Globalistan - "Condofornia vs Slumistan" : the future now revolves around the tension between gated communities and unruly slums.

Brezilya ve Mısır''dan sonra bu ayrımı çok daha benimsiyorum. Türkiye'deki gayrimenkul projelerinin sunumları bizdeki durumun da benzerliğini hatırlatıyor.

Blog lafının dilimizi kirleten kelimelerden biri olmaması için epeydir uğraşıyorum ve günlük ile karşılamaya çalışıyorum ama maalesef bu salak kelime (web log'tan kesip biçilerek uydurulan) de dilimize girecek çünkü Türk medyası dilini seven korumaya özen gösteren bir yapıda değil. Bunlar aklıma Ahmedinejad'ın günlüğü yüzünden aklıma geldi. Bu haberi veren Türk mecrası blog deyip parantez içinde günlük demeyi tercih etti. Sanki okuyucusu yıllardır blog la yaşıyormuş gibi.  Halbuki web günlüğü uygulamaları ile halkı tanıştırmak için çok iyi bir fırsattı.

İranlılar blog için "şahsi yadedan " demişler. Yad etmekten geldiği ve günlük anlamına geldiği açık. Hoşuma gitti.  Şimdi Sezer'in günlüğünü beklemek lazım. İnşallah günlük der.

Herald Tribune'de ilginç bir yazı buldum.

Language: The moving parts of speech

Ben Yagoda The New York Times SUNDAY, JULY 9, 2006 Published: July 9, 2006

The notion of dividing words into discrete parts of speech is generally credited to the ancient Greek grammarian Dionysius Thrax. For a long time, the idea was pretty much universally accepted. Eventually, grand claims were made for it. The anonymous author of the 1733 book "The English Accidence" called the parts of speech "the foundation upon which the beautiful fabrick of the language stands."   One problem with such reverence is that different languages are set up differently. For example, Latin, Russian and Japanese all lack articles. Even in our tradition, the roster keeps shifting.   Thrax counted eight parts: adverbs, articles, conjunctions, nouns, participles, prepositions, pronouns and verbs. The Latin-speaking Romans obviously had to drop articles. Early formulations of English grammar adopted the Latin list. This presented problems, since English does have articles. There was a lot of shuffling around, until Joseph Priestley's 1761 "Rudiments of English Grammar" finally established the lineup that included adjectives and booted out participles.   This slate has been generally accepted for the last quarter-millennium. But for some time there have been rumblings of discontent in the higher reaches of the linguistics community. The fact is, any parts-of-speech scheme leaves gaping holes. In the term baseball player, is the word baseball a noun or an adjective? Reasonable people differ on this point. What about the word to in an infinitive like to see? What about the there in there are? A recent trend has been to accept some fuzziness.   Rodney Huddleston and Geoffrey Pullum's magisterial 2002 "Cambridge Grammar of the English Language" counts pronouns as a subset of nouns, replaces articles with a new category called "determinatives" and divides conjunctions into "coordinators" (and, but and or) and "subordinators" (like, whether).   But regardless of name, lexical categories are quite useful. They make possible the rhetorical device anthimeria - using a word as a noncustomary part of speech - which is the reigning figure of speech of the present moment.   That's not to say it's a new thing. In Middle English, the nouns duke and lord started to be used as verbs, and the verbs cut and rule shifted to nouns. Shakespeare was a pro at this; his characters coined verbs - "season your admiration" - and such nouns as design, scuffle and shudder. Less common shifts are noun to adjective (S.J. Perelman's "Beauty Part"), adjective to noun (the Wicked Witch's "I'll get you, my pretty") and adverb to verb (to down a drink).   This "functional shifting" is a favorite target of language mavens, whose eyebrows rise when nouns like impact are verbed. Nor do companies like it when their trade names get shifted. In his book "Word Spy," Paul McFedries writes that Google's attorneys send journalists who use google as a verb a stern letter that cites examples of inappropriate ("I googled that hottie") uses.   It's beyond obvious that Google's lawyers are fighting a losing battle. And they should relax. Not only is "I googled that hottie" great publicity for the company, but it's fresh and funny and an excellent example of how anthimeria gives English an invigorating slap upside the head. At this very moment, the language is being regenerated with phrases like my bad, verbs like dumb down and weird out and guilt ("Don't guilt me.")   The word chill showed up more than 500 years ago as a noun meaning "cold." In short order, it turned into a verb referring to the process of making someone or something cold and then into an adjective. (Eventually chilly became more common.) Fast-forward to 1979, when the song "Rapper's Delight" worked a variation on Ecclesiastes, explaining that "There's ... a time to break and a time to chill / To act civilized or act real ill." That intransitive verb, meaning roughly "to relax," was expanded to chill out in 1983, according to The Oxford English Dictionary.   Some more rococo anthimerian endeavors have clear meanings, but are more or less im-parse-able. Thus a line from the novel "Afterburn," by Zane: "No matter how hoochie I tried to be, she out-hoochied me every single time." The truly terrifying thing is that one of Zane's other novels has been published in Tokyo, and if "Afterburn" follows suit, someone will have to translate that sentence into Japanese.   Ben Yagoda teaches journalism at the University of Delaware. This essay is adapted from his latest book, "If You Catch an Adjective, Kill It: The Parts of Speech, for Better and/or Worse," to be published in October. William Safire is on vacation.   The notion of dividing words into discrete parts of speech is generally credited to the ancient Greek grammarian Dionysius Thrax. For a long time, the idea was pretty much universally accepted. Eventually, grand claims were made for it. The anonymous author of the 1733 book "The English Accidence" called the parts of speech "the foundation upon which the beautiful fabrick of the language stands."   One problem with such reverence is that different languages are set up differently. For example, Latin, Russian and Japanese all lack articles. Even in our tradition, the roster keeps shifting.   Thrax counted eight parts: adverbs, articles, conjunctions, nouns, participles, prepositions, pronouns and verbs. The Latin-speaking Romans obviously had to drop articles. Early formulations of English grammar adopted the Latin list. This presented problems, since English does have articles. There was a lot of shuffling around, until Joseph Priestley's 1761 "Rudiments of English Grammar" finally established the lineup that included adjectives and booted out participles.   This slate has been generally accepted for the last quarter-millennium. But for some time there have been rumblings of discontent in the higher reaches of the linguistics community. The fact is, any parts-of-speech scheme leaves gaping holes. In the term baseball player, is the word baseball a noun or an adjective? Reasonable people differ on this point. What about the word to in an infinitive like to see? What about the there in there are? A recent trend has been to accept some fuzziness.   Rodney Huddleston and Geoffrey Pullum's magisterial 2002 "Cambridge Grammar of the English Language" counts pronouns as a subset of nouns, replaces articles with a new category called "determinatives" and divides conjunctions into "coordinators" (and, but and or) and "subordinators" (like, whether).   But regardless of name, lexical categories are quite useful. They make possible the rhetorical device anthimeria - using a word as a noncustomary part of speech - which is the reigning figure of speech of the present moment.   That's not to say it's a new thing. In Middle English, the nouns duke and lord started to be used as verbs, and the verbs cut and rule shifted to nouns. Shakespeare was a pro at this; his characters coined verbs - "season your admiration" - and such nouns as design, scuffle and shudder. Less common shifts are noun to adjective (S.J. Perelman's "Beauty Part"), adjective to noun (the Wicked Witch's "I'll get you, my pretty") and adverb to verb (to down a drink).   This "functional shifting" is a favorite target of language mavens, whose eyebrows rise when nouns like impact are verbed. Nor do companies like it when their trade names get shifted. In his book "Word Spy," Paul McFedries writes that Google's attorneys send journalists who use google as a verb a stern letter that cites examples of inappropriate ("I googled that hottie") uses.   It's beyond obvious that Google's lawyers are fighting a losing battle. And they should relax. Not only is "I googled that hottie" great publicity for the company, but it's fresh and funny and an excellent example of how anthimeria gives English an invigorating slap upside the head. At this very moment, the language is being regenerated with phrases like my bad, verbs like dumb down and weird out and guilt ("Don't guilt me.")   The word chill showed up more than 500 years ago as a noun meaning "cold." In short order, it turned into a verb referring to the process of making someone or something cold and then into an adjective. (Eventually chilly became more common.) Fast-forward to 1979, when the song "Rapper's Delight" worked a variation on Ecclesiastes, explaining that "There's ... a time to break and a time to chill / To act civilized or act real ill." That intransitive verb, meaning roughly "to relax," was expanded to chill out in 1983, according to The Oxford English Dictionary.   Some more rococo anthimerian endeavors have clear meanings, but are more or less im-parse-able. Thus a line from the novel "Afterburn," by Zane: "No matter how hoochie I tried to be, she out-hoochied me every single time." The truly terrifying thing is that one of Zane's other novels has been published in Tokyo, and if "Afterburn" follows suit, someone will have to translate that sentence into Japanese.   Ben Yagoda teaches journalism at the University of Delaware. This essay is adapted from his latest book, "If You Catch an Adjective, Kill It: The Parts of Speech, for Better and/or Worse," to be published in October. William Safire is on vacation.

Aslında bu burç işinden hiç anlamam ve inanmam ama falcıların betimleme yeteneği, birbirine benzer durum/kişilik/beklenti vb yi çok farklı kelimelerle sunabilmeleri hep dikkatimi çeker. Mikail'den bunu zenginleştirecek bir e-posta geldi:  Hoş bu araştırmanın bir Rus tarafından yapılması da bir başka ilginçlik.

İşte Türk astrolojisine göre burçlar:

"TORUK (21 Mart-31 Mart): İrade sahibi, gururlu, şerefli, iyi yüreklidir. İyi bir yöneticidir.

HIMMIY (1 Nisan-10 Nisan): İyimser, idealist, romantiktir.

HUTTUS (11 Nisan-20 Nisan): Hassas, mantıklı, dürüst, kıskanç ve irade sahibidir.

HUNTA (21 Nisan-30 Nisan): İnatçı, zevk sahibi, kırılgan ve duygusaldır.

ÇOLPANCI (1 Mayıs-10 Mayıs): Duygu tutsağıdır. Çocuk ruhlu temiz kalpli ve sadıktır.

KÖLKÖL (11 Mayıs-21 Mayıs): Enerji dolu, aşkta şahane, kahraman yapılı ve iktidarcıdır.

ÇAMAY (22 Mayıs-31 Mayıs): Mantıklı, temiz ahlaklı, idealist, fikirde önder, yeteneklidir.

KÜYLÜ (1 Haziran-10 Haziran): Düzeni sever. Güç sembolüdür. İhaneti kabul etmez.

KUŞMUŞ (11 Haziran-21 Haziran): Mantıklı, parlak, iyimser, eleştirici, şen ve şanslıdır.

SEZGEK (22 Haziran-30 Haziran): Mızmız, tatlı dilli, içine kapanık, inatçı, yetenekli, şendir.

KUŞDÜGER (1 Temmuz-11 Temmuz): Duyguları mantığından üstündür. Yemeği sever; sanata ve siyasete yeteneklidir.

GONDARAY (12 Temmuz-22 Temmuz): İyi bir hafızaya sahiptir, his dünyası zengindir.

ÖTGÜR (23 Temmuz-31 Temmuz): Zeki, gururlu, çekicidir. Maddi problemlerini büyütür.

KÜSÜMMÜ (1 Ağustos-12 Ağustos): Dedikoduyu, işte önder ve bir numara olmayı sever.

KÜNLÜ (13 Ağustos-23 Ağustos): Duygusal, gururlu ve aşkta önderdir. Psikolojiye meraklıdır.

SINÇIMA (24 Ağustos-1 Eylül): Şerefli, dürüst, insancıl, yaratıcı, zeki ve otoriterdir.

ATÇAK (2 Eylül-13 Eylül): İyimserdir ama depresyona da müsaittir. Gururlu ve hassastır.

KILLI (14 Eylül-23 Eylül): Otoriter, gururlu, sabit fikirli, süper zekalı ve insancıldır.

CANAKKI (24 Eylül-3 Ekim): Sorumluluk taşır. Yetersizlik kompleksi vardır. Gösterişi sever.

BAN (4 Ekim-12 Ekim): Duygusaldır, zor işte arkaya bakmaz. Aşk tutsağıdır.

CEMİŞ (13 Ekim-23 Ekim): Altıncı hissi kuvvetlidir. Uygun zamanı seçmekte üstüne yoktur.

BATIK (24 Ekim-1 Kasım): Çift karakterli, cesur, gaddar, önderdir. Mükemmel arkadaştır.

HIRTLI (2 Kasım-12 Kasım): Çabuk karar verir ve kararlarını bozmaz. Suç komplekslidir.

TUTAMIŞ (13 Kasım-22 Kasım): Dinci, idealist, değişkendir.Mistik konulara meraklıdır.

USLU (23 Kasım-2 Aralık): Objektiftir. Hoşgörülü, gözlemci, otoriter bir yapısı vardır.

KUTAS (3 Aralık-12 Aralık): Mistik, sabit fikirli ve kıskançtır. Anlaşılamaz huylara sahiptir.

TUSANAK (13 Aralık-21 Aralık): Güçlü bir karakteri vardır. İktidarcıdır. Emir vermeyi sever.

TUTAR (22 Aralık-1 Ocak): Zor durumlardan kolayca çıkar. Sık küser. Arkadaşı azdır.

BEÇEL (2 Ocak-12 Ocak): Karamsardır. Dışı ve içi farklıdır. Kötülüğün karşısında zayıftır.

PIRSIUAY (13 Ocak-20 Ocak): Geniş bir mantığa sahiptir. Uzun yaşar. Şan sever.

BALAUZ (21 Ocak-1 Şubat): Mantıklı, gaddar, önder ve dehadır. Bilim adamı olabilir.

CANTAY (2 Şubat-10 Şubat): Titiz, mantıklı, zekidir. Astronomiyle ilgilidir.

ERGÜR (11 Şubat-18 Şubat): Aşkta hayalcidir. Önder fikirleri vardır. Psikolojisi hassastır.

SÖNEGEY (19 Şubat-28/29 Şubat): Dengesizdir. Çekici, gizemli, kurnaz, nazik ama serttir.

CANNAN (1 Mart- 9 Mart): İyi yürekli, tatlı dilli, zarif ve hüzünlüdür. Başkalarına baskı yapabilir. Mistik ve pratik hayat arasında bocalar.

ŞATIK (10 Mart-20 Mart): Sanatkar, özgür, depresif ve şehvet düşkünüdür. Rahatsız bir ruha sahiptir. Sinir hastalıklarına yakalanabilir".