the sort constituting the primary threads of our social fabric.  They are uttered so often that we often don’t really process them as a part of what we say or hear.  Of course, that just means I’m that much more compelled to hone in on them. 

The thing is, I’d somehow heard that it was “common” - unaristocratic - to say “pardon me,” and that a person of refinement would more likely say “excuse me.” It seemed odd to me, backwards - that the more polite-sounding language would indicate coarseness, and the cruder language, sophistication. On tihs point, I obsessed.  My working theory .is now this: a person of the lower classes would be obliged, if caught in a transgression, to ask for mercy and forgiveness - a “pardon.”

But a person of noble stock need apologize to no one for any inadvertent imposition, a stubbed toe or unplanned eructation or anything along such lines.  Forgiveness from the underclass is a contradiction in terms.  However, breeding does dictate that a response be given, albeit not an apology: a demand for dispensation.  You shall excuse me: You are to recognize that I am not subject to your judgment or condemnation and you will make allowance for my unaccountability.  It really is a high-handed, dehumanizing way to acknowledge those little faux pas. 

Given this context, when I hear “excuse me” - or, god forbid, say it, as I still too often do - instead of “pardon me,” it just makes me want to slap someone. And really, life’s too short to get all riled up about something like this. 

ITEM LE DEUXIEME:  I know, right?  OMG what an awful articulation.  People say it all the time now, as an assurance that the speaker is in agreement with a statement just made by another.  “Mindy’s totally chav.” “IK, R?” Hearing this reply sets my teeth on edge, but I hadn’t really stewed compulsively about why till recently.  And now I’m a-gonna share it with you! 

Of course it’s partly because it’s a phrase that invariably arises only in conversations of such thunderous stupidity as to render them infuriating , but that doesn’t address why hearing IKR in particular pushes my buttons.  My current theory as to why this is, is this: the first part, “I know,” tells the hearer that the knowledge being shared is already familiar to the speaker.  This kind of statement can be presented neutrally, or with inflection.  In this case, the followup “right?” supplies an ambiguous inflection of idiocy.  Is the implication that the hearer was already aware of the speaker’s foreknowledge of the relevant fact, and that the original speaker’s attempt to reiterate that information was effectively superfluous, since “you” already understood that “I” knew what “you” were telling me?  Here, “right” is ironic and cutting.  “Oh great.  You’re trying to tell me something I already totally know, and you know that I know it.  ‘RIGHT.’” Charming.  (Not.)

If, on the other hand, I wanted to be less cynical while simultaneously lowering my opinion of the speaker’s intellect (and it’s a tempting option), I could imagine that this “right” is actually an honest plea for affirmation.  “I know this - don’t I?“ Maybe the terms of communication have been so clumsy and vague that neither party has any real sense of what the other is actually talking about.  The speaker thinks he knows what’s being discussed; it rings a distant bell, something he might have seen on line or on the teevee or maybe someone said it in a book he’s seen somewhere, or something similar, or maybe not… The welter of pointless information and opinion that constitutes the lattice of data that defines the modern mediated world can be so overwhelming that it’s effectively impossible for some people to be sure what they themselves know or think.  For these
benighted info-foundlings, they need confirmation that they actually understand what the subject of their conversation is. 

It’s a poor reflection on somebody no matter which way I look at it.  And therefore I hope I never have to hear anyone ever say it again.  As if, right? 

FINAL ITEM: This one’s easy - so easy, I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT.  But I find these errors everywhere, and there’s no excuse for it but ignorance so I guess it’s my job to shed a little light here too:

Assure: to bolster confidence.
Ensure: To take steps to improve the likelihood of a particular outcome.
Insure: To undertake a contractual relationship in which one party agrees to compensate or make whole the other upon the occurrence of a specified event.

Context:
* I assure you that this is easy.
* You can ensure that you never make these errors again.
* But no one will insure against some other bonehead getting it wrong anyway. 

It’s like “nucular:” smart folk get it wrong too.  I should just get over it.  It’s only language.  It’s only accuracy.  Well, as Steve Martin so presciently admonished us, Excuuuuuussssssse me. 

That is all.