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Posts Tagged ‘Signs’

Error extravaganza

My friends have been blowing up my inbox with examples of errors in the wild. My favorite is this one from Cheryl and Steph:

They’ll eat anything in Hartsville, S.C., apparently.

Heidi, Elizabeth and Rachel sent this one:

It is a cornucopia of apostrophe and quotation mark misuse.

Finally, Charlotte (an always-reliable source of fodder for this blog) sent this image. “This on our ‘heterosexual’ luggage tags,” she wrote.

The company is more progressive than most of the country. I should celebrate all progress, I guess.

Thank you all, and keep ’em coming!

 

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Spellapalooza!

It’s been a tough week for the South Bend public school system.

But that means it’s been a good week for me, the person who makes fun of errors in the wild.

Friends and students have shared plenty of tidbits from their travels over the past couple of weeks.

Royce found a new kind of crab:

Charlotte found pudding cake, but is still looking for a missing “r.”

And Austin found a sign for the grammar category. I guess I should be happy it is not spelled “yore.”

Sigh. Is it really that hard?

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I must confess that I am jealous of Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson. “Who are they?” you might ask. If you did, then you are not one of the dozen or so people who have sent me the link to all the coverage of their amazing book, “The Great Typo Hunt.”

I used to read their blog, but now the blog seems more focused on their amazing book tour. A book tour. For writing a book about noticing and fixing typos. SIGH.

Maybe someday “Eats, Shoots and Lays” will be a book. But until then, I must be satisfied with noting errors on a small scale.

Lucky me, there is no shortage of errors.

In today’s mail, there was a doozy:

AFLAC is a fairly big company, no? So they must have some senior folks in charge of their unsolicited mailings. Well, whoever these folks are, they need to revisit the rules for apostrophes.

I’ll go a little easier on the produce manager at Piggly Wiggly because the mistake is not quite as public. (It didn’t go through the U.S. mail on the cover of an envelope.)

Hmm … “Beefstake” tomatoes. Like really chunky, flavorful tomatoes grown on a piece of wood stuck in the ground? Or like “beefcake” — muscular, handsome tomatoes? Oh it’s a darn heterograph tripping up our friend in produce. “Beefsteak” is the word he/she needs.

Speaking of public, this is about as public as it gets:

Stay classy, North Carolina!

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Sing the following to the tune of John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane.”

Little ditty about Beth and Sophia
Two American chicks livin’ it up for just a week.
Beth is gonna be a new media star.
Sophia had plenty of fun without a car.

Right. So I’m not a songwriter. What I am, apparently, is an academic who finds enjoyment in conferences where people present research that might be boring to 95 percent of the population.

I was in Denver this week for the annual Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communications conference. I was just here in April for the AWP conference. This time, though, I didn’t have access to a car, so I walked or took the fantastic Denver public transportation, which allowed me to really get to know the city. It is, for the most part, clean and beautiful, with street performers on every corner. (Although, Eddie would point out that there is plenty of “bummery.”)

"Mile-high City" as seen from Room 2122 of the Sheraton.

What made this trip even better was the presence of my friend Sophia. While I was enjoying an endless parade of panel discussions and presentations about new media, old media, social media, technology and pedagogy, Sophia was taking bike rides around the city, visiting museums, and browsing boutiques in Boulder.

One thing we decided to do together was the Denver Microbrew Tour. We were running late and were starving, so we grabbed sandwiches to go from The Lobby, the restaurant across the street from the tour’s first stop, Great Divide. At strategic pauses during the tour portion at the Great Divide, Sophia and I took gobble breaks. Not pretty, but we didn’t want to get hammered on the tour.

Sophia is holding the bag of to-go containers in her right hand.

We finally finished our meal at the next stop on the tour: Breckenridge Brewery, across, ironically, from Coors Field (home of the Colorado Rockies).

Up next: Wynkoop Brewing Company, home of a beer brewed with Anaheim chiles and smoked Ancho peppers. The beer is called Patty’s Chile Beer.

Or is it?

They should change that sign. The beer is made with “chile” peppers.

The last stop on the tour was Rock Bottom Restaurant and Brewery, which put us back on 16th Street where we caught the free MallRide back to base camp.

After a short nap, we headed out again. This time, our destination was Mizuna, the restaurant that Anthony Bourdain said was the only reason to go to Colorado. I practically had to take out a second mortgage, but it was worth it: Best. Meal. Ever. Fat and happy, we headed “home” in a cab.

The next day, Sophia headed home and I headed downstairs for another day of conferencing.

Oh yeah, life goes on
Long after the thrill of Mizuna is gone.
Oh yeah, life goes on
Long after the thrill of the conference is gone. Now rock on.

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Let’s talk about intent. SCAD graduate student Charlotte (fiancée of my friend Nate) provided a visual aid for this topic exploration.

I’m sure the writer wanted to get people excited about UGA football. But what he/she has really done is offer tickets to specific dogs. What do they want with those? And how much is $10,0000? Is it really $100,000? Or $10,000? I’ll take either.

My friend Heidi provided another good example.

The writer probably does not want people to sit in that cushy-looking chair. But instead, the sign warns against a sit-in. What about picketing or rioting? Are those OK instead?

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On the way back from Splash in the Boro (again!), we, our party of 11 (!), stopped at a convenience store for overpriced drinks. When I got back in the truck, Eddie said, “I got you some material for your blog.”

Naturally, I have some remarks. Well, questions really.

1. This is a selling point for the convenience store?

2. What would make anyone buy anything Billy Dee Williams is selling? He hasn’t been relevant since 1980.

3. Colt 45? Really? This is what the great Lando Calrissian is reduced to hawking? (Maybe his quote from “Empire Strikes Back” explains it: “I’ve done all I can. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better, but I got my own problems.”)

I took an informal survey of the four adults in the vehicle and none of us had tried this beverage. One had tried Mad Dog 20/20 (Ida, I’m still amazed!).

I’m not above purchasing and consuming Colt 45 in the name of science, but I want to know what I should expect. Anyone care to give me a preview?

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I received a forwarded e-mail with the subject line “I think Beth might like this one.”

It’s true. I do.

The e-mail originated with Jason, significant other of frequent contributor Shane Marshall Brown. And here is the photo:

Seen in Kalamazoo, Michigan

That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. I could use $7,500 and 15 extra years. I wonder what kind of injury qualifies. Maybe a small flesh wound? I’m not so much into killing …

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When Trish and I were getting in my car after the Redneck Games, I noticed something stuck under my windshield. I just grabbed it and threw it in the car without looking at it. Much later, when I was about to throw it away, I actually looked at it.

The headline: “Rednecks can be Christians too!”

Oh boy.

Let me share with you some “wisdom” from the pamphlet.

If I had to stand before a dozen terrorists who threaten my life, I’d choose a half dozen or so rednecks to back me up. Tire irons, squirrel guns and grit — that’s what rednecks are made of.

Wow. Somehow I don’t think a tire iron is a match for an AK47. But maybe a squirrel gun is equal to an IED made by a weak terrorist in training. Grit, as in gumption, might be equal, although grit, as in particles, probably is not: Sand tends to get in crannies a little more obnoxiously than Georgia red clay does.

I’ve scanned the brochure for your enjoyment.

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Dead man reading

If I’ve been killed, I’m certainly not reading billboards on Hwy. 441.

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Mad skilz, part II

It’s an epidemic! Here is a sign outside a church in Dacula that wishes “congradulations” to the Class of 2010 (misspelled on both sides of the sign). Is that really a tough word?

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