Hungry?

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I’ve been away from this blog for a while, having a new hip installed in my body. I’m back now, happy to return to the world of silly signs. First up is a menu listing:

The fish was delicious, but the description is deliciously (and unintentionally) funny. I have no problem with Wild Alaskan Pollock filet. Every word tells me what I’m going to eat. But Defender Series gives me pause. First, why is the phrase enclosed in single quotation marks? In American style, double quotation marks generally indicate that someone’s words have been reproduced exactly as said or written. Double quotation marks can also be used to distance the writer from the quoted content — the visual equivalent of a wink. Single quotation marks, in American style, enclose a quotation that’s tucked inside another quotation. So why are single quotation marks here? I have no idea. Punctuation aside, why Defender Series? I did a little research and found that the phrase refers to a type of boat. Who knew we were now identifying food by transportation methods! I can only wonder whether the pasta I ate last night was from the Boeing 747 or Mack Truck Series.

Continuing with seafood:

For non-NYers, I should mention that Atlantic Yards refers to a development project located where a railroad terminal once stood. There has been no fishing in Atlantic Yards, ever. I suspect the word should be Finishing and fervently hope that one of those 5600 apartments will be rented to a proofreader.

Moving on to a non-fish setting:

Why are these Meals Humbled? Were the bagels on an ego trip? Perhaps the syrup was acting like a diva before this food cart got ahold of it? If so, this cart provides a reality check along with food.

After puzzling over these signs, you may need a drink. I recommend this restaurant, because there an HOUR lasts for quite a long time — seven hours, to be exact.

As much as I love to eat out, I enjoy cooking my own food even more. Be it ever so humbled, there’s no place like home.

Not Your Grandmothers

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My granddaughters are perfect, and I have the photos and stories to prove it. I bet you think I’m a walking cliche — and I am! The “doting grandmother” category exists, and I’m in it. Nevertheless, I object to the use of not your grandmother’s as a descriptor, as it is in this headline:

The article accompanying this headline explained that today’s bridal couples are “branding” their weddings, with a single theme unifying the invitations, decorations, and yes, the monograms. I liked the article. I did not like the headline. Why? Because Not Your Grandmother’s serves as a trampoline. You bounce onto an assumption — that grandmothers, when they were young, followed established, staid tradition. (Hello? This is the generation that rolled around in the mud at Woodstock for three days.) Then you bounce onto another assumption — that today’s youth are unique in blazing a new, more creative path. Okay, it may be new and it may even be more creative, but it’s hardly unique to forge a path that diverges from precedent. Every generation does it.

This double-bounce is everywhere. I’ve seen it applied to recipes, root beer, stockings, haute couture (Chanel), and even cancer (endometrial). And I resent it everywhere, especially when, as in this sign, it invades one of my hobbies:

I’m ignoring the missing apostrophe because I don’t want you to think that I’m a walking cliche when it comes to grammar, too.

Here’s one that really stretches the fabric of reality:

If the headline writer had thought about this for more than a nanosecond, they’d realize that most people who retire are of grandparent age. Unless they admit only people without progeny, it’s likely some are grandmas. So this particular Not Your Grandma’s Retirement Home is in fact some Grandma’s Retirement Home. Maybe some Grandpa’s also.

Speaking of grandpas, here’s a headline that bounces off them:

I’ll end this rant with a plea. The next time you find yourself typing Not Your in a headline, hit the backspace. Your living grandparents and your future self will thank you for it.

What Am I Eating?

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The title question should be easy to answer. Tonight, for example, I’m having chicken, pasta, and veggie salad. My friend Catherine prepared this meal out of things I recognize. Yesterday I had my specialty, “use-it-or-lose-it” soup, which I make from any lightly shriveled vegetables in my refrigerator. My meals might not qualify for a Cordon Bleu award, but at least I know what’s in them. Which brings me to the subject of this post: the bewildering labels sellers tack onto food. Take a look at this one:

I snapped this photo through the bus window when we paused next to one of the food carts that provide quick, cheap lunches for New Yorkers. The NEW YORK HOT DOG they’re selling may be delicious, but if I asked for that, I’m not sure what I’d get. Here’s the wide-angle view:

My choices appear to be a hamburger using an alias or an actual HOT DOG.

Nor would I know what to expect if I patronized this food cart:

Or this one:

Would I be eating an actual Executive or whatever the cook thinks an Executive wants for lunch?

Writing about food has made me hungry. Perhaps some cheese:

Now I just have to hope that the block this NATURAL CHEESE is off of isn’t the one I live on. Bon apetit!

Wild or Not?

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I generally read labels only when there’s an outbreak of food-borne illness or when I’m shopping for someone with an allergy. I probably should pay more attention, because labels can be fertile ground for my brand of snark.

Take a look at this product, which I bought in my local supermarket solely because I wanted to snap a photo and clicking without buying seemed unfair:

To me, WILD implies “wilderness.” Thus I assumed the packager wanted me to think that this veggie hadn’t been harvested from a farm. The joke was on me, though, because according to Google, there are two types of ARUGULA. WILD ARUGULA has broader leaves than ARUGULA. Fortunately for me, I liked the salad. Even more fortunately, while I ate it I had fun picturing someone chasing WILD ARUGULA with a net.

This label provides better (WILDER?) material for snarkiness:

The expression wild crafted (which strictly speaking should be hyphenated) seems to contradict itself. If it’s wild, it wasn’t created in a factory or a lab. But crafted implies shaping. I guess you could craft in the German Black Forest, but then the label should be “crafted from wild ingredients.” Before I move on, I have to point out that a skin-care system isn’t Born; it’s made. And is anyone marketing a complete system of skin care that is designed NOT to work?

That’s enough wilderness. Moving closer to home is this sign:

Is the store selling only one BAGEL? Do they turn away someone in search of breakfast for a large family or a single teenager? The phrase ON PREMISES sounds good, I grant you. Anything emerging from an oven, even a single BAGEL, is pretty FRESH if the oven is in the store — ON the PREMISES. I inserted “the” because that’s how the phrase usually appears. Without “the” my mind turns to a different meaning of PREMISES: “assumptions.” I bet the assumption behind this BAGEL label is that customers will pay more if they think a BAGEL is local, not baked in a corporate facility far, far away.

Last one:

This shop owner wants to corner the “support local businesses” market. No problem! I do that myself. But green? Most of the baked goods I buy are tan or brown or iced, though I have seen un-iced green bagels on St. Patrick’s Day. Somehow I don’t think that’s the meaning here. I bet it’s “be virtuous and pay a little more because this bakery is environmentally friendly.” What “environmentally friendly” means in the context of baked goods is beyond me.

I’ll think about that while I stalk some WILD ARUGULA. If you have a theory, let me know.

Missing!

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Pretend that this post is pasted to a lampost and that the title is followed by “WANTED! DEAD OR . . . ” Well, just WANTED, because a letter isn’t alive. Which is not to say that a letter can’t be important. Take a look at this sign, which my granddaughter’s friend spotted:

Nice to know we’re CLOSE, whoever WE is. I can’t help wondering how CLOSE: Do we share every thought? Our streaming passwords? A toothbrush? And if WE’RE actually CLOSE, why can’t we see each other today? Must we wait until TOMORROW? (I’m ignoring U. Text-spelling has invaded every medium, like the Borg in the Star Trek universe. Resistance is futile.)

Also missing a letter is this place:

Like most eateries in Manhattan, this spot had so little room that Never Close was never true. With only a slight stretch, a diner at this Diner could easily snag a french fry from the next table. Did you notice the past-tense verbs? The Diner closed a couple of years ago.

If you’re a fan of animated films, here’s a business that might interest you:

In addition to a Tel-Fax number (abbreviated for privacy), this company provides direct-line contact information for two Cels. What’s a Cel? A crossword-puzzle creator’s favorite word (or an animation frame).

That’s it for today. Or, in keeping with the theme of this post, That’s it for toda.

We the People

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On July 4, 2022, I wrote a post about Independence Day. At the time I believed that Americans were as divided as they ever could be — two groups peering at each other across the deepest chasm possible. I was wrong. Over the past four years, the division has grown more bitter, the chasm deeper. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can, and must, return to our roots. We must remember that America was designed for interdependence as much as for independence.

Consider the country’s name, which declares that individual entities (States) are made one (United). The same ideal appears in America’s traditional self-definition (melting pot) and motto (E Pluribus Unum — “Out of many, one“). The Preamble to the Constitution begins “We the people,” emphasizing unity.

Of course, the 18th-century people granting themselves rights in the Constitution excluded many Americans. In the Preamble, the Founders acknowledged that their work was flawed, declaring that they were striving for a Union that was more perfect — not actually perfect. And despite their shortcomings, the Founders’ goals were worthy: “to establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.” Note the capitalization: In the colonial era, writers employed upper case for emphasis. The capitalized words of the Preamble reveal that the Founders aimed for Justice, Tranquility, Welfare, Blessings, Liberty, and Posterity. Not a bad slate of goals.

Bearing these points in mind, I suggest that instead of focusing on the Declaration of Independence on this, the document’s 250th birthday, we instead celebrate the Preamble to the United States Constitution. At the very least, the Preamble’s minimal length (52 words) allows more time for barbecues. At best, the Preamble may prompt us to rededicate ourselves to Interdependence, to the notion that what’s good for All of us is good for Each of us. (Colonial capitalization intended.) With the Preamble as a focus, this divisive era may become less so, and a “more perfect Union” may be achieved. Happy July 4th!

How’s That Again?

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I was on a train recently with a seatmate who delighted in telling me — through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and part of Maryland — that he wanted to be perfectly clear. Though I’d have preferred silence, I must give him credit: I understood exactly what he was trying to tell me. The same is not true for these signs:

What makes a Palm Special? If I were the sort of person who expected (or was ever offered) a bribe, a neatly folded hundred-dollar bill discreetly tucked into a Palm would be Special to me. What’s your take on Special Palm?

If you felt anxious trying to figure out the previous sign, this one offers help:

My muscles tensed up when I saw muslces. It’s worth noting that this ad appeared professional. The photography and layout were top notch. Too bad the budget didn’t extend to proofreading.

This one, on the other hand, is clearly an amateur effort:

I agree that shoppers shouldn’t use bare hands to pluck PASTRIES from the bin. If I have to choose between hands and TONGUES, however, I’m going with hands.

Here’s a label that tries a little too hard to be clear:

As I shampooed my hair with this product, I wondered what the alternative to SHAMPOOING SHAMPOO is. DANCING SHAMPOO? BAKING SHAMPOO? NAIL-POLISHING SHAMPOO? Theories welcome!

Also welcome: June, with or without weddings and graduations. Enjoy the month!

Time for a Drink?

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Long week? Year? Decade? If you’re looking to unwind with an alcoholic beverage, be sure to follow every rule, such as this one, which my granddaughter spotted while on a college tour:

She wondered whether it would be okay to pour beer or liquor into THE ROTUNDA FOUNTAIN. Not that she drinks beer or hard liquor — or champagne, for that matter.

This photo comes from my daughter-in-law, who spotted it in the elevator of her hotel:

My daughter-in-law had been hoping to have a glass of wine somewhere outside of the elevator, like her room. Alas, she was out of luck.

If you’re in the mood for a bottle of beer, I recommend you get to this bar soon after it opens:

Once the 800 BEERS IN BOTTLES are gone, you’re out of luck. You’ll have to make do with 14 BEERS ON TAP or one of the other beverages.

Whenever or wherever you drink, remember this:

You may think this message is unnecessary. I don’t! Life has taught me that what’s obvious to one person is unthinkable to another. Clarity and truth: I’ll drink to that!

Talking Local

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I was on an uptown bus shortly after the advent of automated announcements. Here’s a printed list of some stops along the route:

Everything sounded fine in the 80s and 90s. I heard “next stop West 86th Street and Broadway,” and so on up the line. Then came “next stop One Hundred and Oneth Street.” I didn’t bother writing to the MTA, the governing body of public transit in New York City. I knew that thousands of New Yorkers would have already informed the agency of this mistake. (Complaining about public transit — complaining about everything! — is one of New Yorkers’ favorite pastimes.)

Last week I was on the same bus. Sure enough, the announcement had been changed. Notice I say “changed,” not “corrected,” because the revised version was “One Oh First Street.” “One OH” mimics New Yorkers’ usage for building numbers. No local would say, “I work at two hundred and five Madison Avenue. It’s “2 OH 5 Madison Avenue.” But that form isn’t for street names, and “One OH” doesn’t pair with “First.” The stop should be “One Hundred and First Street.” Why? Because that’s how we locals say it.

The crosstown bus in my neighborhood initially presented a problem also. Note the third stop on this list, which is located across from the stables housing NYPD horses:

For the first year or so, the automated announcement placed the accent on the second syllable (transVERSE). Eventually the accent was moved to the first syllable, where it should be (TRANSverse).

Last one. If you’re a visitor to NYC and ask for directions to a spot on “the Avenue of the Americas,” chances are you’ll be met with a puzzled frown. If you’re lucky, the person will respond, “Ya mean Sixth Avenue?” The name was changed in 1945 when Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia hoped to entice Central and South American countries to build consulates there. The city hung country medallions and these signs:

More realistic, in its route listings the MTA opted for the term bus and subway riders actually use:

Ditto in its maps. Check the vertical lines, which represent avenues. Right in the center you’ll see “Sixth Avenue”:

If there’s a moral to this story, it’s that we’re all local where we live, but we’re all nonlocal where we don’t. Be patient with someone who asks where “East Two OH Fifth Steet” is. Actually, be patient with everyone, as often as you can. These tense times demand our best efforts!

Can You Describe It?

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How good are you at describing things? The people who wrote these labels, signs, and captions were — well, let’s just say they need more practice. First up is a celebrity marriage:

Harrison partially abandoned his wife? Poor Calista! Also, to prevent harm to whom? And how long does it take to vacuum an 800-acre home?

My friend Catherine sent me this one:

She doesn’t have an INDOOR CHICKEN. Her cats, on the other hand, might enjoy this product, whether it’s made from INDOOR or outdoor CHICKEN. And FORMULA? What does that mean in this context, other than expensive?

This sign makes me shiver:

Do you have a CITIZEN who needs DISPOSAL? I sincerely hope not, but if you do, this FACILITY is for you! (FYI: It’s posted at the entrance to the country dump.)

Many New York apartment buildings have doormen, who, presumably, are the intended customers for this business:

I’d always assumed they showered or bathed. I never imagined they put themselves through DRY CLEANING!

That’s all for today. Stay safe!