One for Socialist Mothers Everywhere

We had Mothers’ day in the UK over a month ago but every day is a celebration for us socialist mothers, especially when we read a story like this, from Tribune via Aaronovitch Watch:

From This Week’s Tribune Diary:

“Nick ‘neotrot’ Cohen, lately responsible for a lengthy published rant deriding the left for its opposition to the war in Iraq, has been given a dressing down by his mother, for being politically incorrect. Well, it was more than that actually. She gave him a slapping. Mum Maggie was seriously upset at being called a Stalinist in the opening pages of nasty Nick’s book. Not least because, when the Cohen family last gathered together to enjoy a jolly Christmas, cowardly Nick failed to mention the reference, or even the book. Maggie, a lifelong leftie, could not contain her feelings when she next saw her son. Although diminutive to Nick’s beanstalk propsitions, she let him have one round the chops. ‘In all the years they were growing up I never hit the children,’ Maggie recently told friends. ‘Now I have to do it when he is grown up.’

Sometimes children just go Too Bloody Far.

Well, That’s Put The LOLcat Amongst The Pidgins

As any fule kno, the internet was invented as a medium for geeks to exchange amusingly-captioned pictures of cats – the rest is just bandwidth noise. This charming folk-custom has over the years burgeoned into a fully-fledged lolcat culture with customs and a language all of its own. Language blogger Anil Dash digs for the roots of lolcat grammar:

If you spend any time at all observing net culture, then you’ll have been unable to miss the recent explosion in popularity of lolcats. This relatively recent phenomenon is the convention of taking pictures of cute animals, most frequently cats, and overlaying absurdist captions on the images.

The core behavior has existed for some time; “Image macro” is a generic term for this kind of folk art, and cats have always featured heavily in these types of Internet in-jokes. But a few distinct categories have sprung up that have helped amplify and popularize the phenomenon.

  • I’M IN UR X Ying your Z. This construct, based on i’m in ur base, killin ur d00ds has morphed into a catch-all structure for annotating cat pictures.
  • Invisible Item. Variations on the seminal Invisible Bike, these are images of cats, usually in midair, with captions that prompt us to fill in imaginary objects or actions that complete the scene. There’s something brilliant to these images, speaking to our mind’s ability to intuitively extrapolate unseen details.
  • Kitty Pidgin. And finally, the newly dominant lolcats, of the family I Can Has Cheezeburger? These seem to be spawning nearly infinite variations, and have exploded in popularity since being named “lolcats” instead of the more general “image macro” or “cat macro”.

The rise of these new subspecies of lolcats are particularly interesting to me because “I can has cheezeburger?” has a fairly consistent grammar. I wasn’t sure this was true until I realized that it’s possible to get cat-speak wrong.

Incorrect kitty pidgin jumped to my attention the first time I saw a reference to Dune being used with a lolcat image. The caption on the linked version of the image, “The spice must flow.” is fine, if not particularly cat-like. But the caption on the version I saw first was much more verbose: “I are dunecat. I controls the spice, I controls the universe.” Besides being an awkward attempt at overexplaining the punchline (I’ve never read Dune or seen the film, but the joke is obvious) this was just all wrong. The fact that we can tell no cat would talk like this shows that kitty pidgin is actually quite consistent.

I was having a conversation with Ben and Ben a few weeks ago where I suggested this consistent grammar for lolcats could be a “cweeole”. Knowing a bit more about such things now, I realize this isn’t a creole but more likely a pidgin language, used to help cats talk to humans. And since “pidgin” is already a cutesy spelling of a mispronunciation, there doesn’t seem to be any really cute way to rename it to reflect its uniqueness. “Kitty pidgin” might be the closest thing we have to a name for this new language.

Go read the whole post

Oh dear, the academics are on it now. I await the publication of the groundbreaking paper, “Towards an etiology of lol and hai – the semiotics of feline imagery and the developent of language in the floating world.” with interest.

Bloody hell, that actually sounds like quite a believable reserach topic. Anyone got a ESRC funding form handy?

How Do You Spell Relief?

Death by Pepto-Bismol

The funniest thing I’ve read in days is Tbogg’s leisurely demolishment of the mediocrity that is demoted columnist James Lileks. The ensuing comments thread reduced me to a jelly of helpless laughter.

I grow old, I grow old/I shall drink my Pepto-Bismol cold…

I have heard the editors singing each for each/ I do not think they will sing for me.
DJ Escher

You have to love a comment thread that can filk TS Eliot to the tune of an indigestion remedy.

Image from Cosmic Buddha

Giles Wemmbley Hogg (Two Ms, Two Gs) is alive!

and has spent his time backpacking in South East Asia Africa and thinking about cooking, judging from this Comment is Free post:

Backpacking is all about adventure and new experiences: doing things you wouldn’t normally do, trying things you wouldn’t normally try, and taking chances. On my first trip, I wasn’t quite so daring when it came to food. I was surrounded by delicious, fresh local produce, but I ate mainly from a tin. Why would anyone, myself included, choose to scrape overcooked baked beans from the bottom of a pan instead of rustling up something fresh?

My epiphany came on Tiwi Beach in Kenya. I was smearing peanut butter on a piece of bread, as I did every lunchtime, when a local fish-seller came by, pushing his bicycle through the sand. In his bike basket, peeping out from under big green banana leaves, were fresh prawns, caught that morning. I remember looking at them wistfully, trying my hardest, but failing, to remember a recipe. Someone bought a bagful. I went over to him and asked, “what are you going to do with them?” “Eat them of course,” he replied, looking at me like I was a bit deranged. “But what recipe are you going to use?” I said. Then he told me something that would change the way I cooked forever: “There is no recipe, I’m just going to cook it.”

I should add at this point that the guy in question was French, so this came out as, “Zere is no resipee, ahm juss going t’couk eet”. I don’t want to get melodramatic, but it was a big moment for me. He’d uttered what I took to be a sacred truth – and the French accent made it even more hallowed. No recipe? My world was crashing down. What about scales and measuring jugs? How are you supposed to know when things are ready?