Literally Literal

The common misuse of the word "literally" is a pet peeve of The Awkward Adverb (shared by many other people). The word is a useful tool to clarify that a potentially metaphorical phrase is indeed not metaphorical. Consider for example, "I was riding my bicycle through the park when I was yelled at by some clown, literally." Here,"literally" stresses that the yeller was not some generic loudmouth but a person adorned with white greasepaint, a pink wig, polka dots, and comically oversized shoes. Or if someone announces he is "starving to death, literally," that person should be provided medical attention, not a slice of pizza.

All too often, however, people use "literally" as an intensifier, which leads to some disarming imagery. During a February stimulus debate, one Republican representative proclaimed, "We're literally flying blind." We assume he then rushed to the Congressional microphone and made an urgent call for a sighted pilot. And Vice President Biden recently announced, "This is a monumental project, but it's doable. It's about getting the money out in 18 months, to literally dropkick us out of this recession." In actuality, a project involving the dropkicking of 300 million Americans would be beyond monumental, not to mention quite painful.

Presidentially Speaking

Awkward adverbs became a hot topic on Inauguration Day when Chief Justice Roberts and President Obama stumbled over the presidential oath. Not that we're pointing fingers at either party (The Awkward Adverb is nonpartisan), but according to the Constitution, what the president should have said was:

I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States...

What he was told to say was:

I do solemnly swear that I will execute the office of President of the United States faithfully...

From a grammatical standpoint, does it matter where the adverb falls in the sentence? Both versions are acceptable, but good style calls for placing an adverb close to the verb it modifies. Therefore, the Founding Fathers did well by sticking "faithfully" next to "execute" instead of far away at the end of the phrase.

Some sticklers, however, believe that verbs should never be split. They disapprove of how "faithfully" elbows its way between "will" and "execute," just as they shudder when Captain Kirk proclaims his intention to boldly go where no man has gone before. (He should prefer to go boldly into deep space.) Even though there’s no compelling reason to always insist on united verbs, schoolmarms used to slap wrists for perceived transgressions like split infinitives. At least one linguist believes that internalized habits stemming from this misguided rule were what caused the flub at the swearing-in ceremony.

Trumped-Up Titles

Some consumers avoid national chains because they feel that locally owned, independent stores are more authentic and sincere. But how are national chains insincere? As one example, consider the inflated job titles of their employees.

The clerks at Wal-Mart are "associates." Verizon Wireless has knighted its workers as "retail customer support representatives." Meanwhile, does the ubiquitous term "team member" actually foster unity among fast-food workers or big-box cashiers? No, it never seems to.

At The Awkward Adverb, we roll our eyes at the so-called "geniuses" who work at Apple Stores and at Subway's "sandwich artists." Although familiarity with Macs requires some smarts, it does not elevate anyone to Einstein's level. And the spreading of shredded lettuce over paper-thin tomato slices does not a Van Gogh make.

Why do big retailers wrap up employees in euphemisms? Perhaps company officials are trying to make workers feel better about humdrum jobs. Perhaps it's to please themselves, considering that these convoluted titles are always imposed from above. But if fancy titles are meant to impress the public, do not color us impressed. The Awkward Adverb prefers language that doesn't dress up the ordinary in pretension.

The Truth About Seuss

In the world of classic children's literature, Dr. Seuss holds an elevated position, but some parents disapprove of his habit of making up words—wumbus, yuzz and diffendoofer, for starters. These critics argue that children's books should teach English, not nonsense, and they worry that their children will have difficulty distinguishing invented words from real vocabulary.

But the made-up words are much of the point. Even if it doesn't build SAT vocabulary, Dr. Seuss's nonsense verse helps teach children to focus on English sentence structures, pronunciation and rhythms. Ultimately, kids will figure out that oak trees exist and truffula trees don't. Some words, like nerd and grinch, have even leaped from Dr. Seuss's imagination into common usage and dictionaries. Not all non-standard English is substandard.

Numbered Days

Earlier this year, the clothing retailer Gap issued a limited collection of T-shirts designed by contemporary artists. The contribution of one Rirkrit Tiravanija (pictured in the middle) contains only the bleak, boldly printed sentiment: "The Days of This Society Is Numbered."




The sentence should be: "The Days of This Society Are Numbered." Days is the grammatical subject of the sentence. Since it's plural, it should take the verb are.

Was this error intentional? One message-board commenter insisted the shirt is meant as a joke, huffily adding, "We have reached a stage where irony no longer is possible. We have become that illiterate. The shirt is a last gasp of literacy."

The Awkward Adverb doesn't agree with this nonsense. Although we believe sloppy language degrades communication and hence society, not many others seem to share this conviction. (Just look at examples from our past issues for proof.) As Tiravanija is Thai, the error is most likely an understandable mistake by a non-native speaker and not an ironic critique of culture. For society's days that remain, Gap should employ a T-shirt proofreader.

New or Improved

"New and Improved!"—one of the most overused advertising claims, is so commonplace that it's easy to overlook the phrase's internal contradictions. By definition, only something that is already in existence can be made better. In other words, if a product is truly new, it can't be improved. Choose one or the other. You can't have both.

Sure, a product can have new improvements (the improvements of this year compared to the old improvements of last year, for example), but that's splitting hairs. Aside from to the logical contradiction it creates, the phrase's ubiquity has made it meaningless. Basically, no one believes it anymore. Let all companies banish it from their packaging. "New and Improved" is old and obsolete.