one sentence

Bearing grief and hope, he silently placed fragrant flowers upon the earth scorched no more, at least to the naked eye, Hiroshimaed by memory and loss.

dial tone

Terms from the last century, artifacts from another age, which if said rapidly, fait la liaison, as the French say (and as Phil Ochs did it in song), sounds like "another rage": dial tone, land line, busy signal, modem hookup, Polaroid, dial, rotary, party line, long distance, directory assistance. What did these words mean in the 20th century? And what do they mean in this age? Each of them meant something. Each has a lexical hangover of some sort or another, masquerading and strutting as if these words could declare, as they used to, quite automatically, "Everyone gets it. Everyone knows what I'm talking about!" Who could not be jealous of such linguistic surety, such bold certitude? Now, these words or phrases are relics, on the shore, verbal driftwood, polished into alien sculptures.

interlocutor interruptus

Yeah, no

But then I

You know

Because

If only

Know what I'm sayin'

And then

You don't understand

Me too

You were wrong

Told you so

Right

Nope

No, yeah

Not me

You're crazy

So I

Never

That was like

Wait

But

cheeseburger cheeseburger cheeseburger

At Quaker State and Lube, QSL, I ordered a cheeseburger, hold the cheese. Otherwise, there was no way to get a plain ol' hamburger w/ lettuce, tomato, and mayo.

The cheeseburger sans cheese, a.k.a. hamburger arrived.

Atop the underside of the top (i.e., the puffy, rounded portion) of the roll sat the patty, the meat.

The bottom portion of the roll held some shreds of lettuce and a flimsy tomato.

This is increasingly typical, the new normal.

Upside-down burgers in an upside-down world. The burger should be on the bottom, the other stuff on top. Period, no questions asked.

Tully's does this, too, I believe.

Many places do it.

Why?

When did this silliness start?

Why?

Serves me right for failing to practice my more typical locavore principles.

twenty syllables

semidemiquasipseudopostmonochromaticalexistentialist

Run that baby through your spellchecker!

A Taxonomy of Taxiness

This in today's Syracuse Post-Standard:

"At midafternoon, stickers on entrance doors to the restaurant stated,

' This property has been seized for nonpayment of taxes and is in possession of New York state.' "

Yikes! Would I love to be the lawyer representing that defendant, if the sticker posted on the premises has any bearing on the case.

So, let me parse this parsimoniously: if you want to gain possession of one of the largest states in the Union, the venerable Empire State, just stop paying your taxes?

It's a queer bit of illogical logic, but these are odd times.

Who said grammar ain't important (or impotent, pronounced with the accent on the second syllable for humorous effect)?

Talk about the -tax in syntax!

Diurnal Emission

It's been said, but can't help being noticed.

The eruption of spring.

In one day going from bud to blossom.

The redbud's lavender on the spiny fingers of branch.

The shock of the new: walking in Burnet Park, along the curb, a dusting of lavenderpinkpurple confetti-ish snow. From what from where?

The crabapple a few hundred yards away, casually blizzarding, I guess.

Photos?

Never.

Could never capture this new upon new upon tawny stale breath of wintergray.

The syntax of spring. The grammar of glory (grammar and glamour are related etymologically).

Deo gratias.

Bitchy 'bout Pitchy

I am neither a musicologist, nor a musician, nor a music theoretician. Nor am I a connoisseur of pop culture. However, by background and training I can lay claim to more than a passing knowledge of semantics and diction and syntax and rhetoric, which brings us of course to the topic of "American Idol."

I like Simon Cowell the most because of his acerbic wit and semblance of taste; his capacity for unflinching criticism. I don't much care for Paul Abdul's critiques, but, hey, she's foxy and a champion of the underdog; always willing to encourage. Randy Jackson is the middle ground between "good cop" Paula and "bad cop" Simon, plus he brings a wealth of music industry experience to the role.

But what is it about his use of the word "pitchy," huh, dawg?

I guess Mr. Jackson means something like "wandering away from the desired pitch" or "not adhering to perfect pitch." I don't know. As I said, I am not "the music man." Surely, he is not invoking the sense found in my trusty old Oxford English Dictionary (OED), or even in Merriam-Webster's: pitch-black or tarry.

Unfortunately, if Randy has a problem with a contestant's performance, you are pretty much guaranteed to hear him declare that the performance was "pitchy" in places.

Help me out here. Help Randy out too, okay, folks?

We need some synonyms.

I'm itchin' for some pinch-hittin' for pitchy.

(Well, I never claimed to be any kind of rhymester, buster.)