Ranty post: Quit assuming I'm stupid because I'm female.

So my laptop needs a new lcd screen. There is currently a spreading crack from top to bottom that makes viewing a website something akin to a Jackson Pollock painting. So I decided to go get some estimates on screen replacement. I figured I'd get a few, then do some looking at customer reviews of the businesses, then make my decision. I'm not even sure yet that I will fix this thing; I may sell off its component parts and buy a new one; the parts go for quite a bit on ebay, and in the three months since I bought it, the price for my laptop has gone down 200.00. Dell's warranty apparently covers everything BUT my screen; they won't tell me how much to fix it til I pay to ship it to them. I'm not going to ship it off so they can hold it hostage to whatever price they choose to quote me.

The three "small business" computer repair places around here surprised me; only one of them will give a written estimate for free. That place quoted me 205 for the job. The other two quoted "ranges" of prices- one said 184-240, but wanted 10.00 to put it in writing. The other said 250, but refused to write it down at all and said "it might change once we get it open." Neither of these folks inspired confidence in me.

But the worst of the worst was Best Buy. Their very sincere-sounding employee told me it'd be "at least 500" and then said, "but honestly, if it was me, I'd just toss it and buy a new one." The laptop is three months old and cost 729.00. Toss it? He's either the stupidest man who ever lived, or he's just plain evil. My guess is, he looked at a middle-aged housewife-type and the dollar signs just clouded his vision; he thought he could sell me a new computer instead of quoting me a price on fixing this one. Asshole. I swear, I loathe people like that; I will likely never set foot in Best Buy again, after the experience. He wanted to take advantage of me, only he didn't know I'm NOT stupid and I already priced the job elsewhere. (Actually? I priced the screen online myself- 150.00; I just was gathering job costs in order to decide if it's worth me fixing it at all, or fixing it myself. The hassle of finding a schematic online, and borrowing appropriate tools, might make it worth paying someone else to do it.)

Anyway, I just wanted to put this out there: Best Buy's "Geek Squad" service is a scam, designed to prey on the ignorant. Don't shop there, don't use their services. Put them out of business.

Post - Partisan Academia?

This is truly the article I thought I would never see. The NY Times examines anti-conservative bias among psychologists. I can think of a number of professors I've had over the years who could stand to read this piece; portions of the anthropological community bank hard to the left. Many is the time I've sat in a classroom biting my tongue so hard it might bleed, trying not to answer back to commentary that makes me, and my values, the butt of a joke. The soft sciences all seem to lean left, with a strong emphasis on "social justice" and cultural relativity.

I'll buy cultural relativity writ small; if we're to study societies then we should study them without prejudice. But to be honest, I'm not sure what part "social justice" should play in anthropology;if an ethnographer is documenting a people, is it right to also advocate for them? Is there a conflict of interest? If you're an archaeologist, to whom do you owe your loyalties, the bones in the ground, the people living in the area, or the people (sometimes states away) laying claim to them as ancestors? (In reality, I think the loyalties may too often go to whomever paid the grant money. But the right answer ought to be "to the truth," regardless of what sacred cows get gored.)What about the folks doing research into human genetics- is it okay to investigate the differences between genders and ethnicities? What if we bump into things nobody wants to hear? What about investigations into human origins and the first migrations out of Africa- is there any danger of political bias there as well? (Non-africans derive some small percentage of their genome from Neanderthals; imagine how something like that could be twisted for racist use.)

Whenever we examine paradigms, we look at the historical context of the argument. Unless we're talking about "Now." The now never gets contextualized by current trends, everyone assumes that we're all past the colonialist, racist, misogynist, anti-whatever crap of the past. And we definitely are not; the present era has its own shibboleths and bugaboos and sacred cows beyond which we dare not tread. Humanity still has prejudices and preconceptions, just different ones. Myself, I'm looking forward to a Post- political correctness period in American culture. That is, whenever we get one.

Egypt

If, like me, you have been watching the news voraciously, you might be wondering, "Why the hell aren't they talking about the antiquities? How bad is the damage to museums, and archaeological sites? What about all the foreigners who were there doing research?" And you might be quite angry that none of this information is showing up on CNN or Foxnews. Fortunately, there's plenty of accounts coming in online- unfortunately, they're contradictory and full of rumor.

This looks like a good place to keep up on the more solid accounts:
http://egyptopaedia.com/2011/

The information about Saqqara is confusing; Some sources say the tomb of Maia (Tuthankamun's wetnurse) has been completely destroyed; Hawass is saying nothing happened there. I'm hoping he's right.

Book Review by Melissa Nussbaum

“Don't Sleep, There are Snakes: Life and Language in the Amazonian Jungle”
by Daniel L. Everett
Vintage Departures, 2009 first edition
New York


In 1977, Daniel Everett made his first trip to the Amazon, beginning a course of study that would dominate his life for the next two and a half decades. He did not go as an anthropologist or ethnographer, but as a Christian Missionary and a classically trained Chomskyan linguist. Among the Piraha people, he lost his faith in God and Noam Chomsky. He went home an atheist, and proceeded to publish papers that enraged mainstream linguistics and still generate controversy a decade later. Everett's, “Don't Sleep, There are Snakes,” is both autobiography and ethnography, at once a study of a people and a study of the author himself. It tells a unique story: how the Tribe converted the Missionary.

Everett currently serves as Dean of Arts and Sciences at Bentley University in Waltham, Massachusetts. He is the primary authority on the Piraha language of Brazil. According to his CV, he speaks Portuguese, Piraha, and his native English fluently. He describes his Spanish as “fair,” and his French, Italian, and Koine Greek as “reading only.” He has also studied literally dozens of native American languages and identified the Amazonian language isolate OroWin in 1994. His anthropological interests grew out of his linguistic research, and much of his ethnography is derived from his linguistic research in the field. His book's focus is on the Piraha people and their culture and society; he reaches his conclusions based on the relationships he formed while learning their language over the course of more than twenty years of living and working alongside them.

Everett divides up his book in two sections- the first is devoted to cultural questions, and uses personal stories and vignettes to treat diverse subject matters. He attempts to shed light on a tribe that has, historically, been difficult to access, utilizing a language that has been inscrutable to the outside world. His book contains sections on Piraha culture, community, family and kinship, as well an entire chapter devoted to his methods and the mistakes he made in sussing out those details.

Everett references the lessons he learned from the Piraha, “ both scientific and personal,” but acknowledges that, “someone else would no doubt have learned other lessons.” Thus he owns his interpretations, but acknowledges that there could be alternative understandings of his data. By the end of his tale, Everett has a new outlook on the Piraha. His conclusions rock his faith in his religion, as well as his conceptions of how language and culture interact. In the course of learning Piraha, and getting close to the Piraha people themselves, Everett comes to see that much of what he thinks he “knows” is wrong.

The Piraha tribe live in the Amazonian interior, and is comprised of about 300 individuals living in small villages; Everett has lived with and studied each of these groups in the course of his research. In his book, the voices of the tribe members come through clearly, he quotes conversations with many people recorded across the totality of his career. These persons are clearly drawn characters with distinct personalities and viewpoints. They are not mere research subjects, but friends, allies, enemies, and strangers. Occasionally, they are just the neighbors, and he talks of how it was to live and work with them. Through these relationships, he comes to better understand how the Piraha see other native tribes, as well as Brazilian society at large, and Americans like Everett himself.

He comes to understand their social mores and cultural values, and seeks in vain for hallmarks of anthropological study such as myths, folk tales, or religious practices. Repeatedly he looks for expected cultural commonalities, and finds that they are not there. Once he accepts that they aren't, he is forced to ask himself why- and his true work begins. Everett must uncover why it is that the Piraha don't talk about their ancestors, or make up stories to entertain themselves; he must learn why they have resisted the missionaries and resisted “civilized” ideas such as counting, numbers, money, and powerful languages that would give them more agency in the larger economy. His answer is profound and, to some degree, intellectually threatening. It strikes at the heart of modern linguistic theory and our current ideas about how and why language use evolved.

The first half of the book is more autobiography than ethnography. Everett examines his preconceptions through the lens of a two-decade history, and marvels at his youthful naivete'. He tells the story of how the natives saw “spirits”in their environment. He could not, and he tried to reason why that was, without success. He says, “As a scientist, objectivity is one of my most deeply held values. If we could just try harder, I once thought, surely we could each see the world as others see it and learn to respect one anothers' views more readily. But as I learned from the Piraha, our expectations, our culture, and our experiences can render even perceptions of the environment nearly incommensurable cross-culturally.”

This is the crux of Everett's argument; that culture affects every aspect of our life, even the way we interpret sensory information. He tells the story of a caiman he failed to spot in the jungle. He says, “My inability to see beyond my own nose is a source of constant merriment among the Pirahas...This had been another lesson about cognition and culture, though I didn't quite realize it at that time. We all perceive the world the way our cultures have taught us. If our culture-constrained perceptions hinder us, however, then for the particular environment in which they do so, our cultures obscure our perceptions of the world and put us at a disadvantage.” To Everett, the inability to perceive nature spirits is no different than the inability to make out the red-eyes of a caiman lurking in the tree canopy; his cultural perceptions have him trained to spot cars and pedestrians, because they are the dangers encountered in the urban environment. The Piraha spot prehistoric reptiles and nature spirits that warn them out of the river; these are their native dangers.

The second half of the book focuses on the linguistics of Piraha, but buried within it are cultural examinations of something he terms, “ the experience principal,” as well as ruminations on religion and spirituality. The overarching theme of the book itself is not only what Daniel Everett learned about the Piraha people, but what he learned from them. Everett comes away from his time with the tribe with completely new worldview. He realizes that the Piraha are the happiest people he has ever known, and that they are happy, not in spite of, but because of the social institutions they lack- a hierarchical government, personal property, or a belief in Gods or an afterlife. He takes away new ideas about the origins and arrangement of language, and the relationship between language and culture.

The tribe itself has had sporadic contact with the outside world for centuries, but all attempts to “civilize” the Piraha have failed. While other tribes have gone extinct, or blended into the larger Brazilian culture, the Piraha have rejected the trappings of mainstream Brazilian culture, and have remained almost exclusively monolingual. Their kinship system covers the self, and the generations preceding and following the self. They use absolute directions (North, South, East, and West) given in relation to the river; they have no words for right or left. They lack words for yesterday or tomorrow. They have imported their pronouns from another native language, but this seems to be the limit of their borrowing. Despite regular trade contact with Portuguese speakers, they have not incorporated words from that language into their own.

Their language is incredibly complex and difficult for outsiders to master; it has one of the smallest inventories of phonemes known anywhere in the world. Piraha makes use of tones, and yet it has an enormous repertoire of verb endings. (Everett claims 65000 possible conjugations for each verb.) Piraha has evidential marking, so that every assertion contains within it an expression of how that information was obtained. For example, in Piraha, one does not simply say, “there is a monkey in the woods,” rather, one indicates that they have heard or seen said monkey. Evidential marking is not unknown in the world's languages, but it is uncommon. It also plays into Everett's larger conclusions about the nature of Piraha culture.

The language also has a high degree of allophonic variation. For example, in English, there are two acceptable pronunciations of the word, “the.” We use a long e pronunciation before words beginning with a vowel sound, but a short e before words beginning with a consonant. (“thee apple, thuh table.”) Piraha has hundreds of these allophones, enabling the language to be used in strange ways. It is whistled, hummed, or sang, and these manifestations of the language carry cultural information- children learn the language from their mothers, who interact with them almost exclusively by singing. In order to lessen their impact on game, men whistle their communications while hunting. The language can actually be understood in humming; the words themselves are comprehensible through a closed-mouth, in a fashion unknown elsewhere among the world's languages. The language has no set color words. Items are likened to blood if they are red, to dirty blood if they are black, or transparent if they are white. Perhaps most intriguing (and controversial) are Everett's claims about numerical concepts. He states categorically that the language has no counting words, no numbers, and no quantifiers such as most, many, every, or all. Unusually, the language has no perfect tenses or recursive structures. Recursion has long been accepted as one of, if not the only, universal of human language- all languages are assumed to contain the ability to embed clauses within one another, in the manner of Russian nesting dolls. For example, the sentence “This is the cat that ate the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built.” contains the ideas that the cat ate the rat, the rat ate the malt, the malt lay in the house, and Jack built the house. According to Everett, there is no way to say that sentence in Piraha. Rather, the idea would exist as separate sentences- “Jack built a house. The house of Jack contained a malt. A rat ate the malt. A cat ate the rat.” This is one of the most controversial allegations of Everett's research, but it is by no means the only one.

A great deal of Everett's work goes into explaining the concept of experiential liminality, what he calls the experience principal. The Piraha place much importance on how knowledge is obtained; evidential marking indicates how one knows a given fact: it was observed visually, it was heard about from someone else, or it was deduced intellectually. (Lest we wonder if they are perfectly empirical, Everett is quick to point out that the evidential markers are often used to play jokes or to tell lies.) Non-recursive sentence structures may help limit ambiguity in statements.

“Xibippio” is a word that baffled him for years; ultimately he realized the word means something is just now coming into or out of experience- it is becoming seen or known, it is flickering on the edge of awareness, or it has just disappeared from view. Everett sees a uniting thread between evidential marking, experiential liminality, and the experience principal. And he believes this cultural aspect explains why none of the missionaries have been able to convert the tribe.

In simple terms, the Piraha only believe in what they've seen with their own eyes, or have heard in first hand accounts from other eyewitnesses. Everett calls them “the ultimate empiricists.” He recounts how he had to tell them that no one alive right now has ever seen Jesus. When hearing this, the Piraha deduced that there was no reason to believe He existed. They themselves have no stories of what has gone before, no myths, no storytelling fiction or even nonfiction about their forefathers. Once a person has died, and all those who knew him personally have died, then that person's experiences are gone. They have no concept of history. They profess no belief in any sort of a creator or an afterlife. Everett believes the function of this “immediacy of experience” principle is to keep information transfer slow and verifiable. Culturally, they empirical evidence, and Everett believes that their language has become structured in such a way as to enforce that societal value.

Everett chronicles the slow shift in his own perspectives and in his methods of gathering information. He goes from the etic, to the emic- from socially-outside observer to socially involved participant. Early in the book, on page 70 he explains , “I wanted to come up with a theory of Piraha identity based on my own observations. At this time I had only minimal training in Anthropology, so I was largely groping in the dark.”

He apologizes for this inexperience in a painful recounting of errors he made early in his research, and describes how he surrounded himself with Anthropology and Sociology textbooks as he tried to work out methods for gathering information. He quotes extensively from journals kept furtively, scribbled in whenever he had shut himself up in his little house. He could not take notes adequately while traipsing about the jungle, but neither could he rely on nighttime solitude to write-up the days' events. The Piraha do not sleep through the night. Rather than a single stretch of sleep, they take short naps throughout the day or night, evincing a social belief that sleep deprivation makes them “hard.” Hard is good; hard is wary, alert, and alive. Everett is not “hard,” and his weakness for sleep, food, and shelter is a source of amusement to his neighbors, along with his strange predilections for writing in notebooks, praying to God, and recording people's voices to tape. If anything, the Piraha humor him, and watch out for him and his family in the manner of indulgent parents with some not-terribly-bright children.

Everett describes his interactions with the Piraha, and how they change through time. Initially, he is a missionary, they are wary and suspicious; as his research interests grow, a sort of trade develops between them. In the beginning, the Piraha come into and out of his house at all hours, but only engage in his tests if and when the whim hits them. When it does, there is usually exchange involved- the Piraha will humor him for access to trade items, or in exchange for favors. Ultimately, the relationship becomes that of friends and equals, with participants learning from each other on both sides.

Everett tries desperately to improve their lives, but over and over he misunderstands them and makes the wrong assumptions. He tells of how he hired someone to teach them to make dugout canoes, since they steal them. He bought tools, and with their teacher they made a canoe. Later, they came to him wanting another canoe, and he told them to make one. “Piraha do not make canoes,” he was told; the tools were left untouched, abandoned to the elements. Later, he comes to understand that the Piraha make disposable tools; they weave poor baskets that do not last, and dispose of them when the material they were crafted for is gone. They make knives that can be easily and quickly replaced, they steal canoes if they need them, or strip birch trees to make single use birchbark canoes. Even when they know how to do something the outside world does routinely, they are very slow to incorporate it into their own culture. The Piraha are extremely culturally conservative. This is perhaps why, despite centuries of contact with cultures who use counting and money, they do not use these themselves.

Everett does not go into great detail about the methods he used to gather data, except when explaining the ways in which he tested Piraha number sense. He describes how he would use fish in groups of one, two, or more, to elicit words he initially took for “one” or “two” or “many.” Then he describes using two larger fish, and one smaller fish, to elicit the same words but for different groupings. Then he explains how he identified this “one” word with the suffix that was attached to the word for “man” to create the word for “boy.” Thus the word did not mean, “one”, it meant “a small amount.” Subsequently he proved that the other words meant “a larger amount” and “the bulk” (a very large amount, all or almost all.) They lacked numbers in any concrete sense; all number is relative quantity based on context.

One goal of the book is to show how living among the Piraha changed his life and attitudes, but Everett also intends the book as a challenge to a primary tenet of linguistic theory. While his work has been embraced by Neo-Whorfians as evidence of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis in action, he himself does not go that far. (The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is the idea, first promulgated by Edward Sapir, that language affects thought. Essentially, that the type of language a person speaks affects the sorts of ideas, and thoughts, that they can think.) Writ large, it suggests that societies differ based in part of the differences in the structure of their languages. Neo-Whorfians, embracing the work of Sapir and his successor, Benjamin Lee Whorf, suggest that language affects thought in rather smaller ways- such that a language that lacks distinct color words will impact its speakers so that they are slower to distinguish shades of color than speakers of a language with many color terms. Rather than take on Sapir-Whorf, Everett challenges the very notion of the Language Instinct (the idea that all humans are hardwired to speak languages organized along similar, biologically-specified lines), by attributing the oddities of Piraha language to particular cultural values they possess. Primarily, he sees their principle of “immediacy of experience” as a potential reason for their language's evidential markers and and non-recursive structures. That is, Everett doesn't say that language effects thought, but rather that cultural values shape language use. In the same way, he accounts for their lack of number sense by examining the communal nature of their property, and their innate social conservatism. Anything unique to the outside world is, to the Piraha, largely uninteresting. It is not part of their daily experience, and Everett claims that, for the Piraha, experience trumps all else. Experience is reality.

Everett's is clearly a confessional tale, in that it acknowledges his shortcomings and incorporates his personal experience of events. But it also draws upon conventions of the impressionist tale, retelling stories in a dramatic first-person perspective. It reads well and quickly, and the subject matter lingers with the reader, raising as many questions as it answers, encouraging the audience to think more deeply about what it means to be human, and the ways in which humans use language.

Book Review- "Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue" by John McWhorter

John McWhorter's “Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue”
Gotham Books, 2008
A Review by Melissa J. Nussbaum

The Linguist John McWhorter subtitles his book, “The Untold History of English,” and he delivers on that promise. There is little in the way of the usual tale, such as we might know from PBS's “The Story of English” or the Baugh and Cable textbooks used in introductory linguistic classes around the globe. But there's a great deal about the structure of language, the ways in which language families differ, and how historical situations of language contact have left their imprint on the language today.
This tasty little tome clocks in at just over 200 pages, but it navigates everything from orphan Germanic loanwords to the mysterious, meaningless “do” that permeates every question we ask today. Along the way, McWhorter gets in his licks at linguists who ignore everything outside their own area of interest, prescriptivists who tell us we speak wrongly, and academics pushing discredited theories about the structure of languages dictating types of thought. In some ways, the book is the author's rant against academic inertia. But it's a very polite rant, rendered in a breezy, conversational fashion.
McWhorter studies creoles, languages that grow out of a contact situation, passed on by adult learners in an abbreviated, altered form. It's common to find that an English word traces back to Latin, French, Greek, or some other language, but McWhorter makes the point that this situation is not unusual. Languages in contact exchange words. As he puts it, “Languages like sex,” and he points out that pretty much every language borrows from its neighbors. For McWhorter, the story isn't just about the words, it's about the syntax. Changes to syntax are a lot less common than word-borrowing. For the grammar to change, something has to happen to a language. McWhorter has intriguing theories on what some of those happenings were.
He suggests that English grammar is “in a word, weird.” English not only outsourced a third of its vocabulary, but it shaved off most of its cases and tenses, chucked its gender, and rearranged its word order. He offers a mouthful of words in this example sentence: “Did she say to my daughter that my father has come alone and is feeling better?” It's awkward, but it's very recognizable English.
And it's all wrong. English is a Germanic descendant of Proto-Indo-European, and a good, card-carrying Germanic language is ordered and constructed in a particular way. “Said she to my daughter that my father alone come is and himself better feels?” McWhorter examines those syntactic changes and ties them into historical context, suggesting that English is, “Miscegenated, abbreviated,” and “interesting.”
McWhorter tells a convincing story, the tale of a language battered by contact, crushed under the heel of Viking invaders and Norman French conquerors, and seasoned with Celtic quirks. But he's not content just to examine the weirdness of English. He goes back further, investigating the mother language. He says, “There was a history of bastardy in English long before it was even a twinkle in Proto-Germanic's eye.” Simply speaking, Germanic languages pronounce Indo-European sounds in a way that suggests everyone speaking the language had a speech impediment. Linguists call this, “Grimm's Law,” and it describes sound changes from Proto-Indo-European into Proto-Germanic. “P,” “T,” and “K” turned into “F,” “Th,” and “H.” Pater becomes Vader. Vader becomes Father.
But who messed up Proto-Germanic? Not surprisingly, McWhorter has a suspect for this crime. He hypothesizes a contact situation between Proto-Germanic and some Semitic language in the dark recesses of prehistory. In evidence, he offers a strange structural anomaly in the Germanic languages: strong verbs. These are verbs that indicate a change in tense with a change in internal structure. Come, Came. See, Saw. Drink, Drank. This kind of tense-building is wrong for Proto-Indo-European, but it is de rigueur for Semitic languages like Arabic and Hebrew.
McWhorter's book reads quickly and easily, but it's jam-packed with information and ideas that are almost unheard of outside the realms of academia. For the layman, it is an excellent introduction to the study of the English language. For the academic, it is an enjoyable survey of some of the latest thinking in the field. Either way, its well worth its price in hardcover.

I just found out about this exhibition, but I am so going to squeeze it into my schedule this week:

http://www.npr.org/2011/01/03/132412112/the-prehistoric-treasure-in-the-fields-of-indiana

Asinine

Ah, copyright law, is there any malfeasance it cannot do? In my life I've "bought" assorted computer programs for myself, my kids, my uncle... physical copies with fancy packaging (that I promptly lost) which take up shelf space in my living room. But I now discover I did not, in fact, "buy" anything at all. I rented. And I do not own these pieces of software, if they contain licenses for use. The Supreme Court says that license is not transferable, as it has been since 1909. My ancient copies of "Family Tree Maker" and "Encarta" and Berlitz are not actually mine- because I am not permitted to sell them. Mind you, not that there's anyone out there who'd actually want my twelve year old copy of FTM, but if they did, I couldn't pop it into a yardsale and let it go for a quarter- because Ancestry (who bought the company) isn't making any money on that quarter. And If I do it, I might be jailed or fined or what have you, like a proper criminal.

And of course, if "shrinkwrap" licensing can apply to software, why can't it apply to everything else? Put a sticker on the book covers, cd covers, etc "Thou shalt not sell or give license to use this product." The First Sale doctrine is dead.

When will the public wake up and realize how much the changes in copyright law have taken from us? I talk about this with most people and get glazed eyes, confusion, or outright hostility. "Why shouldn't copyright be forever? Why shouldn't people get paid for their work?"

And that is NOT the issue. Of course people should be paid for their work- because if they aren't then they've no incentive to go on working and creating new things. But where does that right stop? How long and for how much are we on the hook? Because if copyright is eternal, then ownership never transfers. IDEAS will never transfer, never go viral and morph and change into new things. Cultural transmission will be hampered and crippled, and society as a whole will be impoverished, rather than enriched.

baby talk

I can't help it- I think this project sounds utterly fascinating. I often wish I'd made more detailed observations on my own boys' speech acquisition. Of course, full-time audio/video coverage for the first. three. YEARS. would've been hard to pull off in the mid-nineties. But still- imagine getting access to that much data, being able to have it evaluated independently by multiple observers- this fella has given us a whole database of information on language acquisition. I hope someone else tries this. Lots of someones, maybe.

I also like the idea that recordings allow both the child's output, and the parents' input, to be examined. It might shed light on how "impoverished" the stimulus really is. I know in our house, I talked to the boys an excessive amount. I had to; they were my only conversational partners for about five years! So I tended to provide running commentary on everything, all day long. I've known other mothers who are equally verbose with their infants; I suspect there's a lot more exchange going on than Chomsky thinks.

My grandmother used to do this thing with babies. I know everyone does their own kind of babytalk. We all pitch our voices up to some degree and talk expressively. But mamau had her own odd little babytalk thing going on. A baby would babble, and she'd look at it seriously, in dead earnest, and conversationally go, "You say your chicken died?" (No kidding- that was a regular knee slapper around here.) But the funny thing I recall is how babies less than a year old frequently responded as if she wasn't making any sense. They looked- confused. Sometimes they'd stop talking completely, other times they'd get sort of irate, and the jabbering would be louder and more insistent. They responded much better to her alternative? "Really? Well... You don't say!" But tinier babies would just gibber back enthusiastically to anything. It was as if they recognised they were being engaged in conversation, they just didn't have the code yet. Older babies recognized conversation, and seemed able to intuit that the speech itself wasn't "right."

(And yes, I have asked babies if their chicken died. I'm not sure where she got it, but it must have pinged itself into my babytalk repertoire in infancy.)

See, this is why English is a fun language...

I've had a while to think on Sarah Palin's weird little portmanteau "refudiate," and I find that I like it. It adds a single-word shade of meaning that encompasses both refutation and repudiation at one blow. But then, I'm usually happy to embrace new words into my vocabulary... they just aren't usually so highbrow. I'm partial to the dichotomy embodied in words like "shitastic" and "craptacular," for example, when attempting to express overwhelming levels of suckitude. Incidentally, I'll also say "underwhelmed" and have actually said things like, "moderately whelmed" when the occasion calls for it. My vocabulary also incorporates such phantom adjectives as "ginormous" at times.

Go ahead, pelt me in rotten vegetables or whatever. I don't care. And I'll still come out swinging with my second-person plural every time, y'all. Don't misunderestimate me.

Hee hee hee....

Intellectual property rights (Again)

So this isn't showing up all over the blogosphere, and I don't know why. Because it should. While the President's assing it up, having squabbles with his military leadership in the pages of Rolling Stone-...while the media is saturating us with Gulf Hurricane! Oil Spill! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE Wharrgarble.... something insidious just happened.

If you don't want to clicky the links, I won't force you. But know this: Zombie Copyright is here, and it doesn't look to be going away. Remember Eldridge V Ashcroft- remember what I told you then. Eternal copyright on the installment plan. Keep paying campaign contribution "Bribes" to your congresscritters and you will always get your copyright extension, while the public domain starves for new additions.

Well, the public domain's under attack again. In order to come into line with "Europe's" copyright laws, stuff can be removed from the American public domain.

Dammit, I want out of here. I think? I want off this rock. Is there noplace left to go in order to have Freedom? Real, physical and intellectual freedom? I guess not. His Highness even shuttered our space program, so our grandkids won't be able to escape either.

Genealogy Post- thinking out loud

Summer's come, and it's the season for my research to begin anew. I've been at this since 1997, but it's always so piecemeal. I'd give anything if I had the time and money to work on this as much as I want to.

I've decided this summer to work the bottom branches. Goal? Find Thomas B. Lambert- find his grave, records of his kids... anything. He's my grandmother's grandpa and he's a damn ghost. I don't even know what the B stands for, for certain. Someone named "Sunny Lambert" cited him as Thomas Bluford Lambert- but I've no idea where she got that middle name. I'd sure like to find her and ask!

So here's the mystery and the clues: Thomas, born abt 1857 to Thomas B. Lambert Senior, and his wife. Cousin Edna gave me the middle initial and the "junior," and told me that he and my greatgreatgrandma Letitia had the three girls, Zadie, Cora, and Deola (my greatgrandma) and a baby son who died. I tracked down record of newlywed Thomas and wife "Lottie" in the 1880 census. Pretty sure Lottie is supposed to be Letitia; the ages match up and they're in Port Royal, Henry County, where Letitia's family had been for generations. But he's dead by 1900, wherein Letitia is head of household in Jefferson county, widowed, bringing up her girls. And although she has her girls, there are three dead babies to account for, not just one; she gives number of kids as seven, with only three now living. One would THINK I could find birth recs for at least one of these seven offspring, but so far, no dice. No death recs either, for the kids or for their father. Perhaps none were recorded? Edna told me she thought he was probably buried "on their farm," but that was before she was born; she had no idea even what county the farm was in.

Damn I need the 1890 census. Anyway- what I know (or think I know) about Thomas: I've found him at home with stepmom and dad as a boy in earlier census recs; living in Grant county, KY. Not a far piece from Henry. I've actually found other folks who've tracked Thos Jr's mom and dad's lines, but the man himself is an enigma. He intrigues me. Frankly, he's the best looking fella in my family tree. And his wife, lord love her- well, maybe she was one of those ladies who is beautiful when she smiles. I have their wedding tintype, but.. perhaps it's one of those bad hair/clothes days for Letitia. Not all brides are beautiful.

Anyway- that's mystery one, goal one. Goal two? Find out what Hatfield sired my greatgrandmother's daddy. (On the other side of my Mom's family.) Moses Dial married Nancy Welch... but he didn't father two of her sons. "Jefferson Davis Dial", my ancestor, is supposedly a bastard Hatfield. I've got them in Wyoming county, WV in 1860; Jefferson Davis Dial is born in April of the following year. I need to find out when Moses left for the war. Figure that Pappy Jeff was conceived June or July of 1860 in time for an April 1st birthday. Anyway- I've looked at the 1860 census and there's a goodly number of young Hatfields to account for in the neighborhood. I wonder what the liklihood would be of finding a male-line descendent from one of Nancy's byblow boys, and getting a dna test? Most probably, the hatfields all share their Y chromosome anyway though, so finding the RIGHT one would be a challenge.

Skillet love

Today I stumbled across an article about the basic necessities of a functioning kitchen. But I won't link it for you, because it was useless. Oh, yes, it had some practical advice about knives and sheet pans- but it dismissed cast iron with a single line. "I like cast iron, and I have used it in some kitchens for nearly everything; but it can be more expensive than this quite decent cheap stuff, and it’s very heavy. "

To the author, I say this: You, sir, are no cook. And you can't shop worth a damn.

Whenever one of my friends marries or has a housewarming, I hit the flea markets and thrift shops. Your humble Ornithophobe is not inherently cheap about wedding gifts; there is method to my madness. A "new" cast iron skillet is both expensive and ill-made. Its surface is microscopically pockmarked and uneven. That will show in your cooking, as no amount of seasoning will completely eradicate sticking to such a surface.

No, for my gift-skillets, I look for the battle-hardened veterans of cookery. The older, the better. A bit of rust doesn't frighten me. Time and again, I've dug up the skillets of your great-grandmothers, moldering in boxes at yard sales, or collecting dust on thrift shop shelves. The most I've ever paid for one is a ten dollar bill- but I've also found an egg skillet for a quarter. Right now, on Ebay, there are dozens available in the under 20.00 range, some sitting unbid at 99 cents and no reserve. Lovely Griswolds and Wagners, and lots of nameless beauties waiting to be returned to service. Just watch out for the shipping!

Anyway... once you find your skillet, you need to restore it- take the gunk off, strip it down to bare metal. A go on self-clean in your oven will do for the nastiest ones, but most can be taken care of with a plastic scrubby and copious quantities of hot water. Salt makes a good abrasive in a pinch. Once it's stripped, it needs reseasoning. Rub the warm skillet down in a thin layer of lard and bake it for a few hours. Repeat this step two or three times, before welcoming your skillet back to work. The first thing you should cook in it is a nice bunch of bacon; it'll work wonders for the smoothness of the finish. Then maybe fry up some chicken and give it a proper workout. If you've done the job right, the finish will be smooth, not lumpy, and the surface will not be tacky to the touch. (Tacky means too much uncarbonised fat; strip and start over.) A good skillet is a deep black in color, with a glossy inner bottom. To keep it that way, wash in HOT water and spare the soap- it won't really hurt your skillet but it damages the seasoning.

I do most meats in my skillets, but they're also indispensable for corn bread, eggs, sauteed vegetables... they even make good cake pans. (Try pulling off pineapple upside down cake without one. Go on, I dare you.) And nothing caramelises sugar faster than cast iron. I'd no sooner try to cook in a kitchen with no cast iron than I'd try to cook without, oh, I dunno... food.

I really think it's time to get out of Dodge...

"For when the plebs discover that they can vote themselves bread and circuses without limit and that the productive members of the body politic cannot stop them, they will do so, until the state bleeds to death."-- Robert A. Heinlein