When you scan a Spanish document using OCR software that's expecting English, ó is sometimes interpreted as 6, but to the human eye, ó is usually more different from 6 than o is from 0 -- particularly in some of the older fonts that had short numbers.
In many countries of Europe and Latin America, it is standard to write 7 with a small dash through the slanted line. On the other hand, it is also common to write a 1 that looks like a lambda, with the initial upstroke almost as long as the downstroke. In the US, where 1 is usually a simple stroke, the extra dash through the 7 doesn't distintinguish anything except the foreign origin of the writer.
In the early days of automated address recognition, the USPS sponsored an OCR software competition. In an attempt to assure that it was the algorithms and not the training sets that were being compared, the developers were required to use a specified collection of training sets. The results of the competition were significantly affected by the fact that the training sets did not contain crossed sevens, and the test sets did.
A lot of people, like me, also cross their zees (or zeds) when hand printing. I have no idea why. An archaic cross on the ess led to confusion and orthographic change in French.
For a long time, the atomic mass unit was defined as 1/16 of the atomic weight of an O-16 atom. This has been superseded by the C-12 definition, under which the natural isotope distribution of oxygen yields an average mass of 15.9994 or so.
See a bit of cautionary history at the Priestley and Scheele entries.
Associate: Did you find everything you were looking for?
Customer: Well, actually no. I couldn't find ``Brother Where Art Thou.''
A.: It's under O -- ``O Brother, Where Art Thou?''
C.: Oh.
Attempts to map the syntax of English onto the grammatical categories of Latin led to a number of peculiar nineteenth-century distortions. One was the idea that English infinitives could not be split, because Latin infinitives could not be split. Another was the identification of a conceptually fugitive vocative case, identified by this particle.
In most SAE languages, nominative and vocative cases are now indistinguishable. In Modern Greek, though, most men's names ending in sigma drop it in the vocative. Hence, a fellow whose name is Athos is addressed Gia sou, Atho! (`Hello, Athos!')
In Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Alice at one point slips and falls into a pool of tears she cried when she was nine feet tall (chapter two, ``The Pool of Tears''). She has shrunk from holding the White Rabbit's fan, dropping it just in time to avoid oblivion by reductio ad absurdum or something like that. Looking about desperately for help, she sees a relatively large animal...
"Would it be of any use, now," thought Alice, "to speak to this mouse? Everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that I should think very likely it can talk: at any rate there's no harm in trying." So she began: "O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Mouse!" (Alice thought this must be the right way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but she remembered having seen in her brother's Latin Grammar, "A mouse--- of a mouse---to a mouse---a mouse---O mouse!")
[Glossarist's aside: that would be nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, and vocative; she forgot ablative.]
The Mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing."Perhaps it doesn't understand English," thought Alice; "I daresay it's a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror." (For, with all her knowledge of history, Alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened.)
[Glossarist's aside: the Norman invasion, and the Battle of Hastings, took place in 1066. It is one of the best remembered dates, if not the best remembered date, in English history. First the ablative, now this. Listen, smarty-pants, I've had just about enough of your carping. Alice is all of seven years and six months old and in a spot of trouble, so cut her some slack, already!]
So she began again: "Où est ma chatte?" which was the first sentence in her French lesson-book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. "I quite forgot you didn't like cats."
There's a form of spongiform encephalopathy that afflicts mice (see prions entry). One of the symptoms is the loss of their instinctive fear of cat urine.
One of the hits in Jefferson Airplane's second album, ``Surrealistic Pillow'' (1967), is the song ``White Rabbit,'' which includes the line
Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall.Grace Slick did the vocals. She originally sang that song for another San Francisco band called The Great Society. That band, formed in 1965, was a foursome with her husband Jerry Slick, his brother Darby, and David Miner. The band managed to release a single with ``(Don't you want) Somebody To Love'' on the A side and ``Free Advice'' on the B side. (A single was a vinyl disc with one song recorded and replayed on each side by an analog mechanical process, young feller. The B side was usually, um, well, it didn't matter if it got scratched, though there were exceptions. Today it is thought that MP3 technology and customer-customized selections will finally end the travesty of music packages containing wheat and chaff together. I can almost believe this will happen.)
Great Society recorded a studio album, produced by of all people Sly Stone before his more famous days as a soul singer, but it wasn't released commercially. Not then. In 1990 (about twenty-five years after the songs were recorded), ``Grace Slick/The Great Society'' was released by the never more aptly named Legacy Records.
Around the time Great Society's recording efforts were faltering, the original Jefferson Airplane album was disappointing as well. Vocalist Signe Toly Anderson became pregnant and (according to this interview) wanted to get her husband away and out of the drug scene, and Jefferson Airplane asked Grace to join them. The rest is history, as they say.
``The Great Society'' was the name of LBJ's activist-government vision. (See, for example, the Head Start entry. Back in those days, it was possible to believe that a little, or maybe more than a little, benevolent government intervention could make a great society. F. Hayek, in the preface to a later American edition of The Road to Serfdom, comments on the very different reaction to his book when it was first published in the US than when it was originally published in Britain (shortly after WWII). He judged that in Europe, the longer experience with activist government made readers, including his opponents, more receptive to the skepticism about socialism that his book represented. In contrast, the US had less of this experience, and the problems were not yet so apparent, so his opponents were more outraged by the suggestion that there would be problems. I'm not sure Hayek's analysis of this reception difference is correct, but there you are.
For more on war, the Anglo-American relationship, and Alice, see the LSJ entry. Nothing on mice, though. It adds a certain poignancy to the classical-language reference above.
Typical materials: TeO2 (Tellurium Oxide), PbMoO4, LiNbO3.
Example of usage:
``With this exciting offer, you can purchase now and not make any payments for 200 years OAC!''Interpretation:
We'll give you these terms if you're a nephew of the boss or an impecunious third-world country.Explanation:
Since the debts of some third-world nations will never be paid, banks prefer to lend to them on such a long-term basis that by the time the loans have to be declared nonperforming, the approving loan officer has collected all of his pension.National government budget balancing works on similar principles.
L'AICO in French.
Disruptive passengers are an increasing problem. Before you become one, remember: It's cold out there!
Gadhafi's original idea was to change the name to ``African Union.'' Of course, it's not just a name change. More later, after the antiemetic.
A microprocessor or three.
The earliest systems were proprietary, with different plugs and codes for different manufacturers or models. In 1988, the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE) set a standard connector plug and set of diagnostic test signals. The EPA adapted most of their standards from the SAE on-board diagnostic programs and recommendations. OBD-II (next entry) is an expanded set of standards and practices developed by SAE and adopted by the EPA and CARB (California Air Resources Board) for implementation by January 1, 1996.
Pascal was named after Blaise Pascal. Oberon was not named after Waugh. Instead, it was named after the moon of Uranus named Oberon. The Voyager 2 space probe was passing by Oberon at the time in 1986 that Wirth conceived his new project. (Modula was created for something called modular programming.)
For a smidgen of useful Oberon information, see its FOLDOC entry. As of this writing, Software--Practice & Experience is only online back to 1997 (that I have access to). The Wikipedia article on Oberon links to gzipped PostScript versions of the articles mentioned above, and some more. In fact there's an Oberon site, served by ETH, which is loaded with Oberon resources. Geometry.net has a good collection of links to documents on Oberon.
HUGE ND FAN DESPERATE FOR 5 GAs FOR RUTGERS. CALL PAT (xxx) xxx-xxxx.
[Telephone number left out because, why should I provide free advertising?]
The throw-away line is that obese should be defined as excessively short for one's mass. Garfield the fat cat has described himself as not overweight but undertall. See also body weight entry for new ideas on how to lose weight; less interesting related entry: BMI.
No wait -- I changed my mind: I'll take the second-best offer. Wouldn't want to appear greedy.
If you don't set a time limit on when you will stop accepting offers and select one, OBO only effectively means that you'll consider lower offers.
Common usage: ``or OBO.'' Don't believe me?
The transitive verb obrar in Spanish has some of the same senses as the English word work (to work metal or miracles), but the transitive and especially the intransitive verb seem to have a broader range of acepciones. E.g. obrar el bien, `to do good'; obrar libremente, `to act [or operate] freely'; la carta obra en sus manos, `the letter is in his hands.'
Obrero translates almost perfectly to `worker,' as in a factory or a hive, (female form obrera). It's also used appositively: sindicato obrero is `labor union.'
What is the value of all the as one might call it's scattered through the pages of Brooks? If it is Brooks who is calling it this or that, the interpolation is totally unnecessary; if, on the other hand, it is someone else, the author ought to tell us who. What is the explanation of the statement, in connection with Charles Eliot Norton, that ``his field was of imagination all compact''? If the sentence is Brooks's sentence, he ought not to load it down with this antique cliché; if the opinion is that of some previous critic, the cliché was not worth preserving. Who is it who exclaims of Francis Parkman, ``Eccovi, this child has been in hell''? Mr. Brooks pointing up his picture with a familiar literary allusion or some Bostonian1 addicted to Dante? ...
----
1. We have a footnote entry.
Leon Trotsky had a nonobvious insight into the nature of obviousness. It is recorded by Joseph Hansen in the introduction to the English version of My Life (discussed at the Faux-Pas-Bidet subentry):
He [Trotsky] was excellent at dictation, pacing himself according to the speed of the stenographer, whose strokes, hooks and curves he occasionally paused to admire; but dictation offered only some relief since he proceeded by successive approximations, going over his manuscripts repeatedly. "Sometimes," he told me once, "the most obvious thought comes only after the last draft is finished." The "last draft" was then reworked.
The usual joke about what is obvious has a math professor interrupted in mid-lecture by a student asking for the explanation of some assumption. The professor pauses to consider in silence, and after scratching his beard for twenty minutes, says ``it's obvious.''
In another version of this story, the professor interrupts himself. For a further nontrivial insight, see the trivial entry.
One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about human beings was their habit of continually stating and repeating the obvious, as in It's a nice day, or You're very tall, or Oh dear you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you alright? At first Ford had formed a theory to account for this strange behaviour. If human beings don't keep exercising their lips, he thought, their mouths probably seize up. After a few months' consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favour of a new one. If they don't keep on exercising their lips, he thought, their brains start working. After a while he abandoned this one as well as being obstructively cynical and decided he quite liked human beings after all, but he always remained desperately worried about the terrible number of things they didn't know about.
OBX is a chain of barrier islands along the Atlantic coast, screening the northeast quarter or so of the North Carolina coast. It includes Kitty Hawk, so basically it's hallowed ground.
Disclaimer: none of this information is very recent, or based on direct personal experience. If you want reliable information, visit your local family planning clinic. Take a mace when you go.
This is correct to the extent of omitting any mention of occupation in the sense of paid employment. In fact, an interesting division of semantic field has occurred. Occupational therapy is essentially rehabilitation of the hands and arms, and physical therapy is rehabilitation of legs, feet, and back.
What? You say can't pull yourself away from the terminal? Okay, look at this site. Also this item at OMIM.
My friend Lou, an administrator of mental-health services, explained to me recently that most of the soft mental-health syndromes (not schizophrenia or bipolar disorder or clinical depression or stuff like that, you understand) are simply pathologizations of behaviors that in other circumstances are regarded as virtues. The example I remember best is that OCD is just a pejorative way to say ``detail-oriented.''
So one may object to the term OCD as being an unfair pathologization of mildly atypical behavior. Another objection might be that the word disorder (expanding D) is almost precisely the least appropriate of terms, since the syndrome, or behavior, or complex, or disease (if you insist) is frequently characterized by an obsessive compulsion for order.
`Late Antiquity', the period between approximately 250 and 750 CE, witnessed massive cultural and political changes: the emergence of the world's great monotheistic religions, rabbinic Judaism, Christianity, and Islam; the development, and eventual destruction, of the Sasanian empire, the last Persian empire of Antiquity; the Germanic conquest and settlement of the western Roman empire; the transformation of Byzantium into a militarised and christianised society. The world of 750 was radically different from the world of 250, and the legacy of the changes that had occurred is very much with us today -- from European states tracing their origins to Germanic invaders, to the cultural divide brought about by the rise of Islam.
Oxford University has over 60 senior scholars, and a very large number of graduate students, researching within the field of Late Antiquity, with specialisms that embrace all the disciplines, from Archaeology to Theology, and that cover the entire geographical spectrum of the late antique world, from Coptic Egypt and Sasanian Iran, to the Celtic North. Recently these scholars have been united in the Oxford Centre for Late Antiquity (OCLA), hosted by the Oxford History Faculty. The aim of OCLA is to foster dialogue between the scholarly disciplines, and between the many institutions of the world that study Late Antiquity.
Judging from the images on the homepage, they specialize in the study of people with big hair. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!)
Although I have seen the OCT acronym used elsewhere, the OCT's own website refers consistently to ``the College'' and ``l'Ordre.''
An Ontario teacher recently explained the organization for me in four words, and the word evil appeared twice in his definition. I got to wondering how a representative professional organization could generate such feelings, and I discovered that
``[m]embers of the College elect 17 of the 31 members [of its Council]. The remaining 14 members of Council are public representatives appointed by the provincial government. Council meetings are open to the public.''The problem is obvious: the Council meetings should be closed to the public.
Gas stations and pumps in Canada display the same number (PON) as in the US. In Europe the RON is typically shown. The RON value of a fuel is usually higher than the MON value by about 8-10 for gasoline, so the same fuel sold in Europe has a nominal octane rating higher by 4-5.
Perkin-Elmer offers to help you determine both.
I'm not sure which name it has, but the original method (probably RON) approved by the ASTM in 1934 defines octane number as the octane percentage by volume of a heptane-octane blend with anti-knock characteristics equivalent to the gasoline under test. The particular alkanes in the blend are specified to be n-heptane and iso-octane (2,2,4-trimethylpentane). Of course, different tests give different meanings to the word ``equivalent.'' The devil is in that detail. To complicate matters further, in 1956 the ASTM extended the scale to octane numbers above 100 by the use of iso-octane fortified with tetraethyl lead [the use of which has been illegal for decades now, with verified decreases in human lead (Pb) levels]. I think that RON and MON are currently defined by ASTM D 2699 and ASTM D 2700, resp.
At Dan and Ilana's wedding, another friend of Dan's told me he worked in gasoline testing, but he couldn't explain RON or MON. He just reads the numbers off the machine (that'd be the ASTM 2885 method). It turns out that both numbers are obtained by running a specified test engine with the fuel under test, but that for RON the engine is run at lower speed, resulting in a higher octane number.
When John Fogerty sang CCR's cover of ``Proud Mary,'' (for the album ``Bayou Country'') he didn't understand the original song lyrics and sang ``pumped a lot of pain down in New Orleans.'' When Ike and Tina Turner did their half-nicccce...an'easy, half-rough version, Tina restored the original lyric:
pumped a lotta 'tane down in New Orleans(Don't listen for it in the single, it's abridged.)
Anyway, that's the story I heard on the radio. The only problem with that theory, as has been pointed out to me, is that John Fogerty wrote ``Proud Mary.'' Well then, he misheard the 'tane expression, used it in the song, but then Tina sang true to the colloquialism: a case of reverse mondegreen.
Don't like that? Okay, here's another theory: John Fogerty meant pain, because he was talking about pumping iron. You know -- ``No pain, no gain.''
Wait, wait! Here's a reasonable theory: he used the homophone 'pane, meaning propane. People really use this contraction (testimony here).
What does John Fogerty think about all these theories? The net has an answer. According to radio personality Ken Hoffman,
I've been having an ongoing debate with a friend about the words to Proud Mary. He thinks the lyrics go, "Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis, pumped a lot of `tane down in New Orleans." He says 'tane is short for octane, meaning the writer was pumping gas. One night I heard Jay Leno say the same thing.Here's the correct lyric, straight from the writer John Fogerty:
"Sometimes I write words to songs because they sound cool to sing. Sometimes the listener doesn't understand what I'm singing because I'm dedicated to singing the vowel, having fun with the word sounds coming out of my mouth. `Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis, pumped a lot of pain down in New Orleans,' is a good example. I think Tina Turner sang `tane' instead of `pain,' as in a contracted form of octane. But I knew what she meant," Fogerty said.
A likely story.
This entry is a bit rough right now, but it may be a while before I have a chance to come back and sand it down, and in the meantime it's holding up publication of the rest of the file. Sorry.
Quoting from Edward Frederic Obert's Internal Combustion Engine, (International Textbook Co., Scranton, Pa., 1968 3/e), p. 304:
The unknown octane rating of a test fuel is determined in the following manner: The engine [a standard one-cylinder model especially for testing] is operated with the test fuel, and the air-fuel ratio adjusted for maximum knock. The compression ratio is then varied until the knock intensity is standard (55 units). With the compression ratio locked at this setting, known blends of reference fuels are placed in the two auxiliary carburetor bowls. Each fuel is tested in turn, and the knockmeter readings are recorded. Eventually the original knockmeter reading (of 55) will be bracketed by two readings from two known reference fuels. One blend will have a higher octane number than the unknown sample, and the second blend will have a lower number (but the difference is restricted to about two octane numbers, since the knockmeter is nonlinear). Linear interpolation of the knockmeter readings for the three fuels is then made to find the octane rating of the sample of unknown fuel.
RON and MON are both measured with the same standard engine. The principal difference is that RON is measured with the test engine running at 600 RPM, and MON with the test engine running at 900 RPM. Also, the inlet temperature is 325K for RON and 422K for MON.
Octane ratings above 100 are obtained from comparisons with leaded isooctane.) I suppose linear extrapolation is stretched a bit to determine the octane numbers of n-octane (RON=-20, MON=-17).
As it happens, eight bits is also a dollar.
The abbreviation also stands for oculi dextri, because the Romans inflected noun phrases so you could tell an attributive noun even when the noun it modified was distant or entirely out of sight.
Spanish doesn't have a good translation for the English noun pet. (Patience -- it gets relevant!) The dictionaries give animal favorito, and I just encountered animal de compañia (`companion animal') in an email from Spain. A teacher's pet is not, however, ``un animal favorito del profesor'' or ``animal que le hace compañia a la profesora'' or anything like that. It's ``ojo derecho del profesor,'' which literally means `teacher's right [as opposed to left] eye.' In general, ``el ojo derecho'' of someone (also in the diminutive form, expressing affection: ``el ojito derecho'') is someone's `pet' in the metaphorical sense of a (usually subordinate or inferior) favorite. Don't think this is silly until you've considered the expression ``apple of my eye.'' Needless to say, the gender of the metaphor is determined by the metaphor's ``vehicle'' -- the eye, which is male. Hence, the forms given above apply whether the person referred to is male or female. The word oja (diminutive form ojita) means `leaf' (also `sheet [of paper]' and `[razor] blade'). For what it's worth, ojalá means something like `let's hope so.'
``Dutch'' was a common nickname in the US well into the twentieth century. It was typically applied to anyone of German descent. The practice is dated, disused,and largely forgotten, so I suppose anyone still called ``Dutch'' might well be called ``Old Dutch.''
Anaximander had a theory that the Earth was shaped like a cylinder, with height three times the diameter. The rest of the entry was written under the assumption that people live on the sides of the cylinder. This is pretty stupid, because (a) even the Greeks eventually realized that the Earth is round, and (b) if people lived on the sides, they'd slide down. In Anaximander's model, people live on the flat top surface of the Earth, but I can't be bothered to rewrite the rest of this entry. Here's how it stood before I discovered my stupid error.
You're bound to wonder about the North Star: is it a disc, or how does one see it if one isn't at the top of the cylinder? It's not such a problem: the 3-by-1 dimensions were standard for column drums, so I guess he had in mind something like a cylinder tapered towards the top, like a column. After all, he obviously couldn't have thought it was perfectly smooth either (could he?). I know, I know: now you want to know about the night sky: how is it possible that such a large region of the sky around the North Star could have been visible (in Winter) at times half a day apart? Look, Anaximander lived in the sixth century BCE -- this wasn't half bad for the time. I'm so glad that you've had an opportunity to ask all your questions.
In Anaximander's theory, the Sun was set in a wheel with dimensions 27 and 28. It's not entirely clear what those numbers meant: Anaximander's book or books are lost, and we have these numbers from third parties. That's as bad as getting your news from the MSM, but before the Internet there were no real alternatives. In chapter 4 of his Anaximander and the Architects: The Contributions of Egyptian and Greek Architectural Technologies on the Origins of Greek Philosophy (Albany: SUNY Press, 2001), Robert Hahn argues that these are radius rather than (as usually assumed) diameter dimensions, so Anaximander's Sun wheel has an o.d. of 56 Earth diameters and i.d. of 54.
Sources pass along a ``19'' for the Moon wheel, so at least he guessed it was closer. It's usually assumed that this 19 corresponds to the Sun's 28, so if you suppose that these are diameters, the Moon wheel has an i.d. of 36 Earth diameters. The stars are set in a cylinder inside the Moon wheel. (You weren't going to ask why we don't see stars against the dark side of the Moon were you? Good, because the answer is obvious: the reflected light of the Earth makes the dark crescent of the Moon so bright that it outshines the stars, just as the daytime atmosphere does. See, everything is easy if you have faith.) The standard conjecture is that the cylinder of stars, and the wheels carrying the Moon and Sun, formed a nice arithmetic progression; according to Hahn's view, that gives the star cylinder an o.d. and i.d. of 19 and 18, respectively.
According to a presentation at the 1941 ODC Annual Meeting, more than 2,000 drilling contractors were operating in the US. There were about 4,000 rotary and 2,800 cable rigs available, and contractors owned about three-quarters of them. There's been tremendous consolidation, with far fewer independent contractors today.
Wells have also been getting progressively deeper. In 1859, in the face of some ridicule, Col. Edwin Drake drilled for oil near Titusville, Pennsylvania, and hit it at a depth of 59 feet, 8 inches. That was the first commercial oil well in the world, producing 35 barrels a day. (Pennsylvania was the first major oil-producing state. That's why a major brand of motor oil is called Quaker State.) Most early wells were shallower than 400 feet. The average well depth was about 3000 feet by 1941 and, according to the IPAA, 5572 feet in 2001. But average doesn't tell the whole story -- many modern wells are deeper than 25,000 feet. (You want metric units? Very well, a foot equals exactly 30.48 cm. ``Do the math,'' as they say.)
Generally speaking, increasing depth has meant a shift in basic drilling technology. Col. Drake used a cable rig: basically, this was an iron bit at the end of a cable. The bit functions as a ram: it is repeatedly raised by the cable and dropped. Drake's cable was pulled by a steam engine, and over time that was replaced by different motors. In principle, cable rigs can reach great depths -- a record of 11,145 feet was set by New York drillers in 1953 -- but efficiency decreases with depth. The alternative, and by far the most common kind of rig today, is the rotary rig.
The 1901 discovery of ``Spindletop'' oil field, on a salt dome near Beaumont, Texas, was taken as proof of the value of rotary drilling rigs, and popularized the use of drilling mud. As the numbers from the 1941 ODC meeting show, the gradual supplanting of cable rigs by rotary rigs was well along by 1940. Rotary rigs are basically drills: a long cylindrical tube (gradually lowered through the derrick and periodically extended by the addition of sections) transmits torque to a bit at the end. The bit can be a pretty ornery-looking device, decorated with toothed gears. The tube or ``drill string'' also serves to carry drilling mud down to the bit. The drilling mud (a mix of clay, water, and chemical additives) cools and lubricates the bit, and is recirculated by being forced up the borehole on the outside of the drill string. As it rises, it carries up rock cuttings. The cuttings are sieved out and the mud recirculated. (Sometimes the opposite circulation direction is used.) Rotary rigs have better hole-cleaning properties than cable rigs, and can transmit greater power to the bit.
In basketball, most defenses are some variation of either man-to-man or zone (there are also ``junk defenses''). The zones are normally two, three, or four areas of the court surrounding the defended basket, and the zones deform a bit as the ball moves around. In an odd-front zone [defense], the outermost zone has one defender or three. In an even-front zone, the outermost zone has two (or four, who knows?) defenders. I wouldn't know a basketball from a large grapefruit, but according to the Internet, most teams attack an odd front zone with an even number front.
``Be My Baby,'' by Ronnie Spector, was a hit for the Ronnettes (oh-- is that where the name came from?). It included the lyric, ``For every kiss you give me / I'll give you three.'' I always found that theoretically challenging. Let's experiment!
Here's a project in History ODL. Here's a tendentiously acronymed ODL project from Finland. The Institute of [for] Educational Technology at an Open University in the UK is big on this stuff. Also visit the United States Distance Learning Association (USDLA).
Why do these things happen to a guy with such a good chin and never a bad hair day? The answer was revealed in a special four-cleavages-on-the-cover issue of the weekly newsmagazine People. Chris O'Donnell, the prep school boy, is named one of the ten best dressed of 1995, along with Nicole Kidman, Oprah Winfrey, Cindy Crawford, Serena Linley, Marcia Clark (``best-dressed on a budget''), Jodie Foster and Elizabeth Hurley. Professional transvestite RuPaul gushes ``[h]e's so adorable.'' ``His mother must be very proud,'' Linda Dano declares. Cruel praise. One member of the best-dressed advisory panel costumed him for Batman Forever, but appears not to have recused himself from the decision, despite the evident motive for mischief.
Clearly, we have no Mickey Rourke here. And as Mickey Rourke once told an interviewer for Smart magazine:
No one knows what this means. (Dice.) However, Dorothy Parker once observed that``Every once in a while you've gotta roll the potato.''
``You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.''
Food for thought, probably.
A casting atrocity: O'Donnell as Hemingway!
[The purple-tights image link is to a locally mirrored copy of <http://wuarchive.wustl.edu/multimedia/images/gif/b/batman-a.gif>.]
The two-letter form is also used for traditional reasons in the spelling of some names. For example, the surname of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe is never spelled Göthe, except perhaps in jest or profound ignorance, though there are individuals who spell their own surname that way. Similarly, the common surname Schröder is written Schroeder when necessary, and most German immigrants to the US with that name seem to have adopted the oe spelling. In addition, however, there are Germans in Germany who regularly spell their surname Schroeder, and their numbers perhaps ammount to as much as 5% of the Schröder population.
Not entirely relevant, but worth knowing, is that in Goethe's own pronunciation, the oe sounded little like the ö/oe of standard modern German. It's not due to the two centuries of language evolution so much as to the fact that he used his own local dialect.
The association of oe with ö is apparently not arbitrary. My mother was taught in school in Germany, some time ago, that originally only oe was used, and that the ö is an abbreviated representation of this: the dieresis over the o represents the two vertical slashes made in writing an e (in the traditional Gothic script).
There are compound words in which oe represents two vowels. The typical example is a compound like soeben [so + eben].
The oe is also used to represent the ø. I don't know whether the ø replaced or arose as another short form of oe. It's also possible that ø is associated with oe indirectly through ö. See the Oerberg entry for why that might be.
One last thing: if you can't make an ö, it's a favor to no one if you write o with a double quote in any form or position. It's painful ugly. Please, just use the oe and have done.
You know, I should group these last three entries together, using {Oklahoma | Omaha | Oregon} in the definition. But if I did that, my leisure-time work product would decrease by two units, and my nominal relaxation efficiency would decrease even as I increased hobby effort. But I need a better excuse than that. A better excuse is that there are probably other OEA's with expansions beginning in OL or ON that aren't education associations, and we should be prepared.
You're probably wondering why these organizations don't have an entry between the Omaha and Oregon Education Associations (OEA and OEA, respectively). The reason is, if I did that, the comment in the OEA entry above wouldn't make any sense.
The Ontario Expropriation Association ``is a non-profit, voluntary association of professionals having an interest in the field of expropriation law and practice.'' Emphasis on the word voluntary, I guess. ``Membership in the OEA includes lawyers, appraisers, planners, accountants, and others from both the private and public sectors. The association also includes members of the Ontario Municipal Board, and the Judiciary.''
As for the Energy Association, they are ``where energy idea and actions converge.'' The idea I get from their homepage image is that they want to extract energy from lightning to make lighting.
Twenty-nine members currently: Austria, Australia, Belgium, Canada, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Greece (this country needs a better name -- something dignified to go with its great history, not a homophone of grease), Hungary, Iceland (cool!), Ireland (calm down!), Italy, Japan, Republic of Korea, Luxembourg, Mexico (Mexico?), Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States.
The (OE)2 is a project of the MI at WMU. As of July 2002, the plural ``Editions'' is still prospective.
A common practice in Germanic languages is to print or type oe for ö or ø when either of the latter is not available. (For a bit more on that, see the this oe entry.) When the relevant extension of the Roman alphabet is available, and in handwriting, the use of the two-letter equivalent is generally regarded as incorrect; the principal exceptions are surnames. Many people prefer to have their names written in a traditional form. (A similar thing occurs in Japanese, and it is the main source of the demand for printable kanji characters eliminated from standard use by the government.) Anyway, although the earliest editions of the Lingua Latina books used in the US bore his surname in the form Oerberg, later editions give the name as Ørberg, so that presumably is the form he prefers. Since the books make a strong effort to avoid showing any language other than Latin, I'm surprised I haven't seen a more Latinized version of his name anywhere (though writing oe for ø is a start).
German and Swedish use ö (called ``umlaut o'' in German and called by its pronunciation in Swedish) but not ø. Danish and Norwegian use ø but not ö. When Danish or Norwegian words written with an ø have close cognates in Swedish (and they often do) the cognates are written with ö. The converse (ö in Swedish typically mapping to ø in Danish and Norwegian cognates) is also true. Consequently, the two graphemes are often regarded as functionally equivalent (we won't talk about pronunciation), and one is sometimes substituted for the other when that is all that is available. At least, in English texts, one often finds ö substituted for ø. For example, in a typescript Introduction to Lingua Latina (it's mentioned toward the end of that LL entry), the author's surname is written Örberg.
Here's some instructional material from Virginia Tech.
Here I sit,You can figure it out. Hint: don't try to reconstruct this from scansion.
All broken-hearted
Paid a dime to ____
But only ______.
You wanted more graceful transitions in the previous paragraph? What do you think this is -- literature?
A-driver's-license-and-car is babe-bait in high school and in retirement communities. In the former, parents may impose a curfew; in the latter, the state division of motor vehicles may impose a no-driving-after-dark restriction.
I understand that after an initial IFFT, a ``cyclic prefix'' is slapped on the front, which is just a repeat of the end of the transformed signal, and that this makes decoding easy, and that another advantage of OFDM is that it's possible to design for ``bad spots'' in the frequency spectrum. The downside includes high peak-to-average power ratio, and the need for precise linearity in the amplifiers and very sharp frequency syncronization. Don't quote me on that, though -- the speaker intensity at the talk I attended on this stuff was fading into the air conditioner noise (white, Carrier), and the overheads were not easy to decode.
[Vice President Dick Cheney's] office, oddly, or nervously, or defensively, refuses to supply a daily schedule of his recent activities, and, furthermore, makes this refusal off the record. (Truly--a spokesperson refused to provide information only under the condition that I agreed not to say she refused to provide information.)
I suppose she must have threatened to refuse to refuse to provide the information unless he agreed not to reveal her refusal. I think Wolff struck a bad bargain here, and it's not even clear that he honored the confidentiality agreement. It probably depends on the precise wording. What the nonspokesperson should have done was provide the lack of information on a recursive conditional basis. The reporter would have had to agree not to report any off-the-record information, with the stipulation that any information about off-the-record information (including but not limited to the conditions under which it might be reported) would be considered off-the-record information itself. One shudders to think what stick could correspond to such an indigestible carrot. One also wonders about the topology of such an uninformative information set. This set might have a hole in its interior: is it permissible not to report the daily schedule one hasn't been given, or is this tantamount to suggesting that one hasn't received the schedule?
Here's a less convoluted situation, but one with a little more emotional weight. It's from a Washington Post story of June 20, 2007, reporting the continuation of a ban on the use of BlackBerrys in French government ministries and the presidential palace. (After all, BlackBerry data are routed through servers in the UK and the US; the NSA may be listening.)
An Orange France spokesman said Wednesday that the company had no comment on the government's decision to banish the BlackBerry from the corridors and offices of government because of security concerns. The spokesman, however, pleaded not to be named declining to comment.
RIM, the Canadian company that makes the BlackBerry, says messages sent via BlackBerrys are super-duper secure (not an exact quote). Of course, they have to say that. The question is, what are they not telling us, and what are they not telling us that they're not telling us? Check out the non-denial denial entry also, but don't tell 'em I sentcha.
Niagara: Cumberland Falls (in Whitley County,
Kentucky)
Grand Canyon: Breaks Canyon
William Shakespeare: William Faulkner
See also our FSU entry. (F is for Florida, SU is for Soviet Union, and X is for the People's Republic of Berkeley.)
Cf. NGC.
The OGC sits at the top of a hill, on the far side of a golf course from the main undergraduate campus. On a misty morning, coming into Princeton on the train spur from Princeton Junction, the most prominent sight off to the west is the OGC's Cleveland Tower, rising like an upscale Brigadoon in central New Jersey. More than one person claims to have felt disoriented by the sight.
The Villanova Center for Information Law and Policy serves a page of Ohio state government links. USACityLink.com has a page with some city and town links for the state.
The song ``My City was Gone'' first appeared on the Pretenders' album Learning to Crawl. It was written by lead singer Chrissie Hynde, a native of Akron, Ohio, after she returned from a long stay in Britain. The song ends
Ay, oh, where did you go, Ohio?
The spectral classification sequence categorizes the light spectra of stars. The system was developed by E. C. Pickering, director of the Harvard College Observatory from 1877 to 1919, a time when it was dark at night across most of the US and it wasn't ridiculous to operate a professional astronomical observatory in coastal Massachusetts. Back when there were competing spectral classifications (due to Secchi and Vogel), Pickering's system was known as the Harvard system or the Henry Draper system. Henry Draper was a benefactor of the observatory.
Pickering's system is based not on the color of the star, but on the relative absorption of a sequence of pairs of absorption lines. Thus, as one moves along the main sequence from B to A (i.e.: B0, B1, B2, ... B9, A0) the relative absorption of helium lines decreases and the hydrogen absorption lines become more prominent.
A nice description is served on this page.
High German is a division of West Germanic. West Germanic is one of three main divisions of the Germanic language family, which in turn is one of a dozen or so major divisions of the Indo-European language family. The other two main Germanic branches are North Germanic, otherwise known as Scandinavian, and East Germanic. The East Germanic tribes migrated from the Baltic and settled around the Black Sea by the fourth century. Then came Attila. Someday if you're good I won't tell you the story. It's very exciting, and it doesn't have a very happy ending.
West Germanic includes Anglo-Saxon and its descendants (including English, a language you may be aware of), Frisian, Dutch, and related languages, and the two language groups Low and High German. Some time around 500 A.D., a sound shift occurred in OHG that still distinguishes Hochdeutsch (the more precise term for German from other West Germanic families.
The Low German branch of West Germanic has surviving members, such as Plattdeutsch, among the various local languages of modern Germany. But High German is the ancestor of standard German, and historically, most German literature has been written in OHG or one of its descendant languages. German literature is thus divided into three periods. Old High German (800 A.D. to 1050), Middle High German (1050-1500), and New High German (1500 to present)
Yes, yes, you're thinking of Violet, George and Mary Bailey's childhood friend in It's A Wonderful Life. She says, ``Oh, this ol' thing? I only wear this when I don't care how I look.'' The Violet character's best line, m.A.n., is uttered by the actress playing her as a child in an early scene. Coming into Mr. Gower's drugstore, she meets the little Mary Hatch,
Mary: I love [George].(From memory; first three lines approximate.)
Violet: Me too!
Mary: [But] you love all the boys!
Violet: What's wrong with that?
Look, what I'm trying to say here is, most people have an unconscious mind that would blow out their conscious mind in any fair test of intelligence, see? The conscious mind gets all the publicity only because it's out in front. Cool, no? Anyway, practice the head term until it rolls off your tongue like some bad meat you ate an hour ago, and you can sound spontaneous too.
The h in the German noun Ohm is silent -- it only serves to indicate that the o is long (in terms of vowel quantity). In Greek, the distinction is made by using different vowels omega and omicron, as the names imply.
Greek does not have a letter aitch. The capital eta looks like H, but it's just a vowel. When Greek is written in Roman characters, aitches are inserted to represent aspiration. Specifically, th, ph, and ch transliterate the Greek letters theta, phi, and chi, which in Greek represent the aspirated versions of the unvoiced stops tau, pi, and kappa, respectively. (We do the same thing with voiced stops in Hindi: bh, dh, gh.) Vowels and rho can also be aspirated, but there aren't separate letters for the aspirated versions. Instead, the characters for the unaspirated sounds are augmented by a breathing mark. (The breathing mark, also called spiritus asper in Latin, looks like a tiny left parenthesis mark above the letter.) Thus, the Greek words that we write hero and rhetor look like ero and retor with specks of ink or screen phosphor along the top. As you can see, the aitch indicating aspiration is usually written after the aspirated sound in Roman characters, but before the aspirated vowel. However, when a Greek word begins with an aspirated diphthong (as in haima, `blood'), the breathing mark is placed over the second vowel.
Well, I was trying to build to something. I was going to mention that vowels in Greek were only aspirated (or at least only got aspiration marks) at the beginning of a word. (This makes it a bit like English, which now has lost word-final aspiration -- it occurs only in foreign loans like Bach and loch -- and limited intervocalic aspiration.) Then I was going to bring in the microohm, and, like a soufflé, this Greek concoction would rise and yield mÔ! Or mo' or something. (I don't like soufflé.) But alas, as often happens, the ingredients didn't come together quite right and, deflatedly, I must simply ask you to proceed now to the mho entry.
At first blush, English appears unusual in having a compound to fill this semantic slot, but that is mainly appearances. Dutch has zonder. (And Dutch zonde is `sin,' so zonder zonde is `sinless.') This zonder is cognate with, and sounds a lot like, the German word sonder. The original senses of the word included `outside' (i.e., `without'), and considering that that is the sense of some Indic cognates (like reconstructed Old Indic sanu-tar), there seems to be some parallel reasoning going on here. Sonder (also sunder) accumulated some related meanings, such as `for each,' and now the main sense of the adjective (and adverb) is `separate(ly).' This all seems very reasonable if one meditates on the related senses of ``outside of'' and ``apart from'' in English. In fact, the outside notion just won't die. The Swedish adverb ut has about the same meaning as its English cognate `out,' utan expresses `without.' The Danish is uden. For Spanish and some other Romance, see sin.
Automobile engines are almost all four-stroke engines. Hand-held chainsaws, lawn mowers, boats with outboard engines, motorcycles, and snowmobiles all traditionally used two-stroke engines. The principal advantage of a two-stroke engine is that you get one power stroke per cylinder per revolution of the crankshaft, rather than one every two revolutions. This means that roughly, you only need half as many cylinders and you have a lighter engine. Two-strokes are also lighter because they're simpler. The earliest designs had no valves, just inlet and outlet openings on the side of the cylinder, closed by the side of the piston. Later designs improved operation slightly with reed valves -- one-way valves that do not require actuation (so no cams, etc.). Some two-strokes do have valves at the top of the cylinder, but I don't know anything about their actuation.
The philosophical disadvantage of two-strokes is that they're sloppy: they squeeze the four operations of compression, power, exhaust, and intake into just two strokes (one complete turn of the crankshaft). This means that you're adding fuel-air mix as you're removing combusted fuel from the same cylinder, so some fuel is wasted: being exhausted immediately as it is let in. Fuel injection gets around this, since fuel can be injected just before spark, and that approach has also been tried. In any case, there are many kinds of inefficiency, and carrying a heavier, harder-to-repair engine may not be worth slightly greater fuel efficiency.
In practice, many other factors influence fuel efficiency, and fuel pass-through is not even the most important cause of hydrocarbon (unburnt fuel) emissions now. Nevertheless, with the exception of hand-held chainsaws, the two-stroke applications listed earlier are moving toward four-stroke. The main practical advantage is vastly reduced noise.
The first part of the term is derived from the Greek oîkos, `house, dwelling.' Other English terms with the same root tend to be based on the Latinized root form oeco-, and the initial oe has generally eroded to e (as in foetus > fetus). In fact, the only common words I can think of that have the root are economy and ecology, and derivationally related words. (According to the OED, oecology was modeled on oeconomy.) The Greek original of that word, oikonomia, essentially had to do with household management. [For a really thorough discussion of the semantic evolution of the word economy in English, see the beginning of Moses Finley's The Ancient Economy (Un. of Calif. Pr., 1973).] In German, economy is Ökonomie. (The umlauted character represents oe.) The word Ökonomie shares the semantic field of economy with the more common Wirtschaft. (The distinction doesn't line up with that of economy and finance. Look, this is the oicotype entry. Wait until we have a dedicated Ökonomie entry, or look in a German dictionary.)
By now you're eager to know how oicotype happens to be spelled the way it is. The reason is probably that the word was introduced by a Swede, Carl Wilhelm von Sydow. See Selected Papers on Folklore, ed. Laurits Bødker (Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, 1948).
Roseanne (the show) ran from 1988 to 1997. Its outlook would appear to have had little in common with that of ``The Cosby Show,'' which ran from 1984 to 1992. The Cosby Show was a sort of black ``Father Knows Best'' (1954-1963). Bill Cosby said he created it partly because he was tired of sit-coms in which ``the children were brighter than the parents.''
It is clear from the IIC's report that the OIOS generated many reports accurately detailing major problems and making sensible recommendations. It is also clear that, with minor exceptions, the content of these reports was ignored. Apparently the OIOS has no enforcement power and no mechanism to instigate enforcement. This is deeply characteristic of the UN, which is ultimately sustained by a faith that words magically lead to deeds, without credibly threatened penalties or force.
The Villanova Center for Information Law and Policy serves a page of Oklahoma state government links. USACityLink.com has a page with some city and town links for the state.
If the carbon is part of a benzene ring, then the compound is called a phenol or (with multiple hydroxyl groups) polyphenol. Otherwise -- with hydroxyl group (or groups all) bonded to nonaromatic carbon(s), it is an alcohol.
There are a number of older chemical terms that end in -ol and do not describe alcohols or phenols. Typically these are terms widely used among all chemists in Germany during the nineteenth and early twentieth century, and which have lingered in use among nonchemists and industrial chemists after the IUPAC rationalization of chemical nomenclature. Prominent among these no-longer-appropriate uses of -ol are the aromatic (but nonphenolic) chemical names ``benzol, toluol, and xylol,'' now replaced by benzene, toluene, and xylene.
In the previous paragraph, the sentence containing the word meager is declarative, not interrogative. That's why I didn't use a question mark. Some people disapprove. We need to have an international conference on this question. The question question, I mean. You understand?
Outside linebackers used to be called defensive ends, but that sounded slow, so they came up with a different name. More seriously, the linebacker position was invented by legendary University of Michigan coach Fielding Yost. The number of men on the field (11 per team) hadn't changed, so I guess the original OLB's were DE's who were playing slightly off the line.
I guess ``card catalog'' (like ``carriage return'') has lost some semantic traction, so OPAC will become increasingly common.
As we stroll briskly down electronic memory lane, let's pause a moment and record a melancholy milestone, a John Henry moment. After Notre Dame's libraries switched to an OLCC system in the 1980's, and then to another in the 1990's, the old card catalog at Hesburgh Library had some inertia. It ceased to be updated, but it remained available, and I even used it a couple of times in the late 1990's when the electronic catalog was off line. In particular, during and just before final exams, Hesburgh stays open around the clock, which is cool, but the old electronic catalog went off-line after about 3 AM, which was not cool. That was when I used the cards. I'm sorry I didn't record the dates of these significant events. It was probably before 2000 that the card catalog cabinets were moved out of the first floor.
Once all volumes were on electronic record, the cards started to be recycled for scratch paper. You would look up a book on the OLCC, grab an old card from a convenient stack near the PC, and write the call number on the back of the old card. It was faster than printing out. There is a certain poignant nobility in this final humble service of each card, making its lonely departure among bad photocopies and forbidden candy wrappers, too soon, forever, out of the only library it had ever called home.
One evening last week, during the traditional end-of-semester scavenger hunts, a callow youth approached me and asked where the card catalog was. He wasn't sure what he needed, but apparently he needed a catalog card. When I reached over to get him one, I realized that the scrap-paper stack had only the recycled bad-photocopy slips. I did find a couple of old cards nearby, but today (December 11, 2005) I learned that we have indeed come to the end of an era: the capacious cabinets were finally emptied a couple of months ago, and since then there are no more cards to refill the scrap-paper stacks. Sic transit.
Eda Kriseová is a Czech novelist, was a dissident under Communist rule. Thanks in part to international pressure, she received an exit visa from Czechoslovakia in 1988.
She visited Harvard, where she was to give a reading. Sitting down at a computer terminal in Widener Library, she typed in the words ``Czech underground literature.'' To her surprise, the computer responded. She then typed in her own name. The computer answered that it had carbon copies of some of her own samizdat manuscripts. ``I burst into tears,'' she said. ``I felt like a victorious Robinson Crusoe, whose message in the bottle had washed up on shore.''
She went home. Fast forward to -- no wait! Better go to slow-mo; everything happened suddenly. On January 16, 1989, Kriseová's friend Vaclav Havel and seven other civil rights campaigners were arrested for hooliganism. They were trying to place flowers at the statue of St. Wenceslas in Wenceslas Square. (Wenceslas is the English form of the Czech name Vaclav.)
On May 17, 1989, Vaclav Havel was released after serving only four months of his nine-month term for this crime. Ms. Eva Kvetenska, the judge who ordered his release, read a report from the prison authorities that Havel, a playwright, had shown ``disciplined conduct.'' She ordered him placed on two years' probation, pronouncing that this would be long enough to guarantee his ``re-education.'' In 1968, Havel had gone on the air with the short-lived Free Czech Radio, during the Soviet-led invasion by fraternal socialist armed forces that crushed a liberalization known as the Prague Spring. From that time, he was permanently banned from publication and performance. (The next year, a student named Jan Palach immolated himself at St. Wenceslas Square in protest. The hooliganism of January 16, 1989, was to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of his suicide.) As a coauthor of Charter 77, Havel was arrested within 24 hours of that declaration's announcement; charges related to Charter 77 work won him a four-year prison term in 1979.
Havel became president of Czechoslovakia on December 29, 1989. Well, other things happened too, so I'm just concentrating on the stuff that seems relevant to this entry. Kriseová became a member of Havel's advisory board. In 1992, she attended a conference organized by Partisan Review, on ``Intellectuals and Social Change in Eastern Europe'' (held at Rutgers University in Newark, NJ). Her talk, on the last day of the conference, was entitled ``Where I Hid My Manuscript.'' [The block of quoted text above is from Jacob Weisberg's report on the conference in the back-page ``Diarist'' feature of the New Republic: ``Newark Diarist'' for May 4, 1992, p. 41 (vol. 206, #18).] Kriseová wrote Havel's official biography, which received mixed reviews.
L&S has older scholarship, of course; in particular, our understanding of Indo-European is supposed to be improved. I've also read the claim that L&S is notorious for the inaccuracy of its indications of vowel length. I guess notoriety is a matter of degree.
On behalf of the L&S it may be said that it has more usage information, details on semantic shifts, etc. Also, the OLD -- unlike L&S -- is more sharply focused on classical texts for cites and sources, and excludes Christian and other late antique evidence. Some see this as reflecting the values of ``old-style Christian-hating classicists.'' Fight! Fight!
In general, redundancy is calculated as a ``left-to-right'' procedure; that is to say, the predictability of a following term is calculated upon the extent to which preceding forms determine its probability of occurrence.[In Toward a Science of Translating: With Special Reference to Principles and Procedures Involved in Bible Translating (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1964).] When people who can think but not calculate try to put their ideas into mathematical terms, the results can be amusing.
...
In actual speech, however, as well as in the understanding of written materials, persons do not decode merely from left to right. Rather, they take in what might be called ``meaningful mouthfuls'' and actually determine the meaning by two-directional decoding, so that redundancy must be calculated both lineally and structurally.
On the uk.railway newsgroup, monitored by our research department, the despised Connex has been compared favorably to Outlook Express. However, on that newsgroup OLE has another expansion:
It's often called a polyester, but it's not a polymer. It's a sucrose (double sugar) esterized with five to eight fatty acids.
As of this writing (March 1997), olestra is found only in, and in all, fat-free potato chips.
It has been impossible to test toxicity using the usual animal-model protocols. That is, normally one gives factor-of-a-hundred (proportional-by-body-mass) overdoses to test animals to detect any deleterious effect. This has been criticized on the basis of the idea that too much of anything is bad, but it does improve the odds of detecting problems that might otherwise take years to develop, or to which the test animal happens to be less susceptible. In any case, since fat substitutes are not trace-level additives but a major fraction of the food they're used in, factor-of-a-hundred increased ``doses'' would simply burst the test animals. A part of the argument for acceptance has simply been that olestra isn't absorbed, so it would take some pretty nifty magic for it have a toxic effect.
There are, in fact, a number of health problems possibly associated with olestra, among the least of them the fact that olestra tends to leak out through the other end of your GI tract, even though you thought you were toilet trained. On the other hand, there are a number of health problems associated with the consumption of ordinary fat.... Studies suggest that GI problems (cramps, ``fecal urgency'' and soft stools, mostly) happen to a few percent of people who eat the equivalent of half a tube of fat-free Pringles, but the data are still, pardon the expression, spotty. The GI effects are reported to be comparable in magnitude or severity to those produced by baked beans, dietary fiber, and prunes.
The main specific concern is that olestra is a solvent for fat-soluble nutrients like vitamins A, D, E and K. This affects the ability of the intestines to absorb them, but then so does whether you cook them or not, and whether you eat fiber with them, etc. Federal regulation requires fortification with vitamins A, D, E and K, but that's not so simple. Vitamin A is not one substance but a large class including some of the carotenoids. The possible consequences of depleted carotenoid uptake are unknown, so try to eat a cooked carrot unaccompanied by fat-free potato chips or oat bran, every once in a while.
It's marketed by P&G. They spent 25 years and $200 million dollars on research and health studies. What a bargain. Accidentally created in 1968; first petition filed for its approval as a cholesterol-reducing drug in 1975 and withdrawn in the face of research showing that it wasn't very effective; P&G petitioned for food-additive approval in 1987.
Here're some other sites:
In Japanese, this syllable is rendered in such a way that the romaji transliteration becomes `aum.' Hence the name of the infamous Aum Shinrikyo cult (discussed elsewhere in the glossary: LPF).
Oh, all right:
For more, see the NTEA's glossary of Truck Equipment Terms.
Until 2002, news reports in major papers expanded O.M.F.U.G. (with whatever punctuation or capitalization) with Gourmandizers (observe the u), although innovative, daring, progressive, and illiterate USA Today used Gormandizers in 1993. From 2003 on, most news reports used Gormandizers.
FWIW, in English the obsolete verb gourmand had the distasteful connotation of sloppiness that the noun gourmand still has, while the obsolete or rare verb gourmandize (used by W.M. Thackeray in his 1841 essay ``Memorials of Gourmandising'') had or has the genteel connotation of the noun gourmet. Personally, I prefer the 1820 suggestion made by A.D. Macquin in a footnote to Tabella Cibaria: ``The gormand unites theory with practice, and may be denominated Gastronomer. The gourmet is merely theoretical, cares little about practising, and deserves the higher appellation of Gastrologer.''
Ontario is Canada's most populous province, with an estimated 12.28 million people in October 2003, or 38.7% of the population. Quebec is second.
Their ``about'' text begins ``En la ONCE siempre hemos sido un grupo de personas muy transparente,'' which means `at ONCE we have always been a very transparent group of people.' This explains immediatamente why I had so much trouble seeing them, though detecting what is transparent is perhaps less of an incremental handicap for the very blind.
Anyway, the at-ONCE collocation doesn't correspond to a pun in Spanish. ONCE, read as the ordinary word meaning `eleven,' requires plural agreement, making puns on the singular acronym troublesome to construct. ``At eleven PM,'' for example, is ``a las once de la tarde.''
The technical destinction seems to be that while aguardiente originally meant rum, it now refers to any distilled liquor, while ron still refers exclusively to distilled liquor made from sugar cane.
Anyway, it was never very clear to me what the beer was for, since the purpose was to get drunk. (Mixing different kinds of alcoholic drinks is also reputed to cause worse hangovers, but I can't say I've performed properly controlled studies of the phenomenon.) Then (April 17, 2008) I read the following (a column by Daniel Henninger, in the WSJ, entitled ``Hillary and Obama in Small Town [sic]''), which I think may explain it.
So it came to pass last Saturday night, in what is surely the most preposterous photo-op in campaign history [what, not tank-bobblehead Dukakis?], Hillary Rodham Clinton of Wellesley and Yale was pounding down Crown Royal whisky from a shot glass at Bronko's bar in Indiana. A friend emailed that if she really wanted to win Pennsylvania, she would have drunk some of the draft beer in her left hand, dropped the shot glass into the mug and slammed that back. But hey, her heart was in the right place.
``One man's Mede in another man's Persian.'' A play on this proverb, alluding to the sloppy conflation of the two peoples by Herodotus.
To get some idea of the floruit of this term, I did searches of all years (to 2006) in the LION database (350,000 works of English and American poetry, drama, and prose, and 175 full-text literature journals). Five poems turned up -- one in each of the years 1991, 1992, 1993, 1996 (posthumous), and 1997 -- that had ``the one?off'' (first three instances) or ``a one?off'' (last two), with ``?'' normally a hyphen, though a space or other punctuation would yield a hit. They were all by authors in Britain or some kind of British orbit. (In chronological order they were: Seamus Heaney, Irish; Iain Bamforth, say Scottish; Kamau Brathwaite, let's say Indonesian, since that might piss him off, although he was born in Barbados and slowly discovered his African spiritual roots, because he used a virgule instead of a hyphen, and anyway poets deserve no mercy, in fact, let's make Seamus Heaney an Englishman; Donald Davie, English; Edwin Morgan, Scottish.) There were no hits in the drama or prose categories. (There were various false positives like ``will cast such a one off'' in prose literature of the 16th and 17th cc.)
I thought to add this entry only because I had happened across another instance in a July 15, 1948, letter from the American novelist John O'Hara (to James Thurber; see the Selected Letters of the latter, p. 95). O'Hara wrote: ``Fletcher Markle has been trying to get the radio rights for a one-shot of [O'Hara's novel Appointment in] Samarra.'' (He priced it much dearer than the show could afford, because they had made a botch of his novel Pal Joey a year or two previously.)
And then, of course, there's the circuit...
Strictly and generally speaking, ONU is not the translation of ``Oh noooo!'' At least, it wasn't.
The Security Council is called Consejo de Seguridad, and I suppose the General Assembly is Asemblea General, but I don't recall.
The six official languages of the UN are English, French, Spanish, Russian, Arabic (since 1974), and Chinese, in order of decreasing likelihood of the corresponding initialisms being included in this glossary.
J. Wallis introduced the symbol in De sectionibus conicis [`Of conic sections'], Oxford 1655.
Whenever I see this initialism (which is not often, but is too often), it reminds me of TomJoad. In Grapes of Wrath++, he executes destructor calls on a couple of Person instantiations, and declares a static method for ooppressed Ookies.
They spoke Oompa-Loompish in the old country, where they were preyed upon by hornswogglers, snozzwangers and whangdoodles, lived in tree-houses and subsisted on green caterpillars. Now they speak English and eat chocolate, but they still maintain their traditional costume. See chapter 16. No apparent connection with Oompa bands.
Robert Lynd (Y.Y.) published an essay called ``Out of Print.'' (It is chapter VIII in his 1923 collection The Blue Lion and Other Essays.) He begins with the following observation, which may at first puzzle the modern author.
There is a pleasure in seeing a book, if it is one of one's own books, going out of print. It encourages a faint hope that, even if one allows for the numerous people who have bought it by mistake, a man or woman here and there may have actually liked it.
In Lynd's day, a book went out of print when all the printed copies had finally sold out. It was a kind of sales milestone. No longer. Technology has made small printing runs and multiple printings cheaper. So books tend to go out of print more quickly, and when they do it just means that demand fell. In addition, the philosophy, the ``business model,'' of publishers has changed.
Until some time in the 1960's, successful publishers made most of their money (when they made money) off their backlists, so books tended to stay ``in print'' longer than they do now. The entire business was ``inefficient'' in economic terms. Printing houses ran as something approximating charities, and editors were poorly paid. (Like Ivy League professors in the old days, they might be presumed to be independently wealthy.) In the early 1960's some, uh, media companies began to think that ``properly'' run, the old houses might actually yield reasonable return on investment.
They started to buy up the old houses, and eventually the business was run by businessmen instead of book people. To their accountants, the costs of storage seemed to loom large. Also, changes in US tax law (particularly the way that depreciation is calculated on unsold books) effectively penalized the warehousing of slow and sporadic sellers, and fiction profits began to be dominated by a few big names. (It should be noted that the US book market has an unusual sales arrangement. Unsold books can be returned to the publisher for a refund. This concession-like arrangement was conceded by publishers during the Great Depression, and they were never able to roll it back.)
(The story at university presses was different but probably not better. There was a great expansion in the number of university presses to go with the increasing expectation of published research from professors. Then along about the 1980's or 1990's, universities began to expect their academic presses to sell some of this academic dust to the public and turn a profit.)
The enormous bookstores (Crown and Barnes & Noble, and Borders) put a large fraction of their small competitors out of business in the 1990's. Now as an oligopsony (and in B&N's case as a publisher -- hello, vertical integration) they have the leverage to reduce publishers' profit margins. I'm sure there's more to it, but these changes are often cited as contributing factors in the decline of the book industry in pre- and early internet days. Anyway, what happens to a title now is that as soon as sales flag it is remaindered to discounters or mulched. (Sometimes this can be handled very poorly. A friend of mine now retired from the book business told me about one book that was used for a large sociology course at some university. The course was only offered once every three years, and the company wouldn't store them that long, so after two years they'd mulch the unsold copies, and the next year they'd do a new print run. The three-years thing does sound a bit odd, but I can believe that a regular course rotated instructors, and every three years or so a guy would teach it who wanted that one book. Of course, if it had been a small-enrollment course, that guy would have been SOL, which is about what OOP often means to an instructor.)
An ad for Loome Theological Booksellers asserts that ``99.9% of the books ever published are now out-of-print,'' but immediately concedes that ``[o]f course, most books ought to be out-of-print. They weren't very good when they were first published; they haven't gotten any better with age.'' Then they go on to offer themselves as a solution to this nonproblem. Among the nonlamentable nonlosses that they can make nongood, one example they list is that ``not less than 241 different books on the life or thought of [Karl] Barth [1886-1968] have been published,'' yet only 16 remain in print. I'm flabbergasted. They buy and sell used books.
That reminds me -- you remember Bargain Books, the discount bookstore (you guessed this, right?) that I mentioned back at the adult education entry? The store sells remaindered titles, many of them from academic publishers. It's owned by a former college professor. Specifically, he was a theology professor. His chain has an unusually good selection of theology books.
Usage note: the initials O.P. after a name is used both by Dominican Roman Catholic priests and by women and non-priest men in the religious Order of Preachers. (A similar practice applies to S.J.)
I notice that the pseudonymous author of Promptorium parvulorum (1499), mentioned at this entry, is described as ``Galfredus Grammaticus dictus, frater Ordinis S. Dominici.'' Draw your own conclusions.
They used to photograph Shirley Temple through gauze. They should photograph me through linoleum.
For more on Shirley Temple, see YSO.
``... a national trade association representing more than 500 small, independently owned local exchange carriers (LECs) and their affiliate telecommunications companies.Primarily serving rural areas of the United States and Canada, these commercial telephone companies and cooperatives range in size from fewer than 100 to as many as 100,000 access lines and collectively serve more than 2.5 million customers.''
The usual approach in photolithography uses a binary pattern (i.e., mask opaque or clear), and OPC is done by adding or subtracting serifs of window area. This causes further unevenness away from a bend, that must be compensated by higher-order serifs, leading to a kind of diminishing ripple of correction moving away from any bend.
As a practical matter, most open-channel flows of interest are macroscopic. More specifically, they are in channels wide and deep enough that the flow is turbulent. (The parameter that determines whether flow is turbulent or not is a `dimensionless group' called the Reynolds number, Re.) Ordinarily, the most important dimensionless group characterizing open channel flow is the Froude number (Fr, q.v.).
``Open conduit'' and ``open-conduit flow'' ought to be equivalent to ``open channel'' and ``open-channel flow,'' but the former terms are rare. Funny how the semantic field divides up. Channel became a dead metaphor for a broadcast frequency band and more recently for internet data streams that function similarly. Both channel and conduit are metaphors for paths by which information flows in human organizations (e.g., ``the proper channels,'' ``back channels,'' ``a conduit for information''). (See also back-channel.)
The words channel and canal both translate into Spanish and French as canal (which is also used both for TV channel and water channel). For a related confusion, see the Mars entry.
Only recently, librettos for Puccini's operas became available in paperback.
The name opera is simply the Italian word for `work.' It is singular (the plural is opere, I guess). For more on this, see the opus entry.
Oh, well, alright: buffa is supposed to be farcical, rather than merely amusing or unraucously comical. Enlightened now?
A number of years ago, my senior colleague G. Mahler composed a work that was largely classical (as opposed to quantum) mechanical and described this opus as opera buffa. This is all true.
I just noticed that thin horizontal line in my screen. It's distracting.
In French, opera buffa is called opéra bouffe. It's an interesting situation, since the original Italian essentially means `Frog Opera,' I think. Well, it means something related to frogs, anyway.
Early in his career, Clint Eastwood acted in a lot of spaghetti westerns. (For Sergio Leone? You could look it up. At IMDB.) Westerns are also known as horse opera. If they'd been made in France instead of Italy, they might have been called opéra boef.
Okay, now I'm really going away.
Soon. Possibly it bears mentioning that westerns are also called ``oaters.'' Not that I've ever heard anyone call them that, but it's one of those crossword-puzzle words -- nonexistent but plausible. You notice how movie horses never eat? I guess the forage in Hollywood is not tasty. Probably laced with too many recreational chemicals. (You say you have seen movie horses eat? Bullshit! If that's so, then where do they put it? Because movie horses certainly don't shit.)
All these years later, it occurs to me that the only reason I started to write this entry was to provide a cross-reference to the Berlioz entry, a link for which I ended up forgetting to include until now. In order not to have a one-sentence paragraph, I'll add that Russian opera is mentioned at the entry for the Judgment of Paris.
OPIE is now on web, so you don't need
to snailmail or phone their offices at
They apparently don't deal in snow blowers.
In the US, there's no acronym for the general concept.
See also the ABPT entry.
Note: the views expressed in this glossary do not necessarily reflect the opinions of OPRAF.
... the black lady who is alternately fat and thin, I forget her name.
In an act of sublime revenge, Oprah started a monthly book club. Okay, not quite monthly. According to a People magazine profile of various of the lottery winners, I mean authors of selected books, it's about nine books a year. Come think of it, that might be monthly if you don't count the TV off-season.
Okay, Oprah quit that; it was increasingly difficult to find books she felt ``absolutely compelled to share.'' A victim of her own unrealistically high standards, I guess. Others are rushing to fill the literary void. Kelly Ripa is starting something similar (``Reading With Ripa''), which will concentrate on commercial fiction. (Kelly Ripa is the woman who plays the TV role of Regis Philbin's wife or granddaughter on ``Live With Regis and Kelly.'') The Today Show and USA Today are starting book clubs, too.
Further update: according to the books page at Oprah.com, ``When the book club ended a year ago, I said I would bring it back when I found the [sic] book that was moving...and this is a great one. I read it for myself for the first time and then I had some friends read it. And we think [Steinbeck's East of Eden] might be the best novel we've ever read!''
I wasn't sure where to mention it, so this could be as good a place as any: Regis Philbin is an alumnus of the University of Notre Dame.
Ops was female, although it wasn't necessary specifically to point this out explicitly. I'm paid by the word; she was the goddess of abundance -- the personification of ops, Latin for `might, power,' in particular `power to aid.' The very antithesis of oops! (Oops! I meant antithesis oopis -- gotta use the genitive.)
This reminds me of sheep. To determine if a sheep is pregnant, you (or perhaps someone more experienced) insert(s) a tube to listen for something called the `winds of pregnancy.' No joke. That's all I remember from a book about Basque folkways. That, and the look of helpless concern on the inverted ewe's face. Another contribution to research at the crucial nexus of language and pregnancy is the shacked up entry.
South of Basque country in Spain is Catalonia. Orwell's book based on his Spanish Civil War experiences there is called Homage to Catalonia, and marks a turning point in his politics. Catalan, by Alan Yates and Carter Brown, published by Teach Yourself Books, London, 1975, offers translations for phrases that you might find useful. Among them:
I am prepared to raffle the goat.
It is sobering to contemplate the improbable series of misadventures and diminishing fortunes that would take one to the brink of uttering this phrase. (On the other hand, if it were late November 2008 and you were Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, you could probably use a few different ways to say ``I am prepared to raffle the Senate seat that has been held by President-elect Barack Obama.'') Wikipedia has a meat raffle entry.
Catalan, by the way, is an international language. It's the local language in the Sardinian city of Alghero.
Sir Boss: "What do you know of the science of optics?" Applicant: "I know of governors of places, and seneschals of castles, and sheriffs of counties, and many like small offices and titles of honor, but him you call the Science of Optics I have not heard of before; peradventure it is a new dignity." Sir Boss: "Yes, in this country."[ 29 ] Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889), ch. 25.
Most related words that come from Latin contain the root oper-. The reason is that opus is a third declension noun, indicated ``opus, -eris'' in traditional dictionaries. Most of the related words and declined forms of the noun are based on the modified root represented by the genitive form operis. Romance languages use noun forms based on a collapsed case structure, and the standard form of a noun is usually based on an oblique case. Hence the derived form in Italian: opera. If you simply voice the stop consonant and lose the unstressed middle vowel, you get the Spanish cognate obra. (English uses, as a rule, whatever forms it pleases, usually from more than one language. Hence opus, operation, operetta, et ceterra.)
Since you asked... the particular oblique form that was the model for the later collapsed or simplified case structure was typically the ablative or accusative. These cases had more functions than the dative, and prepositions (real prepositions) in Latin only took accusative or ablative objects. Starting from the ablative turns out to work better for Spanish. I think starting from the accusative works better -- i.e., gives a better fit to the forms that actually occurred -- for French. The difference is slight, especially when you remember that final em's weren't being pronounced in post-Classical Latin, and that anyway a lot of final syllables died in the creation of Old French.
Vide A. Offner, Optical Engineering, 14, p. 130 (1975).
A couple of sites are WORMS and Michael Trick's Operations Research Page.
State named after the spice oregano. At least, that's a better theory than any offered by niggling etymologists.
The Villanova Center for Information Law and Policy serves a page of Oregon state government links. USACityLink.com has a page with mostly city and town links for the state.
The charges included taking bribes (e.g., free labor and materials from construction businesses in exchange for intervening on their behalf with federal regulators) and kickbacks ($200,000 total; $2500 per month from his administrative assistant alone), illegally requiring his congressional staffers to pitch in on his boat and his farm (literally in the latter case, with pitchforks), ordering a staffer to destroy evidence, and cheating on his taxes (yawn).
Traficant served as his own attorney in the trial. It's a truism that a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client, but Traficant is not a lawyer. Anyway, the same fool had beaten the rap in 1983. He convinced a jury that he took $163,000 in mob money as part of a one-man undercover operation he had been running as Mahoning County sheriff. He had earlier achieved folk-hero status by his refusal, as sheriff, to evict out-of-work steelworkers who couldn't pay their bills. The acquital apparently cemented his reputation, and he rode the ensuing wave of popularity into Congress the next year. (The IRS is not bound by the findings of a mere criminal court, however, and they garnisheed his wages for $108,000 that a tax court decided he owed on the $163,000 in bribes he didn't declare. And this can't be double jeopardy, since the US constitution says that mustn't happen.)
Upon conviction on all ten criminal charges in 2002, the 60-year-old Traficant faced up to 63 years in the slammer, plus various fines. Federal guidelines recommend something in the neighborhood of five to ten years in such cases, and prosecutors in the case recommended that he do at least 7 1/4 years. Such precision! The judge rounded that up to eight years when he sentenced Traficant on July 30.
Here is one of the less creative examples of Traficant's color. It involves the then House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt. Democrats were in the minority from 1994 to 2006. By the time of Traficant's conviction, Gephardt (D-Mo.) had already pointedly stopped referring to Traficant as a Democrat when speaking with reporters. Perhaps that had something to do with Traficant having voted in 2001 for Republican J. Dennis Hastert (Ill.) rather than Gephardt to be House Speaker. (One factor may have been his fellow Democrats' beginning to distancing themselves as his prosecution grew imminent.) In the normally party-line vote, Traficant's break with his party had no effect. However, the Republicans' margin in the House was only five votes, and it was feared on the Democratic side that his symbolic vote signalled a readiness to vote with the G.O.P. and weaken Gephardt's bargaining power. The party refused to give the nine-term Trafficant a single committee assignment. On a related note, Traficant often called colleagues ``Mr. Chairman'' even when they didn't head a committee. I suppose it was easier than remembering who did.
Gephardt suggested privately to Traficant that he resign. (This was apparently before the conviction; after the conviction, Gephardt called publicly for his resignation.) According to Roll Call, Traficant's reaction was to call for Mr. Gephardt to perform a reproductive act upon himself. A potentially reproductive act, I suppose. In principle, perhaps. Okay, here's a tiny-bit more creative: late in the 2002 trial, he said of the prosecutors, ``They have the testicles of an ant.'' I suppose at least some of the prosecutors would have to have been all male, if this remark was supposed to have some exculpatory value in Traficant's defense. Perhaps he planned to reveal the prosecutors' plans for the formic gonads, but didn't get a chance. U.S. District Judge Lesley Wells ordered Traficant to sit down and gave him another of her scolding lectures.
Incidentally, if the ant-testicles comment tickled some brain cell off in a corner of your brain somewhere, it might have been because of Fred Allen's famous comment -- ``You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood and put it into a flea's navel and still have room left over for three caraway seeds and an agent's heart.'' (I've seen various versions of this, and perhaps more than one is correct, but I very much doubt the versions that involve eight caraway seeds -- that's an exageration.) Fred Allen broadcast his humorous remarks on his own radio show from 1934-1949. Traficant broadcast his best material from the House floor (1985-2002), making frequent reference to his anatomy and necessary bodily functions, and to ``Star Trek.'' His speeches usually ended with the line ``Beam me up.''
That reminds me, since this is the orbit entry, that I should circle back to the point. Under House rules in effect at the time, a felony conviction triggered an automatic investigation by the Committee on Standards of Official Conduct (the ``Ethics Committee'' for short). [Under current rules, the House doesn't wait that long any more.] A subcommittee was named, a set of charges was drawn up (closely paralleling the criminal counts), Traficant was given a chance to respond on July 15, and on July 18 the committee unanimously recommended his expulsion. A report on The Hotline the next day collected Traficant quotes from other news sources, including this comment about members of the [news] media:
Many of them are so dumb they could throw themselves at the ground and miss.
That would be an eccentric orbit. This bit was harvested from <CNN.com> on July 18, and appeared elsewhere. (I first found it in Ted Reuter's 449 Stupid Things Democrats Have Said, p. 85.) Traficant was expelled by the House on July 24.
Like any comedian, Traficant recycled his material. (See the boobs entry for another example of material that may have been recycled.) In researching this here orbit entry I discovered that in June 2000, he made a floor speech about the US Supreme Court. Here are some excerpts, in the same order in which they were quoted, from the Washington Times of June 22, 2000.
The Supreme Court says pornography is OK and it is OK to burn the flag, that communists can work in our defense plants, that it is OK to teach witchcraft in our schools and that it is OK for our students to write papers about the devil.
But the Supreme Court says it is illegal to write papers about Jesus, it is illegal to pray in school, and now the Supreme Court says it is even illegal to pray before a football game. Beam me up.
I thought the Founders intended to create a Supreme Court, not the Supreme Being. Think about that statement. I yield back a Supreme Court that is so politically correct they are downright stupid, so stupid they could throw themselves at the ground and miss.
Oh, and, one last thing about the events of 2002. The ethics committee recommended expulsion rather than lesser penalties such as censure or reprimand because of ``the gravity of the offense from the gentleman from Ohio,'' in the words of Rep. Howard Berman of California. Gravity is the force that keeps moons and planets in orbit, of course, but never mind. This conventional Congressional use of ``gentleman'' reminds me of an amusing incident (it's amusing now, anyway) from the time shortly after my mom and her family emigrated to Bolivia. Her stepfather never mastered the Spanish language in its entire subtlety, and at that time he had already not mastered Spanish. (I recycle my material too.) So one day when somebody was trying to break into their house, he called the phone operator and reported, ``¡Un señor quiere entrar en nuestra casa!'' The operator responded, ``Entonces déjelo entrar.'' Except for the critical words, the quotations are approximate, and I'm sparing you the German accent. Anyway, the first sentence means: `A gentleman wants to enter our house!' To which the reasonable response was `So let him in.'
Actually, that reminds me of another true story, involving a restaurant owner and one of his most valued employees. I won't identify these persons any more precisely because, you know, someone might get in trouble. The employee didn't speak much English in those days, so the owner took the trouble to mine a Spanish dictionary for some useful words. One of the words is querer, `to want.' (This verb occurred above in the phrase ``quiere entrar,'' `wants to enter.') So when the owner wanted this employee to come help him, he would say ``[nombre del empleado], te quiero,'' meaning `[employee's name], I love you.'
That ought to remind anyone of Alexander Bell's famous telephone message [to his own assistant in another room] on March 10, 1876. (``Mr. Watson, come here; I want you.'') Here there was no language difficulty, but there had been some communication difficulty. The message is described as the first transmission of a complete (and comprehensible) sentence. However, that doesn't mean that the ability to send an intelligible message had been impossible before that date. Bell's attorney had filed a patent application on the previous St. Valentine's Day (so appropriate), and the patent had been granted three weeks later, on March 7 (those were the days). Apparently Bell had been working to improve his invention without actually being set up to transmit a message. (I suppose he mostly just talked to himself over the phone to see how well it was working, but I'll have to look into it.) The famous first message was sent ``accidentally.'' The first public demonstration of the telephone took place before a meeting of the AAAS in Boston the following May 10.
Ah -- the mystery of the name is solved! Orchard Place Airport was built by the federal government in 1942 for use by the nearby Douglas Aircraft plant. It was declared surplus in 1946 and deeded a thousand acres to the city. As a civilian airport it was known as Chicago Orchard Airfield and Douglas Field (hence the O - R - D). In 1949, Chicago renamed its older airport Midway Airport, in honor of the Battle of Midway, and named the new airport O'Hare Field, in memory of Medal of Honor winner Edward ``Butch'' O'Hare, a navy pilot killed in action in the South Pacific.
Incidentally, ``Quakers'' is a name, initially somewhat pejorative, that was eventually adopted by a religious group called the Society of Friends. The Shakers came by their name in similar fashion. In Israel (.il), members of the ``secular'' majority (i.e., those with lax religious observance) call the ultra-religious haredim, which translates roughly as `tremblers.' I think that's still pejorative.
A number of apparently for-profit organizations now have .org URL's (I'll let you find them).
The idea of dividing compounds into organic and inorganic was introduced by Léméry in his Cours de Chemie (1675). There the compounds which are created by reactions in the mineral world were classed as inorganic, and those which were known to be created only in the animal and vegetable worlds were classed as organic. (This is not exactly how the distinction was originally formulated, but it is effectively what we now understand the distinction to have been.) It was eventually found that all organic compounds so defined happened to contain carbon, although some inorganic compounds (note: by the original definition) also contained carbon.
Our colleague Nihar is from Orissa, giving us an opportunity to test the strength of the indoctrination on an otherwise intelligent victim. The hold that this fantasy has on him was strong. He insists that the Oriya alphabet is essentially the same as the Sanskrit (Devanagari) original, and that the horizontal line across the top was left out historically for practical reasons: back when the writing was on organic material, straight lines that ran along the underlying grain could destroy the wood or leaf being written on. [This is obviously false, because that story was made up to explain the absence of horizontal lines in runes (see thorn entry). Nihar probably borrowed it. For similar instances of borrowing, see the Shiva entry. If you get so far as to follow the Halaka link, note that in Orissa, Halka is pronounced more like Haluhka.]
Over the very same beer (Honey Brown, mostly) that discovered Nihar's hopeless indoctrination, we pondered the secret of gupta.
Cf. ouro.
The orrery caught people's imaginations because that was precisely what they lacked. For an allusion to orreries, see the Dickens excerpt at the v.a. entry.
Look, I don't make this stuff up, you know. I'm not that creative. Dan (a fellow who co-stars in the Berlioz entry) worked in a book store where someone actually came in and asked for ``Oral Roberts' Rules of Order'' by name. (You'd have known that if you'd followed the Oral-Roberts link.) I wish Dan had asked the customer to describe the book first.
There used to be a song, surprisingly not popularized by Dean Martin, that began ``How dry I am.''
There is an older German word, cognate with Dutch oorete and the English word ort. For a crumb more on that, see the miga entry.
IBM uses the term System Control Program (SCP).
Modern OS ballot machines typically regurgitate ballots with overvotes so that voters can correct their forms. The machines I've used accept paper ballots that are printed on both sides, and can read ballots inserted in at least a couple of different orientations. The scanned votes are tabulated and reported, but the individual scanned ballots are also collected in an internal bin and afterwards transported to a central counting station for any possible recount. (I think the votes are generally tabulated in the limited sense of being separately summed. I don't recall any instance of the government doing crosstabs, except in the limited sense of preventing overvotes.)
Learn more about osmium at its entry in WebElements and its entry at Chemicool.
I assume in French this would be l'osers.
The term ``open society'' was popularized, or at least prominently used, by Karl Popper; the title of one of his best-known books was The Open Society and Its Enemies (in two volumes: ``The Spell of Plato'' and ``The High Tide of Prophecy: Hegel, Marx, and the Aftermath''). It was issued in various editions. George Soros fancies himself a philosopher and is a disciple of Karl Popper. Well, he's a follower, anyway, at least in the sense that he came afterwards. None of those who can think much think much of George Soros as a philosopher, but everyone recognizes that he has a lot of money. He has published a book with the title Open Society [Reforming Global Capitalism Reconsidered]. ``The concept of open society is based on the recognition that our understanding of the world is inherently imperfect....'' Well isn't that deep.
A seven-layer model defined by ISO as a reference for standardization of electronic communication systems. The seven layers are
The first edition of the OSPD was produced by the NSA in 1978 and listed all of the rules-acceptable 2- to 8-letter words found in five popular American collegiate (i.e., abridged) dictionaries. Allowed inflections of the base words were mostly listed in the entries for the base forms. (In my opinion, however, it is missing a great many of the -ly adverbs.) This list was published as a Scrabble dictionary by Merriam-Webster. M-W produced a second edition at some point, which included words that had been added to a later edition of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (the MWCD8 had been one of the five originally consulted); it seems that the other four were largely ignored in this revision.
The first two editions had both been valid in North American tournament play. The third edition added further new words, but was also, controversially, expurgated of some ``objectionable'' words. (Missing are at least three obvious four-letter words, and tournament-valid pejorative terms for members of various racial and ethnic groups.) The OSPD3 was not used for tournament play. Instead, a supplementary list of words was used with the OSPD2 (see OSPD2+). Eventually (1998), an Official Tournament and Club Word List (OTCWL or, for short, TWL, q.v.; also abbreviated OWL) was created by the NSA as the official arbiter for word rulings at North American clubs and tournaments. Following the publication of OSPD4 (still expurgated) in 2005, a second edition of the TWL was created (available at the beginning of 2006). M-W has been the publisher for both editions of the TWL.
All editions of the OSPD have maintained the restriction of listing base words no longer than eight letters. Although a rack only holds seven tiles, it is possible to construct words longer than eight letters by connecting different letters already on the board. To establish the validity of a longer word that is not an inflected form of an 8-letter-or-shorter base word, there is a designated official dictionary. For OSPD1, that was the MWCD8 and then the MWCD9. For subsequent editions of the OSPD, it has usually been whatever was the latest edition of the MWCD.
Although this is the second expurgated edition, it still contains the words gyp and slave, which were originally ethnic slurs. (I've actually met some of the people who object to the time-honored master-slave terminology. I understand that some people view that as racially offensive; I view that view as insufficiently historically broad-minded, but I suppose context matters.) Of course, the Scotch brand name for adhesive tape originally arose from an ethnic stereotype. Oh look, the verb scotch is in the OSPD4, and the payment-arrangement adjective Dutch. (I think that's still capitalized; Scrabble tiles don't care.) That doesn't offend anyone? They should raise their consciousness! Get outraged, people! It's your right and responsibility to be maximally aggrieved! To say nothing of all the Indian tribes named after other Indian tribes' uncomplimentary epithets for them.
FWIW, growing up in Germany in the 20's and 30's,
my mother learned the common expression ``das kommt mir spanisch vor,'' meaning
roughly `it's Greek [i.e., incomprehensible] to me,'' but extending to
actions and situations rather than just language.
This Wikipedia entry lists
comparable phrases in many other languages, yet a page for the expression
is apparently only available in six languages:
English, German, Hebrew, Hungarian, and Korean (all added some time before
mid-2011), and Chinese (added some time between mid-2011 and early 2013).
These pages contain lists of similar expressions in various languages, with
what we will call home and difficult languages. By home language I mean the
language in which the expression is uttered or written, and by difficult
language the one that serves as metonym for incomprehensibility, the ``Greek''
language. Of the five languages that parallel the Greek-to-me wikipedia page
in English, only Korean seems to lack its own version of the phrase. (That is,
only Korean does not serve as a home language for a version of this expression.
Doubtless, other languages may lack such an expression, but I wouldn't count
its absence on another language's webpage as strong evidence for the
possibility.)
I think it's cute that Esperanto uses good old Volapük as the difficult
(proverbially incomprehensible) tongue. Volapük was an earlier artificial
language, based very loosely on English vocabulary, that was very successful
for a few years among the people who like that sort of stuff, until it was
swept away by Esperanto itself. The Volapük community (of many
thousands of speakers and number of publications) shattered as a dozen or so
improved (i.e., more Esperanto-like) versions were invented in reaction
to that tidal wave. I'm amazed and impressed that Danish also memorializes
that dead artificial language in such an expression.
Greek, Spanish, and Chinese all enjoy widespread
status as ``difficult languages'' for these expressions. English is only
listed as difficult for one home language (Cantonese), but having the language
described as `chicken intestines' goes a long way to make up for this. The
only inconsistency I noticed among the pages (apart from limited language
coverage) is that the (all very similar) English, German, and Hungarian pages
list only Chinese as the difficult language for
French, but the Hebrew page lists Hebrew and
Javanese as alternate difficult languages. They seem to be right about
l'hébreu: when I checked in 2009, one characteristic phrase got
188k ghits for Hebrew, as against 555k for
Chinese; Javanese only got 6.3k, though. Related information can be found at
the gringo and b.
entries.
Once, in the crowded dining room of a Jerusalem hotel, I ate breakfast with an
Italian tourist who told me she didn't speak Hebrew or English. Astonished, I
asked her how she communicated. She knew French. Sometimes my foolishness
amazes me, but mostly I don't notice it.
The other day, I was over at Gary and Susan's, and I started to tell a story
about something stupid and insignificant that I did in graduate school. Then I
stopped myself and said that it's a low-yield story, not very interesting. But
Gary coaxed it out of me. In that spirit, I'm going to just blather on now. I
won't be offended if you browse to another page. I may not even notice.
About ten miles south of Florence along E35, there's a village called
I Cappuccini with a bed-and-board conference center where I stayed for a week
in 1987. A proceedings volume eventually came out of that. We conferees ate
all our meals in a common room, at round tables seating six to eight, served
by a crew of, iirc, three waiters. One of them was an older fellow, and one
day this old waiter started talking to one of my table mates. She happened,
like most of the conferees, to not understand Italian, so I started translating
to her.
[Let me interrupt myself here to point out that this whole
conference-center-with-room-and-board-on-premises deal seems, in my limited
experience, to be more common in continental Europe than in the US or the
UK. I suppose that's partly because conferees can
generally only be counted on to have some facility in the conference language,
and the conference language for international meetings is very frequently
English. (I count the following as corroborative of the hypothesis: I've
also encountered the room-and-board thing in northern England. Also in --
Manchester, actually -- I've had one-way conversations in which the only way I
could tell that the [apparently native English] cabbie had understood me was by
arriving at the correct destination.) But Quebec and Japan seem to follow the
US/(southern) UK plan, and in Japan you can't always count on finding a
passable English-speaker, so I don't know.]
Anyway, the old fellow noticed that I was translating and addressed me
directly, so I put down my silverware and spoke to him directly in Italian. It
turned out that he wanted to know if she was Chinese (which, not to get into
definitional details, she is). Once he got this little drib of information, he
said triumphantly, ``Ho indovinato!'' (`I guessed it!') and trotted off. We
were all like, that was it? Das kam uns spanisch vor.
Implicitly, the term ostium seems to be used exclusively for natural or
normal openings. Accidental openings may be perforations or stomata, and
artificial ostia are now called ostomies. For openings in plants, the Greek
stoma seems to be preferred. For a bit more on the -stom- terms, see
ostomy.
If you hear a Spaniard exclaim ``¡Ostia!'' what he's probably saying is
``¡hostia!'' Hostia (from the identically spelled word in Latin),
means `sacrifice offering.' (The aitch is silent in Spanish.) In Roman
Catholic ritual, hostia is also the name of a round wafer of unleavened
bread, which serves the same purpose. Please don't ask me what I mean by ``the
same.'' Somehow, hostia has also taken on the slang sense of a blow (as
with a fist), and ¡hostia! has become an expression of surprise or
frustration. I've heard Spaniards use this interjection, but never any Latin
Americans.
The existence of two words for what was a surgical sense of the word
stoma allowed a divergence into two sharper senses: an ostomy now refers
to the surgically created opening, while the stoma is the end of the ureter or
small or large intestine that can be seen protruding through the abdominal
wall. Okay, that's enough of that. We don't want to drive away our readers.
If you want to know more, try the UOA.
Stoma, of course, is Greek for `mouth.' Another technical use of the
word is in botany: stomata (plural of stoma) is the name given to
pores on the surface of a leaf that are the main avenue for exchange of gas
with the surrounding air. The rate of gas flow through stomata is regulated by
guard cells that adjust the size of the opening. In addition to admitting
oxygen for respiration and CO2 for photosynthesis, stomata also
allow water vapor to escape. Higher
CO2 levels allow the guard cells to close up and so decrease water
loss, enabling the plant to survive in more arid environments.
In Latin the sense of stoma slid down a bit
-- from opening of the gullet to the gullet itself, hence our word
stomach and cognates in all the major Romance languages. For an
instance of a semantic shift in the opposite direction, see the boca entry.
Internet resource list at O.T.
Online. UB's OT Dept. has a
homepage here. There's also
something there called Rehabilitation
Rehabilitation Science.
All of the above information is a guess. You get the information you pay for.
Non-prescription drugs are also referred to as ``over-the-counter,'' which
suggests that prescription drugs, by contrast, are sold under the counter.
As for the acronym OTC itself, I've only seen it used in this sense in
FDA documents.
-- W. H. Auden
President Truman used to wish for a ``one-handed economist.''
To judge from some discussions, every second person is an avatar. Where
are the elephant heads?
Looks a bit like Ötzi the iceman.
Yow! Make a parallel universe and test the hypothesis.
Ouchi (pronounced approximately ``oo-kih'') is just no. I didn't
say okay -- I said no. FWIW,
``okey'' is a common Spanish spelling of
okay (an American English loan, of course).
This reminds me of the Portuguese expression pois não,
which has its own entry não.
Many of the better out-of-print OUP books reappear in quality, low-cost
editions from Sandpiper books. Also, apparently a division of the same company
is PostScript,
a warehouse of ``[p]ublishers' overstocks, reprints and remaindered editions
from major publishing houses and independent and university presses'' sold by
mail order.
Go swimming today in a warm public pool with insufficient chlorine.
Some of you pain amateurs are probably scoffing -- ah, what's a little ol' ear
ache? Exactly! The problem with most other painful ailments is that one way
or another they elicit sympathy. Other people have had it, or it's well-known
to be bad, or it's unknown but sounds or looks terrible. And sympathy is
soothing, which is counterproductive of really intense suffering.
For the pain aficionado, the special attraction of ear ache is that it
sounds minor, so you seem like a whiner to complain about it at all
and you get hurtful contempt instead of sympathy. (Whine to someone who's
had a heart operation, if you're not getting enough contempt.) It's great!
Bonus misery: you have to eat mushy foods or have pain with every bite.
Okay, I've said enough about that. My real motivation for this entry is to
point out that while the Japanese adopted the word out when they adopted
the game (it gets transliterated back as auto), they coined
gaiya for outfield. That's a two-kanji word, and the first kanji
(with sound gai and corresponding to `out') is the same one that occurs
in gaijin (`foreigner'). Gaikan means `surface, exterior.'
(Gaiken means `outline.' No cigar, though: it's a different kanji.)
Oh alright: it's by Karin Mack, Ph.D. and Eric Skjei, Ph.D., ©1979. It
wasn't published by an academic press, so there's a chance it's readable.
Personally, I don't really have writing blocks to overcome. At any given
moment, I usually have at most one writing block to overcome. Unfortunately,
that one block is the one that prevents me from writing the project I'm trying
to work on. While I'm blocked on that, though, I can ``work on'' any other
writing project, so long as I don't make any actual progress.
It's interesting that they call these monsters ``writing blocks'' instead of
``writer's blocks'' or ``writers' blocks,'' but it does avoid the problem of
where to put the apostrophe, if you insist on discussing these monsters in the
plural. Before we get into that, however, I ought to mention that
demonstrate, monitor and monster all have a common
Latin root. Frankly, I thought I already had. You
know, I really don't feel like doing all that etymological research again, now,
so what say I leave the demonstrate/monitor/monster discussion for later.
There, I feel much better already. Actually, it's explained at the
epenthesis entry. What the heck, let's peek
inside and see if they explain why they use the plural and the present perfect.
Hmm. They don't say, immediately. I notice that this is another one of those
books that I don't and likely won't feel like summarizing into an entry. So
from your point of view, my reading this book (if that comes to pass) is a
waste of time. To say nothing of this entry.
The Washington Post
reported on March 25, 2009,
that a memo recommending this term had been emailed during the previous week to
Pentagon staff members. The Defense Department's Office of Security Review
noted that ``this administration prefers to avoid using the term 'Long War' or
'Global War on Terror' [GWOT.] Please use
'Overseas Contingency Operation.' ''
The memo said the direction came from the Office of Management and Budget, the
executive-branch agency that reviews the public testimony of administration
officials before it is delivered. (No, I don't understand that.) Not so, said
Kenneth Baer, an OMB spokesman. ``There was no
memo, no guidance... This is the opinion of a career civil servant.''
Coincidentally or not, senior administration officials had been publicly using
the phrase ``overseas contingency operations'' in a war context for roughly a
month before the email was sent.
The first harmonic is the fundamental frequency itself. The first harmonic has
a frequency that is an integer multiple of the fundamental frequency, but it
happens that the multiplication factor is unity.
The second harmonic has twice the frequency of the fundamental. This is the
first overtone.
The third harmonic (thrice the fundamental frequency) is the second overtone.
In general, the nth harmonic has n times the frequency of the fundamental and
is also called the (n-1)th (or ``n minus first'') overtone.
When people talk about the harmonics of a tone, they are often implicitly
excluding the fundamental. In other words, they mean the overtones (also ``the
overtone series''). The usual way this sort of distinction is made in
mathematics is with the qualifier ``proper.'' For exaple, a proper subset of a
set is a subset other than the whole set itself or the empty set.
Yes, of course there's a zeroth harmonic. The term is used to refer to the
constant term in a Fourier expansion.
Despite the use of ordinal naming (``second harmonic'' instead of ``double
harmonic,'' etc.), when push comes to shove harmonics are really thought of as
general multiples of a fundamental frequency. Hence ``half harmonic'' for
a signal with twice the period of the fundamental. The ordinal naming is thus
unfortunate, because in English most fractions share a name with an ordinal
(compare ``one third'' and ``the third''). The same is often true in the
ordinary sloppy usage of languages like Spanish
that maintain a distinction (``un tercio'' vs. ``el tercero'' corresponding
respectively to the last English example).
Overtone and harmonic are words that tend to be used to refer to individual
tones in relation to another often implicit tone (the fundamental). Another
set of terms exists in music to describe pairs of tones (whether sounded
simultaneously or sequentially). The same words are used to refer to the
separation (``interval'') of these pairs. (I know -- a distinction only a
lexicographer might care about.) Obviously, since one tone may be expressed
as the harmonic of another, the terminology of individual harmonics/overtones
has a natural relation to this interval description. However, because
instrument tuning usually involves a compromise among incompatible goals for
frequency ratios of different pitches, the precise sense of most of these terms
is an involved matter to discuss. The two unambiguous basic terms are the
unison (two sounds at the same pitch) and the
octave (one sound at twice the pitch of the other).
In current use, overlay normally refers to partial or complete overlap of
2D graphical information. See, for example Brad Hansen's
definition.
o
is a little lexical mortar that was left behind when the Greek
brick of stoma (`mouth') or logos (`word, reason') was broken off
for reuse, although the formation of ostomy was probably influenced by
ostium, q.v. There don't seem to be
any particular ostomies that don't have an o before the stomy. (No,
vastomy is not an exception.) (Contrast
the common words genealogy, mammalogy, and mineralogy.
See also nealogy.)
4NH + 5O --> 4NO + 6H O .
3 2 (Pt, Rh) 2
The subsequent steps can be conducted in a single vessel. They are an addition
reaction to produce nitrogen dioxide,
2NO + O --> 2NO ,
2 2
and further oxidation and dissolution in water:
4NO + O + 2H O --> 4HNO .
2 2 2 3
We are here on earth to do good to others.
What the others are here for, I don't know.
That's the Indiana State acronym. Other states use DWI, DUI, etc. I think some state should use OUI.
Established in 1842, like three other institutions mentioned here.
Adams has already found a sperm donor (they're always easier to find, aren't they?) from London, but has not yet acquired an ``appropriate'' egg donor. She said she would fund the IVF treatment using the rental income from that house she owns. In the UK it is illegal to pay egg or sperm donors, but Adams has said she would pay for all medical expenses. (The NHS will only provide for a limited number of IVF attempts, and Adams long ago exhausted that number.)
News outlets that felt like putting a negative spin on the story had no difficulty finding people with Oxbridge pedigrees (pardon the expression) to wring their hands and bloviate on the ethical dangers of amateur eugenics. Some commentators, like India Knight, found the choosy ``egg-shopping'' creepy. So Adams should just take pot luck? (Knight's reaction just goes to show how far we've come. Gamete-shopping is as old as sexual selection; yet IVF is now less controversial.) Mark (don't bother looking; he's not identified in or anywhere near this entry) thinks that it's at least kind of weird: ``If she wants someone else's sperm and someone else's egg, why bother with pregnancy?'' Who knows? Maybe Adams already has a surrogate uterus lined up. Personally, given her associations, I just think it's very open-minded of Adams to consider Cambridge donors. I guess she wants to avoid inbreeding.
Coming eventually: an entry for the Repository for Germinal Choice (a/k/a the Nobel Prize Sperm Bank). FWIW, that bank, which operated from 1979 to 1999, did not supply sperm to single women or lesbians. (This was at the insistence of founder Robert Graham's wife.)
amount of penicillin which, when dissolved in 50 cubic centimeters of meat extract broth, just completely inhibits the growth of the test strain of Staphylococcus aureus.
That's the apparently standard definition, quoted by Donald G. Anderson, M.D., in his article ``Penicillin'' in The American Journal of Nursing, vol. 45, no. 1, pp. 18-20 (Jan. 1945); see ftnt. 1 on p. 18. By late 1945 it was possible to grow pure crystals of penicillin, and it was found that one milligram of penicillin corresponded to about 1,650 Oxford units (see this page, browsed 2007.07.12).
Cf. paroxytone and proparoxytone, and -- what the hey, while you're at it -- perispomenon and even properispomenon. Ancient Greek doesn't have an exclamation mark, and I think you can see why.
Observe that by using the numerical correspondence associated with alphabetical order (collating sequence), we have the gematria:
Well, something to think about, anyway, I guess. Close, but not equal.
oe
, which is the way one represents Ö
typographically when the appropriate single symbol cannot be produced. The
Ö, of course, is the initial of Österreich, the name of
Austria in the language of Austria (namely German). I suppose the 5 also can
be taken to represent the letter ess that follows. The word
Österreich means `eastern realm.'
Austria was Adolf Hitler's birthplace. He came to power in Germany in the early 1930's, and in the last free elections there before the war, his Nazi party won about a third of the vote. My mother recalls from that time how, as a child, she was told by my grandfather that he was about to cast his last vote in Germany. His expectation was correct. In 1938, Hitler scored his greatest electoral triumph when Austrians overwhelmingly approved a referendum on Anschuß -- amalgamation into the German Reich. Austrians were among Hitler's most enthusiastic supporters during the Nazi era. As WWII ended, Austria was occupied by both democratic and Soviet Allied troops, and Vienna was temporarily partitioned like Berlin. It was decided among the Allies that Austria would be treated as a liberated country rather than as a part of conquered Germany. At the time, this didn't fool anyone who didn't want to be fooled, but in the long run, the memory of the elderly is no match for official history, ignorance, and consoling myths.
The Anschluß made the very name of the country a protest against Nazism, hence the force of ``o5.'' The symbol appeared during the war as a graffito on walls around Vienna, and such graffiti were allowed to remain afterwards. Maybe a few more were added for good measure. At least one guidebook mentioned that the symbol was carved near the main entrance of a cathedral in Vienna. However, when an SBF investigator visited in 2002, he was unable to find it.
The Austrian filmmaker Frederick Baker made a five-minute documentary entitled ``Austria o5 2000'' (16mm, color, 2001) which shows various graffiti around from around Vienna. It received an honorable mention at the 40th Ann Arbor Film Festival (in 2002).
The following is not directly related to o5, but it continues, unfortunately, the story limned a couple of paragraphs back. In October 1999, Austria's far-right Freedom Party dramatically increased its share of the vote in general elections and became the second-largest party (Social Democrats 33.3%, Freedom 27.2%, People's Party 26.9%). The Freedom Party had been moving toward the center until 1986, when Jörg Haider became party leader. Haider had a long history of nice things to say about Nazism and Nazis, coupled with less-prominent and not especially convincing denunciations of Nazism. The entire performance looked to be qualified and calibrated to skirt effective opposition to fascism while tapping certain unsatisfied sentiments of the electorate. These included a genuine nostalgia (among some) for authoritarianism (or what they understood or liked or thought was the essence of it), resentment of the politically correct suppression of profascist expression, measured or not, and resentment of the related ``Shoach business,'' as it is called in Germany (exploitation of dominant antifascism for gain, political or otherwise).
In 1991, Haider was forced to resign the governorship of Carinthia, Austria's southernmost province, after praising Hitler's orderly employment policies. Later he gave a speech before a meeting of Waffen SS veterans and praised their contribution to building a modern Austria. One might regard these as tactical rhetorical errors, or as laying a strategic groundwork. People who harbor half-century-old resentments might be expected to remember a balm of words administered a decade previous. In any case, over the following decade Haider's speeches were a little more careful and mentions of Hitler suppressed. He did a Le Pen, basically, focussing on immigration and patriotic issues, and criticizing corrupt practices of the coalition of Social Democratic and People's parties, which had ruled nationally since 1986 (also).
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Oops! Overshot the pointers.