Forty years of teaching English, a lifetime of walking around New York City, and fifty or so books: my qualifications for making snarky comments on language as I see and hear it in New York.
My blog, Grammarian in the City, is on a podcast! Check it out at Steven Miletto’s Teaching Learning Leading K12 https://stevenmiletto.com/670 Steve and I talk about why I started the blog, how I find material, what constitutes a grammar “mistake,” why I get writer’s block, and much more. I hope you’ll listen to the broadcast.
A large number of signs advertise products or services of extraordinary value — or so they’d like you to believe. These more modest and likely more accurate signs are a refreshing counterpoint. First up is a notice posted on a building undergoing renovation:
Who indeed! I’d like to hire that contractor for my next project. The work may drag on, but at least I’ll have advance warning.
Next is a restaurant sign:
PRETTY HEALTHY FOOD is good enough for me, and probably more nutritious than more pretentiously labeled fare (artisanal, handcrafted, bespoke, etc.)
This merchant, like George Washington, cannot tell a lie:
Sign up for this EXCLUSIVE OFFER and receive ten letters, one per month, from the likes of George Washington and John F. Kennedy. The photo quality isn’t great, so I’ll retype the key phrase here: ORIGINAL REPRODUCTION. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m glad the seller hasn’t robbed the National Archives or hired ghost writers. Actual ghosts, given the dearly departed status of the authors.
Last, and anything but least, is this correction issued by a media outlet in late 2020, before Kamala Harris took office:
Who knew that punctuation was audible to this degree of accuracy? I applaud the writer’s devotion to truth, really. Let me rephrase: I applaud the writer’s devotion to truth. Really.
The title of this post is a question because, well, these menu items are questionable. First up is a sign my granddaughter spotted. Check out the second-to-last line in the first column:
For the record, the topping we chose for our pizza was Cheese, not Grandma. We prefer not to eat relatives.
Nor did I order the last beverage on this menu:
I can put up with lousy tea if I’m really thirsty, but I draw the line at one louse. No LICED TEA for me!
If a judge grants me immunity from prosecution, I’ll eat this sandwich:
Side point: What does RELISH or an ONION have to do to be CRIMINALIZED? And where are offenders incarcerated? In a secure pantry?
I hope there’s no immunity for anyone who prepares or buys this sandwich:
The most benign interpretation of this label is that the Beagle acts as a serving platter, trotting to your table with neatly arrayed strips of meat on its fur. Surely the Health Department would object? A shudder-inducing possibility is that the Beagle is a component of the meal. In that case, send in a squad of Animal Welfare Officers, stat! Then let the rescued dogs frolic here:
Even if they weigh less than 25 lbs, dogs deserve some fun. So do you, and I hope you had some reading this post.
I was on the way to my accountant’s office (tax time, don’t you love it?) when this sign stopped me cold:
Is the building bragging or warning? I didn’t know and had no way to find out. So too with this sign, which I spotted in Madrid:
Translated, this sign proclaims “GROUP ZERO” in pink and “POETRY AND PSYCHOANALYSIS” in smaller, black lettering. The illustration seems to promise a Freudian experience, but where does poetry come in?
I bet whoever created this sign would answer, “Everywhere!”
Somehow Poetry Alouders, with or without an exclamation point, sounds more joyous than “Open Mic.” Plus, if you read the pink letters aloud, you hear the homonym allowed, which makes a better statement than this ad does:
Perhaps this landlord should have a chat with the ARTIST RESIDING IN BUILDING. Fear of art, as well as fear of nearly anything, tends to dissipatewith human connection. And just for the record — artists, shrinks, alouders, and poets are all welcome in my home.
Today’s post offers recommendations for ordinary people, all levels of government, and the US military. The first is for those seeking entry to this shop:
Should you PUSH or PULL? English generally reads from left to right, so the bi-color message DON’T PULL / PUSH ONLY makes sense. But because the colors create columns, you can also read it as DON’T PUSH / PULL ONLY.I recommend you stand nearby until someone exits. Then simply slip through the open door.
Different store, same problem:
Which takes precedence: the official blue AmX sticker telling you to Push or the green-paper Please DO NOT!!! PUSH THE DOOR? As with the other sign, I recommend you wait for someone else to solve the problem. I also recommend a tax on exclamation points. The first one would be free, with a $10 charge for each additional point. It’s a win-win situation. Either the deficit will plummet or public discourse will calm down. Government officials, are you listening?
Here’s a risky sign I spotted eight years ago. To this day it remains in front of the United Nations:
Obey the wrong sign and you risk a ticket (if you’re lucky) or a crash (if you aren’t). I recommend you park your car and walk.
This recommendation is for the military’s newest branch:
Space Force, we need an investigation into satellites being held above Midtown.
I’d like to end this post on a positive note. Here’s a clear, polite sign sent by my friend Constance:
My final recommendation: send me all the silly signs you spot!
Punctuation: very small marks governed by a very big set of rules, many of which don’t even have the grace to stay the same from one country to another. Caring about hyphens and apostrophes takes pickiness to a new height, doesn’t it? Yet I can’t help wishing that someone had edited these headlines and labels a little more carefully.
I dare you to decode this one on first reading:
I’ve read it several times, as well as the accompanying article, and I still don’t know who’s who and where they are. I get that someone’s in-house and someone’s at home, and I’m sure that neither is Nureyev, the ballet superstar who died in 1993. Also, why hyphenate in-house? A small consolation is that the apostrophe is used correctly. Not so in this label:
I don’t know how many coffee beans are in the jar, but I do know that I don’t want to be our (or anyone’s) guess. Nor do I want to make 3 guess’s.
If only I could poach the apostrophe from guess’s and insert it below:
Your more? Advertiser, you’re better than that! And if you’re not — well, call me picky, but in that case I’d rather be just a number.
In my neighborhood, just about every store that isn’t a nail salon is a restaurant. Thus it’s not surprising that enterprising food purveyors do whatever they can to entice customers, including displaying these signs:
The price of one of these LUNCH SPECIALS ($15) isn’t unreasonable in New York City, especially considering that they’re offering WOODFIRED SANDWICHES, which are . . . well, I don’t know what they are. Bread charred by burning branches? Unemployed victims of forest downsizing?
My friend Catherine sent this one:
I had no opportunity to speak with the SANDWITCH, who I assume was selling a consultation lasting as long as it takes to drink a cup of FREE COFFEE. If I had, I would have asked about the accuracy of the spells in Harry Potter as well as the rationale for enclosing FREE COFFEE in quotation marks. Perhaps the brew isn’t actually COFFEE?
I should note that the prices listed below have increased since I snapped the photo:
Inflation or not, who could resist an offer to DESIGNED YOUR OWN SALAD? Also, 16 oz (ounces) equals one pound. Thus the restaurant is offering a one-, two-, or three-pound salad, each with 1 meat and unlimited vege. I must ask: Who has room for much (many?) vege after eating three pounds of DESIGNED SALAD?
Last one:
If Mom gets Fri, who gets all the other days? I’m a Mom, but I prefer Tuesdays. Can non-Moms get the LUNCH Special on Fri?
My advice is to choose a restaurant carefully, eat well, and in the spirit of today’s MLK holiday, find a way to work for a more just world.
With their variety of holidays, December and January form a season of presents. I’ve been thinking about a few simple gifts our pained world needs. Here’s one:
You could read this sign as an admonition, a short of “shhh” to shelled species who aren’t all that noisy anyway. But I prefer to think of Turtle Pond as A Quiet Zone for thinking. The gift of reflection.
Food’s on my list, too. Not the pretentious, overpriced stuff on sale in my neighborhood’s food boutiques, but basics for the underfed:
Granted, the sign doesn’t specify what’s in the yard of food, but surely there’s some nutrition? I’m hoping the money the shop did not spend on a competent sign-writer went to quality ingredients. The gift of nourishment.
The next one’s more personal:
Who doesn’t need a Relationship Manager? Everyone I know, not to mention a number of governments, could benefit from understanding that our fates are intertwined. I fantasize that the Relationship Manager would deliver this message with in a firm, parental tone. Then, like chastened children, we’d slink back from the brink of destruction we’re currently dancing on. The gift of safety.
I end this post, and this year, with the gift I received last week. My family and I were at a holiday parade. We had arrived late and couldn’t penetrate the crowd. My six-year-old granddaughter had a great view of knees and coat hems but no chance of seeing the marchers. But then a boy in front — on crutches, perhaps ten years old — noticed her. Instantly he offered her his spot. There are good people in the world, I realized. He gave me the gift of hope.
I’ve been thinking about technical difficulties lately, perhaps because I’ve had a few. When I sat down to write this post an hour ago, for example, Word Press was down. It came back more quickly than my bank account, which went into a tizzy after someone tried to access it fraudulently. No harm done in either case, fortunately. I’m not sure the same is true at this shop:
First of all, this situation is unfair to anyone without a credit card or an item to barter. Second, what’s TECHNICAL about CASH? You put your hand out, someone puts the money in it, and you’re done. Okay, there’s recordkeeping, but are their pencils having TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, too?
This sign, sent by my friend Catherine, has another sort of technical problem:
Granted, it’s not too hard to figure out the identity of the missing letter — though I spent an enjoyable half hour imagining alternatives, such as FIRE DOOD (alternate spelling for the Big Lebowski), FIRE MOOD (blazing? glowing?) and FIRE GOOD (arsonist’s motto). What intrigues me is why just one letter is missing. Do the other letters have more stamina? Did the flames hop from the E in FIRE to the next word? Maybe it’s something about W. That’s one of my initials, but I promise you I didn’t swipe the letter. I can’t vouch for my relatives, though. My best guess is that there were technical difficulties with the glue.
Whoever issued this press release in December 2020 is unlikely to accept a flimsy excuse about technical difficulties. Read it carefully:
Swapping a period for the comma after inaugurated: Now that’s precise editing! The next time I encounter technical difficulties, I want the person who corrected the pool report on my team.
Shortly after the most candy-full day of the year, it seems appropriate to consider products that are healthful — or rather, products marketed that way. Starting at the top:
Number 1. Okay, I’m interested, but I would like to know the nature of the list this juise man tops. Every cart on the Upper West Side corner where he sells a smoothie that is all natural no sugar no milk? Every cart in the city (or world or universe)? The smoothie itself sounds healthful enough, though again I’d like more information. Lots of unhealthful things are all natural — uranium, for example.
This sign’s from Seattle:
How does one know, exactly, whether bees are happy? From the buzz? Antenna motion? Do NW bees smile? I admit I know nothing about bees‘ moods, but I would have thought they’d be unhappy if someone swiped their honey. Maybe there’s a profit-sharing plan.
Same supermarket, different product:
Plant-Based sounds nutritious, doesn’t it? But I have to ask: Is there a non-Plant-Based Pizza? Made on, say, cardboard or steak?
Last sign, courtesy of my brother-in-law:
Good to know that there isn’t even one Vegan in this Gel. Or perhaps the Gel is Free to any random Vegan passing the salon?
As always, theories welcome. See what you can come up with as you nibble away at your Halloween candy.
