TriumphAnt

The hazards of mispunctuation:

Here’s a Google news headline that appeared on Tuesday December 21: “ABC News Attack on US-Iraqi Base Leaves 22 Dead”

It was a story uploaded from ABC News. The absence of a colon, or anything else – a hyphen or dash – to separate the source from the headline leaves an unusual, to say the least, result. It suggests someone in the embedded press pool finally snapped after being excluded once too often from the daily “Hearts and Minds of the Iraqi People” military briefing.

= = = = = = = = = =

The hazards of misaligning a subjunctive clause (no relation to Santa):

Here’s a random comment culled from a Christmas-related blog discussion:

“Over the years there has been an added secular overlay of Christmas, which is OK. I like the tree (decorated mine last night with my five month old daughter!)…”

Does Children’s Aid know about this guy?!!!

= = = = = = = = = =

“And to Tiny Tim, who lived and got well again…”

Most mornings, when I get on my bus, there are no seats and people are already standing halfway along the centre aisle. One recent morning was no exception. And when it is one of those winter mornings – as it was this day – where you don’t know what to wear because freezing ice pellets are falling as you leave your house and you’ve heard a forecast for every form of precipitation up to a plague of locusts, you and everyone else leave the house sporting every kind of foul weather gear imaginable, usually in combination (a parka with a rain shell overlay, for example).

The result is a tremendous bulking up of a commuter’s personal space requirements to sometimes double the dimensions you ordinarily need. Add the accoutrements like dripping umbrellas and backpacks and a typical standee section of a city bus becomes a veritable forest of swollen, humid fabric.

Under such circumstances, even if one wants to, one can’t always pay meticulous attention to each and every footfall.

And on this morning, about six people after me climbing into the bus, a hapless boarder triggered a piercing shriek from an older woman sitting on the “Privileged Seating” (pregnant Moms-to-be; mobility-impaired people, the very elderly, blind people with seeing eye dogs, and the like). It was loud enough to draw the immediate attention of everyone within earshot (which, given her vocal volume, was pretty well the entire busload of passengers). And we all turned just in time to see someone, who had tromped on her foot while boarding, launch into an effusive stream of apology.

The woman, bending forward in obvious pain, pulled her foot back from the narrow aisle, and re-positioned her crutch.

Along with everyone else on board, I felt considerable sympathy for both her and the tromping offender. But the presence of a crutch notwithstanding, I also wonder about the wisdom of parking oneself on that particular privileged seat, right beside where passengers stream aboard, passengers whose glasses instantly fog up and, even if spectacle-less, have only a restricted downward view because of bulky coats, dripping umbrellas, and soaked backpacks slung at angles that inconvenience absolutely as many people as is humanly possible.

(I realize that smacks of "It's your own damned fault!" But that's not my intention. I'm thinking of a tone more like, "Safety begins at home.")

= = = = = = = = = =

And file this under: "Oh sorry… you meant Songsheet # 1!"

Recently we at work all received a cheery e-mailed message from our Directors who made it clear it was not going to be yet another of those yadda-yadda “Here’s what we’ve done over the past year and here are the challenges we anticipate in the future” generic seasonal senior management congratulations, to wit:

“It is the time of the year when we all get e-mails reminding us about the work we did during the year that is ending and the challenges we face ahead in the upcoming year. This e-mail will not do that. Instead, it is a call to celebrate our success as a team.”

That being said, not (and I am not making this up) 30 seconds later, a second all-employee message landed from _their_ boss, our Minister, who began,

“Over the past year, we have worked together to build a department and faced the challenges of meeting the needs of employers and workers in the context of a constantly changing world of work. We can be proud of the fact that millions of Canadians have enjoyed better access to our programs and services. The coming year will bring its share of challenges.”

I expect the New Year in the lofty boardrooms upstairs will include a Minister / Directors roundtable whose theme will be “The concept of a chorus”.

= = = = = = = = = =

Star Trek fans: The hour is come!

If we could just persuade US President George Dubya Bush and his cabinet to wear red shirts the next time any of them take a jaunt abroad… (“Uh… Mr President, we seem to have lost SecDef Rumsfeld. He was here a second ago and then,… well then he just sort of vanished!” “What do you mean ‘just sort of’ vanished’?!” “Well sir, one minute he was walking along in your wake at that respectful three-pace distance you demand. Then the next second, a streak of light appeared from the sky. It ended at the SecDef’s head. He went all shimmery, turned into a brilliant glowing silhouette… all wavy-like, and then disappeared, leaving behind that bit of white dust on the ground there.” “Well, could he have been transported into an alternate dimension?” “Possibly, sir, do you want us to ask Spock to do a full spectrum analysis of the immediate vicinity and see if there are any anomalies or unusual energy readings… or maybe try to reconstitute that powder to see if we can make him better again?” “What are you asking me for? Dammit, I’m a President not a doctor… Oh alright, go ahead… No wait! On second thought, Naaaaaaaah.”)

- - - - - - - - - -

Here’s the item that triggered that bit of mental meandering:

(From the CBC website / Dec 21)

“University offers course in 'Star Trek'

DECATUR, ILL. - A university in Decatur, Ill., is offering a course in Star Trek, the long-running series of television shows and movies.

Called The Multidisciplinary Worlds of Star Trek, the full-credit course will be taught at Millikin University by Dr. Michael O'Conner during the school's winter break.

"This class will boldly go where no one has gone before, as we explore the lore, politics, philosophy, groundbreaking multiculturalism and historical contexts of the popular science fiction series and phenomenon known as Star Trek," the school's course calendar boasts.

…

The homework assignments for students in O'Conner's course will be to watch selected episodes from the various shows.

He plans to use them as a bellwether for discussing changes in American society.

In the original series, for example, female crewmembers wore skimpy skirts as uniforms. By contrast, the Voyager series debuted in 1995 with a female starship captain played by Kate Mulgrew.

Another topic for class discussion will be the "prime directive," the rule dictating that Starfleet officers must not interfere in the development of alien cultures.

O'Conner will bring up Kirk's constant violations of the prime directive, in addition to relating the concept to current U.S. foreign policy.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Gratuitous editorial comment: I confess I _love_ the idea that violating the United Federation of Planets’ “Prime Directive” has a potential application to present US foreign policy.

= = = = = = = = = =

“And leave me to keep Christmas in my own way…”

For the past few days in the massive table-packed trough called a “food court” at the vast Place du Portage office complex in Hull, Quebec where I work, there’s been a roving accordionist wandering among the tablefuls of masticators. His purpose, one presumes, is to instil the true spirit of buying into the hearts of we would-be customers. However, our consuming focus in this setting, if my priority is anything by which to judge, is oriented more towards food than to the acquisition of still more commercial goods.

Recently, as I sat doing a bit of consuming of my own (Thai salad rolls and chicken soup), he happened to pass by, playing as he strolled. And it took a few seconds for me to register the seasonal number he had chosen to grace us with.

My thinking is that he is perhaps a recent arrival to the country, and somewhat computer literate. And maybe a well-intentioned buddy made a few suggestions meant to help him find accordion music online relevant to meaningful Christmas sentiment here in Canada. “Hey, Giuseppe,” offered his helpful friend, “I was looking in an English language Bible in the Pescara Public Library, and I found the Christmas story. Just Google ‘Glory Hallelujah’. You can’t miss.”

So on this day, true to that spirit, from his accordion came the strains of that ever-popular French Canadian Christmas classic, The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Altogether now:

“He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
He has loose’d the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword
His truth is marching on!
Fa la la la la… la la… la… laaaaaaaaaa.”

= = = = = = = = = =

"My dear... the children... Christmas..."

Overheard while Christmas shopping among the kitchen gadgets in The Bay at St Laurent. Two young-ish women were browsing. One held up a corkscrew for the other to view, and asked, “What about this?” The second replied, “Perfect!” And as they wandered off towards the cash to pay, “I’m not surprised she wore out her last corkscrew.”

Meoooow Pfft! Pfft!

= = = = = = = = = =

And finally, in 1999 (December 23), the UK newspaper, The Guardian, quoted the following as its “Best festive cheer scene”, a judgement with which, neither before nor since, have I found any reason to argue:

“Scrooge After being visited by The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, Scrooge (Alistair Sim) awakes joyfully on Christmas morning. His effusive behaviour startles Mrs Dilber (Kathleen Harrison), his housekeeper, who runs from the room screaming. He catches up with her on the stairs.

‘I'm not mad’, exclaims a jubilant Scrooge, putting something into her hand.

‘A guinea. Whatever for?’

‘I'll give you one guess.’

‘To keep me mouth shut?’

He laughs, starting with a chuckle that grows to uncontrolled gales of laughter. Finally, he breaks off in embarrassment.

‘No, no, no. It's for a Christmas present.’

‘A Christmas present. For me?’

‘Of course for you. A merry, merry, merry Christmas Mrs. Dilber. How much do I pay you?’

‘Two shillings a week.’

‘It's forthwith raised to ten.’

‘Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?’

‘A doctor? Certainly not, nor the undertaker. Now, off you go and enjoy yourself.’

Mrs Dilber hurries away, a grin plastered from ear to ear.

‘Bob's yer uncle! Merry Christmas Mr. Scrooge, in keeping with the situation.’”

(My daughter loves that last expression; because she really does have an Uncle Bob.)

= = = = = = = = = =

Political Correctness be hanged! Merry Christmas to y’all, too! And a Happy New Year!