By the way (special for Ubie):



A Reuters story ranks Sting as rock's weakest lyricist. That is a high accolade, indeed. I blame Sting for one of my linguistic faults. I am uncapable of pronouncing Vladimir Nobokov's name correctly. From "Don't Stand to Close to Me", I learned to pronounce Nobokov's name "Nah-buh-kov", with an emphasis on the first syllable. It should be "Nuh-bock-off", which the accent on the second. Do you know how hard it is to get through a single everyday conversation with the looming presence of the threat of a mispronunuciation of the name of a salacious Russian novelist? It's a wonder I can speak at all, so paralyzed am I by the fear.

(By the way, it's "Ine" Rand, not "Anne". I had that one wrong, too.)

I can tune out most mispronunications. In Chicago, you have to. The only one that really sticks in my craw is "integral" pronounced with the accent on the second syllable. Other than that, my craw is Teflon-coated.

What ties your tongue?

Labels: if i had a hammer i'd hammer at hammer time