Quid Me Anxius Sum?

Latin for “What Me Worry?” – the motto of Mad magazine’s impish mascot, Alfred E. Neuman. Translations can often be tricky. The Latin literally translates as “What am I worried?”  This illustrates the problem of translating idioms.


Each of our 50 states has a motto. Twenty of them are in Latin, twenty-four are English and the remaining six include: Chinook (Washington), Greek (California), Hawaiian (duh, Hawaii), French (Minnesota), Spanish (Montana) and Italian (Maryland). South Carolina and Kentucky have two. For the curious readers, both of South Carolina’s are Latin; Kentucky has one Latin and one English.

Maryland’s Italian motto is Fatti mashii, Parole femine. This archaic form of Italian comes from the Calvert family crest. While this idiom means “Strong deeds, Gentle words,” it literally translates as "Manly deeds, Womanly words." 

The state I grew up in, New Jersey, has the motto,  Liberty and Prosperity. Over the years, the Garden State has had several slogans. In 2005, the state wanted a new one. An ad agency was hired, but to no avail. They then looked to the citizens of NJ for ideas. The winner was a conglomerate of submitted ideas. “New Jersey, Come See For Yourself” An example of how lame marketing by committee can be. 

I submitted my own: “New Jersey, Here’s Your F@*#in’ Garden”. Graphically the spokesperson, traditionally the governor, would cup his/her genitalia as he/she intoned this "Jersey as you can get" slogan. 

I described an entire campaign -  a group of hikers in the Kittatinny Mountains, life guards on a beach, Revolutionary War reenactors on the battlefield in Monmouth, farmers in the blueberry patches in Hammonton, a group of Giants and Jets at the Meadowlands, Bruce and Little Steven on the stage at the Stone Pony - all grabbing their crotches yelling “New Jersey, Here’s Your F@$#in’ Garden.” 


The campaign would have generated international attention. The state would have achieved tons of free publicity - news articles, commentaries, editorials, late-night talk show fodder... but nooooo! Once again  I had cast intellectual pearls before cretinous swine. Or maybe they just thought this New Jersey idiom wouldn't translate well out of state? – as ever BB  

“Ridicule is the tribute paid to the genius by the mediocrities.” - Oscar Wilde

Apology for Musings and Doggerel*

* Actually started this over a year ago as the introductory blog for this discourse. I forgot about it, then stumbled on it earlier this week. Better late than never as Chaucer coined. A mind is a terrible thing when wasted. - BB

From the Greek “apologia” in the manner of Plato, Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas, I write this to give insight to my frame of mind. Be afraid, be very afraid.

1954… the Lone Ranger’s last radio episode aired, the H-Bomb was tested on Bikini Atoll, Bill Haley & the Comets recorded “Rock Around the Clock". America was in transition. World War II morphed into the Korean War that morphed into the Cold War. Amid this melee, I was born.

The bosom of the 50s nurtured me. The golden age of television’s glowing cathode ray was my lodestar. Nascent rock n’ roll was my lullaby.  “May you live in interesting times,” is said to be an ancient Chinese curse. Actually written by a Victorian-era British writer, it is apocryphal, yet apropos.

A brief list of events that occurred while I aged from 5 to 10:

1959 – Revolution in Cuba led by Fidel Castro

1960 – U2 pilot Gary Powers shot down over Russia  - war possible

1961 – Berlin wall erected – war possible

1962 – Cuban Missile Crisis – war imminent

1963 – President John F. Kennedy assassinated

1964 – Troops, not just advisers, sent to Vietnam.

Those are just the highlights of what occurred during my first 10 years on this planet. Mixing that with the normal twists and turns of childhood produced a strange potting soil to germinate the sprouting seeds of my consciousness.

Theories on personality development abound - Psychoanalytic, Humanist, Behaviorist, and Biopsychological to name a few. Whatever witch's brew of genetics, societal factors and husbandry produced the psyche that types these words is inconsequential. I have no idea what will incite my interest and give impetus to my doggerel. 

My father was once asked why I acted as I did. Dad shrugged his shoulders and said, "All I can tell you is when he was a kid, I put more stitches in his head than I can count." - as ever - BB
“I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.” -Oscar Wilde 

Sinister

Adjective - 1. giving the impression something harmful or evil is happening, or will happen 2. wicked or criminal - from Latin sinister - left

This Saturday, August 13, is Left-Handers Day. Lefties have rights too.


As one of 10% of the earth's population who is left-handed, I have suffered slings and arrows from the dexterous world. (From the Latin dexter - on the right)



Since ancient times, those using the left hand have been deemed instruments of the devil. What makes one left-handed? Theories abound. Researchers have discovered specific alleles of at least one of three single-nucleotide polymorphisms linked to left-handedness. I still prefer Flip Wilson's Geraldine postulate, "The Devil made me do it!" 

Growing up, the world seemed full of devices designed to disturb my disposition: scissors, spiral-bound notebooks, ladles, can-openers, corkscrews, et. al. The right side of the brain controls lefties. We are imaginative and creative; ergo, we survive well in a right dominated environment. 


So they say. I think the anguish of sinistromanuality explains why the left-handed lifespan is 9 years less than that of our right-handed brethren. 


Despite all of this, I enjoy being left-handed. I relish in being different. All my life, I've had a distaste for following the crowd. Am I a lefty because of my contrariness? Or is being contrary symptomatic of my left-handness? Causa latet, vis est notissima - Ovid (The cause is hidden, but the result is well known.)


I have one idiosyncratic lefty dysfunction which upsets me - the inability to use a fountain pen. One with a gold nib will form to your hand so that only you can write correctly with it. However, I have yet to find an ink that dries quickly enough. The drag of my left hand over the written words smudge out any possibility of using this stylish stylus. 


Left-handers excel in fencing. 44% of the world's top rated fencers are lefties. Alas, the pen may be mightier than the sword, but lefties make better swordsmen than scribes - As ever BB


"I am not afraid of the pen, or the scaffold, or the sword. I will tell the truth wherever I please." Mary Harris "Mother"  Jones 

Smell as Sweet

"What's in a name? that which we call a rose/By any other name would smell as sweet" - William Shakespeare 

My topic is not a late 16th century play based on an Italian love story, but a 1957 film noir classic, The Sweet Smell of Success. The alluded aroma is not the fragrance of a rose, but the stench of entertainment's underworld of gossip columnists, press agents and mendacity.


The film did poorly in the box office. From the title, moviegoers expected to see Tony Curtis in a light-hearted comedy. Burt Lancaster fans expected a hero role. The film disappointed the audience. It's definative film noir full of unsavory characters, collusion and New York City neon juxtaposed against gritty street scenes. 


Martin Milner of Route 66 and Adam-12 portrays a jazz guitar player. He maintains his integrity while being unjustly smeared as a "marijuana smoking communist." West Coast jazz combo, the Chico Hamilton Quintet acts the part of the band.  Milner replaces John Pisano, who's left hand was used in the movie. This only adds to my personal fondness for the film. 


The pièce de résistance for me is the language. (A piece of Baltimore trivia associated with the film is the character in Barry Levinson's Diner who speaks only in quotes from this movie) Here are some of my favorite bon mots:
Steve (Milner) to J.J. (Lancaster): "You've got more twists than a barrel of pretzels." 
Steve to Sidney (Curtis) after Sidney feeds him some press agent fast talking: "That's fish four days old; I won't buy it."
J.J. to Sidney: "I'd hate to take a bite out of you. You're a cookie full of arsenic."
Sidney to J.J. - "The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river."


I watched this film again Sunday afternoon and you can expect to hear these phrases added to my pathetic patois soon - as ever BB


"A lot of musicians aren't proud; they'll do other work, just to be able to play music. I guess that's the way it's always going to be - musicians will have to suffer to a certain degree in order to obtain their outlet. " - Chico Hamilton