February
27th, 2006
Oh, this
one's going to come back and bite me in the ass, no question.
While the view from my glass house is spectacular, I am disinclined
to dwell on the subject of correcting other people's mistakes.
My mother was aggressively articulate and a real diction Nazi.
“Don't say cow,” she'd cry, giving the word
a hyper-nasal, Fran Drescher quality. “Americans
say cow. Say cohhhhwwww.” I've never heard another
human voice, American or otherwise, come close to either pronunciation,
but whenever I hear Tuvan
throat-singers I think of my mother.
Apropos
of absolutely nothing, I'd like to say how utterly fascinating
I find Japanese culture. Knowing this
exists, can you be 100% sure that this
is not a real ad for Kikkoman soy sauce? I submit that you cannot.
Finally,
I apologize to our American readers if my mother's abuse of
your vowel-sounds has caused any offense. If it's any consolation,
I find this
funnier than I do terrifying. By a slight margin.
-Graham
Nice to
see Graham isn't blog-humping Chris
Eaton this week.
-Jamie.
