Jim Goldsworthy, Columnist
Cumberland Times-News
February 08, 2008 08:35 pm
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Who thinks up the names for Japanese cars? How much does he get paid to do it? Nothing on the Internet enlightened me, but I did find a list of interesting Japanese show car names:
Nissan Big Thumb, Nissan Serena, Mazda Bongo Brawny, Toyota Estima Lucida G Luxury Joyful Canopy, Toyota Comfort (a taxicab), Honda Mysterious Utility, Mitsubishi Delica, Mitsubishi Toppo, Yamaha Vino (a scooter that might sell well in Italy, where it would come in two colors — red and white) and Suzuki Every Joy Pop Sound.
When long ago I first heard there was a Toyota automobile, my thoughts were that I’d rather have a real Ota, and that I’d prefer a Connie Selleca to a Toyota Celica. And a Camry is something people in Kentucky us to take pictures.
The Japanese are fascinating folks who have an ancient culture that embraces great beauty. The same people also popularized Karaoke and eating raw fish, and a poll of Japanese men taken during the (Bill) Clinton administration disclosed that they would rather be marooned on a desert island with Attorney General Janet Reno than any other woman. One wonders what they must think of Hillary Clinton and Ann Coulter.
Americans are also proficient at thinking up words. I learn new ones frequently after reading our news coverage of government or civilian bureaucracies that must want to make what they do sound important.
“Watershed,” “Viewshed” and “Stakeholder” are words I didn’t know until recent times.
My 1980 Funk & Wagnalls Standard Dictionary does not define “watershed,” but Wikipedia says it’s “a drainage basin or river catchment, a region of land whose water drains into a particular watercourse.”
“Viewshed” is generally used in our paper to describe what will be spoiled by wind turbine farms. Wiki defines it as “an area of land, water and other elements that is visible from a fixed vantage point.” In other words, it’s what you can see from where you are. Time was, I’d have said “view shed” is what Bubba does when he comes out of the cellar to see what the storm did to his outbuilding.
Wiki says a “stakeholder” is someone who can affect, or be affected by, the actions of an organization. My unenlightened guess would have been that a stakeholder is the guy who steadies a sharpened piece of wood while the hammerholder drives it into the vampire’s heart.
Other terms I’ve come to love include “interoperability,” “enabler,” “provider,” “toileting” (one of columnist James J. Kilpatrick’s favorites, it means to potty-train a child), the Independence Card (Maryland’s replacement for food stamps; whoever named it should receive a lifetime achievement award), “manufactured homes” (which we’ve been living in ever since we left the caves) and “facilitator” ... which brings us to Snuffy Smith.
Maynard H. “Snuffy” Smith was the only Army Air Force ball turret gunner to receive the Medal of Honor during World War II. He was described as stubborn and obnoxious, unable to get along with other airmen and a foulup who was demoted in rank so many times that he should have had zippers on his chevrons. However, he put out a fire that would have destroyed his bomber, directly saved the lives of at least two crewmen and fought off wave after wave of German fighters.
When it came time for his medal ceremony, Snuffy was absent. He had fouled up and been busted again and assigned to Kitchen Police, where he was found cleaning breakfast trays.
Newsreel coverage showed Snuffy peeling an enormous pile of potatoes.
That, in today’s terms, would make him a “facilitater.”
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A lady friend of mine keeps after me to write about her. Why, I don’t know. Most of my friends hope I won’t do that to them. We know each other too well, and she and I could say the same.
But she likes to cook. That’s good for those of us who are fortunate enough to be her friends, because she certainly knows how.
“She’s a Frostburg Italian and feels guilty if she isn’t cooking for someone,” said her husband. She once cooked for a party I attended, and he confided to me and a few of his other pals that he had worked his (beast of burden) off, helping her to get ready for it.
We made sure to tell his wife how nice it was that she had a hubby who was willing to work his (beast of burden) off on her behalf. When we saw him again, he didn’t have much to say about that or anything else.
The two of them brought chow for a Super Bowl party last weekend, and when I talked to The Hubs that night he said, “SHE worked for three days and nights on this,” and “SHE made more than 400 meatballs.”
SHE told me, “I had to carry the first load out to the car by myself because YOUR BUDDY was asleep.” SHE also made big trays of manicotti stuffed with cheese and a cold tomato-and-potato salad that was absolutely delicious.
A friend of mine from Piedmont contributed a big crock of beans — his are consistently the best beans I’ve ever eaten — and another from Cumberland brought squirrel potpie. I have no idea who made the chili, but it was all good, and so were the desserts.
It was one of those times I wished I was like a cow and had four stomachs.
And our favorite commercials were these: the Dalmatian who trains the Clydesdale so he can make the beer-hauling team; the guy who’s flying and drinking beer when he gets sucked into the jetliner engine; and the Bubba type who jump-starts a car by hooking jumper cables to his fat chest, downing an energy drink and dancing ... although the women didn’t seem to care much for that one.
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