Category Archives: Snarky Remarks on Grammar

Picky observations on grammar and writing style

Your Guess Is as Good as Mine

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What’s clear in a writer’s head is not necessarily clear in readers’ minds. This truth I learned the hard way during my first year of teaching, when I directed students to “answer true or false” on a pop quiz. Not a few wrote true or false after every question. With this episode in mind, I sympathize with these sign writers. No doubt they thought their meaning was obvious. It isn’t.

First up is this sign, which I spotted in a restaurant window:

I won’t even speculate about the meaning of dishrealated. I’d rather focus on intolerance issue. If the chefs indeed have a solution for intolerance, I hope they share the recipe. The world needs as many servings as possible, STAT.

The world might need this product, too:

Um . . . I know the product has SEED in it, with Detox is the goal. The words in the green band mean . . . well, I don’t know what they mean! Frankly, I find this sign a little scary.

One last puzzle:

Are those quotation marks equivalent to a wink and a nod signalling that “officially there’s NO PARKING but you can park here anyway”? Or is the writer attempting to emphasize NO? And where does HAZARD fit in? Is there NO PARKING HAZARD?

Because your guesses are as good as mine, I hope you’ll share them with me in the comments.

And the winner is . . .

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This being awards season, I thought I’d structure today’s post as a contest. Which sign wins your vote for “most nonsensical”?

The first contestant is an offer:

WE BUY . . . CASH and TURN it INTO CA$H). Interesting concept — almost as strange as trying to TURN YOUR OLD BOY FRIENDS into CA$H. I suggest changing BOY FRIENDS to BOYFRIEND’S, thereby averting arrest by more than the grammar cops.

The next sign could win an illogic contest:

I can understand (sort of) how you can Shop for something that’s FREE. But why would you have to Save to have enough money to pay nothing?

This book cover, sent by my friend Ellie, is another strong contender:

Read this book if you want to know where to go on a date with, say, a two-story bungalow or a skyscraper. I do have one question: Is there a Tinder for the brick-and-mortar crowd?

My vote goes to this sign, which graces the door of a nearby food shop:

How can a CHICKEN, FREE RANGE or not, be HARVESTED? Scratch that question: I’m not sure I want to know! A similar sign appears inside the store, where photos are not allowed. It touts lamb, which, the sign declares, was also HATCHED, RAISED, & HARVESTED IN THE USA. Are lambs HATCHED from giant Easter eggs? Asking for a friend.

Select your favorite and, better yet, send me photos of other signs that make you smile.

Small

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In the food world lately, the smaller the better — or at least that’s what many signs imply. Here’s one I spotted at a farmers’ market:

I guess single-herd is supposed to hint at greater quality control, but for me the message is overriden by the thought of a herd of salami.

If there’s a stampede, maybe some of the salami would end up here:

I posted this photo a few years ago, commenting on the price increase signalled by adding PE to SHOP. Now I’m thinking about NEIGHBORHOOD. Can outsiders shop (or shoppe) here? Does the owner sell only to locals?

Onward to a coffee bar:

I understand the flavor advantage of “freshly roasted” beans, but small-batch puzzles me. A batch of any size can be botched. In a big batch, the odds improve that you’ll end up with at least a few good beans.

Then there’s this label:

I wonder what the label-maker thinks handcrafted adds. Is the term supposed to hint that a chef carefully slices the fish and tends the barbeque? What I think handcrafted adds is about two dollars a pound. I bought the product anyway, not because I avoid “machine-crafted” food but because the fish looked delicious. (It was.)

That’s it for today from my small, local blog, which is also handcrafted. I do all my own typing.

An Attentive Pedestrian

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Readers with sharp eyes and a keen sense of humor often send me photos of signs they’ve spotted around the city. These are from Constance, an attentive pedestrian whose witty observations brightened my day.

First up is this gem:

Should wheelchair users head in the opposite direction or move backwards in the direction indicated by the arrow?

Now to the river:

The caption on the sign is rather small, so I’ll reproduce it here: “For your safety please keep to the right.” Are pedestrians expected to balance on the railing or dive off the walkway? And how does either option enhance your safety?

Onward to a shopping district:

Is this sign the reason I see so many discarded masks on the sidewalk? Can a mask, or a mask-wearer, sue for being denied entry?

Have these muddled messages given you a headache? If so, this sign will probably not help:

How far away is the Pharmacy when it’s not on lunch break?

Please feel free to send me your answers, along with photos of silly signs you’ve encountered.

Goodbye, 2022

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My last post of the year, written during this busy holiday/winter-storm/school-vacation season. First up is a cafe menu. Pay attention to the third-to-last line:

CAESAR CONTAINS NUTS, does he? What a clever way to indicate that power corrupts! Or maybe it’s an indictment of Nero, Julius, Augustus, and other CAESARS?

Next is a message from a dry-cleaning shop. It’s a poor quality photo, so I’ll reproduce the words: BUSINESS IS MOVING FROM JUNE TO A NEW PLACE.

A NEW PLACE? Like July or October? What was wrong with JUNE? Too many weddings and graduations?

Now to Seatac Airport in Seattle:

It took me two days to decode this sentence, partly because I lose my mind when I’m traveling and partly because there’s a missing comma. I kept reading the message as FIRE ELEVATORS, a noncombustible (and most likely nonexistent) subset of ELEVATORS. I think we can all agree that IN CASE OF FIRE, signs with instantly obvious instructions are preferable. (With that in mind, I’d be happy to proofread this airline’s signs in exchange for a free trip. If you’re an executive with Alaska Airlines, leave a comment and I’ll get back to you.)

Finally, a van parked on my block:

Wouldn’t it be nice to hire this company for the stock market? The economy could use a BOOM right around now.

BOOM or not, I wish you a peaceful, joyful, healthy 2023.

Traffic Jam on the Information Highway

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Signs and labels are supposed to offer information, but sometimes the message doesn’t reach its destination. Take a look at this ice cream container I bought recently:

I admit I’d never given much thought to where the cherries in Cherry Vanilla ice cream came from until I read this label’s proud claim to country-harvested fruit. Ever loyal to my urban home, I hesitated before dropping the package into my cart, wondering whether I should search for ice cream made with city-harvested cherries. Unfortunately, Second Avenue is not rife with orchards. Even Orchard Street on the Lower East Side is treeless these days. So I bought the product, reasoning that the label’s reference to vanilla and cherry flavor with other natural flavors and cherry pieces implies more lab-harvesting than anything else, and the lab could indeed be in my home city.

Onward to Broadway, courtesy of my friend Orli:

As Orli pointed out, the construction of this sentence depicts Audra McDonald as packed with suspense. Anyone who’s ever seen her perform knows that Ms. McDonald is packed with talent, which no amount of suspense can replace. I, for one, plan to buy a ticket.

Now to the front door of a medical office:

Verbally granted access? Um … okay, if you say so ( and you literally must, according to this sign). Yet I can’t help wondering what other type of granted access doesn’t measure up at this location. Are buzzers banned? If I enter through the door an exiting, silent patient holds open, will I be thrown out?

As always, theories welcome. And as we approach whatever wave of the pandemic is next, I hope you stay safe!

Light-Hearted Questions

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Holiday season is upon us, so I’m assuming that you, like me, need an antidote to the tension that comes with it. Hence this post of silly signs and light-hearted questions about them.

First up is this earnest appeal:

Questions: Is the sign-poster a fan of knocks or a hater of bells? Is it so difficult to ring the bell that customers have to be warned about attempting to do so? Does anyone attempting to ring the bell fail?

Next is this command, posted on a fence:

Questions: How many people, in a city where theft is not unknown, simply lean or tie their bikes? And how does one post a bike? Why doesn’t the sign mention “park,” “lock,” or “chain” — what bike riders in New York generally do with their vehicles?

Now to the gym:

Questions: What goals could 1 have? To grow up to 2? To find a soulmate and become 11? To add some muscle and reach 10 or 100? And how does one — er, I mean 1 — refine those goals?

Last up is this sign:

Questions: How do you drop off a shoe shine? Can people pick up what they dropped off, or is the shoe (or pair or shoe shine) gone forever? Has there been an increase in shoelessness around this shop?

After enjoying (or at least surviving) your Thanksgiving meal, feel free to send me answers.

This Is Not a Post

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It’s a promulgation, the fanciest near-synonym of post I could find. Fancy, by the way, is today’s theme. Here’s a paragraph from a catalogue mistakenly delivered to my mailbox:

I leafed through the catalogue but didn’t notice any serpentine candlesticks or large-scale hummingbirds (and I definitely wouldn’t buy any if I did). Instead I focused on expressive materiality, which means . . . well, what does it mean? I’m thinking quadruple pricing, but maybe that’s just me.

Onward and upward to this sign on a recently completed apartment building:

To protect the guilty, I try not to include company names, but I will tell you that the building has “Manor” in its name, a word equal in snootiness to Sculpted in Stature. All sorts of construction machinery littered the site for a year or so, but no stone-sculpting tools with which to carve Stature. And how does one carve Stature? Does that even have a meaning?

Skip the misspelled word on line three and go directly to the fourth line of this sign:

All this to describe paint! If only one person is making it (the sign says craftsman, not craftsmen), small wonder that the product is made only in small batches. Then there’s formulation and curated collection — words I reckon cost an extra hundred each, per can. Or jar, or whatever they sell curated paint in. Grecian urns? Space capsules? Something expensive, that’s for sure — unlike this completely free promulgation about snobbery.

Oxymoronic

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I’m tempted to drop three letters from this post’s title when I contemplate these photos. First up is a label on a pair of jeans I bought this weekend. (Those aren’t bullet holes, in case you’re worried, but rather the remains of the label fastener.)

The jeans fit fine, but I still don’t know what to make of the product description.

Next up: the front and back labels of some shampoo my friend Catherine bought for her cat, Lionel:

So far, so good. Apples and honey sound pleasing, though I don’t know whether these ingredients appeal to cats. Speaking of ingredients:

As I’m sure you know, ingredients must be listed on labels in order, from most to least. Question for the manufacturer: What’s the main ingredient in your waterless shampoo? Answer: Um . . .

I snapped this one a couple of years ago:

Sidewalks inside? And they cost only $10? Even allowing for inflation, that’s a pretty good deal.

Oddly Specific

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I usually gripe about vague signs, but today I direct your attention to some oddly specific notices, such as this one:

I’m not hugely surprised that dogs are excluded, because an expanse of lawn (in this case, a soccer field) would be a nice place to let Fido off the leash. But would people actually take cats there? If so, I’d like to know how they get a leash on a cat without incurring stitches for the leasher and the leashed. And what’s with the pot bellied pigs? If I were an iguana or a llama, I’d feel left out by this sign. And if I had a pot-bellied pig, I’d never exclude the hyphen.

Another exclusion:

Do I have to point out that ice cream is, in fact, food? For some of us, it’s a major food group. Also, why single out ice cream? Was this store owner once traumatized by mint chocolate chip? Struck in the eye by a cone of rocky road? On a diet?

At least the comparison is logically correct in this sign:

I do wonder about the comma. Grammatically it’s not necessary (some would even say it’s wrong), because the conjunction or doesn’t connect two clauses. To me, the comma sounds a bit defensive: I’m not anti-pigeon! I’m anti-other birds too!

One more bird (sort of), courtesy of my friend Catherine:

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So glad the label is clear! Now I know that I’ll have to shop elsewhere for outdoor chicken.