I heard today that the new edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary eliminated numerous words, especially those that pertain to flora and fauna, animals, the nobility, and the church. But because the wordsmiths are modern and open-minded they also added some new words, especially those that refer to technology and person-to-person relations.
It makes me laugh a bit because some of the words added are: celebrity, tolerant, vandalism, negotiate, interdependent, citizenship, conflict, debate, compulsory, cope, donate,and endangered.
Amongst the non negotiable words; those that could no longer be tolerated, that conflicted in citizenship requirements, that are endangered, donated to the vandalized treasury of memory are: carol, cracker, holly, mistletoe, dwarf, elf, goblin, aisle, altar, bishop, chapel, disciple, minister, pew, psalm, sin, devil, coronation, emperor, empire, monarch, decade, adder, ass, beaver, boar, bullock, colt, doe, acorn, allotment, blacksmith, brook, diesel, manger.
I got a kick out of the explanation for ridding the dictionary of these words. Supposedly, words like "MP3 Player" are more relevant because kids are use to them (inspite of the fact that in a couple months the MP3 player will be obsolete because we'll all have a Borg2000), and words associated with nature are irrelevant because kids are not near it anymore. Words pertaining to Christianity are not "multi-cultural." I've used the dictionary most often to look up words that I am less familiar with, rather than for the ones that I am.
And doesn't it seem a bit demeaning to the little people, the dwarfs, elfs, goblins, and devils; to make them unmentionables? It's almost a sin.
This got me to thinking of Rumpelstiltskin, a celebrity in the goblin/dwarf world. He couldn't be named because his name had been removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary and all others several years before the miller's daughter was born. And because his name had been removed by the empire of tolerance, she could not quite identify him, or that he was a little devil. And so, because she felt endangered, like a forlorn little colt, she negotiated with the little what-ever-he-was, trading a necklace in return for an allotment of gold.
The next morning the emperor, was very pleased to find that the miller's daughter had turned straw to gold. But he wanted more, a decade's worth the next day. If she did not comply her citizenship would be revoked, and she would not get so much as a cracker to eat. The miller's daughter sat crying, singing psalms, once again feeling that her life was endangered if she did not produce a decade's worth of gold.
The miller's daughter sat on an old pew from the chapel, caroling, singing psalms, and crying until the short guy appeared. She hated the sight of him, but she remembered what she had learned after years in the compulsory schools, and that she must be tolerant and always negotiate with others because everyone is interdependent. The miller's daughter did not want conflict and consented to give the height-challenged man her ring in return for his promise of spinning a decade's worth of straw into gold.
The next day the emperor arrived to find the gold and was very pleased, but he wanted more. He told the miller's daughter if she could spin a manger full of gold he would kiss her under the mistletoe, marry her at the chapel in front of the altar, with the minister as officiant. The miller's daughter consented, but when the manger was brought before her she despaired. It was the size of a football stadium. She wished that her father had sent her to the abbey where she could have spent her life as a nun, ministering to the people of the parish. She felt like an ass or a helpless little cygnet.
Again the little guy appeared with an offer she couldn't resist. She felt that her life was as small and worthless as an acorn covered in fungus along a brook. In her deep despair and hopelessness, she consented to give the short one her first born child if he would try to spin the straw into gold, for she did not believe he could or that her life would be worth anything in the future. But she was wrong. The miller's daughter was coronated and made a monarch. She and the emperor walked down the aisle as husband and wife, while the bishop, minister, vicar, monks and nuns gathered to rejoice in the empire's new wealth and good fortune.
The queen gave birth to a daughter named Carol Holly. They drove her home from the hospital in a half-ton diesel pickup truck, and got her a little colt named Willow. The queen forgot about the short little celebrity that had saved her from becoming endangered.
One day the queen sat watching Carol Holly playing with Willow near the beaver pond where the drake duck liked to swim, when the short celebrity came to claim the little girl. The queen told the little guy that she would give him all the riches of the empire, including every abbey, altar, chapel, monastery, and pulpit along with a donation to the charity of his choice, if he would only allow her to keep her daughter. The little man did not like this,telling her "no, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world." But in the spirit of good citizenship, pretended to negotiate a deal with the queen. If she could name him within three days she could keep her daughter.
The queen went to the local blacksmith, the only person left in the academic empire, that was an adequate philologist. She asked him to unlock the vault where he kept the old words and seek for the name of the short man. He gave her a list of names and words which fit the description. The short creature arrived to hear what he expected to be a tolerant negotiation in which the queen would debate the enlightened ideas of interdependence in a vain attempt to avoid naming him. His eyes glowed greedily, as his hands itched to reach out and grab Carol Holly.
"What is my name?" he asked. The queen said, "Is it adder, or ass? Dwarf, goblin, or devil?" The little man was so enraged at being accurately named, that he stamped his legs into the ground and slithered off, never to bother the queen again.
It makes me laugh a bit because some of the words added are: celebrity, tolerant, vandalism, negotiate, interdependent, citizenship, conflict, debate, compulsory, cope, donate,and endangered.
Amongst the non negotiable words; those that could no longer be tolerated, that conflicted in citizenship requirements, that are endangered, donated to the vandalized treasury of memory are: carol, cracker, holly, mistletoe, dwarf, elf, goblin, aisle, altar, bishop, chapel, disciple, minister, pew, psalm, sin, devil, coronation, emperor, empire, monarch, decade, adder, ass, beaver, boar, bullock, colt, doe, acorn, allotment, blacksmith, brook, diesel, manger.
I got a kick out of the explanation for ridding the dictionary of these words. Supposedly, words like "MP3 Player" are more relevant because kids are use to them (inspite of the fact that in a couple months the MP3 player will be obsolete because we'll all have a Borg2000), and words associated with nature are irrelevant because kids are not near it anymore. Words pertaining to Christianity are not "multi-cultural." I've used the dictionary most often to look up words that I am less familiar with, rather than for the ones that I am.
And doesn't it seem a bit demeaning to the little people, the dwarfs, elfs, goblins, and devils; to make them unmentionables? It's almost a sin.
This got me to thinking of Rumpelstiltskin, a celebrity in the goblin/dwarf world. He couldn't be named because his name had been removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary and all others several years before the miller's daughter was born. And because his name had been removed by the empire of tolerance, she could not quite identify him, or that he was a little devil. And so, because she felt endangered, like a forlorn little colt, she negotiated with the little what-ever-he-was, trading a necklace in return for an allotment of gold.
The next morning the emperor, was very pleased to find that the miller's daughter had turned straw to gold. But he wanted more, a decade's worth the next day. If she did not comply her citizenship would be revoked, and she would not get so much as a cracker to eat. The miller's daughter sat crying, singing psalms, once again feeling that her life was endangered if she did not produce a decade's worth of gold.
The miller's daughter sat on an old pew from the chapel, caroling, singing psalms, and crying until the short guy appeared. She hated the sight of him, but she remembered what she had learned after years in the compulsory schools, and that she must be tolerant and always negotiate with others because everyone is interdependent. The miller's daughter did not want conflict and consented to give the height-challenged man her ring in return for his promise of spinning a decade's worth of straw into gold.
The next day the emperor arrived to find the gold and was very pleased, but he wanted more. He told the miller's daughter if she could spin a manger full of gold he would kiss her under the mistletoe, marry her at the chapel in front of the altar, with the minister as officiant. The miller's daughter consented, but when the manger was brought before her she despaired. It was the size of a football stadium. She wished that her father had sent her to the abbey where she could have spent her life as a nun, ministering to the people of the parish. She felt like an ass or a helpless little cygnet.
Again the little guy appeared with an offer she couldn't resist. She felt that her life was as small and worthless as an acorn covered in fungus along a brook. In her deep despair and hopelessness, she consented to give the short one her first born child if he would try to spin the straw into gold, for she did not believe he could or that her life would be worth anything in the future. But she was wrong. The miller's daughter was coronated and made a monarch. She and the emperor walked down the aisle as husband and wife, while the bishop, minister, vicar, monks and nuns gathered to rejoice in the empire's new wealth and good fortune.
The queen gave birth to a daughter named Carol Holly. They drove her home from the hospital in a half-ton diesel pickup truck, and got her a little colt named Willow. The queen forgot about the short little celebrity that had saved her from becoming endangered.
One day the queen sat watching Carol Holly playing with Willow near the beaver pond where the drake duck liked to swim, when the short celebrity came to claim the little girl. The queen told the little guy that she would give him all the riches of the empire, including every abbey, altar, chapel, monastery, and pulpit along with a donation to the charity of his choice, if he would only allow her to keep her daughter. The little man did not like this,telling her "no, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world." But in the spirit of good citizenship, pretended to negotiate a deal with the queen. If she could name him within three days she could keep her daughter.
The queen went to the local blacksmith, the only person left in the academic empire, that was an adequate philologist. She asked him to unlock the vault where he kept the old words and seek for the name of the short man. He gave her a list of names and words which fit the description. The short creature arrived to hear what he expected to be a tolerant negotiation in which the queen would debate the enlightened ideas of interdependence in a vain attempt to avoid naming him. His eyes glowed greedily, as his hands itched to reach out and grab Carol Holly.
"What is my name?" he asked. The queen said, "Is it adder, or ass? Dwarf, goblin, or devil?" The little man was so enraged at being accurately named, that he stamped his legs into the ground and slithered off, never to bother the queen again.
