Showing posts with label Chinese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinese. Show all posts

Saturday, June 15, 2024

Every man and every woman is an ape

My June 14 post "Stink Gorilla More" explored the idea that apes represent ourselves, human beings, as seen by beings more heavenly. In a comment there, William Wright referred to human beings at worship as "Gorilla-men (Beings clothed in coats of Gorilla-skins) asking to be heard and enter into God's presence."

In Chinese, the term for a great ape is xīng-xīng (猩猩), with the x being roughly similar to our "sh" in pronunciation. A chimp is a "black xīng-xīng," a gorilla is a "big xīng-xīng," and an orangutan is a "red fur xīng-xīng." The word for "star" is xīng-xīng (星星), which is pronounced exactly the same. One of the terms for "planet" is xīng-qiú (星球), literally "star-globe." When the titles of the various Planet of the Apes movies were translated into Chinese, the translator went straight for the low-hanging pun-fruit and swapped out the "star" character for the "ape" one: 猩球 -- literally "ape-ball," but pronounced exactly the same as the word for "planet." Concise.

Thus it was that as I was thinking about this idea that all humans are "apes" from the point of view of higher beings, my mind jumped to one of Aleister Crowley's most famous lines, one of the very first sentences in The Book of the Law:


There are various options for the translator here, but the one I thought of -- and one of which I'm sure the old Beast would have heartily approved (one of his groupies went by the handle "Ape of Thoth") -- is 每一名男女都是星星。 -- "Every man and every woman is a star," but sounding exactly the same as "Every man and every woman is an ape."

This is very much in the spirit of "Stink Gorilla More," where I quoted Disraeli's question -- "Is man an ape or an angel?" -- followed by a Harambe meme implying that one could be both simultaneously.

Despite the impression a casual reader might get, I am very much not a fan of Crowley and own none of his books. To get the image above, I had to look up The Book of the Law on archive.org. The thing is, whenever I try to go to that site, autocomplete always guesses that want I really want is archive.4plebs.org/x/random/, a randomly selected thread from /x/ -- and for sync's sake, I usually go ahead and press enter before bringing up archive.org in a new window. The random /x/ thread it served up when I was trying to find the Crowley book was this one, soliciting comments on a schizo meme about symbolism. Since some of the "galaxy brain" level symbols -- deer, rainbow, bee, sunflower -- seemed potentially relevant, I scrolled down a bit until what to my wondering eyes should appear but this:


To be clear, I had typed everything before the Crowley screenshot -- including the little digression on what Planet of the Apes is called in Chinese -- before getting the random /x/ thread that randomly included the cover of a Planet of the Apes novel.

Saturday, May 25, 2024

There's more than one way to spell a bee

William Wright's May 22 post "What is even more amazing than a talking dog?" included a picture of a worksheet where you have to do sums to solve an anagram, the answer being "a spelling bee."

The red and green boxes are my own addition. I first noticed that the second column of letters -- ABIL -- suggested the French word for "bee," abeille. Then I noticed that the missing letters are right there to the right, and that if you take all the letters in the green box, you can spell abeilles, "bees."

What about the remaining letters, in the red box? The only phonotactically plausible way of stringing them together is peng. My first thought was that this might be an abbreviation for pengolodh, "lore master," an Elvish word which has come up on William's blog before. Then I realized that it was awfully close to the Mandarin for "bee" (or "bees," as Chinese nouns are not marked for number) which is transliterated feng. Linguistically, it's usually a fairly safe bet that any word with /f/ evolved from an older form with /p/, and such proves to be the case here as well. The Old Chinese for "bee" began with a /p/ sound, and this is still preserved in some non-Mandarin dialects. Unfortunately, the vowel has changed, too, so no modern or historical dialect of Chinese actually has peng for "bee." Still, it certainly suggests that Chinese word in its various forms.

In writing this post, I also noticed for the first time that William's son actually misspelled spelling on the worksheet as speiling. According to Google Translate, that's the Norwegian word for "mirroring." Not sure if that means anything. My first thought in connection with a "mirrored bee" was Thérèse de Lisieux, whose autobiography I recently bought and whose name contains a mirrored deseret.

Monday, May 20, 2024

"Look at that pumpkin!" the visitors say

In my May 16 post "'Come buy, come buy,' was still their cry," I mention an anecdote from Whitley Strieber about an alien going door-to-door selling squash. I also note that I had initially misremembered the story and thought that it was pumpkins the alien was selling, but that in any case the Chinese language does not distinguish between the two: 南瓜 can mean either "squash" or "pumpkin."

Although most people would say Strieber's books are about "aliens," he himself almost never calls them that. In an effort to be neutral and avoid jumping to the conclusion that they are of extraterrestrial origin, he prefers to refer to the Other People as visitors. In the anecdote in question, quoted in my 2021 post "Cucurbits from an alien land," Strieber describes his friend Michael Talbot talking to a stranger at the door at five in the morning:

The idea that this was a visitor certainly hadn't crossed Michael's mind. . . . Then I heard him say, "are you trying to sell those vegetables?"

It stunned me practically senseless. Then I saw that the visitor was holding a big paper shopping bag full of squash.

This quote highlight's Strieber's idiosyncratic use of the word visitor. Obviously Michael was well aware that the stranger standing at the door was a "visitor" in the ordinary sense of that word; what Strieber means is that Michael didn't suspect it was an alien.

Today I saw this in one of my students' textbooks:


The first sentence on the page is, "'Look at that pumpkin!' the visitors say." These are of course visitors in the ordinary sense -- Cheng is locally famous as an excellent gardener, and "people come from all over to see the beautiful plants" -- but the word still jumped out at me due to the synchronistic context. Note also that the story is set in China, and it is in Chinese that "squash" and "pumpkin" are interchangeable. I had mentioned Chinese only because I live in Taiwan and speak that language every day. This book, though, is published in America and distributed worldwide, so the fact that this story happens to be about Chinese people is a coincidence. (Visitors of the Strieberian type are often described as looking "Chinese.")

In the story, the Emperor of China holds a gardening context. Each gardener is given a seed to plant and told that the one who grows the most beautiful plant from it will be the next emperor. In the end, it is revealed that all the seeds were dead and that the contest was actually a test of honesty. Cheng, the only one honest enough to bring the emperor an empty flowerpot, wins and is chosen to be his successor.

In Alma 32 in the Book of Mormon, the "word" -- an idea or belief -- is compared to a seed  which is planted in the heart, and if the seed grows, that means "that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me" (Alma 32:28).

When one has invested a lot in a particular seed, there is a temptation to trick oneself into believing it has borne fruit even if it hasn't -- perhaps, like the dishonest gardeners in the story, by introducing other seeds into the pot and pretending that what grows from them has grown from the original seed. Resisting that temptation is a difficult but important form of honesty.

Thursday, April 11, 2024

A loaf of bread is dear

When I'm doing some tedious task that doesn't require much brainpower, I sometimes like to listen to something in the background. This morning I was preparing a glossary for some of my students, adding Chinese glosses to a fairly long list of English words. While doing this, I was listening to something YouTube had suggested and I had randomly clicked on: Tucker Carlson interviewing Tulsi Gabbard. This is not at all the type on content I ordinarily consume, politics just not being my shtick, but for whatever reason today I thought "why not" and clicked on it:


I was using a school computer which is set up, for the convenience of my Taiwanese employees, to use Mandarin Phonetic Symbols for typing in Chinese. I'm pretty proficient in that typing system, but I can type Chinese much faster if I can use the Roman alphabet. Since Google Translate accepts Hanyu Pinyin (Romanized) input for Chinese, I often type Chinese that way into Google Translate and then copy and paste it to the document I want it in. One of the words I had to gloss this morning was loaf, so I typed 一條(麵包) -- literally "a loaf (of bread)." The parenthetical note was necessary because 一條 by itself literally means "a strip" and is the measure word used for all sorts of long thin things such as ropes and rivers, but also for bread (when counted by the loaf), fish, and for some reason dogs. (In Chinese, you generally can't use a number with a noun directly; instead of "a pen" or "two dogs" you have to say literally "a branch of pen" or "two strips of dog.")

I typed that, copied it, and pasted it into my document -- and at exactly that moment, Tulsi said "a loaf of bread." I don't mean a second or two later; we're talking about perfect simultaneity (which is of course the literal meaning of synchronicity). I pressed Ctrl-V, and 一條(麵包)appeared in my document while Tulsi Gabbard helpfully read out the English translation. She was talking about inflation; here's the immediate context:

You know, a loaf of bread is three times more expensive today than it was six months ago, or a year ago.

I considered posting about the sync but at first decided not to. As impressive as the form of the sync had been, the content -- just "a loaf of bread" -- was about as boring as it gets.

That made me stop and think, though, if "a loaf of bread" might have any deeper significance, and I remembered that the word loaf had been featured in my 2011 post "Dreaming in a forgotten language." I had dreamed about having a student recite a Greek prayer which was known as the Chliep Doroch because it was with those two words -- meaning "Dear Lord" -- that the Greek text of the prayer began. Upon waking, I of course realized that that wasn't Greek at all and tried to figure out if there was any linguistically plausible way of torturing the meaning "Dear Lord" out of it.  One of my speculations was that chliep was "perhaps cognate with the Old English hlaf -- as in hlafweard, 'loaf-guard,' from which our modern word lord is derived."

Eventually, I realized that the phrase from the dream was obeying the rules of Russian phonology, and looking it up as Russian (the "forgotten language" of my title) yielded a near bull's-eye: хлеб до��ог, literally "bread is dear" -- and хлеб and related Slavic words for "bread" are generally held to derive from a Germanic loan-word, related to loaf and this indirectly to lord.

I also noted in that 2011 post something directly relevant to Tulsi Gabbard's "loaf of bread" reference:

The Russian word for "dear," like its English equivalent, can mean either "beloved" or "expensive." A Google search for "хлеб дорог" turns up David Ricardo in translation: "не потому хлеб дорог, что платится рента, а рента платится потому, что хлеб дорог" -- "Corn is not high because a rent is paid, but a rent is paid because corn is high."

The post further noted that хлеб дорог could also mean "bread of the roads." That caught my eye in connection with today's sync because in Chinese, roads are one of the many long thin things to take the measure word 條. That is, in Chinese "a road" -- 一條路 -- is literally "a 'loaf' of road." (You can put "a loaf of road" into Google Translate to confirm this.)

Writing this post, which necessitated the explanation that a loaf of bread is literally a "strip" of bread in Chinese, made me think of the Pipkins episode I discussed in my 2022 post "Michael the glove puppet and X the Owl" and revisited in several subsequent posts:


Due to the influence of William Wright, I tend to connect the word strip with the Stripling Warriors these days. In the Pipkins episode, Pig explains that soldiers are thin strips of bread:

Boiled egg and soldiers! Oh, I love boiled egg and soldiers! Do you know what soliders are, apart from being men in the army? Well, they are little thin strips of bread and butter, and they are smashing for dipping into your egg. Oh, I love boiled egg and soldiers!

It was this "strips of bread" angle that made me think of Pipkins, but it turns out to be relevant in another way, too. The name of the episode is "The Glove Puppet," and the story is about how Hartley Hare uses a glove puppet named Michael to "be naughty" -- including stealing one of Pig's soldiers -- always blaming the puppet for the misdeeds rather than accepting responsibility himself.

Now look back at that Tucker Carlson video. The full title is "Tulsi Gabbard on Being Trump's VP, Who's Puppeteering Biden, and Corruption in Congress."

Besides this implication that Biden is himself a "glove puppet," there's also a bit where Tulsi says:

People like Hillary Clinton call me a traitor and a Russian asset or a puppet of Putin.

Here the idea of puppetry is neatly juxtaposed with Russian -- the language of хлеб дорог.


Note added (same day, 10:30 p.m.):

The thumbnail for the Tucker and Tulsi video shows a Venn diagram with a red circle on the left and a blue one on the right:


In "Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head," on of my 2022 follow-ups to the Pipkins "Glove Puppet" post, I included this tweet:

Monday, January 29, 2024

Filth Room

Spotted in a hospital in Yuanlin, Taiwan:


It's actually the room where medical waste is temporarily stored. Searching for the Chinese phrase online led me to an even stranger translation from Mainland China, using an alternate Chinese word for "room" which also happens to mean "between":

Thursday, March 23, 2023

Aladdin's three elder brothers

One of my very young students told me this untranslatable Chinese joke today:

Q: 我問你,阿拉丁有幾個哥哥?
A: 三個:阿拉甲、阿拉乙、阿拉丙。

Q: Let me ask you, how many elder brothers does Aladdin have?
A: Three: Alajia, Alayi, and Alabing.
 
The joke is that Aladdin is transliterated as 阿拉丁 (ālādīng). Some of you might recognize that last character from my February 21 post "Tintin T. rex, Timey-wimey T. rex, . . . collect them all!":

Belgian comic-book character Tintin is called 丁丁 in Chinese.

Tin is not a possible syllable in Chinese, and Ting sounds like a girl's name, so the best they could do was Ding-ding. You know, like a bell. A tin bell. Like a tinker would make.

The character 丁 is the fourth Celestial Stem, and as such is used to translate the letter D when used in an ordinal sense -- that is, when A, B, C, and D are used in the sense of "one, two, three, four," as in an outline or on a multiple-choice test. For example, Serie D football is rendered 丁級 in Chinese. So if you wanted to go Backstroke of the West on poor Tintin and translate his Chinese translation back into English, he'd be called DD.

As you have probably guessed by now, the first three Celestial Stems are 甲 (jiǎ), 乙 (), and 丙 (bǐng) -- the final characters in the names of Aladdin's three elder brothers. By coincidence, the first part of Aladdin's Chinese name is 阿拉, which is also how the divine name Allah is transliterated. So Aladdin sounds like Allah-D in Chinese, and his three brothers are Allah-A, Allah-B, and Allah-C.

This calls to mind the Satanic Verses -- no, not the Salman Rushdie novel which occasioned the St. Valentine's Day fatwa, but the verses themselves: a false revelation given to Muhammad by Satan, in which it was implied that there were three divine beings in addition to Allah -- although in this case they would be sisters rather than brothers: the pre-Islamic Arabian goddesses al-Lat, al-'Uzza, and Manat.

Or: God-A, God-B, God-C, and God-D -- Allah, Brahman, Christ, and Zeus? God-B also makes me think of William S. Godbe (1833-1902), the Mormon schismatic who founded a Spiritualist-influenced sect and tried to make contact with Joseph Smith and others through séances.

Anyway, I mention the joke here because it syncs with my recent Tintin post -- both focusing on the use of 丁 both as the equivalent of D and as an element in transliterated foreign names. We'll see if the sync fairies decide to go anywhere with it.

Thursday, February 2, 2023

And the green tube-man is back, too

It's just one sync flashback after another these days. Remember this?


Today I spotted this on the street. The banners were just put up today, for a fund-raiser in connection with the Chinese Lantern Festival.


Notice that the white space of the logo forms a house with a green door.

Notice also how the partially overlapping C and O create a shape that hints at both the lemniscate and the vesica piscis.

Cosmed, by the way, is one of those very clever phonetic/semantic translations. The English name of this drugstore chain suggests cosmetics and medicine (and democratic socialism spelled backwards). The Chinese, 康是美, is a close phonetic approximation of the English (as close as can be expected in such a phonologically different language as Chinese) and means "health is beauty."

Speaking of democratic socialism, behind the banners, the National Health Insurance logo is visible in the window of the drugstore.


Not green tube-men exactly, but certainly a similar concept.

Friday, May 27, 2022

Cats and caterpillars

After a long period of inactivity, Richard Arrowsmith of Black Dog Star has recently started posting again. Last night I checked to see if he had posted anything new. He hadn't, but while I was there I clicked on a link in his most recent (May 18) post to his old 2009 post "Keeping Track of the Cat." One of the things he mentions in that post is the connection between cat and caterpillar -- in, for example, the two forms of the logo of Caterpillar Inc.

That was last night. This morning, my wife was feeding the cats some sort of treats, and all the cats were gathered around her. She said (in Chinese), "What a lot of caterpillars! I call them caterpillars, you know." The Chinese for "caterpillar" is 毛毛蟲 (máomaochóng, "furry bug"), which is unrelated to  貓 (māo, "cat").

Not until I wrote the above did I notice that, in Roman transliteration, "cat" (māo) is the first syllable of "caterpillar" (máomaochóng) in Chinese just as it is in English. It only appears that way in transliteration, though; in fact, the tone is different, and therefore the two syllables sound entirely different to Chinese ears; it would never occur to a Chinese speaker to connect the two words. Puns on otherwise similar words which have different tones are quite uncommon in Chinese. There's the well-known superstitious connection between 四 (, "four") and 死 (, "death"),  but otherwise, tone-deaf puns are pretty much limited to jokes about tone-deaf foreigners, like the one about the American who got slapped by the dumpling shop owner when he tried to say, "How much for a bowl of dumplings?" but got the tones wrong and said, "How much to sleep with you for the night?" It's like s/th puns in English, which are also largely limited to jokes about foreign accents -- like when an American sea captain radioed the German coast guard and said, "We are sinking! We are sinking!" only to receive the reply, "Vat are you sinking about?"

Writing the above paragraph -- in which I mentioned puns, the number four, and the words cat and sink -- made me think of the story my mother taught me when I was very young and learning to count in French: "There once was a cat called Undeutrois Cat. One day Undeutrois Cat saw some fish swimming, and he wanted to swim, too. But when Undeutrois Cat jumped into the water, Undeutrois Cat sank!" (un deux trois quatre cinq).

(Googling this, I find it is more often presented as a joke in which a French cat named Un Deux Trois loses a swimming race with an English cat named One Two Three. I learned it as a mnemonic story, not a joke.)

The story involves a pun on cat and quatre, "four." Last October, with no thought of Undeutrois Cat, I made a pun on caterpillars and quatre piliers, "four pillars" (the pun being that pavilion is similar to papillon, "butterfly").

Looking up caterpillar in an etymology dictionary, I find that the similarity to cat is not a coincidence.

"larva of a butterfly or moth," mid-15c., catyrpel, probably altered (by association with Middle English piller "plunderer;" see pillage (n.)) from Old North French caterpilose "caterpillar" (Old French chatepelose), literally "shaggy cat" (probably in reference to the "wooly-bear" variety), from Late Latin catta pilosa, from catta "cat" (see cat (n.)) + pilosus "hairy, shaggy, covered with hair," from pilus "hair" (see pile (n.3)).

So the pillar element in caterpillar ultimately derives from the Latin for "hair." This is a link back to my November 2020 post "Hair and pillars, and pills."

Friday, November 19, 2021

Joe and Crow

Did you know that joe is a word in Dutch?


Back in 2020, Joe and Bye were closely associated.


At the time, this bumper sticker meant that "Don" was not the stickee's president and needed to be ousted by "Byedon." Now, the most natural reading is, "Biden: Not my president," respelled so as to suggest Bye! (Joe!), and the -don ending is as likely to make one think of Brandon as of Trump, who has never really gone by Don anyway.

In other onomastic news, Trump has a new, not-very-catchy nickname for Mitch McConnell (etymologically a "Big Bad Wolf" name, incidentally).


As Margaret Hatmann says in the Intelligencer article, this is a big step down from Crooked Hillary, Lyin' Ted, and Sleepy Joe, and it flies in the face of the universally accepted fact that McConnell resembles a turtle, not a crow. Why the need for a corvid nickname, even one that doesn't really fit? It fits with my own nickname for Biden, Slow Joe Crow. Merrick Garland is part of the same pattern: the ancient Greek word for "wreath, garland" is ��ορώνη (the source of the Latin corona). The ancient Greek word for "crow"? Also κορώνη.

"Old crow" in Chinese is 老鴉 (lǎoyā) -- which is pronounced exactly the same as 老鴨 (lǎoyā), literally "old duck," but also the Chinese name for Donald Duck -- 唐老鴨 (Táng Lǎoyā), literally "Don Old Duck," the 唐 (Táng) character being the same one used to transliterate the first syllable of the name Donald. Thus is the Donald himself connected with the idea of an "old crow."

Wednesday, October 27, 2021

Bern, baby, bern!

I can't believe I failed to connect this:


with this:


I mean, "The right has their racist frog," so the left needs a bear -- followed by a pun on the noun and verb senses of bear. How did I not immediately make the connection?

In the same movie, Kermit says, "C'mon, bear, burn rubber!" The combination of a bear, burning, and going fast in a car syncs with "Let's Go" Brandon Brown. (C'mon is roughly synonymous with "Let's go," and is a known Bidenism.)

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the English words bear and brown come from "a Proto-Indo-European root meaning 'bright; brown' (the sense connection might involve polished wooden objects)." I find this a very curious connection, since brown is one of the least bright of colors; of all the basic color terms in English, only black and gray are less often qualified as "bright" than brown is. Brown is not alone in this, though. The very least bright color of all, black, comes from the Old English blac "bright, shining, glittering, pale" and is related to French blanc, "white"; the OED speculates "the connecting notions being, perhaps, 'fire' (bright) and 'burned' (dark)." Perhaps this is also the connecting notion for brown; it certainly seems more plausible than the "bright as wood" idea.

By a very strange coincidence, the bear is also etymologically connected to the idea of burning in Chinese, a language completely unrelated to English. The Old Chinese character for "bear" was 能, and the term for a blazing or raging fire was 熊熊 -- made from the character for "bear" by adding a component meaning "flame." Later, the characer 能 began to be used for a completely different word (meaning "can, ability") and so 熊 (originally referring to a blazing fire) was pressed into service as the character for "bear."

Even more curiously, dictionaries say that 能 (originally "bear," the animal) was also used in the past to mean "to bear, to withstand" and "bearing, attitude" -- exhibiting some of the same polysemy as the English word bear.

There's something mysterious about bears. Beowulf's name means "bear"; so does King Arthur's. There are two constellations called Bears even though their most salient feature is their long tails. (The constellation-inspired myths about how the bear lost his long tail don't address the question of why the ancients would have called the long-tailed shape they saw in the stars a "bear" in the first place.) The universal and enduring popularity of the teddy bear also calls for some explanation, I think -- and no, some anecdote about an American politician ages ago isn't enough to explain why the idea took off and became so popular all over the world.

Thursday, October 21, 2021

Libra

Except when it occurs at the end of a word, the [z] sound is difficult for many Chinese speakers to pronounce correctly and often comes out more like [l]. Zero, for example, is a particular challenge for many and often comes out as "lee-lo." This can lead to some unintentionally very funny statements, like, "I haven't been to the loo since I was a child."

Many years ago, I had occasion to discuss the signs of the zodiac with a group of adult students in Taiwan, and one of them said, "I'm a Leo, and my wife is a Libra, so it's a perfect match." Everyone laughed, but I didn't get it until he explained: "Because Leo is a lion, and lions like to eat libras."

I'm not sure why that popped back into my head more than a decade later, but today it occurred to me that there may be something deeper to this particular Chinglish pun. Aren't zebra-stripes, just as much as the scales, a symbol of objective justice impartially administered?



Monday, May 13, 2019

Stalking the wild asparagus

Westerners living in Taiwan are much in demand as extras on TV, and I recently received a job offer as a "soldier on a battleship" in a historical drama. I found this portion of the application form pretty funny.


Apparently, if you want non-vegetarian food, you're on your own!

(In fact, 葷食 just means an ordinary, non-Buddhist diet, including such things as meat and onions. "Foraging" is how Google Translate renders it.)

Ace of Hearts

On the A page of Animalia , an Ace of Hearts is near a picture of a running man whom I interpreted as a reference to Arnold Schwarzenegger....