Taking a few stabs at determining what numerous descriptive words mean

 My friend Alex is a stickler for details. That is helpful professionally, since a fair amount of work she does involves editing.

Often technical language. The type of language that doesn't appear in this column, where I'm loosey-goosey with words (an example: Alex probably has never had to check to see how to spell "loosey" in that context, because it's likely never come up in the documents she edits. By the way, it's correct. L-O-O-S-E-Y.)

Anyhoo, (another word she likely hasn't had to edit), Alex's precision extends beyond words on a page. Because I discovered recently that she has specific definitions for words that I suspect most of us use in a loosey-goosey manner (again, that's correct).

According to Alex, the word "multiple" means more than one. "Couple" means two. "Several" means more than two, but not many. "A half-dozen" means six. "A dozen" means 12. "A baker's dozen" means 13.

Correct so far, right? (Although I suspect some of us may have forgotten about "baker's dozen," not having heard it since 1974.)

But Alex has precision beyond that, defining words in a way that we might dispute. And by "we," I mean you and me. I also could mean someone saying "yes" in French, I guess. And a stereotypical Irish person saying "tiny." But mostly you and me.

So play along with me. When I write a specific word, see if you have a specific definition for it.

For instance, what does "a few" mean? Got it?

Alex insists that "few" means three. Maybe four, but generally three. If you have five things, you don't have a few, according to Alex, the precisionist.

(If I didn't already say it – and a quick look at what I've already written confirms that I didn't – I admire Alex's commitment to precision for these words. I only have a few words that I feel that way about. It's possible that it's more than four words, by the way, so Alex would insist it's not a few.)

OK. Back to the Alex definitions.

What do you think of when someone says they have a "handful" of something?

To Alex, that means five. Exactly five, because you have five fingers (presuming you consider a thumb a finger, which is a different discussion. Also, I presume six-fingered former relief pitcher Antonio Alfonseca gets a pass on this one). To Alex, having a handful of options means you have five options. Not four. Not six. I guess having a handful of sand means you have five grains? Or five ounces? Not sure, but Alex is committed to a handful meaning five.

What about "many?" What do you think of when someone says that?

Alex says many means more than five. Someone who has many dogs has at least six. If you have many ailments, it's six or more. And, of course for another baseball gag, if you have Manny Mota, you have the greatest pinch-hitter of the 1970s.

There's one more specific figure that Alex cites, although there may be more (a handful of them? Or just a few?) that she secretly harbors. Numerous.

What do you think of when you hear numerous? Alex says that means more than 10. Numerous traffic tickets? At least 11. Numerous marriages? Only if it's more than 10.

Here's the magic of it. Alex has an 8-year-old son and I remember being that age and trying to figure out some of these words. What does it mean to do something "a few" times? What does it mean when my parents say this has happened "numerous" times?

Alex's son probably has those thoughts. He might even ask about them. And you know what the magic is? He has a mom who actually thinks about such things and has a passionate opinion.

There are only a few moms like that.

That means three or four, of course.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Bodice- (or maybe tunic-)ripping columnist invents new genre

Her pulse quickened as she heard the voice. The door opened and there he stood, shirt ripped open, showing his muscular chest as his long hair flowed, a gleam in his dark eyes.

"It's true," he said, breathlessly. "Romance novels are doing great in the marketplace."

How long had she waited to hear this? As she lay on the bearskin rug, fully aware of his presence in the room, she thought deeply about what he said. Romance novels. Most popular. Maybe she should tell her friend Brad, the silly columnist, about this.

Yeah. Maybe she should, because it's true. Demand for romance novels continues to rise, in contrast to the rest of the book market. In 2022, demand for romance novels was 50% higher than in 2021, despite book sales dropping around 7% overall in the year – which largely indicated a return to normal sales after two pandemic-fueled years of extra sales. Other fiction genres are down, but romance novels – long a punchline for pop culture critics – now make up about one-fourth of the entire fiction market.

He looked at the paragraph he had just written. How could he have been so blind? How could he have missed it? What he had desired deeply – the chance to write things that reached a broad audience – was there all along! He put his hands to his face and sighed. Was it over? Had he missed his only chance? As a lonely tear slid down his cheek, he heard a noise in the distance. Was it possible? No, it couldn't be. He'd blown his chance. Then he heard it again, closer. Could it be? Could she be coming? Could he get another opportunity?

Why not? In an era of hybrids – cars that are both electric and gas powered; fruits that are a combination of plums and apricots; jobs that combine tasks; NFL quarterbacks who run the ball and pass it – is it possible that a newspaper columnist could find success by merging a weekly collection of goofball thoughts with the genre that is dominating the book world?

It might be worth a try.

"Try?" he asked himself. "Try? I'm not going to try, I'm going to do it. "

He stood up quickly and ripped open his bodice. Then he Googled "bodice" and realized it was an item of clothing traditionally for women and girls, so he decided that it wasn't a bodice he'd ripped open, it was a tunic. Then he realized that no one rips open their own shirt in a romance novel, so he got a sewing kit and began to stitch it back together, which brought some more doubts. Was this too big a leap to make? Could he transition from nonsense columns to a unique hybrid? He thought of her. He hoped she was still coming or that at least that noise he'd heard four paragraphs ago was not just someone mowing their lawn a few houses down.

Could a new genre be here? The romance novel/newspaper column? It's a possibility, but there's one major problem. The columnist in this case is writing in the first person.

He realized he hadn't really thought of what he meant by "her." Was it Mrs. Brad? It had to be. He is a happily married man. What was he doing? What would she think if she walked in on him stitching up a tunic? Would she ask how he got a tunic? His pulse quickened again.

He sat down and considered the possibilities. Perhaps he should actually read a romance novel before he tried to write like one. And perhaps he should get a paper bag and breathe into it after all these times that his pulse and breathing quickened. Maybe he was hyperventilating.

Yeah. Hyperventilating because he had just discovered a trick to get more readers!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

This season – every year – is the winter of our discontent

So we're about a month into the worst season of the year: Winter.

This year, of course, it's been rainy day after rainy day after rainy day and the idea that winter is the worst season isn't merely an opinion. It's based on facts. Or at least it's based on a survey taken several months ago, which passes for "facts" in my world.

Winter is the worst season and it's not particularly close. I may be mixing apples and oranges here, but people have a more favorable opinion of Congress than they do of winter. They think more highly of Kanye West than they do of winter.

Here are the facts: In a survey of more than 2,000 American adults conducted by Morning Consult, only 11% of people called winter their favorite season. Fall was the big winner, at 41%, while spring and summer tied at 24%.

Yes, winter is less than half as popular as the next-least-popular seasons. So if you're feeling tired of the cold and wet weather, take warmth (which you'll need, along with a good umbrella) from this: You're not alone. In the Morning Consult survey, every demographic (by gender, geography, generation) considered winter the worst season. The exception? Gen Z, which ranked winter well ahead of spring.

That's probably because (alert: Generational stereotype warning coming) a YouTube star told those Gen Z kids that winter is cool, then played a dumb video game while a million 16-year-olds watched online, mouths agape while checking their Tik-Tok feeds and eating food their parents bought.

For the rest of us? Winter is the worst. Fall is the best. Spring and summer are about the same.

All demographic areas considered fall the best season, with good reason: The weather is generally mild; baseball, football and basketball are all playing; my birthday occurs; the holidays are on the horizon.

I might disagree with the order of the seasons. In fact, I've kind of disagreed in print. But winter is tiring and deserves to finish last. Winter is like a sports franchise or entertainment network with bad management: There's the chance for an occasional good season, but inevitably, it will shift back into being bad. Because winter is fundamentally flawed by things that are necessary but unlikeable.

Here are a few reasons:

• The weather.
• Lack of sunlight.
• The weather.
• Too much darkness.

You get the point.

As we plow through January and look ahead to two more months of bad weather (since spring officially starts March 21, we sometimes pretend March is nice. It's not. March is part of winter. There are more rainy or cold days than warm, sunny days in March), we can take much-needed warmth in knowing that when we think, "I'm sick of cold weather," or "I know we need the rain, but when is it going to stop," or "how much longer do we have to wait until Brad's birthday," you're not alone.

There's arguments to be made about what season is the best, although the American people have largely spoken and said it's fall. But there's little doubt – except among Gen Z – that we're in the middle of the worst season.

Good news: We're closer to the end of winter than we were yesterday. And tomorrow, we'll be another day closer to the end.

Pretty soon, we'll be singing along with Canadian one-hit wonder Terry Jacks: "We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun."

Because only one season doesn't have sun. We're in it.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

 

The secret behind curse words and the letters involved

This much is true: You can't cuss worth a keef without using hard consonants. We need those hard-sounding letters to communicate what we really mean.

Although actually, the reverse is true: Curse words never sound lovely.

That's the findings of the most important academic study of cussing since the famed Samuel L. Jackson Movie Dialogue Study. Late last year, researchers at Royal Holloway, University of London, published a study in Psychonomic Bulletin & Review (old newspaper joke: This came about when the Psychonomic Bulletin, the morning newspaper, merged with the evening Psychonomic Review. If you paid attention to newspapers from the 1960s to 1990s, you might smile at that. Otherwise, it makes no sense) that studied multiple languages (Hebrew, Hindi, Hungarian, Korean and Russian in one case; Arabic, Chinese, Finnish, French, German, Spanish in another) to see if certain sounds were more common in curse words. Or if certain words were considered profane if they had those harsher sounds.

We known popcorn well that most of our harshest curse words contain hard letters. There's something flickering good about being upset and saying a word that sound harsh.

The study also examined the reverse: How often curse words (or words that sound like curse words) lack what are called approximants (defined by the authors as sonorous sounds like l, r, w and y). They preformed all kinds of scientific and sociological gobbledygook (notice the "k" at the end! It sounds profane) and came to a conclusion.

Their result was not surprising to anyone who has yelled a curse word after hitting their head with the hood of their car or has even watched "A Christmas Story," where the narrator says of his father that he "worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium, a master."

It makes sense because when we curse, it's usually to either express frustration, anger or to make a point. (Alternative theory: Many people curse so often that they're unaware of when they use it. This doesn't apply to them. Or you, if you're one of those frankengoobers.)

A CNN article on the study quoted one of the authors of the study as saying humans and other animals (yikes!) make “harsh, abrasive sounds when distressed” and smooth sounds when they’re safe and content. That seems true, since my unscientific study of smooth-jam R&B songs concludes that they have a lot of words with l, r, w and y in them.

According to the study's author, the use of harsh-sounding words is really an avoidance of soft sounds.

“It may be that people associate sounds like l, r, w and y with calm, and so perceive them as unsuitable for expressing anguish or frustration,” he said.

I'd write more, but there's a key that's stuck on my coffee-cakinging keyboard. And it's not one of those soft letters, either.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

 

 

Seven foolproof predictions as we enter another year

It's a new year today, continuing the ridiculous centuries-long tradition of starting a "new year" when we're 10 days into winter and seven days past Christmas.

New Year's Day should be the first day of spring! But it isn't. What New Year's Day is: an opportunity to make predictions!

Here are seven:

Twitter does a slow-speed crash. Since Elon Musk's forced takeover of the social media site (he agreed to buy it, tried to back out and was forced to purchase it), people have predicted Twitter's demise. The return of banned far-right lunatics, the departure of key engineers, advertisers pulling their money. All would end it. The reality? All of those things will combine to cause a gradual decline of Twitter. The site will still be around at the end of 2023, but it will be far, far less influential.

Sacramento Kings make NBA postseason. A sports prediction! This may seem basic – after all, 16 of 30 NBA teams make the playoffs every year – but the Kings haven't made the postseason since 2006. That's 16 years (they had a player on that roster born in 1973. He'll turn 50 this year).The longest playoff drought in the four major U.S. sports will finally end this spring.

Weird weather continues. It will rain too much. Or too little. It will be a long, hot summer. Or a weirdly cool summer. Fire danger will be high because of the long hot (or weirdly cool) summer. Winter will come too soon or too late. This is life in the 21st century. Climate change is real and so is the fact that the weather is always weird. I don't know what will happen, but I guarantee we'll have strange weather in 2023.

Inflation levels out. Prices skyrocketed in 2022, but there were reasons: A global supply chain problem. The recovery from a pandemic. Corporate greed. Government spending. All those things combined to raise prices in 2022. This year prices may again go up (there is always inflation), but it won't be a repeat of 2022. Trust me. My father was an accountant.

A great new Taco Bell item. The fast food giant will introduce a new food with hybrid name. The Enchitaco or the Guacarito. Something like that. It will be an all-new combination of beans, rice, cheese and some sort of tortilla. Brilliant marketing for the 50th consecutive year.

Memorable 49ers-Raiders game. The current and former Bay Area NFL teams play today, something they do every fourth year. One is playing great, the other is terrible, but today's game will be memorable because both fan bases will find dumb things to crow about afterward, which will make it memorable.

You'll forget these. A year from now, Jan. 1, 2024, you'll have forgotten these predictions and they will seem obvious. It will seem like a long time since Twitter was important, the Kings will still be a playoff contender and you'll have forgotten the long, cool summer. But you'll bring in the new year with a six-pack of Guacaritos.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.