In a silly fit of pique about editors' nit-picking, I once titled a column "Let's Kill All the Copyeditors." The compressed last word in the title was corrected to "Let's Kill All the Copy Editors." When I remonstrated with a green eye shade afterward, his answer was "That's our style." Such a riposte is as unanswerable as the sign in Loeb's Delicatessen across the street from my Washington office: "There's no reason for it -- it's just our policy."
In response to my provocative headline, a scholarly copy editor (if that comes out as two words, you'll know who's boss on this page) pointed out that my "Let's Kill All the Copyeditors" was an allusion to Shakespeare's "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers" in Henry VI, Part II.
My colleague said that the Bard, by placing his gleefully savage suggestion in the mouth of a character named Dick the Butcher -- a villain plotting treachery -- was indirectly praising the loyalty of lawyers, not condemning them. That was a point well taken. I slumped corrected.
These thoughts are triggered by the copy desk's (two words) objection to the spelling of a word in last week's column, which dealt with irregardless as a jocular redundancy and therefore, in my judgment, "arrant nonsense."
Last year, I chose that very phrase as an example of "wedded words," like unmitigated gall, congenital liar and blithering idiot.
As a language columnist, I have a license to use almost any taboo word or misspelling as an object of study, but not as part of my own prose. The objection was not to its being a word-wedding, cliche or fixed phrase, but because the desk held that arrant should be spelled errant. You could look it up, it (the desk) said, in the Dodger and Yankee manager Casey Stengel's classic phrase.
I looked it up, in Webster's New World, and in Merriam-Webster's, and in American Heritage, and cannot fault the desk: There it was in all three of the best sellers: "arrant, adjective, variant of errant."
That was the lexicographers' way of saying that although some spelling deviants insisted on arrant with a beginning a, most sensible people agreed with the establishment and spelled errant with an e. The Times' copy desk was going by the book.
As they say in the Pentagon, I nonconcur. (That's how colonels can disagree with generals without having the eagles stripped off their shoulders.) We are not dealing here with one word with one meaning spelled two different ways, one preferred and one variant; in my view, we are dealing with a word whose meaning has split, and the resulting spelling "variation" signifies the difference between the two.
Start with the Latin root, iterare, "to travel," which spawned "itinerant" and "itinerary," a knight-errant was one who wandered around, clanking in his armor, occasionally helping distressed damsels. Spelled with an e, errant's meaning remains "aimless, drifting, straying."
Other errants, however, were highwaymen who preyed on travelers; as the word became synonymous with "thief" -- in Hamlet, Shakespeare wrote of an "arrant knave" -- that spelling with a signified the meaning of "notorious, extreme, consummate, double-dyed," all more intense than "complete."
What had been one word with two senses was changed into two distinct words, each with its own meaning signified by its unique spelling..
If you Google errant, you get nearly 3 million citations, their sense "roving, straying, sometimes from high standards"; arrant gets only one-tenth as many. But if you enter the phrase "arrant nonsense," you get 35,000 to a mere 772 for "errant nonsense."
People know the word with the a means "utter, thoroughgoing, complete," usually carrying the connotation of disapproval. Arrant, the former variant, is now out on its own, its meaning independent of the wandering errant. Let the dictionaries catch up with the living language.
INANITY, INSANITY
In his blistering, 139-page criticism of the Dover Area School Board's decision to include intelligent design into the Pennsylvania district's science curriculum, US District Judge John Jones wrote that "the breathtaking inanity of the board's decision is evident when considered against the factual backdrop which [sic) has now been fully revealed through this trial."
A reader of the Salt Lake Tribune hailed the judge's ruling about "an issue of 'breathtaking insanity."' That may have been a typo, but many others equate inane with insane.
There's a difference. Insane is rooted in the Latin sanus, "sound, healthy," also the basis of "sanitation." Insane is applied to the health of the mind, and means "unsound, unhealthy, mentally deranged, mad," though these words carry a stigma and are no longer used by medical professionals in describing mental states.
Inane is Latin for "empty" and came to mean "empty-headed, silly, vacuous." The poet Shelley wrote redundantly of "some inane and vacant smile."
Synonyms today range from "foolish, absurd, daft" to "senseless, harebrained, stupid" but stop well short of the menacing insane.
Students of intelligent design and others who challenge Darwinian evolution theory considered Jones' opinion intemperate, synonyms for which range from "immoderate, excessive, testy" to the angrier "choleric, seething, splenetic, fractious" and "out-of-control."
The adjective breathtaking, which long ago lost its hyphen, can be used to emphasize the noun inanity but requires the addition of an -ly, turning it into an adverb, when intensifying these adjectives.
On May 7, 1971, Henry Kissinger planned his first, ultra-secret mission to China and pondered whether it would be better to meet his Chinese interlocutors “in Pakistan where the Pakistanis would tape the meeting — or in China where the Chinese would do the taping.” After a flicker of thought, he decided to have the Chinese do all the tape recording, translating and transcribing. Fortuitously, historians have several thousand pages of verbatim texts of Dr. Kissinger’s negotiations with his Chinese counterparts. Paradoxically, behind the scenes, Chinese stenographers prepared verbatim English language typescripts faster than they could translate and type them
More than 30 years ago when I immigrated to the US, applied for citizenship and took the 100-question civics test, the one part of the naturalization process that left the deepest impression on me was one question on the N-400 form, which asked: “Have you ever been a member of, involved in or in any way associated with any communist or totalitarian party anywhere in the world?” Answering “yes” could lead to the rejection of your application. Some people might try their luck and lie, but if exposed, the consequences could be much worse — a person could be fined,
Xiaomi Corp founder Lei Jun (雷軍) on May 22 made a high-profile announcement, giving online viewers a sneak peek at the company’s first 3-nanometer mobile processor — the Xring O1 chip — and saying it is a breakthrough in China’s chip design history. Although Xiaomi might be capable of designing chips, it lacks the ability to manufacture them. No matter how beautifully planned the blueprints are, if they cannot be mass-produced, they are nothing more than drawings on paper. The truth is that China’s chipmaking efforts are still heavily reliant on the free world — particularly on Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing
Keelung Mayor George Hsieh (謝國樑) of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) on Tuesday last week apologized over allegations that the former director of the city’s Civil Affairs Department had illegally accessed citizens’ data to assist the KMT in its campaign to recall Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) councilors. Given the public discontent with opposition lawmakers’ disruptive behavior in the legislature, passage of unconstitutional legislation and slashing of the central government’s budget, civic groups have launched a massive campaign to recall KMT lawmakers. The KMT has tried to fight back by initiating campaigns to recall DPP lawmakers, but the petition documents they
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