Heebie. Heebie. Heebie. Heebie! Heebie! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE! HEEBIE!
Uhm, can, uh, uh, hello!
As a kid my problem was with the Polish polite form of address. It requires you to speak in the third person and in most cases to use the Polish version of 'Mr' and 'Mrs' except that those terms are much more closely linked to their origins as 'Lord' and 'Lady' than they are in English or even French. So it's something like 'could Lady pass me the salt'. At first I just didn't know it, then I did but refused to use it, in both cases my relatives had to excuse me as a foreign kid. Then I learned French and suddenly it became natural to use a polite form or a familiar form depending on the situation. Now I'm one of those weird people who find it annoying when customer service people address me by my first name rather than as 'Mr' X (and using their first names is just as weird).
-chan, -san, -sama
I find it amazing, if the movies are realistic, how much -san is used in Japan, even between best friends, even with diminutives.
"Kikuyo" becomes "kiku-san"
I'm guessing this comes from using -chan as affectionate term as kids, and then keeping the pattern as adults.
Incidentally, the subtitles never translate or include the suffixes.
I tend to use "Ma'am" "Sir" "Mr" and "Ms", even with kids. It is better than "Hey You" and I kinda see it as a way to open and close sentences, interpellations, whatever. Like "over" and "roger" in old radio. It's also a very casual but informative self-introduction.
Examples:"Would you know the way to..." sounds abrupt and aggressive
"Sir, would you know..." is better.
I was raised in the 'Hey, you" tradition, but I kind of like formality -- it makes it easier to interact with strangers. I can't carry it off with any naturalness myself, though, and I've raised my kids in the "Hey, you" tradition as well: any sort of formal manners would be really out of step with their peer group.
Sally has noticed that the private school kids she swims with have much more formal manners than she's used to, and I've told her to try to pick it up from them: having another code to switch between is always useful.
Think of it as manipulative behavior designed to extract favors from the privileged, increasing the kid's wealth, and thus hastening the revolution with their aid.
Come to think, I do use "Sir" and "Ma'am" as a literal equivalent of "Hey you", if I have to yell something like "You dropped your glove!" to someone getting off the subway. People do seem to understand that you're talking to them, specifically, better if you start with a title.
Really? People in NY wouldn't look at you for busting out Ma'am and Sir in that context? I agree that they're the only choice when it's a total stranger and you're trying to flag their attention.
There's always Hey Mister! and Hey Lady!
Kids these days can't be bothered to say "bro" and "lady bro" any longer? A fallen world indeed.
Well, it's a situation where you're trying to get someone to look at you.
And now that I think about it, I will also "Sir" (or much more rarely, "Ma'am") angry opposing counsel. It gets useful to flag the difference between "I am not backing off my position" and "I am being interpersonally rude to you." Tends to calm the situation down.
What are your friends thinking? I was raised in the bloody 1950s and I never called anybody Sir or Ma'am except teachers. (I did later when I worked in retail, but that's different.) If these people want their kids not to be presumptuous, Mr and Ms Geebie is more than sufficient.
OTOH, I'm with tkm on customer service people calling me by my first name, not because I find it objectionable in itself, but because if I have to be on first name terms with a bunch of salesmen I wouldn't let in the house, what am I supposed to call/be called by my actual friends?
It's regional in the US -- southern kids really don't sound odd doing the Sir/Ma'am routine.
12: Although actually, I'm thinking of visiting family in Georgia: I don't know Texas at all. If the southern Ma'am/Sir thing is normal in your areal, I'm sort of surprised Hawaiian Punch hasn't picked it up at daycare.
I tend to be more formally courteous to older ladies and older black people than to, say, older white men, because (i) sexist, (ii) racist and (iii) I acquired most of these habits in church, where the ancient art of old-person-management sort of begins with "yes, Mrs. [Church Lady]" and ends with "This pie is delicious. Didn't you make it for Christmas two years ago?"
I've only ever been called "sir" in Oregon by jerky kids who presumably hate me, either service personnel or a little skater bumming cigarettes. When I refused to buy him cigarettes the 70-lb. skater said "Fuck you, Nature Boy". Apparently I'm not scary looking.
When Joey is on his best behavior, he will say "Um? Excuse me?" before interrupting you to explain something about earthbending or Scoobie-Doo. Even then he definitely thinks that everyone should stop what they are doing as soon as he says "Um?"
10.2: If I am being that polite to a white man of my age or older, it is because I am murderously angry.
There's also this build up, generally reserved for when I am on the other side of the house.:
Dad?
Dad?
Dad!
DAD!
DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD!
If the southern Ma'am/Sir thing is normal in your areal, I'm sort of surprised Hawaiian Punch hasn't picked it up at daycare.
It's a lot like north Florida: it signifies that you're a bit old school, and you'd have to have an old school daycare worker to teach it to kids. In elementary school, she'll have someone who demands it, but daycare is mostly staffed by college students and Latina grandmothers.
We haven't gone with Ma'am/Sir yet, but we've insisted on "Miss Stephanie" and "Mr. Joseph" for other adults, etc.
I understand that's a Southernism, too.
6 is exactly me as well.
Young men in the service seem to do a lot of ma'am-ing.
18: This is one of those gender things, I think. There is a recognizable class of lawyers I deal with who are driven batshit furious by my negotiating/courtroom style. I think I look/sound like a bit of a pushover (softspoken roundfaced unkempt middle-aged woman), and the clash of expectations when I'm not pisses them all the way off. If I actually want to get whatever it is we're talking about done, I need some way to get the conversation chilled back down from the shouting stage without backing off substantively, and throwing in a bunch of "Pardon me? Sir?" in there tends to pull stuff back to where we're speaking in sentences again.
(I will also do the "I am calling you 'Sir' so as to avoid trying to rip your jugular out with my incisors," thing, but mostly I don't get that mad about anything at work.)
I used to use Mr and Mrs X for school friends' parents and Auntie and Uncle for my parents' closer friends. My kids just call my friends by their first names. I don't think I've ever called anyone Sir or Madam/Ma'am. C quite often calls people sir, but only men for whom he has affection as well as respect (e.g. his grandfather, his old boss, etc).
In CA, where we started out, kids were all fine with calling parents by their first names, but here in FL, they all seem to avoid calling an adult anything. Once, when my son failed to introduce me to a new kid (they got in the car and my kid said, "Hi, Mom, this is E"), I responded by asking E if he would like to know a name by which to call me or if it was irrelevant because no matter what I told him he would carefully avoid addressing me as anything except "R's mom." Apparently, that was a terrifying question so I'm now the scary mom. I might rather be scary than ma'am, though.
I thought in the formal southern tradition, you also call your own parents sir and ma'am.
I'm pretty strict with mandating please and thank you, but it would seem weird at this point to enforce calling adults "Mr" and "Mrs" since that's largely vanished from the adult world. I do sir or ma'am in the angry way ala LB, but i also respectfully sir or ma'am or Mr or Mrs my older black neighbors bc that is expected.
At a dinner with my partner, some acquaintances and their small children, whom I had only met once before:
Small child, to partner: "Who is your son?"
Partner: "My son? What do you mean?
Small child: "Your big son [indicates she means me]"
Parent: "That's Mr. Paennim."
I have no problem with kids being taught to call adults Mr. Whatever and Dr. Whatever instead of Hank and Lottie Mae. Adults will either think the kid is behaving correctly or think the kid is behaving cutely.
Really? People in NY wouldn't look at you for busting out Ma'am and Sir in that context? I agree that they're the only choice when it's a total stranger and you're trying to flag their attention.
In New York and Philly you get the attention of strangers by using "Toots" and "Bub".
21: There is a certain type of middle-aged female coworker of mine who delights in calling me "Mr. Natilo". I'm really not sure why it is supposed to be funny, except that is maybe funny to imagine someone who looks like me as a very fey hairdresser?
25: This is incredibly socially dysfunctional of me, but I'm sort of in the same space as those kids. A genuinely friendly relationship (or friendly professional) I first-name. In the vast space of acquaintanceship, Mr./Ms sounds awkward and weird, first-name sounds inappropriately intimate, so I avoid direct address if at all possible.
28.last: Should be "Sport" and "Ace".
I always thought it was "Mac" and "Doll".
I thought in the formal southern tradition, you also call your own parents sir and ma'am.
This is true. I know a few people who grew up doing this. It still strikes me as completely insane, though.
You know, if you'd have told me 20 years ago. I'd see children walking the streets of our Texas towns with green hair, bones in their noses I just flat-out wouldn't have believed you.
But I think once you quit hearing "sir" and "ma'am," the rest is soon to foller.
Growing up, I always thought that American children in films/TV who called their own parents 'sir' or 'ma'am' were a sure fire sign of something sick and deviant in a culture. It wasn't till a lot later I discovered that most US people didn't/don't. I'm pretty sure I mostly referred to friends' parents as Mr or Mrs X growing up, with a couple of exceptions for friends whose parents insisted on first names. All of my parents' friends were first names, though.
I'm not at all keen on being first-named by people I don't know, though, unless they've asked or I've offered. Particular dislike for people who use their own title but first name me.
'Hi, Matthew. I'm Dr Smith.'
'and I'm Dr nattarGcM.'
I have actually said that to a GP, but I did make it clear I was joking, I hope. I was pissed off at the rank-pulling, though, which was clear from the context/snootiness.
I do like the part of Garp where Garp slips up and calls the mother of his son's friend "Mrs. Ralph" to her face (in the middle of whole long sexually-charged encounter).
16: Maybe he thought you were Ric Flair?
I was firmly in the "don't refer to friends' parents if at all possible" camp as a child. Of course, I called my parents by their first names, and I think I did with the more familiar of my friends' parents too.
Variants of "I'm not Mr. Stormcrow, Mr. Stormcrow is my father." A dick retort? Or a totally dick retort?
I called my parents Mum and Dad, through all of my childhood that I remember. Apparently I called them by their first names until I started school and copied my friends, but I don't really have a clear memory of doing that.
My sister's kids know all of her friends as Uncle or Auntie X. The X is often a nickname, rather than their actual name. So the kids would refer to 'Uncle Whitey', 'Uncle Bins', 'Uncle Coco', etc.
WE INSTRUCTED OUR CHILDREN TO REFER TO US AS "UNCLE GRANDPA" and "SUGAR
I Sir/Ma'am others to get their attention if something has e.g. been dropped.
Once I addressed a professor as "Dr. Lastname" but it was impolite in context (I was rambling on about something in a seminar and he tried to interject and I said, "Don't you interrupt ME, Dr. Lastname!").
My parents were Mum and Dad until their deaths. My mother-in-law is still Momma (but my father-in-law was Willie). When I was growing up, neighbours were Mr. and Mrs.; schoolmasters were Sir.
"I'll show you the life of the mind, Dr. Lastname!"
46: I like my blog comments like my pornography, explicit and carried through to completion.
What I hate is that doctors expect you to call them Dr. So and So. This is ok when they first meet you and address you as Ms. X, but when they start calling you by your first name and don't say "Please call me by my first name."
I know that in residency programs, they're all doctors, but the young residents are called by their first name and they address program directors as Dr. Such and Such.
The kid down the street directly addresses me as "Joey's Dad" as in, "Uh? Joey's Dad? Can Joey come out and play?"
A college-age kid wearing a backpack was walking into a subway station in front of me the other day when he dropped a $20 bill from his pocket. I picked it up and then faced the problem of how to get the guy's attention. "Hey you" seemed rude and nonspecific, but "Sir!" would have felt silly, since he wasn't nearly old enough. "Kid" would have made me feel to old. And anyway, there were a bunch of people walking ahead of me, so I needed to differentiate this particular person.
I ended up saying, "Hey, Backpack!." He turned around and I handed him the money. He seemed pretty thankful, and I guess getting the $20 back kept him from noticing how weird it was to be called "Backpack."
48: I don't understand. Isn't calling you by your first name itself an invitation to reciprocate?
50. Just so. If there are few enough people so it's clear who you're talking to, "Hey!" or "Excuse me!" is enough. If there are more people than that, you need to make it clear who you you're talking to, so, "Excuse me! Lady in the red coat!" "Hey, man with the laptop!"
51. No, it's an invitation to consider yourself inferior to the speaker.
Generic greeting: Hey $MoFO (modern or formal obligative).
My brother-in-law's French wife insisted on calling my in-laws Sie. Marriage didn't last. I call them 'Do' -- as in 'bish do mied?'
"Yo!" is also a good all purpose attention grabber.
52.2 -- Everyone in the in-laws' village calls the town doctor Sie. I know him only socially, but quite well socially. He calls me by my first name. Scandal would ensue if I was heard to use his first name, or called him Du. I don't feel like I have to call him Sie, though. Solution: lapse mumblingly into English for a couple of words, including "you." Peace in the Dorf is maintained.
51: No, not when they say "Hi BG, this is Dr. X." Instead of "Hi this is Dr. X. May I speak with Ms. Last Name?"
I was just in a store where a 20-ish woman left something behind at the cash register, and the also 20-ish woman at the register shouted "Miss? Miss! You dropped something!"
I am deeply enjoying imagining 43.2.
50 is something I've done, and thought later that it was really cool and resourceful of me.
I tire of being addressed as "Professor" with no name. I say all the time, please, please, just please call me Firstname or Dr. Lastname, or Professor Lastname if you're not into the whole brevity thing. But "Professor" without a last name strikes me as following from that weird childish habit of never naming adults.
One thing it took me a while to figure out as a kid was that even though my friend's mom told me to call her "Bree," when I referred to her that way at the dinner table with my own family, they found it as shocking as if I'd cursed. You can call her Bree to her face, but when she's not there she is Mrs. Thompson.
43.2 You were that guy in all your classes, weren't you?
I swear I wasn't! At least not until I got to grad school.
Once I had a doctor who seemed to treat me as an equal. When trying to figure out if I had an allergy to something-or-other, he said something like "you're a scientist, so you like data, and I like data. Keep a log of the symptoms and the possible allergens, and come back in two weeks." But then he seemed kind of put off when I came back and told him "there's some correlation here, but I don't think it establishes anything with much significance."
A friend of mine is a cardiologist, and he always tells his patients' parent whom he generally knows for years to call him by his first name unless they prefer to have him address them as Mr. and Mrs. The residents at the hospital do not call him by his first name. He is, however, a very modest guy and quite unusual.
49: And lives three houses down from you.
I address strangers in NYC as 'Sir' and Ma'am' when I need to get their attention and I haven't noticed them finding it weird, but maybe I'm just bad at noticing things like that. I did draw the line at speaking in the third person to my maternal grandfather, who was addressed that way by both his daughters and his two granddaughters.
Anyone who has their kids call them ma'am and sir should not have kids, no joke. It makes me angry to think about it though of course as a southerner I grew up around it.
I like doctors who play the "Guess some serious problem and then rule it out, just to make sure you're not jumping to the obvious conclusion" game. I had a cracked rib once and a doctor trying to make sure it wasn't some blood clot problem caused by my time on an international flight (I think, judging from the questions), and a doctor trying to make sure my migraines weren't a brain tumor (this I know, because she explained to me why she thought it wasn't).
I don't like doctors who do a worse job of diagnosing than google, and I really don't like doctors who prescribe antibiotics for viral infections.
70: An urgent care clinic doc did that to me. Wound up having to go to the ER, so I followed up w/ my PCP who said that the wax problem made my ear look inflamed, but I probably didn't have an ear infection, and if I did, my immune system was probably strong enough to deal with it.
Speaking of kids, what is the Tooth Fairy paying these days?
Hmmh, my grandfather was a doctor, and a professor. And everybody that wasn't either a family member or a close friend of roughly similar age addressed him as 'Pan Profesor'
72 Probably less than your current job.
I tire of being addressed as "Professor" with no name. I say all the time, please, please, just please call me Firstname or Dr. Lastname, or Professor Lastname if you're not into the whole brevity thing. But "Professor" without a last name strikes me as following from that weird childish habit of never naming adults.
I kind of love it. It makes me feel like I'm the soldier in your WWI squadron who wears glasses.
london variants: I live in the east end, and am well used to being hailed as "mate!" by other men, of various ages -- usually friendly, very occasionally not. I've lived here the actual largest proportion of my life -- which means longer than many in East London -- but I'm not and will never really think of myself as a Londoner, so I don't use i very often, and certainly not to shout after people. I do use it though when I'm quite close to people -- for example behind them in a queue, and they've dropped something. And maybe very occasionally to attract someone's attention in a context where I didn't want to stand out as "non-Londoner".
Once -- in a queue, when I was pointing out to the guy in front of me that the queue had moved on but he hadn't -- I was coldly informed that I "wasn't his mate". He was a black guy in his early 30s, and I think just headfucking for his own amusement.
I grew up in the rural west midlands, where -- unless my memory is totally failing me -- there wasn't a local equivalent to "mate". But the 70s in the UK was a time when people were more anxious about seeming old-fashioned and foolishly posh than they were about seeming too casual or over-familiar.
I have a friend from the south-west who is delighted to note that "my lover" and "my old cunt" are cheerfully friendly modes of greeting to people you don't know but are well-disposed towards.
There's also "mami" and "papi" which can be applied to strangers while being both respectful and friendly.
75-76: But wearing glasses and writing in a WW1 or WW2 movie are just as deadly as wearing a red shirt on an away mission. No future in it at all.
The Glasgow thing of using 'Jimmy', much used by Billy Connolly, and then having a sad second life with Russ Abbott, is sort of real. I have heard people use it, but not often. The commonest would be 'pal', I think, or 'mate'. When we were kids [central Scotland, not Glasgow], I'm pretty sure it was always just 'mate', or 'man', or 'pal'. 'Pal' can be fairly aggressive, though. Someone calling me 'pal', I'd be wary of until I was sure they weren't intending malice. 'Cunt' is used affectionately as a form of address, naturally. But I don't think one would use it to someone one didn't sort of know, at least a bit.
'How's it goin', ya cunt' would have been perfectly fine, though, to someone of casual acquaintance.
But wearing glasses and writing in a WW1 or WW2 movie are just as deadly as wearing a red shirt on an away mission. No future in it at all.
And for God's sake, if you're anywhere near the front, NEVER take out a picture of your girl from back home and gaze at it longingly.
i have been trying to get my niece (4) just to call me "sparky" instead of "uncle" or "uncle sparky" but she is having none of it
If we're casting a WWII movie, I want to be the bookish New Englander who becomes a spectacled killing machine when the Nazis reveal their villainy. If I die, it had better be in the last reel and saving a bunch of kids from some icy, brutal Waffen-SS types or my agent will know the reason why. Also, I have notes on wardrobe: olive is not my color.
83: Or mention anything about dirt or livestock. Grizzled old Sarge will have to say some variant of "He bought the farm" over your dead body.
My nephew is 19 and still calls me Uncle Matt. A bit odd when you are in the pub together.
NEVER take out a picture of your girl from back home and gaze at it longingly.
Nah, you can usually get away with it as long as nobody's playing a harmonica within earshot.
There's also "mami" and "papi" which can be applied to strangers while being both respectful and friendly.
It can?! I'd be way too self-conscious.
Ooh. I get to be the French farmgirl with a radio and RAF pilot hidden in the hayloft.
I think it only works if Spanish is your first language. But I've certainly heard 'mami' meaning 'ma'am' rather than 'hey, baby'. My mother, as a flight attendant in her 60s, would come off Puerto Rico flights charmed by the passengers politely referring to her as 'mami'.
Ooh. I get to be the French farmgirl with a radio and RAF pilot hidden in the hayloft.
"Yes, Colonel, I understand that I'll be risking my life on this mission, but I respectfully demand you send me. For King and country, Sir!"
I want to be the bookish New Englander who becomes a spectacled killing machine when the Nazis reveal their villainy.
They called him Thanatopsis.
Well, right, you can't actually use it yourself, but it's charming when other people do it.
I think it's specifically Dominican, not Spanish more generally, but I could be wrong.
"pal" seems to be or have been an American equivalent to "mate." Pretty sure I've even heard exchanges where someone says "I'm not your pal" but that could be in old movies.
I got a woman's attention on a train once by calling her Mami. She turned around because she knew I meant her, I guess. Later I wondered why I knew that was OK in that particular instance. I've never said it before or since.
They called him Thanatopsis.
But only once. [Shots of me opening hogsheads of whupass on Nazis like Liam Neeson on a pack of wolves who kidnapped his daughter for the Dark Side of the Force in ... wait, he's not playing Abraham Lincoln for Spielberg anymore? Oh. You see where I was going with this, anyway.]
I think it only works if Spanish is your first language. But I've certainly heard 'mami' meaning 'ma'am' rather than 'hey, baby'. My mother, as a flight attendant in her 60s, would come off Puerto Rico flights charmed by the passengers politely referring to her as 'mami'.
In that case it is the same word but spelled "mommy".
Here "Mami" gets used constantly for little kids and babies. It probably gets used for PYTs as well, but I'm not around pick-up lines much.
WWII platoon correspondences with Unfogged commenters:
The Lieutenant: ogged (bought it in the 2nd act)
Sarge: Apo
Doc: alameida
Unc: Biohazard/chris y
Ox: Emerson/Carp
Tex: Moby
O'Malley: LB
Greenberg: AWB
Rizzo: oudemia
Kowalski: teraz
Professor: heebie
Frenchie: tierce
Mother: Stormcrow
Ace: Halford
Lefty: Natilo
Kid/narrator: nosflow
They called him Thanatopsis.
His urge to kill jes grew.
Maybe Biohazard could be "Gramps" and chris y could be "Unc." Also Emerson could be "Ox" and Carp could be "Hoss". Sifu would be "Sparky", the radioman.
Everybody else has to be Germans.
I'm having trouble reading the post title without imagining an old person singing-yelling, "Hey! Hey, you, get off of my lawn!"
Could I be "Preach" or "Churchy"?
Am I the Jewish kid from Brooklyn? Fantastic. Surely I've told the story about a paper a student wrote based on an interview with his neighbor, who volunteered for the army because in every war movie there has to be a Jewish kid from Brooklyn and he figured it might as well be him.
I presume I'd have to settle for being the cowardly British snob who cuts and runs at the first battle.
109 -- You mean cloud. And get off it.
112: No, Tex takes you under his wing.
Flippanter, you can be "Padre"
Maybe NickS should be Sparky. Sifu can be Winthrop, the uppercrust guy who got stuck in the infantry for pissing off a general.
No, no, they call the ineffectual rear-echelon goldbricking chaplain "Padre," out of disrespect; they call me "Churchy" because I keep a little N.T. in my shirt pocket and take off my hat when we seek shelter in a bombed-out village chapel.
Who's our bad seed? You know, the Telly Savalas?
AWB's role seems a little unfair to, say, smearcase or von wafer. White people are stealing jobs from the ethnicks!
Did I ever put my father's service pic in the flickr pool? He basically looks like the Brooklyn Italian kid role. He just wants to get him to drive his cab and dance with his girl, see?
Who's the gruff-but-fair colonel at HQ in East Anglia who sends our ragtag bunch of misfits on this pre-D-Day mission?
Good thinking, Flip. That bible will stop a chunk of shrapnel soon. As will Lefty's flask.
But Smearcase and the cookie man are not nearly as NYC-o-centric as AWB. This is colorblind casting.
Okay, Churchy it is.
"Ace", the grifter and scrounger, would be the false bad guy, a la Stalag 17. But the villain would really be Hauser, the German spy. McManus? read? ajay? I don't want this to just be a popularity contest, you understand.
125: And Rizzo's St. Anthony medal.
126: Ain't that just how "colorblind" casting always turns out, man. (And smearcase is too, anyway!)
Typical Americans. Someone talks about WWI and the conversation quickly turns to the front of WWII. Walter Brennan was so old that not only did he play in Sergeant York, he fought in WWI.
129: One of my activist friends was wearing homemade puttees last night, for bicycling purposes, so that ought to count for something.
Besides, the doughboys were not differentiated that much.
I see, I bring up my WWI experience and now I'm some stock German cannon fodder? That's how it is, hm?
Oh come on, the people in Sergeant York were memorably distinguished. There was that subway pusher guy from New York and that guy with the farm and that guy who was from somewhere or other who did stuff and that other guy from somewhere else and uh uh...Gary Cooper.
Not even aged out of the battle (since we've turned inexplicably to WWII) but turned into a nameless Nazi. Harrumph.
They call them "Professor" in Germany too, Frau Doktorin.
Well, there are the villagers, the Resistance fighters, the Resistance fighter who is a turncoat, the especially evil German, the especially evil German's boss who demands results, immediately, the surprisingly honorable German, the gigantic, superhuman German, etc.
Okay, I will be a sexy morally ambiguous British-educated German spy. With glasses.
I think I'd better have some intellectually frizzy and unmanagable (yet sexy) hair, too. Just to be safe.
123: That could work, as long as it didn't involve more than 2 minutes of screen time. More likely, I would be "Other Soldier in Foxhole".
I call ineffectual politician.
Oh, and we haven't even really gotten to the homefront yet. There's rich kid who got out of the draft and pursues the hero's girl, his father the mayor/local industrialist who's not as patriotic as he cynically pretends to be, the hero's girl, the hero's mother, the old veteran, the HS kid who can't wait to enlist...
139: Two minutes might not be enough for your "I wouldn't trust you with the family silver, but there's only one officer in this man's Army I can trust with this job" scene.
But Smearcase and the cookie man are not nearly as NYC-o-centric as AWB.
Totally untrue of Smearcase.
I'll be the vaguely ethnic villain who consolidates the hero's former organization while the hero is away and then tries to push him out of the picture when he returns, except I do that last part after having undergone plastic surgery so I am not recognizable the first time we meet and I'm employed in some innocuous looking business, and he's left wondering who this new person is whose taken over everything. Eventually, though, I get shot.
Well, when y'all get into trouble and have to bug out, I'll stay behind at the top of the path with a rifle, a few smokes, and some chocolate. I can still shoot but running is getting difficult.
Pwned by oudemia, I see. But it bears emphasizing!
Do we pass an idyllic afternoon and evening in the palatial country home an aristocratic family of members of the French resistance before the final assault on the Nazi prison to free the captured Allied pilots before they are tortured for the invasion plans? Is Julie Delpy available? Virginie Ledoyen?
My German is Ute Lemper.
You can be the crossdressing cabaret singer.
145: You get a heartfelt farewell salute from Sarge, who didn't think much of you at first.
143: Fine, fine. Smearcase can be Greenberg. Maybe A White Bear can be the sniper.
Also, we're auditioning for the parts of the French cafe owner, his wife and their beautiful daughter.
oooh, if oudemia's Rizzo, then bagsy me be the French farmgirl in the hayloft.
Actually, smearcase posted a pic on FB once that I said made him look like the sassy Brooklyn kid pining for egg creams in a WWII movie. We can teach everyone to play stickball. AWB can be the farm kid who is shocked by the fancy ways of the French ladies???
In "The Naked and the Dead" Mailer had two Jews from Brooklyn. The big, strong, main-character Jew, and the whiny wimpy stereotypical Jew who dies in an embarrassing way.
Start getting into shape, people. They were skinnier in the old days. Here's my uncle defending the Panama Canal.
https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/2soD9gY3X2oTvEwWsfWqjNMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=directlink
I'll be the Mother Courage type German, making a buck off the war from whatever side will pay me. Owner of a bar, maybe, giver of refuge to whatever side looks more profitable at the moment?
Surely I established in 84 that I am Sparky. Uncle Sparky, in fact. My niece can be Niecy.
I'll drive an ambulance; still in WWI, me, and maybe I hang out with Phryne Fisher.
Just noticed 104 & am dying. Have a choc.
156 - je ris et souffler de la fumée a ton visage.
(Possibly a bit dangerous to smoke in a hayloft.)
Totally OT, my friend whose baby died in April 2010 just had another baby yesterday. All healthy and normal and all is well. Phew. I am looking after her kids whilst she is in hospital so I got to see him yesterday and today.
I've got more notes: instead of shooting the SS commander in the burning villa after rescuing the village children from Sergeant Karl-Horst the Carinthian Cannibal in the wine cellar, how about I knife-fight him on the church roof? My trainer's been teaching me some sweet krava maya/silat knife moves and my arms are looking super-carved. Dirty, torn t-shirt? Yes, please. Then I kick him off the roof and he gets impaled on the aristocratic family's mausoleum's statue of St. Michel. Everybody wins!
Which is the best saint for impaling Nazis on? St. Michel doesn't sound right.
St. Michael has a big-ass spear thing! Emerson, you are insufficiently Romish.
Can we get a PG-13 with an "ass spear"?
St Stabby is the one you want.
(Oddly, I am reminded that the priest of the church I grew up attending -- St. Michael's -- was in fact the real-life guy on which the chaplain dude in Guadalcanal Diary was based.)
Ahem. Who do I get to be? If I can't be the heroic RAF pilot rescued by the brave young oudemia, I call dibs on the Surprisingly Honorable German.
How about if, instead of being "the kid/narrator", I get to be Patrick Leigh Fermor?
Knecht can take the Kreipe role and recite Horace.
Flippanter's list of things to say when chucking Nazis off roofs:
- "Welcome to the Luftwaffe, pal."
- "America's got a secret weapon, too: we call it 'gravity' plus our robust and mobilized industrial sector."
- [Styrian accent.] "Auf Wiedersehen, baby."
- "Something something Luftmensch."
That last one needs a little work.
I think the version of the last one that most approximates working is the first one.
Characters not yet cast:
French cafe owner
French cafe owner's termagent wife
Hot and cheeky waitress at cafe
Second hot and cheeky waitress at cafe
Peasant farmer in the resistance (aged, short-sighted)
Kinky gestapo officer
Kinky gestapo officer's blonde secretary
172: That's a lot to live up to, neb. Have you tested your ability to castle-surf across Europe by charming dissolute, doomed aristocrats lately?
Just gimme a shot, Flip, I know I can do it.
Kinky gestapo officer's blonde secretary
I'll handle casting this one.
OK but she's taller than you, and stronger. And giggly, in an anxious way.
Re 177
"ah shell seh thees onleh wehrns."
My wife's uncle was a Jewish kid from Brooklyn (although arrived from Austria in 1938) in the infantry in WWII. Complete with mad chess skillz, a sketchy marriage just before shipping out, and being killed by a Japanese sniper on Leyte* while playing a supporting role in action which posthumously garnered the main participant what has to be one of the stupidest fucking Medals of Honor** in the history of the US military (despite the unquestioned bravery shown by the recipient***).
*My father was just a few miles away at the time, in part because their routes into the fighting part of the war were both precipitated by the same event (they were almost certainly on the same troop train to camp in the Pacific Northwest).
**A conclusion of mine that I have not shared with anyone in my wife's family.
***A character who would also fit a (very different) movie stereotype.
174: That first one can't be bettered! You'll be lighting a thin cigar while saying it, right?
184: That I took from the commandant's jacket pocket!
6: Just this afternoon, I dropped a five pulling my wallet out of my pocket at a shopping center and only noticed when two different people shouted "Sir!".
7: Really? People in NY wouldn't look at you for busting out Ma'am and Sir in that context?
I have no idea what demented theory of New Yorkers would lead to this being an actual question.
Hmm, Flip goes from German to Nazi roof chucker-offer in the space of 71 comments.
That's what happens when you lose a war
A generic Kowalski? I don't get to be the suave, dashing, improbably liberal Polish dude from a Furst novel?
167 Those weren't the kind of Germans who made it to the end of the movie.
I love that "The French novel was a French novel" bit in The Polish Officer.
"Fiat Luft"
"Stadtluft macht frei"
190: That's who I was thinking! The Polish Officer.
Spies of Warsaw, too. But that's later less-good Furst.
They're all pretty much the same book, really.
Would neb be able to pass as a WWII version of Pierre Fresnay in La Grande Illusion?
The first few were all individual and quite different books, but then he developed his formula, yeah. There are a few of the recent ones that really are the same book, to a stupid degree.
137, 138: Heh, that role was mine. Definitely a double-agent of some sort, say, who winds up working with the French resistance.
Slack, aka LC, would have to be the hardworking foreign correspondent spitting out those bulletins, ripping each sheet from his typewriter (as it were), which then go spinning into focus on the screen as newspaper headlines, or just wires. He wears a cocky hat of some sort, and may squint through the smoke in the newsroom.
Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. And then he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass for two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little Ben, I give the watch to you.
Good lord, why does that sort of thing seem to figure so often in these films? Perhaps it's just one film, but I'm damned if I can remember which it is.
203: I'm tempted to change my mind about the donation or cremation just to have that on my headstone.
And years later Ben argues another philosopher to death in a debate Big Academia wants him to lose?
Christopher Walken in Pulp Fiction.
Thanks! Much appreciated. (A frustrating thing, I've always sucked at recalling specific film titles; I'll know I've seen some set of scenes and dialogue and flavor and cinematographic mood and so on, but just lose the bibliographic information.)
109: I'm having trouble reading the post title without imagining an old person singing-yelling, "Hey boy! Hey, boy you, get off of my lawn!"
Ha, I missed the whole casting process.
I never know whether I'm in any sense a New Yorker at this point. I've spent a quarter of my life here and I have an ambivalence about the place that's New Yorkery but I'll have to work on my stickball. I do love an egg cream.
(My German is Hugo von Hoffmansthal I guess. Which is why I have vocabulary like "Totenreich" but can't say "dishwasher".)
Too new for me. I thought of Paladin and Hey Boy. Yeah, I know, racist.
I also thought of "hey downe a downe dery, haue ye any more Londoners to bury."
Which is why I have vocabulary like "Totenreich" but can't say "dishwasher"
We were talking earlier about how washing (laundry, not dish, but I bet it still applies) related German is surprisingly specific and difficult.
Whereas, you know, I know about five words of German but three of them are Dudelsack, Mutterkuchen and Gesamtkunstwerk.
Can't you just tell from the cover of the porn?
I had a hell of a time figuring out how to find a laundromat in a German city once, until a German friend informed me that the word I was looking for was "Waschsalon". Even with that, the hotel staff were utterly clueless about the location of such a place.
Which is why I have vocabulary like "Totenreich" but can't say "dishwasher".
My big moment of this was getting to Germany for the first time and realizing that I knew the word Stacheldraht but not the word for 'sink'.
Oh, for the usual libretto-related reasons, I know Dudelsack and Dudelsackpfeiffer and then of course Czech for Dudelsackpfeiffer which is dudak. Because, yes, there is an operetta about Schwanda the Bagpiper.
This is not a useful way to know languages. There was this one time this Italian tourist and her two kids got separated by a closing subway door and I was like "oh wait, I sort of know Italian. I'll be so helpful!" And then I remembered that mostly I can say things like "now thou knowest who would my honor wrest from me!"
For me it was hangers. I'd moved in to my crappy basement apartment and needed to buy hangers. Asking where they were involved a 'things you put clothes on, things you hang them on' and so on.
"now thou knowest who would my honor wrest from me!"
At least sort of relevant!
Q: Help help! How will we find our mother?!
A: None may know my name! At dawn I shall be victorious!
I was overly pleased with myself a few weeks ago when I went to a convenience store near my apartment where the clerk rang me up and then something like "dois quarenta seis," and I thought "huh. that must be Portuguese!" and handed over two forty-six in exact change without looking at the numbers on the register. I can't even really have a coherent conversation in Spanish, but somehow this felt like a validation of my years of grade-school language instruction.
I mean, they taught me how to say numbers in Spanish every year from 2nd grade to 10th grade, so I've got that shit down.
I've forgotten most of the useful things I learned in the two quarters of German I took my last year of college, but I still remember passages of the Dichterliebe from the music class I took my first quarter of college. So every now and then I suddenly find something bouncing around in my head like "Wie du auch strahlst in Diamantenpracht, es fällt kein Strahl in deines Herzens Nacht".
And I only have a clue what that means because "bremsstrahlung" and "Higgsstrahlung" are part of my everyday vocabulary.
Damn elitists. If I hadn't learned German, the text I'd still remember auf Deutsch would be 99 Luftbalons
I love "Ich grolle nicht." What a fabulously sourgrapes little ditty.
We should make Flippanter recite it every time he brings up talking to his ex.
224 the summer I spent schlepping young singers around in upstate New York, they were doing Tosca, and we would sometimes say "Va, Tosca!" with intonation that made it clear it was to be translated as:Tosca, you just go on with your bad self, gurl.
231: Hey! "Ex" is capitalized! [Sobs, adds content to Jean Seberg fan site.]
Wine is a good thing.
So is gin, and boy did I have a wide variety of it tonight. Also, I discovered that Aviations are *delicious*.
Now that the thread's dead, I guess it's time to comment: I may have told this one before, but my parents, for what I assume were hippie-ish reasons, never had my sister or I call them Mom or Dad, but rather by their first names. But then, about 5 years ago, shortly after they got divorced, my mother told us that she'd secretly wanted us to call her Mom after all, that it had always been our father's idea, not hers, and that, therefore, we should now start calling her Mom. My sister and I--late- and mid-twenties, respectively--felt that it was a bit late to be pulling that kind of stunt, and felt a bit angry to even be asked. (This happened shortly before, and provides some context for, this story, the tension alluded to therein, and my assholishness re: "Divorce Song", though it certainly doesn't explain the vibrators.)
Anyway, long story short: I've basically avoided using any form of direct address with my mother ever since then. I've found it remarkable how long one can go (over five years, in this case!) without actually needing to do so.
though it certainly doesn't explain the vibrators
Indeed it doesn't, although it does go some way toward setting the scene.
I see ajay as the reluctantly desk bound British intelligence major who knows the platoon is probably being sent to their deaths but can't say anything because he understands the bigger picture. ttaM as the promoted from the ranks captain who wants to warn them anyway, even if it risks the invasion.
wait, am I doc just because I'm holding all the drugs or what? I'll totally make sure the bookish, glasses-having guy doesn't suffer during his last moments.
I think your drugs, like most of our supplies, were lost in the parachute drop that went bad because of the traitor's traitoring. (Actually, we probably lost most of the less-recognizable cast members in that incident, too.)
Without adequate supplies, you have to deliver a baby in the catacombs where the kindly old priest is hiding the squad with some Resistance fighters.
Oh, that's my baby! I'm not sure whether its father is English or German. (Mon dieu, j'aime les soldats trop plus!)
242: You might want to figure that one out soon, given the post-war treatment of women who fraternized with the Boche. No judgments!
Professor: heebie
To be fair, I'm probably a terrible choice for Perfessor. I don't even wear glasses. I suppose I can get a corduroy suit with patches on the elbows.
I got elbow patches for a sweater recently. Partly because it had a big hole in the elbow, but partly because hilarious.
Yes, it won't be nice when we shave asilon's head along with the other collabos horizontales.
Tragically, I think she drowns herself in the village well, leaving her baby to Doc.
Now and then I ruminate on that story of the chicken and the group of people hiding from the enemy, from the last episode of Mash. (It's not a chicken.) It gets stuck in my head and I get a spiraling horror from it. I have to consciously do something to break the thought process. It really haunts me for some reason.
re: 245
Were they elite elbow patches?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-LcnkkGAiU8
No Welsh person has ever appeared in a war film in any role other than that of a gruff but basically kindly NCO drill sergeant.
Meanwhile, Paul Krugman is posting on his blog that Wales is a poorer country than Greece. Do people not even give a second's thought to what they are writing down? (In actual fact, I think the problem is that the author he is quoting took the GVA of a region with a lot of subsidised agriculture, using a measure which doesn't include agricultural subsidies).
If you count Henry V as a war movie, which I don't see why you shouldn't, there's an irascible Welshman who forces people who say rude things about Wales to eat raw leeks.
Krugman should probably worry.
251.1: What's the word again for the folks that dig under things? I can picture whole units of Welsh persons having to do a lot of digging under things. What is this word again? It is killing me.
251.2 Yes, that surprised me too, not that I have a clue what measures are taken seriously. But empirically, it's self-evident nonsense.
I thought Welsh people in war films got to play the harmonica while the hero looks at the picture of the girl back home.
The wikipedia page for "sapper" is confusing me, actually. I thought I had learned (from a David Macaulay book) that the primary role of sappers was to dig under the castle walls, and that this was called "sapping" (thus "sapping their strength"), but apparently sapping means something entirely different (digging forward trenches) and tunneling under fortifications (although traditionally performed by sappers) is called "mining". Who knew combat engineering would be so complicated.
One's reading of war memoirs has led one to believe that "sapper" means, variously, "engineer," "explosives expert" and "fortifications architect."
259: well, right. It's a general term for "combat engineer" that dates from the days of siege warfare.
Since I learned the word from The English Patient, where the sapper was clearing minefields, I always think primarily of "explosives expert".
And apparently in the French Foreign Legion they are traditionally expected to look like dandy lumberjacks.
258. Probably if you're a member of a corps of Engineers these nice distinctions are important to you, but corps of Engineers do all of them these days. Colloquially, they're all sappers. In the middle ages the guys who dug under castle walls were called miners, because that's what they were - on civvy street they paid the rent digging for coal or metal ores; transfer of skills.
One of my grandad's jobs in WWII was driving about the western desert with a bunch of Sikhs dragging for German communication cables, and then cutting them. Very English Patient. He was a signals non-com, though, not a sapper.
262: The sapeur in the front looks rather as I imagine John Emerson. That is, uh, on the rare occasions when I do.
Surely the Welsh in war-films sing, mournfully, in the snow, on Christmas Eve, inspiring a response from the Viennese trenches and a leitmotif in the music for the next days' deathfest?
(German for dishwasher )
I spent a summer in Bavaria working as a Spülerin, but I forget what the actual machine was called. Presumably Spülmaschin or something like that.
It was a very low status job which no actual West Germans would do. OTOH being a waiter was a proper career and you really needed to speak several languages and do quick calculations in your head.
I see ajay as the reluctantly desk bound British intelligence major who knows the platoon is probably being sent to their deaths but can't say anything because he understands the bigger picture. ttaM as the promoted from the ranks captain who wants to warn them anyway, even if it risks the invasion.
"It's time for a pointless sacrifice, nattarGcM. It'll raise the whole tone of the war."
Actually, this is pretty much exactly what grandpa ajay was doing for the latter part of the war. I think, reading between the lines, he spent most of his time trying to stop Paddy Mayne (played by Robert Halford) from killing people, or at least trying to restrict him to just killing German people.
No Welsh person has ever appeared in a war film in any role other than that of a gruff but basically kindly NCO drill sergeant.
What about Richard Burton, bach? Who gets the best line in "The Longest Day" - "The thing I don't like about being one of the Few is the way we keep on getting fewer." And surely dsquared has to be the Q-bloke? Either that or the platoon poker fiend.