Thursday, May 11, 2017
Cliches: Avoid Them Like the Plague, by Karla Stover
bwlauthors.blogspot.com karla stover
In 1988, Brunswick, Maine's Chief of Police told his police force to quit using the phrase, "Have a Nice Day," when on duty. He called it, "an absurdly shallow insult," And since the phrase is over 800 years old, it's also a little shopworn. The 12th century British poet, Layamon used it in Chronicle of Britain, writing its variant, "Have a good day." A couple of hundred years later, Chaucer became a devotee of the phrase. The American Heritage Dictionary of Idioms says "Have a Good Day became popular in the 1920s and the rest, dare I say, is history.
The word, cliché, has interesting history. In 1725, the Scottish goldsmith, William Ged, patented a printing process where moveable type struck soft lead to create a duplicate plate. The action made a clicking or clacking sound. Not long after, French printer/engraver, Firmin Didot, (among others) improved the process, and Firman called it stereotype from the Greek words for solid and type. Then printers began calling the plate itself, le cliché, cliché being the past participle of the verb, clicher, which describes clacking sounds. Thus, a cliché was a duplicate of the original and, by the 19th century, when the English adopted the word, it was used to describe something timeworn.
Alexander Pope gave us one well-known cliché: "Hope Springs Eternal," but William Shakespeare gave us dozens: Too Much of a Good thing; "Seen Better Days;" and my personal favorite, "Cry Havoc and let Slip the Dogs of War." He also borrowed from the Bible: "Skin of My Teeth (Job 19:20) and Job also gave us, "Have a Narrow Escape."
Athletes seem as if they never met a cliché they didn't like. Consider the following: "This is a Good Win For us;" "My Comments Were Taken Out of Context,"and my personal favorite, "A Tie is Like Kissing Your Sister."
And then there's politics: "The Buck Stops Here," (about responsibility); "The Smoke-filled Room," (where deals are done); and my personal favorite, "I Know it When I See it," (about obscenity.
In his book, Tales of a Traveler, the American author, Washington Irving wrote, "The inn had been aroused several months before, on a dark and stormy night" thus giving us one of our best known clichés.
Anyone who Googles or Yahoo(s) the word, cliché, will see that there are dozens of books listing them but few ideas on how to eliminate them. Reading your writing aloud seems to be the best bet. Others include, know your subject; avoid copying another's writing style and, probably the best piece of advice: "be direct, simple, brief, lucid, and vigorous."
As Samuel Goldwyn, head of MGM, once said, "Let's Have Some New Clichés."
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
History of the Tribe of Possum
So I looked into the natural history of my marsupial buddies
today, and here’s what I found. Once upon a time, 70 million years ago or
thereabouts, these little guys emerged from the Cretaceous North American underbrush.
The proto-possums are called Peradectids, at least, that’s the latest research
from the University of Florida and those sooooooutherners should know a thing or two about possums,
after all.
Proto-possum was sharing his territory with the dinosaur, so things were probably pretty tough. Then, just 5 million years or so later—the mere blink of an eye in geologic time—that famous or infamous asteroid struck, putting a sudden, dramatic end to the long reign of dino domination. Possums survived.
Proto-possum was sharing his territory with the dinosaur, so things were probably pretty tough. Then, just 5 million years or so later—the mere blink of an eye in geologic time—that famous or infamous asteroid struck, putting a sudden, dramatic end to the long reign of dino domination. Possums survived.
What is more, they used the new space they’d acquired, after
emerging from various fallout shelters—probably the gigantic ribcages of their
now deceased neighbors—and, in a fit of exuberance, split into several families.
Eating insects, fruit and eggs and other people’s leftovers, they trudged down
Mexico way and over the land bridge into South America, where they continued to
evolve. At this time, South America, Antarctica and Australia were still cuddled
up together on a big comfy couch of floating basalt, and so from here, the proto-marsupials
marched on to find new homes.
The three continents finally parted company and drifted away
from one another. Eventually isolated in Australia, the marsupial line would
proliferate into many strange and wonderful shapes. Sadly, most of these exotic
critters are now extinct or on their way out, like the legendary Tasmanian
Devil, who is really—cartoon aside—quite a fetching little beast.
Meanwhile, in North America, all the possums went extinct during
a time when North and South America were no longer connected. Therefore, for an
epoch or two, North America was deprived of this a vital member of Nature’s
clean-up crew. Fortunately, for fans, like me, a short three
million years ago, the land bridge between North and South America rose again—or
the ocean receded, locked up in the polar ice caps or whatever—and possums
returned to their ancient point of origin once again.
Now, while you are laughing at possum—mashed by the side of
road—no doubt intentionally driven over by some bully of an ape with delusions
of grandeur because he sits in a machine with an internal combustion engine—well,
think again. The “dawn of man” --and
guess what, guys? There wouldn’t have been any “dawn” at all without woman, too—this
“dawn” began a mere 3 million years ago, about the time possum was returning
from his successful South American road trip.
Now, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit—true proto-primates of our line came
on the scene some 55 million years ago—but essentially, possum is, was and has
been, possum. You’d recognize a Peradectid as a possum, but you sure as heck
wouldn’t recognize that little shrew type critter with the forward facing eyes hanging
in a tree as a member of your family.
There’s something to be said for plain and simple, for
humility, for making do, and the will to survive, which this primitive, nearly defenseless little beast has in spades . And that’s why I love
Possums.
I am in the grandma zone, a long time writer and poet, posting at Crone Henge and BWL these days just because. Wish I could travel, and last year I was lucky enough to get back to the UK, specifically to Avebury to reconnect with the ancient temple. Hiking, camping, lover of solitude, cats, moons and gardens.
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