Friday, March 2

Every Language Snob in the English-speaking world is now cordially invited to kiss my ass.




Remember all those stuck-up horsebutts who've told you, over the years, that there is no English rhyme for "orange"?

The next time some dumbass pulls that, look hiim straight in the eye and say --

"Door-hinge."

Then tell him you stole it from me.


And send me a dollar.




If they want to pretend it's actually pronounced "or-raynj," say:

"Short-range."


And send me a dollar.



And if they insist on pronouncing in the French mode -- "or-rahnj" -- say:

"Melange."

And tell them to shut the fuck up.



And, of course, send me a dollar.

Don't forget to inform them that every time THEY use this to embarrass some know-it-less-than-all, they have to send me a dollar, too. And so forth.


No rhyme for orange, my ginger-haired butthole.







Or whatever.

15 comments:

Shevchyk said...

I think Oxford would like a loonie from you. Hell, I'll send you a toonie, and let you keep half.

http://www.askoxford.com/asktheexperts/faq/aboutwords/orange

Shehzad said...

Ginger-haired WHAT?

HappyBob said...

As much as I respect you for coining "door-hinge" on your own accord, I'm afraid it's been done. By singing pirates, no less, in the legendary comic adventure game The Curse of Monkey Island. You could not be bested by a worthier opponent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izaKCutkobo

Rumour has it you're also an author. Keep up the great work.

Shevchyk said...

I KNEW that sounded familiar!

Good olde Monkey Island!

Justin said...

Lozenge?

Pirates may not have had cough sweets, but they must have been aware of the rhombus shape?

GameCreator said...

I was going to post that URL but I thought no one would get it. How interesting that there are quite a few adventure game fans visiting Stover's blog.

Samantha said...

I can't pay attention to the curse of Monkey anything with the thought of a ginger haired butthole in my brain. How Am i gonna sleep tonight?

Furbie said...

The same way the rest of us are going to sleep: Badly ;)

reanningson said...

"Rumour has it you're also an author."

*Laughs then points at the guy next to him*

KnnOs said...

Ok, I've had this bouncing around in my head for a long time. I've written it in a couple of other guises before, but this time I'll put it out in front of some people who might actually care. If you don't, that's fine too. (Also, I have a nasty tendency to stray from the point, I've tried to cut most of that out).

Little background on me: I've been a Star Wars fan for years, and it is through Star Wars that I came to know... Mr. Stover? Matthew Stover? What's the accepted identifier on a blog like this? That's beside the point, at any rate I've since branched out and become quite a fan of The Acts of Caine.
I also graduated with a BA in philosophy, though my grad studies were... disappointing. Needless to say, even with my new career focus, I'm possessed of a certain philosophical [i]bend[/i] (38 degrees). Finally, I'm a recovering catholic, I've been a atheist (with some admitted brooding) for 2 years.

I remember when the Legacy series started, and everyone just bought in to the "Vergere is a Sith" business. I was angry, unwontedly so. I sat myself down and really started wondering about it. And over the course of a couple months of thinking and analyzing I came to the (now obvious) conclusion. I'd agreed with her. In a lot of ways, Vergere's (stated) philosophies, both in Traitor and in Destiny's Way, were philosophies I'd taken from other places and incorporated into my self.
Rather than assume that the authors of the Legacy series (writers who I respect for, if nothing else, being published writers of fantasy/fiction) were wrong, I started going through my own beleifs. Nietzche is an obvious starting point. There can be very little doubt that his viewpoint is oftentimes very stark. It is not totally without reason that the Nazi party latched onto him for philosophical justification (despite his probable mortified reaction due to his disdain for nationalism). However, there is one focal point to his philosophies that hung with me, the Will to Power.
A friend and I finally hammered our definition of the Will to Power into this: "That desire common to human beings to act from their own natures, choices and goals, without the various constraints that life imposes on them." Ganner's Stand is particularly fascinating in light of this summation, but I think that it really does inform much of what Vergere tries to impart; anger, fear, aggression, these are part of being human, and should not be avoided. Rather, we as people must be aware of what drives our emotions (and therefore instructs our actions), and ensure that how we live is because of our will, rather than the knee-jerk reactions to our emotions, or because mommy or santa claus or whatever external force expects us to behave a certain way.
I do not beleive this is wrong, I do not beleive that the fall of Jacen Solo is really well-presented from a philosophical side of view, except for one crucial quote from Traitor, "Is it what the teacher teaches, or the student learns?"
So this all leads up to one thing. The vague emotional pain I endured when a fictional character (pang of shame) stopped being respectable is gone. I learned my own lessons from the things I've read and the teachers I've studied under. No doubt some of these beleifs are outside their worldview, but I know the best of my teachers would be satisfied with that.
So thank you, Matthew Stover, for providing yet another viewpoint into this life. I have profited from it.

Speaking of, do I owe you a dollar now or what? ;)

Lost SW fan on the web said...

Out of interest, how many stuck-up horsebutts have told you over the years that there is no English rhyme for "orange"?

PS. Lets not forget that Luminya is a Sith, not the sort of person you'd lend money to, etc etc. We only have her word that Vergere was a Sith (my own reaction upon reading this on Wookiepedia could genteely phrased as "well that's a load of £$$%%$!"

urbankensei said...

Just like the Chinese curse states, "May you live in interesting times." Vonnegut showed how Americans are, could be, and maybe should be. Just like you do, Matt.

Salt-Man Z said...

My favorite rhyme for 'orange' is by Tom Lehrer, who gave this short rhyme in an interview I read somewhere: (orange being pronounced "ah-runj")

Eating an orange while making love
Makes for bizzare enjoyment thereof


By the way, MWS: I love your stuff. Okay, I've only Traitor, and the Caine books, but that's been enough to cement you as one of my all-time favorites, up with Donaldson, Card, and Richard Adams. I can't wait for Black Knife!

Open trials said...

I'll just throw in any word that ends in "-ange" as well. Pronounce as desired.

flange

phalange

range

mange

tange (bicycle tubing manufacturer)

I think the usual objection is actually that there are no "perfect" or double syllabic rhymes for "orange".
Or for "purple" or "silver" for that matter.

David Pickett said...

Odd, isn't it, that those three words are all color words? The one non-color no-rhyme word I know is "syzygy." Come to think of it, though, that sounds like it should be a color, some blazing, violent shade of red that you'd only find in the Crayola 512-crayon box (once they come up with it). Ah, crayons...nothing like whipping out a giant box of crayons and a nice coloring book and going to town. The waxy tints lend themselves well to shading and smudging, though you have to be careful with the off-brands, which chunk up like hard curdled milk and end up in the carpet, where they get smashed into the fibers, leading your wife (or husband, no intended genderism here) to take the poker from the stand next to the fireplace and lay it about your head, shoulders, and pale, bony withers, while you yelp and scramble to get away, slipping in the puddle of urine you just let out and landing face-first in the cool, scratchy wool/silk blend fibers of the aforementioned carpet, and wouldn't it be nice to just have a bit of a nap right now? Maybe slip on out for a quick dream of a land where the dew lays heavy on the green grass, an hour before dawn, stars beaming down on you like the bright, bright eyes of your ancestors, pitiless but somehow, you feel, urging you on in your struggle to make something sensible out of your life. And before your darkening eyes, soaking into the carpet fibers, your blood seems to form the letters of an alien language, spelling out -- somehow you know this -- the name of the very color it is: syzygy.