Category Archives: Movies, Television and Radio

Save the plural noun

At some point, while we were not paying attention, a whole bunch of plural word forms became singular.  

This is not just an occasional slip by an unknowing individual.  The singularization of plural word forms is being committed by well educated people who should know better.

Pick up the paper or turn on the news and you will hear how “the data shows” or “the media is” or that someone was “an alumni” of such-and-such university.  I’ve lost count of the number of times I have heard people with advanced degrees ask, “what was the criteria” for such and such.

Have we become afraid of using correct word forms because they “sound funny?”  I’ve had a number of readers tell me they sometimes hesitate to use a word correctly because it “sounds funny” or “seems weird.”  Perhaps certain word choices seem funny or weird because their correct uses are becoming so endangered they shock our ears.

At the same time, let us not shun our singular nouns, and instead embrace the news medium, medical datum, selection criterion and university alumnus.  If we turn our backs on these singular words, they will sound ever weirder and funnier and eventually, become extinct.  Then our children and their children will never know–or speak–the truth.

Similarly, when we are using the plural, let us avoid disagreement between noun and verb.  Let us set a good example with the data show, the media are, the criteria were, or the alumni give.

As many will point out, some modern sources have loosened their standards.  This is likely because they believe the tide of common practice is too high to suppress.  Kind of like white shoes before Memorial Day.

How sad.

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Not very nice

Because it has been years since I have had any formal study, I’ve been treating myself to some self guided continuing education, including brushing up on literary terms, figures of speech and such.  I came across one yesterday that I am not sure I ever learned in the first place.

Or perhaps I blocked it from my memory. 

I am talking about the bdelygmia.

Ah, yes, you say.  The old bdelygmia.  Actually, if you watch cable news with any regularity, you could hear a commentator utter one in some form at least once a night, especially in the current political climate.

A bdelygmia (the b is silent) is a litany of abuse.  It’s been described as the perfect rant, a series of explicit insults, if you will. 

The 19th century English author and poet Edward Lear was said to have written that a “vile beastly rottenheaded foolbegotten brazenthroated pernicious piggish screaming, tearing, roaring, perplexing, splitmecrackle crashmecriggle insane ass of a woman is practicing howling below-stairs with a brute of a singingmaster so horribly, that my head is nearly off.”

As my tastes are a bit more pedestrian, I’d say my favorite bdelygmia comes from the movie Christmas Vacation, in which Clark Griswold, after being denied the Christmas bonus he was counting on, says this about his boss:  

“I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, ****less, hopeless, heartless, fat-***, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey **** he is. Hallelujah. Holy sh**.  Where’s the Tylenol?”

Perhaps you have one of your own, festering in your head or sitting in your Drafts folder, awaiting a cooling off period.  Feel free to share; just don’t aim it at anyone.

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Tweener screener

Have you seen him?   He’s an 11-year-old movie critic, who works as “Lights, Camera, Jackson,” and will knock your socks off.

I caught him on television over the weekend and was floored.  This child was as poised and articulate as any adult I’ve heard interviewed.  Even for a child, he’s animated and expressive.  What he can do with his voice and his face are astonishing.  My first reaction was that, in both manner and appearance, he could be a child Paul Giamatti.

He’s been doing movie reviews since he was seven and aspires to be a TV game show host.

I may be late in discovering this preteen prodigy.  Already, he has won a New York Emmy in the category of On-Camera Talent: Commentator or Editorialist.

There is an age-old debate over whether effective public speakers are born or made.  In my consulting practice, I do a fair amount of speaker training, so I’d like to think it’s the latter.  In reality, the truth is likely somewhere in between.

The speakers I work with are typically subject matter experts.  To know what one is talking about is a good start.  But what makes the subject matter really pop is the delivery which, if it doesn’t come naturally, can be an effort to coax—and coach—out.

I doubt Jackson Murphy has needed much coaching.   When asked what was the first movie he saw, he said Mulan, when he was in his “mother’s womb.”  It is evident this child came into the world hip to the entertainment scene.  He talks about story lines, quality scripts and character development as other 11-year-olds talk about Nintendo.

His delivery is remarkable.  Eye contact, hand gestures, voice inflexion, he’s got it all down.  He says “yes,” rather than “yeah,” and uses neither an “uh” nor an “um.”  He finishes each sentence with a crisp, definitive stop.

Just think what he’ll be able to do once he’s old enough to see an R-rated movie.

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Holiday rituals

I logged in to the Internet this morning and saw Comcast’s Memorial Day Quiz on my home page.  I took it, in part because I wanted to write about Memorial Day today and I thought it might provide some ideas.  I scored 58 out of 150.  I am the first to admit I am not great at history.  But in my defense, I was distracted by all the typos in the questions.  I then took it again.  Different questions, fewer typos, but still…Star Spanged Banner, Arlington Cemetary, rememberance.   This time I scored 148.

Memorial Day means different things to different people.  For my husband and me, it used to be all about Dewey Beach.

I commemorated the holiday yesterday.  In church I joined in prayers for those who have given their lives in service to our country, and their families.  I thought of the American teenagers who have died in war these last nine years, and prayed for their mothers.  I joined in singing Eternal Father, Strong to Save, also known as the United States Navy Hymn, which asks protection of those serving on land and sea and in the air. 

Then I went home and had a barbeque.

Today I will partake in another important Memorial Day ritual:  taking out my white pants and shoes.  I know this news will elicit snickers from family members in Arizona who have been wearing white since March.  Anyone who knows me is aware I am an etiquette purist.  Pathologically compliant.  For me, living on the edge means wearing white on the Sunday before Memorial Day, but never past Labor Day.  I won’t even wear spectators outside the Memorial-to-Labor Day window.

I believe etiquette makes our lives easier by providing a clear framework for our behavior and lifting responsibility for making decisions about such matters.

In the movie Serial Mom, which stars Kathleen Turner (and my Aunt Patsy), a Martha Stewart-like homemaker brutally murders those who commit simple etiquette violations, such as smacking gum, stealing a parking space and not rewinding a video rental.  In her final act, she slaughters Patty Hearst for wearing white shoes after Labor Day.

See, I just wouldn’t want to risk the consequences.

Happy Memorial Day.

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Heaven’s house party

I woke up yesterday to the news of the passing of Art Linkletter and suddenly the world felt a little less good.

It’s hard to think of someone who gave so much to so many just by being himself, a bit reserved in the background, while spotlighting the world’s funniest entertainers—young children.

Those of my generation grew up watching House Party but we didn’t entirely get what was so funny until we were grown.   What a treat it was to watch Art Linkletter with my son when in 1998 CBS introduced Kids Say the Darndest Things, hosted by Bill Cosby, on which Linkletter made occasional appearances.

Art Linkletter lived to be 97, was married 74 years and outlived three out of five of his children. 

There is plenty to read about his interesting life, much of which was news to me.  So pick up yesterday’s paper or go online and you’ll surely be as warmed—yet sad—as I.

What I especially loved was something he wrote in a reprint of one of his books:  “Children under ten and women over seventy give the best interviews for the identical reason: they speak the plain unvarnished truth.”

Now if Bill Cosby lives to 97, I’ll feel better.

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The princess bribe

Sarah, honey, how could you do it?  As those of us here in Washington, D.C. could have told you, money for influence is a tricky notion, one that usually doesn’t reflect well in headlines, not to mention on hidden camera.

But you appeared on video, soliciting large sums in exchange for access to your influential ex-husband.  It was painful to watch, especially for you.

Next time, maybe you’ll consider all those who’ve looked up to you all these years.  Think of the children whose parents read them Budgie the Little Helicopter—which by the way, our son loved.  My husband and I used to hide Budgie on nights when we were too tired to read it (it was a little long) but our son always found it and brought it to us beggingly.  You were a part of us even then.

Think of all of us whom you inspired with your Weight Watchers commercials.  The way you pronounced Weight Wohchahs lent sophistication to our point-counting.

We looked up to you and yet you were a duchess we could relate to, with your struggles with weight and overindulgence, and those unflattering swimsuit shots.  We rooted for you when the tabloids exposed your troubles.  But this latest misstep has put your supporters in one sticky wicket.

We understand that, financially, you have fallen on hard times.  There, there, dear.  Come join me for two-for-one night at Ruby Tuesday and we’ll work through it.  That is, if you don’t end up doing hard porridge in the chokey.

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Golden Girls

About 20 years ago, I worked in an office with an extraordinary group of people, many of whom were women my age.

When you spend more than a third of your day with the same people, you become close.  These women and I had our children together and, in the ensuing years, we shared everything–the challenges of working and rearing children,  strategies for making it through each day with our sanity, recipes, more laughs than can be counted and oceans of tears.  Some of these women have passed on, a sad reality that has brought the rest of us even closer.

Once, in the office lunch room, I suggested that maybe someday we would all live together, like the Golden Girls, which was at the height of its run on television.  I painted a picture of us sharing a house in Florida, driving around in a big convertible, with our head scarves tied tightly beneath our sagging chins.

In The Golden Girls series, which ran from 1985 to 1992, the characters played by Bea Arthur, Betty White and Rue McClanahan were in their early 50s.  Estelle Getty played Sophia, who was 70, tops.

The day before yesterday, I had lunch with three of my old girlfriends.  It hit me then that we had, alas, become the Golden Girls.

After settling in according to who needed to sit on which side of whose good ear, many parts of the conversation still had to be repeated.  There was, after all, background noise in the restaurant.

Next came the organ recital.  We discussed our health screenings, what conditions are plaguing us, which body parts ache and what meds we take.  We talked about our feet, debating which are worse, problems with the plantar or those of the metatarsal.

We talked about our emptying nests and commiserated about all it has taken to help our hatchlings fly on their own.  We also heard what it’s like to have an adult child move back home with all of her children.

We heard news of parents and more former colleagues who had passed.

We acknowledged the challenges of dwindling incomes and investments and compared notes on which chain restaurants offer two-for-one entrees on which weeknights.

We laughed at all the old lady behaviors we’ve adopted, such as finding a blouse we like and buying it in every color.

I shared that I had recently bought half a pie.

What brought our lunch to a close was a conversation about television–what shows we like and the fact that you can now can get TV programming through Netflix, which streams through the Wii. 

That was it.  Just the idea of “streaming through the Wii” sent us rushing to the ladies’ room, where we shared a final laugh and called it a day.

I haven’t bothered to take the Which Sex and the City Girl Are You quiz that’s going around in anticipation of the new movie.

Instead, I will start my own quiz and ask my peers to consider:  Which Golden Girl are you?

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Ambush advertising

The new Kraft mayonnaise commercial is not only entertaining but extremely clever.

Have you seen it?  It’s a takeoff on the Extreme Makeover shows.  The wife was always making tiny finger sandwiches, like the ones you’d have at high tea, and the husband was forlorn.  Kraft bursts in and does an extreme sandwich makeover with its new seasoned mayo and an oversized roll, and the result moves both husband and wife to tears.

Advertising Age ran a story earlier this year on Kraft’s push to step up its marketing strategy following the company’s acquisition of Cadbury.  Kraft has produced some pretty memorable ads over the years.  Remember the famous “And I helped!” for Shake and Bake? Ad Age points out that the company continues to wear a bit of a down-home label when it comes to its commercials.

Twenty-four years ago, Neil Postman wrote Amusing Ourselves to Death:  Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, in which he discussed how television and other entertainment media spill over into politics and public dialogue.  Even after 24 years, while the entertainment media are vastly transformed, a point Postman made regarding television advertising holds true today, as Kraft proves in its Sandwich Makeover campaign:  “What the advertiser needs to know is not what is right about the product but what is wrong about the buyer.”

What better way is there than an ambush makeover to make a consumer feel bad enough about herself to run right out and buy mayonnaise?

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Further study

One of my favorite movies is Finding Forrester.  The reasons are many—the plot, the cast, the characters and the writing among them—but mostly its treatment of language.  The movie is also a good resource for remembering the rule governing “farther” versus “further.”

Finding Forrester, released in 2000, was directed by Gus Van Sant, who also directed Good Will Hunting.  The entertainment site IMDB notes that the two movies essentially have the same plot:  “An underprivileged youth is discovered by a reclusive genius and is shepherded to his full potential. What GWH was to math, this film is to literature.”  If you haven’t seen it, or seen it lately, it’s worth watching or watching again.

Sean Connery plays a reclusive Pulitzer-prize winning author who very begrudgingly befriends a teenaged basketball player.  As it turns out, the teen, who hangs out on city streets, is interested in writing.

Jamal Wallace, played by Rob Brown, manages to get in to an elite private school on a basketball scholarship.  There is immediate tension between Jamal and his haughty English professor.

One day in class, the professor says to Jamal, “Perhaps your skills do reach farther than basketball.”

Jamal replies, “Further.”

“What?”

A student tries to stop Jamal from challenging the professor.  Jamal continues, “You said that my skills reached ‘farther’ than basketball. ‘Farther’ relates to distance, ‘further’ is a definition of degree. You should have said ‘further.’”

Great scene.  Good lesson.

I have plenty of friends and colleagues with whom I have debated “farther” versus “further.”  Some claim the two are completely interchangeable.  There are some sources that support that claim but sufficiently more that explain the distinction.  “Farther” applies to an advancement in physical distance while “further” means to a greater degree.  “Further” also applies to an advancement of time or figurative distance, e.g., to take the discussion a bit further.  It is also used as a verb, such as to further one’s education, as well as an adverb to mean additionally.

A colleague once told me she just doesn’t like “farther” so always uses “further.”

I am always puzzled when people just plain do not like a word and deem it better to use incorrectly a different word in its place. 

With the exception of profanity, there really are no bad words.  Every word has its purpose.  The key is to know the purpose and to use the word correctly. 

There are several examples of word rules I have trouble remembering.

Maybe one day there will be a movie that helps me with “bring” versus “take.”

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Comunidad

Unable to even spell TiVO, if I don’t watch something when it airs, I don’t see it.  When I get to see a show I like, it’s an extra special treat. 

I am out of town many Thursdays, so it’s rare when I get to view all that great programming everyone raves about.

Last night I watched a show I swore I’d watch every week when it premiered last fall.  I am still laughing. 

I first watched NBC’s Community because I am wholly devoted to Chevy Chase.  I recall it got terrible reviews but, no surprise, I loved it.  I just never saw it again for whatever reason. 

If you’re re a fan you already know the premise – it involves seven students belonging to a Spanish study group at a community college.  Community features a stellar cast.  Chevy Chase plays the former head of a moist towelette company and a member of the study group.  

The Spanish class is taught by Señor Chang who in last night’s episode reveals that he lacks the credentials to be a Spanish instructor and confesses he has been getting by on phrases from Sesame Street.  Oops; hope you hadn’t DVR’ed it.

In a separate plot line, one of the characters is defending his choice to stay in school instead of taking a job as a plumber.  He finishes his list of reasons for getting an education with “so I can understand HBO.”

Personally, I find the writing clever but there are other reasons the show speaks to me.  I was a Spanish major in college.  I also relate on an uncomfortable level to the character Annie, a Type-A optimist for whom the study group is the biggest part of her social life.   And I love moist towelettes.

Next week is the season finale and I’ll have to miss it.  I’ve seen two episodes, the first one and now the penultimate.   I guess this means I’ll have a summer of reruns to look forward to–provided I can become best friends with someone who has TiVO.

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