Oxford comma wars

From Jack Shepherd’s On Words and Up Words : “Taking Stock of the Oxford Comma Wars.” Included: the real-life source for the Oxford-less formulation “my parents, Ayn Rand and God.”

I of course am a proud supporter of the Oxford or serial comma. Use it, always, and you’ll prevent unintended ambiguity (though as Shepherd acknowledges, the comma can introduce ambiguity: “my mother, Ayn Rand, and God”) The Oxford comma will also give items in a series their proper cadence: bread, milk, and toilet paper.

Garner’s Modern English Usage has a nearly four-page entry on the serial comma and ends thusly:

The convention of uniform inclusion obviates needless worries and in no way depletes a scarce resource: it’s not as if we have only a finite supply of commas available. Even minimalists in punctuation typically don’t see series as a place for minimalism.

If I were teaching, I’d still be sharing the hilarious conversation about the Oxford comma between Stephen Colbert and Vampire Weekend. (Would I now need to explain who Vampire Weekend are?)

Related posts
How to punctuate a sentence : How to punctuate more sentences : An Oxford comma in the news : Oxford Vampire comma revisited

Rosie’s on the move

From northjersey.com:

Rosie’s Diner, the iconic former Little Ferry [New Jersey] landmark that gained national fame as the setting for a series of paper towel commercials in the 1970s and was later moved to Michigan, has been sold to a Missouri couple who plan to restore the diner to its past glory.

When I was a college student working at Valley Fair, a now-defunct Little Ferry discount department store, I drove around the Little Ferry traffic circle and past Rosie’s, or the Farmland Diner, as it was then called, countless times. I never went inside. But I did once watch Nancy Walker (“Rosie”) preparing to film a Bounty paper towels commercial in Valley Fair’s supermarket section. She exuded intensity, chain-smoking and looking not especially happy to be there.

Here’s a 1978 commercial with Nancy Walker and the diner. And here’s a 2008 post with some choice vignettes from my life as a housewares stock-clerk: Going on break.

Thanks, Brian.

John Lamb, ninety

John Lamb, bassist and Ellingtonian, is ninety. Here’s a short profile (Creative Loafing ).

John Lamb may be seen and heard to advantage in this 1966 Milan performance of “Ad Lib on Nippon” from the Far East Suite. Bonus: two drummers, Elvin Jones and Skeets Marsh.

Squirrel Appreciation Day

Before the day runs out: it’s Squirrel Appreciation Day (Discover ). Of course every day is Squirrel Appreciation Day for those who like squirrels.

The squirrels in our weather are staying in their nests and watching KNUT’s winter lineup.

Thanks, Rachel.

Related reading
All OCA squirrel posts (Pinboard)

Upper Manhattan, with clam broth

[505–501 West 207th Street, Inwood, Manhattan, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

With the exception of the Cloisters, Upper Manhattan is a mystery to me, as are the 1940s. So I went exploring at 1940s.nyc and came back with the photograph above. I chose it for the shadow of the El, the rugged brick street, and the delightful unexpectedness of the commercial sequence: the Tally-Ho, a bar and grill with various prohibitions (click to enlarge and notice the NO on the sign), followed by Roy’s Clam Broth House and City Tire Stores. Clam Broth House was once a thing: Hoboken had a celebrated one. Here, have a menu. And a New York Times article. And some more history.

And now back to Upper Manhattan.

The 1940 telephone directory lists the Tally-Ho Bar and Restaurant at 505 West 207th. No listings for Roy or City Tire. Today Google Maps now shows the entire block as no. 501. It’s a similarly shaped building that houses a clothing store and a barber shop. Cole Thompson at My Inwood has written the surprising history of this block from 1911 to 2016.

Before leaving Upper Manhattan, I have to mention Billy Strayhorn’s “U.M.M.G.,” named for the Upper Manhattan Medical Group, the home of Duke Ellington’s physician Arthur Logan.

And I have to wonder: when I found this photograph last night, after about two minutes of browsing, how did the Internets know that Elaine and I had bought a bottle of Snow’s Clam Juice (juice is just another name for broth) earlier in the day? We used our clam juice in a pot of gumbo that will see us through the next two or three days.

Related reading
More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Today’s Mutts

Whoops!

Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday  Saturday Stumper is by Ben Zimmer. At its center, a trio of stepped thirteen-letter answers and a thirteen-letter answer running down. To the left and right, two fifteen-letter answers running down. But I found the puzzle not especially fun. Too many proper names for my taste — seventeen of sixty-six answers. The nadir: 47-D, four letters, “Czechia’s second city.” I filled in four letters and thought must be. And it was. But when I told Elaine about that clue, she knew the answer instantly.

Some clue-and-answer pairs of note:

3-D, fifteen letters, “Rapper who wrote for 30 Rock.” I did not know that.

11-D, fifteen letters, “Did a swift scan.”

15-A, eight letters, “Chinese character.” Forget about ideograms and logograms.

15-D, thirteen letters, “Offering assistance.”

22-A, four letters, “Capsule review?” I know this answer only as part of a rhyme.

27-A, six letters, “Advisor to Truman through Obama.” I think advisor here is inappropriately misdirective.

27-D, six letters, “Gentle slope (akin to an icy expanse).” For me, gettable only from the crosses, which I imagine dictated the use of this answer.

30-A, thirteen letters, “AFI’s #3 funniest film.” Ah yes, #3, not #2 or #4. Such an unimaginative way to clue a title. I’ve offered a more Stumpery clue in the comments.

33-A, thirteen letters, “Result of $5 1.5-quart ice creams.” Huh? Aren’t the 1.5-quart cartons its result? Or evidence of it?

35-A, thirteen letters, “Where house rules are followed.” Where? Not really a location.

39-A, four letters, “Nellie Bly contemporary.” I knew the answer, but see what I mean about proper names?

42-D, five letters, “High winds.” Beaufort Scale, help!

45-A, four letters, “Mandela in 2013.” See 39-A: another proper name clued with a proper name.

45-D, four letters, “He’s a citrus reversal.” Whatever you say.

My favorite in this puzzle: 37-D, six letters, “Present-day presence.”

No spoilers; the answers are in the comments.

“Oh, piffle, you dumb-bells”

Sonie Marburg’s teacher has made her cry and then, in a moment of kindness, allows sick, headachy Sonie to wait in the teachers’ rest-room until she can go home without the other children seeing her.

Jean Stafford, Boston Adventure (1944).

One of my most vivid memories of high school: the cigarette stink that filled the hallway upon every opening of the door to the seen-only-in-glimpses teachers’ lounge.

Also from this novel
A pallet on the floor : “The odors”

[The Beelers: Esther and Ruby, schoolmates.]

Shovel-ready (Hi and Lois watch)

[Hi and Lois, January 19, 2024. Click for a larger view.]

People of the future should know that in the early twenty-first century, it was common to carry one’s snow shovel through one’s living room. From the kitchen or dining room through the living room to the front door, that’s how we rolled.

But seriously: this panel suffers from redundancy. Chip has said he will shovel “later” — whenever that might be. Hi is headed outside, dressed in his winter togs. He need not carry a shovel for the situation to be clear.

In the second (final) panel of today’s strip, Hi is lying down on the blue sofa, which appears to have been moved, with a heating pad on his back. He whimpers: “AAAEEUGH.” (Notice: no exclamation point, and not even a speech balloon.) And Chip asks Lois, “How is this my fault?”

Related reading
All OCA Hi and Lois posts (Pinboard)

[In Peanuts, it’s “AAUGH!”]

Pay-phone noir

[Al Willis (Gene Barry) places a call. From Naked Alibi (dir. Jerry Hopper, 1954). Click for a larger view.]

The cinematography is by Russell Metty. Among his many credits, The Stranger (1946) and Touch of Evil (1958), both directed by Orson Welles.