Much to the chagrin of traditionalists, the English language is dynamic as annual updates to dictionaries illustrate. The numerous ways we engage with the internet is one catalyst for change.
In my blogging I’ve recently discovered an important language gap. What do you call it when a commenter’s (e.g. Francis’s, Michael’s) reply is more insightful and engaging than the original post? Exactly, there’s no such word. So, unless any of you have a better idea, from now on I will refer to such comments as “sops”, which stands for “supersedes original post”. Here’s some possible forms it might take. “Man, the recent run-up in sops has been a bit embarrassing.” Or “Yo dude, better raise your game, you’ve been getting mega-sopped lately.” Or “Stop sopping me or start your own damn blog.”
Shifting gears, what’s with the egregious overuse of “nation” to demarcate group identity? The Colbert Nation, Raider Nation, Bruin Nation, fill-in-the-blank Nation. (When describing the current administration’s policies, my right-wing friends forgo the space and just go with Obamanation.) Maybe I should rename the blog “Ron Nation”, “Byrnes Nation”, or “A, L, to the Dizzle Nation”. Maybe this “nation” overload is a reaction to every nation’s ebbing sovereignty. As a global citizen I hereby declare myself a member of the United Nations Nation, a sometimes maligned group, but they have a much better record than Raider Nation.
Unless you’re sleepwalking through this post, you noticed a little hip hop somethin’ somethin’ smack dab in the middle of the previous paragraph. That’s right, a new nickname, thanks to ‘dra. I call Alexandra, one of my daughter’s friends, ‘dra because when you’re my age and an endurance athlete you have to conserve energy. Calling my daughters’ friends by their nicknames drives said daughter crazy, so being semi-stuck in adolescence, I do it more. Fortunately, ‘dra doesn’t mind and she’s one of my favs. The other day in the middle of swim practice she gave me a new nickname. That’s right, from Ronald, “A,L, to the dizzle.”
Nicknames are funny. They’re given to you and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve had some I’ve liked over the years, Rook (from an older friend), Rhode Island Red, H.D. (for Heavy Duty), and now, “A, L, to the dizzle.” Let me pause here and ask the best editor on the planet a question. Mom, should I be capitalizing the “D”? I’ve reluctantly embraced other nicknames like “Slip” and some that are not appropriate for the family audience. Slip stems from my tendency to sometimes lie down on the street and rest when running in the winter. I admit, I can be vertically challenged.
As a parting gift, a word for you to begin dropping into conversation, bifurcate, split or divide into two. It’s important to ease into it’s use though. Once it rolls off your tongue you can proceed to bifurcated, bifurcation, and if you’re really feeling it, bifurcating. It’s a perfectly balanced word in that your use of it won’t cause the guy on the stool next to you to call you a “pretentious, elitist ass,” but at the same time he’ll know you read more than the sports page. Sample sentence. Saturday’s bifurcated run included a longer, steady segment, followed by a shorter, faster one.
Pressing Pause 