I Made a Little Listicle

We need a Language Cop.

I may not mean what you think.

English may be the greatest language ever invented. It’s certainly the greatest language ever Darwinned.

OxfordDictionaries.com revels in the language trends behind its latest update to the English lexicon.

acquihire n: buying out a company primarily for the skills and expertise of its staff
OED pagebinge-watch v: watch multiple episodes of a TV show, one right after the other
clickbait n: content whose main purpose is to draw visitors to this web page
cord cutting n: practice of cancelling a cable or satellite subscription or landline phone
geocache n: Since my kids have been geocaching for so long, it surprises me this didn’t make the list years ago
humblebrag n & v: (make) an ostensibly modest or self-deprecating statement whose actual purpose is to draw attention to something of which one is proud
listicle n: an Internet article presented in the form of a numbered or bullet-pointed list
octocopter n: I want one
side boob n: I like them
time-poor adj.: spending much of one’s time working or occupied; I’ve always liked the term “land-poor” for families with more grass than cash
vape v: drag on an e-cig.

I’ll post and tweet some clickbait to this listicle. Two other words in this sentence made earlier Oxford lists.

English may be the greatest language ever.

Linguist Max Müller said, “English spelling is a national misfortune to England and an international misfortune to the rest of the world.”

Nobody ever said it was easy to be great.

• Where else would we find homonyms, homophones, homographs, and heteronyms?

It was a fair day when I went to the country fair to pay the fare for a pair of pears. Fortunately I did not tear the bag which might have caused me to tear up.

• Our resourceful language borrows most every word you or I speak from some other language and prodigiously lends many of them back.

The band played guitars, a mandolin, fiddle, banjo, and bass at the Summer Sounds concert yesterday. Guitar comes to us from the Arabic qi-ta-ra or qai-thara which originally descended from the ancient Greek kithara. A bass is not a fish when it has strings. There were no hazards at the concert other than the threat of rain. Unlike the linguists in France, we can borrow hazard from the medieval French hasart.

We need a Language Cop. We need to keep the languages of our settlers old and new alive but we also need to assure we can talk to each other. Ket, the language spoken in Central Siberia, is vital. Abenaki is a small but significant member the Algonquian languages of northeastern North America. Zazaki is an indispensable Indo-European language spoken primarily in eastern Turkey by the Zaza people.

I love that some of our words come from Ket, and Abenaki, and Zazaki.

I see red every time I hear “Press 1 for Ket” from a telephone system.

I’m glad we do include Siberians and earlier Americans and Iranians in our culture but if we really want to include Siberians and earlier Americans, and Iranians in our culture, then the phony Liberals have to get out of the way and let the Siberians and earlier Americans and Iranians learn to speak to the English and Spanish and Tag-A-Log speakers who live next door. In the common language their adopted country has adopted.

The best way to do that is for us all to learn English, too.

That’s the key. English is the greatest language ever simply because it remains so common, so accessible, so complete.

The phony Liberals are those who insisted the Voting Rights Act include help for “language minority voters.” Hello? Only citizens can vote. Citizens take the oath in what language? The phony Liberals are those who insisted that school textbooks be printed for “language minority students.” Hello?

We do need a Language Cop. We need a Language Cop who will arrest the phony Liberals who insist on shackling the Siberians and earlier Americans and Iranians and Spanish and Tag-A-Log speakers so they can’t speak with each other.

Carpe dentum … seize the teeth.
–Mrs. Doubtfire

 

Guest Post: Rufus Rants about Racing

Now the nonsense starts following the death of sprint car driver Kevin Ward Jr.

Kevin Ward gestures at Tony Stewart
According to this story, some tracks are making it a rule that a driver can’t get out of a wrecked car unless directed to do so by safety personnel.

Sorry, boys. The rule you already had — the driver must get off of the track immediately after exiting a wrecked car — is the right rule. Wrecked cars sometimes catch fire. You do not want to sit in them patiently. Get out, get off the track. Kevin Ward got half of that right. The other half is what got him killed.

–Rufus

Paying for It

When I got the bill for my July Obamacare premium, I shrugged it off.

See, I had changed from a Blue Cross Standard Gold Obamacare plan to a Blue Cross Medicare plan as of July 1 and I figured that was just a bill that got mailed the day they got the cancellation.

When I got the bill for my August Obamacare premium on July 5, I shouldn’t have shrugged it off.

When I got the bill for my September Obamacare premium dated August 5 in today’s mail, I couldn’t shrug it off.

Note from your doctor explaining why you were tardyTwo months bill from Vermont Health ExchangeAnd it turns out I wasn’t alone. The Burlington Free Press reported yesterday that billing problems plague Vermont Health Connect, the state-managed Health Exchange that issues and bills for Obamacare policies.

“Terry Libby has received incorrect bills from Vermont Health Connect since last winter when she first signed up for a Blue Cross insurance plan using the state’s new online website.

“Each month she has paid what she owed, called the state’s helpline to report she was being charged double, and received assurance the problem would be corrected.

“A month later, another incorrect bill would arrive.

“A week ago, however, she received a shock — a bill for $4,662.32.”

Four thousand, six hundred sixty-two dollars.

Jeezum. They’ve billed me only $497.06 no $994.12 no $1,491.18. So far. For.A.Policy.I.Do.Not.Have. I feel like such a piker. I’m sure I’ll catch up.

I’m more than a little nervous about screwing with my Medicare policy. Blue Cross carried over my same policy number when I changed from Obamacare to Medicare.

I called VHicks (the correct pronunciation of VHX, the Vermont Health Exchange, according to my Blue Cross rep) to question the bill they sent me. See, I had gone over this very issue in depth when I bought the Medicare policy. Blue Cross said they would cancel me out of the Obamacare plan when they opened the Medicare plan. All part of the service.

The VHicks rep said it wasn’t up to Blue Cross to cancel the policy. He said he’d try to process the cancellation retroactively but no guarantees.

Retroactively?

I called Blue Cross.

“No worries,” that rep told me. “Your Obamacare plan ended June 30 and your MediGap started July 1.” She also said no way VHX had any way whatsoever to cancel my Medigap policy.

I hate this.

“The government is so not trustable about things like this,” Liz Arden said.

“Not so trustable? Can you spell C-H-A-R-L-I-E   F-O-X-T-R-O-T?” Rufus asked only somewhat rhetorically.

“There is no way on God’s green Earth we should be putting up with this level of …. well, it ain’t mediocrity, because that would be far superior to what we are getting.

“You can quote Rufus on that.”

There ya go.

“You don’t want people to get health care!” Annabelle Proctor screeched the last time I wrote. Ms. Proctor holds an undergraduate degree in dance from Bennington College and a graduate degree in Social Justice from Planet Marlboro, Vermont’s two most liberal and free-thinking schools.

My other Liberal friends all seem to echo that.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I want my doc and yours to do better doctoring than they do today.

I want every citizen to have access to whatever doctor or other healer they want.

I want every visitor to be able to pay Fee for Service to whatever doctor or other healer they want.

I want the cost (not just my bill) to be less than a Moon shot.

Just like it was in 1976 when five days in Cabarrus County Memorial Hospital cost me $254 after a racing accident. That’s less than a hammer, a toilet seat, or a week’s worth of Starbuck$.

And I certainly don’t want the folks who brought us $436 hammers, $640 toilet seats, and $7,600 coffee makers to flush my policy when it gives me a heart attack.

Yep, we’re paying for it now.