English is a Crazy Language
by Richard Lederer
English is the most widely spoken language in the history of our planet, used
in some way by at least one out of every seven human beings around the
globe. Half of the world's books are written in English, and the majority
of international telephone calls are made in English. Sixty percent of
the world's radio programs are beamed in English, and more than seventy percent
of international mail is written and addressed in English. Eighty percent
of all computer texts, including all web sites, are stored in English.
English has acquired the largest vocabulary of all the world's languages,
perhaps as many as two million words, and has generated one of the noblest
bodies of literature in the annals of the human race. Nonetheless, it is
now time to face the fact that English is a crazy language -- the most loopy
and wiggy of all tongues.
In what other language
do people drive in a parkway and park in a driveway?
In what other language do people play at a recital and recite at a
play?
Why does night fall but never break and day break but never
fall?
Why is it that when we transport something by car, it's called a shipment,
but when we transport something by ship, it's called cargo?
Why does a man get a hernia and a woman a hysterectomy?
Why do we pack suits in a garment bag and garments in a
suitcase?
Why do privates eat in the general mess and generals eat in the private
mess?
Why do we call it newsprint when it contains no printing but
when we put print on it, we call it a newspaper?
Why are people who ride motorcycles called bikers and people
who ride bikes called cyclists?
Why -- in our crazy language -- can your nose run and your feet smell?
Language is like the air we breathe. It's invisible, inescapable,
indispensable, and we take it for granted. But, when we take the time to
step back and listen to the sounds that escape from the holes in people's faces
and to explore the paradoxes and vagaries of English, we find that hot dogs can
be cold, darkrooms can be lit, homework can be done in school, nightmares can
take place in broad daylight while morning sickness and daydreaming can take
place at night, tomboys are girls and midwives can be men, hours -- especially
happy hours and rush hours -- often last longer than sixty minutes, quicksand
works very slowly, boxing rings are square, silverware and
glasses can be made of plastic and tablecloths of paper, most telephones are
dialed by being punched (or pushed?), and most bathrooms don't have any baths
in them. In fact, a dog can go to the bathroom under a tree -- no
bath, no room; it's still going to the bathroom. And doesn't it seem a
little bizarre that we go to the bathroom in order to go to the bathroom?
Why is it that a woman can man a station but a man can't woman one, that a man
can father a movement but a woman can't mother one, and that a king rules a
kingdom but a queen doesn't rule a queendom? How did all those
Renaissance men reproduce when there don't seem to have been any Renaissance
women?
Sometimes you have to believe that all English speakers should be committed to
an asylum for the verbally insane:
In what other language
do they call the third hand on the clock the second hand?
Why do they call them apartments when they're all
together?
Why do we call them buildings, when they're already built?
Why it is called a TV set when you get only one?
Why is phonetic not spelled phonetically?
Why is it so hard to remember how to spell mnemonic?
Why doesn't onomatopoeia sound like what it
is?
Why is the word abbreviation so long?
Why is diminutive so undiminutive?
Why does the word monosyllabic consist of five
syllables?
Why is there no synonym for synonym or thesaurus?
And why, pray tell, does lisp have an s in it?
English is crazy.
If adults commit adultery, do infants commit infantry? If olive oil is
made from olives, what do they make baby oil from? If a vegetarian eats
vegetables, what does a humanitarian consume? If pro and con are
opposites, is congress the opposite of progress?
Why can you call a woman a mouse but not a rat -- a kitten but not a cat?
Why is it that a woman can be a vision, but not a sight -- unless your eyes
hurt? Then she can be "a sight for sore
eyes."
A writer is someone who writes, and a stinger is something that stings.
But fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce, hammers don't ham, humdingers
don't humding, ushers don't ush, and haberdashers do not haberdash.
If the plural of tooth is teeth, shouldn't the
plural of booth be beeth? One goose, two
geese -- so one moose, two meese? One index, two indices -- one Kleenex,
two Kleenices? If people ring a bell today and rang a bell yesterday, why
don't we say that they flang a ball? If they wrote a letter, perhaps they
also bote their tongue. If the teacher taught, why isn't it also true
that the preacher praught? Why is it that the sun shone yesterday while I
shined my shoes, that I treaded water and then trod on the beach, and that I
flew out to see a World Series game in which my favorite player flied out?
If we conceive a conception and receive at a reception, why don't we grieve a
greption and believe a beleption? If a firefighter fights fire, what does
a freedom fighter fight? If a horsehair mat is made from the hair of
horses, from what is a mohair coat made?
A slim chance and a fat chance are the same,
as are a caregiver and a caretaker, a bad
licking and a good licking, and "What's going
on?" and "What's coming off?" But a wise man and
a wise guy are opposites. How can sharp speech and blunt
speech be the same and quite a lot and quite
a few the same, while overlookand oversee are
opposites? How can the weather be hot as hell one day
and cold as hell the next?
If button and unbutton and tie and untie are
opposites, why are loosen and unloosen and ravel and unravel the
same? If bad is the opposite of good, hard the
opposite of soft, and up the opposite of down,
why are badly and goodly, hardly and softly,
and upright and downright not opposing
pairs? If harmless actions are the opposite of harmful actions, why are
shameful and shameless behavior the same and pricey objects less expensive than
priceless ones? If appropriate and inappropriate remarks and passable and
impassable mountain trails are opposites, why are flammable and inflammable
materials, heritable and inheritable property, and passive and impassive people
the same? How can valuable objects be less valuable than invaluable ones?
If uplift is the same as lift up, why areupset and set
up opposite in meaning? Why are pertinent and impertinent, canny and uncanny,
and famous and infamous neither opposites nor
the same? How canraise and raze and reckless and wreckless
be opposites when each pair contains the same sound?
Why is it that when the sun or the moon or the stars are out, they are visible,
but when the lights are out, they are invisible; that when I clip a coupon from
a newspaper I separate it, but when I clip a coupon to a newspaper, I fasten
it; and that when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this
essay, I shall end it?
English is a crazy language.
How can expressions like "I'm mad about my flat," "No football
coaches allowed," "I'll come by in the morning and knock you
up," and "Keep your pecker up" convey such different messages in
two countries that purport to speak the same English?
How can it be easier to assent than to dissent but harder to ascend than to
descend? Why is it that a man with hair on his head has more hair than a
man with hairs on his head; that if you decide to be bad forever, you choose to
be bad for good; and that if you choose to wear only your left shoe, then your
left one is right and your right one is left? Right?
Small wonder that we English users are constantly standing meaning on its
head. Let's look at a number of familiar English words and phrases that
turn out to mean the opposite or something very different from what we think they
mean:
A waiter. Why do they call those food servers waiters,
when it's the customers who do the waiting?
I could care less. I couldn't care less is
the clearer, more accurate version. Why do so many people delete the
negative from this statement? Because they are afraid that the n't...less
combination will make a double negative, which is a no-no.
I really miss not seeing
you. Whenever people
say this to me, I feel like responding, "All right, I'll
leave!" Here speakers throw in a gratuitous negative, not, even
though I really miss seeing you is what they want to say.
The movie kept me
literally glued to my seat.
The chances of our buttocks being literally epoxied to a seat are about as
small as the chances of our literally rolling in the aisles while watching a
funny movie or literally drowning in tears while watching a sad one. We
actually mean The movie kept me figuratively glued to my seat --
but who needs figuratively, anyway?
A non-stop flight. Never get on one of these. You'll
never get down.
A near miss. A near miss is, in
reality, a collision. A close call is actually a near hit.
My idea fell between the
cracks. If
something fell between the cracks, didn't it land smack on the
planks or the concrete? Shouldn't that be my idea fell into the
cracks (or between the boards)?
A hot water heater. Who heats hot water? This is
similar to garbage disposal. Actually, the stuff isn't
garbage until after you dispose of it.
A hot cup of coffee. Here again the English language gets us
in hot water. Who cares if the cup is hot? Surely we mean a
cup of hot coffee.
Doughnut holes. Aren't those little treats really doughnut
balls? The holes are what's left in the original doughnut. (And
if a candy cane is shaped like a cane, why isn't a doughnut shaped like a nut?)
I want to have my cake
and eat it too. Shouldn't this
timeworn cliché be I want to eat my cake and have it too?
Isn't the logical sequence that one hopes to eat the cake and then still
possess it?
A one-night stand. So who's standing? Similarly, to
sleep with someone. Who's sleeping?
I'll follow you to the
ends of the earth. Let the word go
out to the four corners of the earth that ever since Columbus we have known
that the earth doesn't have any ends.
It's neither here nor
there. Then where is it?
Extraordinary. If extra-fine means
"even finer than fine" and extra-large "even
larger than large," why doesn't extraordinary mean
"even more ordinary than ordinary"?
The first century B.C. These hundred years occurred much longer
ago than people imagined. What we call the first century B.C. was,
in fact the last century B.C.
Daylight saving time. Not a single second of daylight is saved
by this ploy.
The announcement was
made by a nameless official. Just about everyone has a name, even officials.
Surely what is meant is "The announcement was made by an unnamed
official."
Preplan, preboard, preheat,
and prerecord. Aren't people who do this simply planning,
boarding, heating, and recording? Who needs the pretentious prefix?
I have even seen shows "prerecorded before a live audience,"
certainly preferable to prerecording before a dead audience.
Pull up a chair. We don't really pull a chair up; we pull
it along the ground. We don't pick up the phone; we pick up
the receiver. And we don't really throw up; we throw
out.
Put on your shoes and
socks. This is an
exceedingly difficult maneuver. Most of us put on our socks first, then
our shoes.
A hit-and-run play. If you know your baseball, you know that
the sequence constitutes "a run-and-hit play."
The bus goes back and
forth between the terminal and the airport. Again we find mass confusion about the order of
events. You have to go forth before you can go back.
I got caught in one of
the biggest traffic bottlenecks of the year. The bigger the bottleneck, the more freely the contents of
the bottle flow through it. To be true to the metaphor, we should
say, I got caught in one of the smallest traffic bottlenecks of the
year.
Underwater and
underground. Things that we
claim are underwater and underground are
obviously surrounded by, not under the water and ground.
I lucked out. To luck out sounds as if you're out of luck. Don't you mean I
lucked in?
Because we speakers and writers of English seem to have our heads screwed on
backwards, we constantly misperceive our bodies, often saying just the opposite
of what we mean:
Watch your head. I keep seeing this sign on low doorways,
but I haven't figured out how to follow the instructions. Trying to watch
your head is like trying to bite your teeth.
They're head over heels
in love. That's nice, but
all of us do almost everything head over heels. If we are
trying to create an image of people doing cartwheels and somersaults, why don't
we say, They're heels over head in love?
Put your best foot
forward. Now let's see....
We have a good foot and a better foot -- but we don't have a third -- and best
-- foot. It's our better foot we want to put forward. This grammar
atrocity is akin to May the best team win. Usually there are
only two teams in the contest. Similarly, in any list ofbestsellers,
only the most popular book is genuinely a bestseller. All the rest are
bettersellers.
Keep a stiff upper lip. When we are disappointed or afraid, which
lip do we try to control? The lower lip, of course, is the one we are
trying to keep from quivering.
I'm speaking tongue in cheek. So how can anyone understand you?
Skinny. If fatty means
"full of fat," shouldn't skinny mean "full of
skin"?
They do things behind my
back. You want they should do things in front of your back?
They did it ass
backwards. What's wrong with that? We do everything ass
backwards.
English is weird.
In the rigid expressions that wear tonal grooves in the record of our
language, beck can appear only with call, cranny with nook, hue with cry, main with might,fettle only
with fine, aback with taken, caboodle with kit,
and spick and span only with each
other. Why must all shrifts be short, all lucre filthy, all bystanders
innocent, and all bedfellows strange? I'm convinced that some shrifts are
lengthy and that some lucre is squeaky clean, and I've certainly met guilty
bystanders and perfectly normal bedfellows.
Why is it that only swoops are fell? Sure, the verbivorous William
Shakespeare invented the expression "one fell swoop," but why can't
strokes, swings, acts, and the like also be fell? Why are we allowed to vent
our spleens but never our kidneys or livers? Why must it be only our
minds that are boggled and never our eyes or our hearts? Why can't eyes
and jars be ajar, as well as doors? Why must aspersions always be cast
and never hurled or lobbed?
Doesn't it seem just a little wifty that we can make amends but never just one
amend; that no matter how carefully we comb through the annals of history, we
can never discover just one annal; that we can never pull a shenanigan, be in a
doldrum, eat an egg Benedict, or get just one jitter, a willy, a delirium
tremen, or a heebie-jeebie. Why, sifting through the wreckage of a
disaster, can we never find just one smithereen?
Indeed, this whole business of plurals that don't have matching singulars
reminds me to ask this burning question, one that has puzzled scholars for
decades: If you have a bunch of odds and ends and you get rid of or sell off
all but one of them, what do you call that doohickey with which you're left?
What do you make of the fact that we can talk about certain things and ideas
only when they are absent? Once they appear, our blessed English doesn't
allow us to describe them. Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a
strapful gown? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, sheveled,
gruntled, chalant, plussed, ruly, gainly, maculate, pecunious, or
peccable? Have you ever met a sung hero or experienced requited
love? I know people who are no spring chickens, but where, pray
tell, are the people who are spring chickens? Where are
the people who actually would hurt a fly? All the time I meet people
who aregreat shakes, who can cut the mustard,
who can fight City Hall, who are my cup of
tea, who would lift a finger to help, who would give
you the time of day, and whom I would touch with a ten-foot
pole, but I can't talk about them in English -- and that is a
laughing matter.
If the truth be told, all languages are a little crazy. As Walt Whitman
might proclaim, they contradict themselves. That's because language is
invented, not discovered, by boys and girls and men and women, not
computers. As such, language reflects the creative and fearful asymmetry
of the human race, which, of course, isn't really a race at all.
That's why we wear a pair of pants but, except on very cold days, not a pair of
shirts. That's why men wear a bathing suit and bathing trunks at the same
time. That's why brassiere is singular but panties is
plural. That's why there's a team in Toronto called the Maple
Leafs and another in Minnesota called theTimberwolves.
That's why six, seven, eight, and nine change
to sixty, seventy, eighty, and ninety,
but two, three, four, and five do
not become twoty, threety, fourty, andfivety.
That's why first-degree murder is more serious than third-degree murder but a
third-degree burn is more serious than a first-degree burn. That's why we can
open up the floor, climb the walls, raise the roof, pick up the house, and
bring down the house.
In his essay "The Awful German Language," Mark Twain spoofs the confusion
engendered by German gender by translating literally from a conversation in a
German Sunday school book: "Gretchen. Wilhelm, where is the
turnip? Wilhelm. She has gone to the
kitchen. Gretchen. Where is the accomplished and beautiful
English maiden? Wilhelm. It has gone to the
opera." Twain continues: "A tree is male, its buds are female,
its leaves are neuter; horses are sexless, dogs are male, cats are female --
tomcats included."
Still, you have to marvel at the unique lunacy of the English language, in
which you can turn a light on and you can turn a light off and you can turn a
light out, but you can't turn a light in; in which the sun comes up and goes
down, but prices go up and come down -- a gloriously wiggy tongue in which your
house can simultaneously burn up and burn down and your car can slow up and
slow down, in which you fill in a form by filling out a form, in which your
alarm clock goes off by going on, in which you are inoculated for measles by
being inoculated against measles, in which you add up a column of figures by
adding them down, and in which you first chop a tree down -- and then you chop
it up.
