Foreign language was my Achilles' heel in high school—to the point I began to come up with excuses to opt out of the class. Just before the first test in my ninth grade French class, I told the teacher that the school's foreign language requirement was against my religion. I explained that Man had tried to build the Tower of Babel, a challenge to God's superiority, and the LORD promptly responded to our arrogance by confusing men with various languages to prevent further collaboration. I said that my attempts to circumvent divine punishment by actually learning other languages was an affront to God. I informed that teacher that, while her desire to teach me to communicate with other cultures seemed well-intentioned, the school’s position on the matter was a violation of my religious freedom.
She didn't buy it. I had to take the test like everybody else.
Fortunately for me, I live in a culture where essentially everybody speaks only one language fluently. Hence a common joke you’ll hear if you do much traveling in Europe:
Q: What do you call a person who speaks two languages?
A: Bilingual.
Q: What do you call a person who speaks three languages?
A: Trilingual.
What do you call a person who speaks only one language?
[beat]
A: American.
And you know what? They’ve got us. Most education systems around the world teach students to communicate fluently in at least one language in addition to their own. One may cite the growing presence of English as a universal language as reason not to care about learning another. I think we're just lazy as a country, but that's a blog for another time.
One tool that may be helpful for Americans (or may possibly make us more lazy) is the number of instant text translators available online. Here's just one I found. They're incredibly simple to use. You just type in a phrase, select the languages "translating from" and "translating into" from a drop-down menu, and click enter. Presto. It spits out the expression in a different tongue. This highly-useful and possibly-blasphemous resource is like having an electronic interpreter at the click of a button. However, they are far from perfect. Case in point:
Several years ago, a friend in my fantasy football league posted a message on our league board offering backhanded condolences when I was eliminated from the playoffs. More specifically, he was disappointed that I lost before he had the chance to eliminate me himself. My team name that year was Evil Empire, and I jokingly presented my team as though it were a cold war-era Soviet machine. Keeping that theme, my fellow league member used an online translator to post his message in Russian:
Хорошая попытка. Я хотел был бы бить вас снова.
Translation: "Nice try. I really wanted to beat you again." But I only know this for sure because he confirmed it later. See, I don't speak fluent Russian—shocking, I know—so initially I tried to use the online translator to change the Russian back to English. I copied and pasted it exactly, and this is what came out:
"Good attempt. I wanted would be to beat you again."
Huh? That’s…interesting. Not surprisingly, the online text translator has some limitations. Most human interpreters will tell you there’s no such thing as an exact translation, anyway. It’s like trying to reproduce a clay sculpture with paint on canvas: You can represent the original in a different medium, but you can’t duplicate it. A later French teacher told me that, conceptually, it was better to think of it as though I were translating ideas, not words. That's probably why I struggled with foreign language in general: My inclination was to translate a sentence mechanically piece-by-piece, as if I were decoding a word puzzle.
Of course, it doesn’t work that way. And while the online text translators are more competent than most high-school freshmen, they still follow a finite set of grammatical and linguistic rules without any human discretion. So there's obviously going to be some bugs.
…Which means that if you try to translate a phrase from English, into another language, and then back to English, weird stuff happens—and hilarity may ensue. I decided to run a few test phrases through the translator to see what it would give me. I used the same English-to-Russian-back-to-English formula. The original is in bold, the translation in italics:
The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog.
The fast red fox has jumped through a lazy brown dog.
I think I'll put these pants on.
I think, that I shall put on these trousers.
If it was God's intent that languages be a stumbling block to communication, rest assured that these translators don't pose any sort of challenge to His will. I ran a few holiday phrases that I thought might have some interesting results, this time using a few other languages as the intermediary:
Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh!
Russian: About, on what entertainment it should go in the open sled with one horse!
French: Oh that entertainment he must take up the opened sleigh in a horse!
German: Oh which fun it should ride in an einspännigen open sledge!
(Then, to add another kink in the hose, I went English-Russian-German-French-Spanish):
On what pleasure this must go in the sledge opened with a horse!
Heh. I was one of those kids who can have more fun with a cardboard box than any toy that might've come in it, so this simple device is potentially hours of entertainment. I decided that Russian seemed to produce the best results, and I was too impatient to start funneling every phrase through four languages, so I stuck with the English-Russian-English route. Here's a few more:
They never let poor Rudolph play in any reindeer games.
They never allow Rudolf's poor game in any games of a reindeer.
Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul.
The frosty yeti was cheerful, happy soul.
Grandma got run over by a reindeer.
To the grandmother the reindeer moved.
OhMY. I could spend days running stuff through this thing. I almost feel bad, using a tool meant for good to create linguistic abominations like some mad language scientist. And it has applications far outside of Christmas carols:
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
How many, the marmot wood North American could throw, if the marmot wood North American could throw a wood?
Here's a few translated phrases for you sports fans out there. See if you can guess the original:
Arrive after me! I am a person! To me forty!
Bears - the one who we thought, that they were.
I could not care less if the command struggles. I wish to kiss you.
How about a few favorites from movie and TV land?
The assumption, what? I have received a fever, and the unique instruction - it is more than handbell on a neck of the cow!
You are going to have a plenty of time to roll dubis when you live in a van downwards at the river!
And for a finale, how about the infamous answer given by Miss Teen SC:
I personally believe, that the American Americans are unable to make so because, h'm, some people there in our nation have no cards and, mm, I believe, that ours, mm, formation as, type, mm, Southern Africa and, mm, Iraq and everywhere as, type, and I believe, that they should, mm, our formation here with the USA should help the USA, mm, should help Southern Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries, thus we are able to create our future.
I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, um, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our, uh, education like such as, uh, South Africa and, uh, the Iraq and everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future.
Yes, that was sneaky. I switched the original (italics) with the translation (bold). Be honest: Could you even tell?
So if you're looking to waste a little time over the next few days, and my blogs don't fit the bill, take the translator for a spin and see what twisted gems you can unearth.
Showing posts with label posts that require minimal effort. Show all posts
Showing posts with label posts that require minimal effort. Show all posts
June 4, 2009
Rip-off Blog: "I know I had it coming..."
It's impossible to plagiarize yourself, right? I just felt like posting.
I don't spend much time in bars, but the occasional jaunt to a local watering hole for karaoke with friends is usually a good time--never mind the fact that singing in public to an intoxicated audience once held the spot just below "self immolation" on my list of top ways to ruin a perfectly good evening. Still, it's fun to go just to see what songs your friends will pick. The best ones are those that they clearly regret selecting only four bars in, at which point it's obviously too late. Once you start a song, you have to see it through to the bitter end. That's karaoke law.
My usual strategy is to pick a song that no one in their right mind would boo no matter how badly I slaughter it. The last time I went, I only performed one song: "Folsom Prison Blues." Number one, it's Cash. Nobody dares disrespect Cash. Number two, no offense to the Man in Black, but you can be pretty tone-deaf and still make the prisoner's grumbled mourning sound real. And on top of that it's just a cool song that you really don't hear that often.
As most people know, the song is fictional. Though it's consistent with his image, Cash never served any time in prison--or committed murder, as far as anyone knows. And yet what's the line that invariably evokes the most hoops and hollers in the karaoke joint? No question: "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."
And I'm thinking, "What's wrong with these people? Cheering on a cold-blooded killing for no reason? Er, wait...I'M the one that picked the song..." Amazing what you'll sing about that you'd never consider doing.
According to Wikipedia, Cash recounted how he came up with the "Reno" line thusly: "I sat with my pen in my hand, trying to think up the worst reason a person could have for killing another person, and that's what came to mind."
Cash wasn't a bad guy. He just seemed to want people to think he was--not unlike the unfortunate incident that brought my night to an early end.
Out of respect for the privacy of those involved, I'll forgo the details. Let's just say that I feel strongly that, while fun has its place, paid performers at nightclubs owe a degree of respect to the patrons they entertain. ...And if defending a young lady's honor compels me to take a bar stool to some Billy Joel wannabe's baby grand, so be it. It's not the first dueling piano bar that's issued me a lifetime ban, and I highly doubt it'll be the last.
"But those people keep a'moving, and that's what tortures me."
I don't spend much time in bars, but the occasional jaunt to a local watering hole for karaoke with friends is usually a good time--never mind the fact that singing in public to an intoxicated audience once held the spot just below "self immolation" on my list of top ways to ruin a perfectly good evening. Still, it's fun to go just to see what songs your friends will pick. The best ones are those that they clearly regret selecting only four bars in, at which point it's obviously too late. Once you start a song, you have to see it through to the bitter end. That's karaoke law.
My usual strategy is to pick a song that no one in their right mind would boo no matter how badly I slaughter it. The last time I went, I only performed one song: "Folsom Prison Blues." Number one, it's Cash. Nobody dares disrespect Cash. Number two, no offense to the Man in Black, but you can be pretty tone-deaf and still make the prisoner's grumbled mourning sound real. And on top of that it's just a cool song that you really don't hear that often.
As most people know, the song is fictional. Though it's consistent with his image, Cash never served any time in prison--or committed murder, as far as anyone knows. And yet what's the line that invariably evokes the most hoops and hollers in the karaoke joint? No question: "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."
And I'm thinking, "What's wrong with these people? Cheering on a cold-blooded killing for no reason? Er, wait...I'M the one that picked the song..." Amazing what you'll sing about that you'd never consider doing.
According to Wikipedia, Cash recounted how he came up with the "Reno" line thusly: "I sat with my pen in my hand, trying to think up the worst reason a person could have for killing another person, and that's what came to mind."
Cash wasn't a bad guy. He just seemed to want people to think he was--not unlike the unfortunate incident that brought my night to an early end.
Out of respect for the privacy of those involved, I'll forgo the details. Let's just say that I feel strongly that, while fun has its place, paid performers at nightclubs owe a degree of respect to the patrons they entertain. ...And if defending a young lady's honor compels me to take a bar stool to some Billy Joel wannabe's baby grand, so be it. It's not the first dueling piano bar that's issued me a lifetime ban, and I highly doubt it'll be the last.
"But those people keep a'moving, and that's what tortures me."
April 7, 2009
Flashback Blog: The Parable of the Sandwich
All good things must come to an end. Life goes on. Insert bland maxim here. As the long-standing housing situation breaks up and we each go our separate ways, I thought it only fitting to commemorate the time spent together by revisiting a tale from months back--a typical day at the Trace.
Friday afternoon
5:53pm
"The Trace"
Ben: Whew! Another day of non-stop excitement at the bureaucracy office in the books. Nothing to do now but kick back and enjoy a few hours of reading before bed. I've almost finished that new grammar textbook I checked out from the library. Almost too much excitement for a Friday evening, I tell ya. But, hey—you only live once. First, though, I've got to get some dinner. [checks fridge] Ah, yes! The other half of my Publix sub left over from lunch. That'll hit the spot. Almost as good as the ol' S&S cafeteria. [unwraps sandwich] There's no better way to wind down after a hectic day than sitting down to a peaceful meal at home.
[door flies open]
Tony: WHOOOO! I tell you I killed my quads in the gym. Squat 400 pounds 13 times. I was only supposed to do a set of 10, but these girls were, you know, watching intently, so I grinded out out 3 more for good measure. Didn't want to disappoint. You ever try the squat rack?
Ben: I...yes.
Tony: Boy it'll do a number on you. I feel great. [drops down, does forty pushups, jumps back up, throws down a two-liter protein shake containing several clearly live goldfish] Whew! That was a good appetizer, but my stomach is about to eat itself. I need food. Fortunately I still have--[stops abruptly at the sight of the sandwich]--what's that?
Ben: Publix sub.
Tony: That's not my Publix sub, is it?
Ben: Nope. My Publix sub.
Tony: [checks fridge] Dude, that is my sub. There's no other sub in here.
Ben: This has to be mine. I left it there not six hours ago.
Tony: All I know is I left half a sub in here yesterday, and I definitely didn't eat it since then. I had a 9-egg omlette for dinner and 16 waffles for breakfast.
Ben: I think you're confused.
Tony: About a sub? No way. My memory regarding sandwiches is like steel trap. Here, let me take a bite, I'll tell you for sure if it's mine.
Ben: Get away! That's my dinner!
Tony: It's my sandwich!
Ben: Mine!
Tony: Mine!
Jay: Children, please.
[Tony and Ben look around abruptly]
Tony: How long have you been standing there?
Ben: And why are you wearing a robe?
Jay: I heard your calls of distress. And the robe is comfortable.
Ben: Let me guess--you crashed the server again, and you're waiting for it to recover?
Jay: [looks at floor] ...yes. But...in the meantime, I hope to remedy this conflict. Tell me, what seems to be the problem?
Tony: He's trying to steal my sandwich.
Ben: It's mine. If it isn't, where'd mine go?
Tony: Maybe you left it under a stack of books.
Ben: Maybe you accidentally blended yours in that shake. And isn't there a dumbbell around here that needs lifting?
Jay: Children, children.
Ben: Dude, stop calling us that.
Jay: I will not. But I will resolve the situation in a manner that is equitable and fair.
Tony: Okay.
Ben: Let's hear it.
Jay: To settle this argument of who is the rightful owner of the sandwich, we will compromise. [produces a large kitchen knife] I'll cut the sandwich in two, and each of you will receive half.
Tony: [falling to his knees] NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Ben: Um...right. Whatever. I can't expect you to take sides. I suppose half's better than nothing.
[Jay raises knife.]
Tony: No! Don't cut it! You can't! Just let Ben have the sandwich.
Ben: Hey! All right! [reaches for the sandwich, but Jay stops him]
Jay: Wait! Tony, why did you say to let him have the sandwich?
Tony: [sobbing] Because it's wrong. I would rather let someone else have the sandwich that for it to be hacked into sad little pieces of its former self.
Jay [puts his hand on Tony's shoulder]: Compassion like that can only come from a man who truly loves his sandwich.
Ben: Do what?
Jay: Tony, you clearly are the rightful owner of the sandwich.
Ben: WHAT?!
Tony: [clutching sandwich tightly] Thank you! Thank you! Your wisdom prevails again, Jay.
Jay: Go, my son. Nourish yourself.
Ben: Dude...it's a sandwich!
Tony: [to sandwich] I almost thought I'd lost you! [retreats to kitchen]
[Ben glares at Jay.]
Jay: Ben, there's a lesson to be learned here. And that lesson is that nothing can break the bond between a man and his sandwich.
Ben: I hate you.
Jay: Nothing!
Ben: Yeah, "nothing." As in, "I have nothing to eat for dinner, now."
Jay: Man does not live on 7-grain whole wheat bread alone, friend.
Ben: I keep telling you, that's blasphemous.
Jay: Is it, Ben? Or is it that the truth hits close to home?
Ben: [sniffing] Why do I smell oil and vinegar on your breath?
Friday afternoon
5:53pm
"The Trace"
Ben: Whew! Another day of non-stop excitement at the bureaucracy office in the books. Nothing to do now but kick back and enjoy a few hours of reading before bed. I've almost finished that new grammar textbook I checked out from the library. Almost too much excitement for a Friday evening, I tell ya. But, hey—you only live once. First, though, I've got to get some dinner. [checks fridge] Ah, yes! The other half of my Publix sub left over from lunch. That'll hit the spot. Almost as good as the ol' S&S cafeteria. [unwraps sandwich] There's no better way to wind down after a hectic day than sitting down to a peaceful meal at home.
[door flies open]
Tony: WHOOOO! I tell you I killed my quads in the gym. Squat 400 pounds 13 times. I was only supposed to do a set of 10, but these girls were, you know, watching intently, so I grinded out out 3 more for good measure. Didn't want to disappoint. You ever try the squat rack?
Ben: I...yes.
Tony: Boy it'll do a number on you. I feel great. [drops down, does forty pushups, jumps back up, throws down a two-liter protein shake containing several clearly live goldfish] Whew! That was a good appetizer, but my stomach is about to eat itself. I need food. Fortunately I still have--[stops abruptly at the sight of the sandwich]--what's that?
Ben: Publix sub.
Tony: That's not my Publix sub, is it?
Ben: Nope. My Publix sub.
Tony: [checks fridge] Dude, that is my sub. There's no other sub in here.
Ben: This has to be mine. I left it there not six hours ago.
Tony: All I know is I left half a sub in here yesterday, and I definitely didn't eat it since then. I had a 9-egg omlette for dinner and 16 waffles for breakfast.
Ben: I think you're confused.
Tony: About a sub? No way. My memory regarding sandwiches is like steel trap. Here, let me take a bite, I'll tell you for sure if it's mine.
Ben: Get away! That's my dinner!
Tony: It's my sandwich!
Ben: Mine!
Tony: Mine!
Jay: Children, please.
[Tony and Ben look around abruptly]
Tony: How long have you been standing there?
Ben: And why are you wearing a robe?
Jay: I heard your calls of distress. And the robe is comfortable.
Ben: Let me guess--you crashed the server again, and you're waiting for it to recover?
Jay: [looks at floor] ...yes. But...in the meantime, I hope to remedy this conflict. Tell me, what seems to be the problem?
Tony: He's trying to steal my sandwich.
Ben: It's mine. If it isn't, where'd mine go?
Tony: Maybe you left it under a stack of books.
Ben: Maybe you accidentally blended yours in that shake. And isn't there a dumbbell around here that needs lifting?
Jay: Children, children.
Ben: Dude, stop calling us that.
Jay: I will not. But I will resolve the situation in a manner that is equitable and fair.
Tony: Okay.
Ben: Let's hear it.
Jay: To settle this argument of who is the rightful owner of the sandwich, we will compromise. [produces a large kitchen knife] I'll cut the sandwich in two, and each of you will receive half.
Tony: [falling to his knees] NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Ben: Um...right. Whatever. I can't expect you to take sides. I suppose half's better than nothing.
[Jay raises knife.]
Tony: No! Don't cut it! You can't! Just let Ben have the sandwich.
Ben: Hey! All right! [reaches for the sandwich, but Jay stops him]
Jay: Wait! Tony, why did you say to let him have the sandwich?
Tony: [sobbing] Because it's wrong. I would rather let someone else have the sandwich that for it to be hacked into sad little pieces of its former self.
Jay [puts his hand on Tony's shoulder]: Compassion like that can only come from a man who truly loves his sandwich.
Ben: Do what?
Jay: Tony, you clearly are the rightful owner of the sandwich.
Ben: WHAT?!
Tony: [clutching sandwich tightly] Thank you! Thank you! Your wisdom prevails again, Jay.
Jay: Go, my son. Nourish yourself.
Ben: Dude...it's a sandwich!
Tony: [to sandwich] I almost thought I'd lost you! [retreats to kitchen]
[Ben glares at Jay.]
Jay: Ben, there's a lesson to be learned here. And that lesson is that nothing can break the bond between a man and his sandwich.
Ben: I hate you.
Jay: Nothing!
Ben: Yeah, "nothing." As in, "I have nothing to eat for dinner, now."
Jay: Man does not live on 7-grain whole wheat bread alone, friend.
Ben: I keep telling you, that's blasphemous.
Jay: Is it, Ben? Or is it that the truth hits close to home?
Ben: [sniffing] Why do I smell oil and vinegar on your breath?
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