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Is dysphemism the same as swearing?
Can you swear without dysphemisms?
Yes: swearing involves using profane vocabulary; dysphemism involves negative, offensive terms for particular things. You can swear without dysphemisms, and indeed without having any negativity at all, through the use of profanities as positive intensifiers:
- That was a motherfucking magnificent job!
- Holy fucking shit, that felt good!
- Jesus, that guy’s a clever cunt. (That’s more a Commonwealth thing)
Can you use dysphemisms without swearing?
Yes, though it’s subtle: dysphemism is using a term that is offensive in some way, but there’s a lot of wiggle room in how. We just saw that the term can be offensive in general, but not in the particular context—like the examples above. We can also have a term that is offensive ONLY in that context.
Example? Wikipedia has an excellent one. In many cultures, using a proper name for your elders is disrespectful, and hence gives offence: it’s a dysphemism. Hey Janice, where’s lunch? instead of Hello mother, where is lunch? But it isn’t swearing: it isn’t the same as Hey bitch, where’s my food? There’s nothing profane in itself about the name Janice.
Who is the most famous Greek who was named Alexander in the previous 15 centuries (one for each century)?
Imma skip 19th and 20th centuries, which my Greek peers have already amply answered.
EDIT: Filled in with the help of Uri Granta, for which my humble thanks.
- V century: Alexander of Apamea [Uri]
- VI: Alexander of Tralles, medical author
- VII: Alexander, bishop of Cotrada, participated in the 6th Ecumenical Council, 680–81 (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit: Alexandros 178); Alexander, bishop of Nacolia, ditto (Alexandros 179)
- VIII: Alexander, participated in the Ecumenical Council of Nicaea, 787 (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit: Alexandros 185)
- IX: Alexander, iconoclast monk in Studium Monastery and possibly bishop, mentioned in Theodore Studites’ Small Catechesis (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit: Alexandros 187)
- X: Alexander (Byzantine emperor) (912–913)
- XI: Patriarch Alexander II of Alexandria [Uri]
- XII: ?
- XIII: ?
- XIV: Alexander Euripiotes, nobleman around Thessalonica, owner of property in Pungion, 1321 (Prosopographisches Lexikon der Paläologenzeit 6324)
- XV: Antipope Alexander V (1409–10), born Peter Philargos in Crete
- XVI: ?
- XVII: Alexander Mavrocordatos [Uri]
- XVIII: Alexander Helladius [Uri]
You can see I’m really straining to find people; it simply was not a common name, the way Alexius was. Those Prosopography German things? They’re the index of anyone Byzantine named in any written source, for 600–1000 and 1200–1500. I’m sure someone can come up with people for the missing decades (and certainly for the 16th–18th centuries); but that’ll do for now.
What is the life expectancy of the English language?
Yes, it is impossible to tell, for reasons my learnèd colleagues have touched on. Allow me to expand one angle.
As I was saying to Martin Silvertant just before (wat de neuk?), I predicted the death of Dutch in 200 years as a postgrad, when I found out that university courses were being lectured in English in the Netherlands. That’s how it begins: replacing a language with a more prestigious language in some domain of public discourse. Then more and more domains. Then the home.
I was challenged at the time by another student. “When you say that,” he pointed out, “you really just mean some time you can’t immediately predict, don’t you.”
Well, yeah. And screw you for being right.
Is there anything on the visible horizon that would displace English like that? The British Empire has set, and the Pax Americana may be starting to; but English has a comfortable niche for a while yet as a lingua franca, even without them. Could Mandarin displace it yet? Not impossible (and something can be worked out with the characters vs Pinyin); but then again, as Mao put it in Nixon in China,
Our armies do not go abroad. Why should we? We have all we need.
The next hegemon, if China proves to be that, might be just fine with English sticking around as a lingua franca.
In that case, the race to expire English will be between the Technological singularity, Environmental Catastrophe, and the natural death of languages. With mass literacy and the nation state, language change has been slowed down; I’d normally give it 500 years, but it’ll be likely longer. Which means it’s a race between the robot overlords and New York being under water.
… Sorry about that last bit. It’s Electoralgeddon, we’re all going a little crazy.
What character can we use as an irony mark?
There have been various proposals over the years, though none have taken off. In internet discourse, where irony marks are pretty necessary, the smiley has prevailed; it’s more about “I’m only joking! I’m only joking!” than about actual amusement.
Some Ethiopian languages use a special temherte slaqî or temherte slaq punctuation for “sarcasm and unreal phrases”, that looks like ¡
Of the Latin alphabet proposals, as Wikipedia enumerates them, there’s been:
⸮
[!]
</sarcasm>
:^)
.~
How many Greek words begin with a?
It’s kind of a meaningless question, because vocabulary is productive; but to Vasiliki Baskos’ answer I will add these figures from non-Modern lexica:
- 19699 from the Liddell Scott lexicon, 2045 from the LSJ supplement; but LSJ does not separate out derived words very well
- 28405 for the DGE Diccionario Griego-Español, which includes proper names
- 23487 from the Papyros dictionary, which encompasses the Dimitrakos dictionary as a dictionary of all periods of Greek
- 11564 from Trapp’s Lexikon zur byzantinischen Gräzität, which mostly includes Byzantine words left out by other dictionaries.
- 5577 from the Kriaras dictionary of Mediaeval Vernacular Greek Επιτομή Λεξικού Κριαρά
- Triantafyllidis’ dictionary of Modern Greek, as Vasiliki Baskos mentioned, is at 8233
And that’s not to mention the Academy of Athens’ Historical Dictionary of Modern Greek (the Greek dialect dictionary), or the serious gaps in Modern Greek lexicography surrounding literary Greek. I don’t have a count for alpha there.
Alpha is a good letter to ask about, btw. Trapp is up to tau, Kriaras is at rho, DGE is at epsilon, and the Academy is at delta. Lexicography is about the long game…
When did the 1453 Fall of Constantinople become inevitable?
Matthew Sutton no longer posts on Quora, for reasons I entirely empathise with.
Matthew has however left a ginormous comment on this question at https://www.quora.com/When-did-t…
With his permission, I am citing his comment here. FWIW, I agree entirely with his answer; I’d researched the period as the setting of the Byzantine poem I’ve coauthored a monograph on. In fact, some paragraphs sound like what I’ve written before.
Self-plug: An Entertaining Tale of Quadrupeds | Books | Columbia University Press
It all depends on whether or not you start by assuming that any historical events are inevitable, predetermined or rather are products of nondeterministic human decisionmaking. But I kinda do subscribe to an deterministic POV…so I’ll bite.
During the 1180s the Empire entered a period of sharp decline and internal discord. This cycle had occurred before (notably during Phocas and Heraclius’s reigns when most of the Empire was overrun) but what was different this go round was that the Turks in the East and the rising power of Western Europe began to be decisively felt around this time (Western Christendom had started directly intervening in the Levant with the Crusades, and Turks were rapidly becoming a major power in the Near East).
The instability of the Empire would leave it prey to ascendant, voracious forces on each side and it was never able to fully reestablish itself, and never had much breathing room to do so. The Empire had weathered a dizzying array of new actors (Lombards, Serbs, Goths, Alans, Bulgars, Hungarians, Arabs, Sassanids) but it was entering a period of terminal decline when the military ambitious Normans in the west and Turks in the east showed up.
The 4th Crusade showed that the Empire was militarily weak vis a vis the Italian maritime states like Venice and Genoa, and the mercenary bands of wayward knights from France, England, and German states could adventure in Byzantine lands with little repercussion from the East Romans. The Turks began to put tremendous pressure on the enfeebled Byzantine defenses of Anatolia which were gradually lost.
When the Byzantine state reconstituted itself in the wake of the abandonment of Constantinople by the Crusaders, it was hard to call it the “Roman Empire” with a straight face.
To start with there was no single “empire” but three fledgling successor states that each claimed (with about equal legitimacy) to be heirs to the Roman purple: the “Empire of Trebizond”, the “Empire of Nicaea”, and the “Despotate of Epirus”. Each was small in geographic extent, broke, and weaker than their non-Romanized neighbors. The big powers could play these three weak claimants to the Roman throne against one another for their political gain or by marrying into their perpetually broke and desperate ruling families in order to curry favor with their Romanized or Christianized subjects.
The Empire of Nicaea did have a full generation or so of breathing space to try and stabilize itself, but it exhausted its few home territories first in trying to seize Constantinople and then trying to rebuld it. A brief resurgence occurred during the time of Andronicus III. But then this reconstituted Empire of Nicaea then underwent another succession crisis and attendant crippling civil war in the 1350s or so, that invited Bulgarian and Turkish intervention leaving it weaker than ever. During this civil war Ottoman forces had marched to Constantinople’s walls and had crossed over into Europe administering severe defeats to the Serbs. From this point forward Ottoman power began to explode into the Balkans. From this time (about the 1360’s or so) Constantinople’s days were numbered, a question of when not if it would fall. It was surrounded on all sides by Turks and had to submit to vassal status to maintain itself as an independent city-state that existed at the mercy of Turkish power.
The whole time Epirus and Trebizond were doing their own thing as separate, inconsequential Roman Empires, the West (needing to badly simplify the complex history) chooses to mostly ignore them. Nicaea did not have the power to seriously bring the other two states to heel and had its hands full defending itself from ever tightening Turkish control. Another respite was offered to the Nicaean empire with the Turks distracted in the 1390s by the depredations of Timurlane in the East, but it was clear that unless the West decided to prop up the Nicaean Empire it would not long survive.
In desperation these last “Emperors” were often trying to marry off their princesses to Western and Balkan princes in order to try and secure some sort of military alliance and confessing their submission to the Roman Pope in the vain hopes of securing Western European public support and aid. While the Emperors of the 1100’s could still afford to disdain the Latins and show public contempt for their Catholic faith, by the late 1300s the Emperors were now offering to convert to Catholicism to attract Latin support. The few remaining subjects in Constantinople and scattered amongst a few coastal forts in Greece were alienated by this desperation and often uncertain who to trust more—the Greek pretenders to the ancient and almost meaningless Roman throne who were trying to stave off extinction by selling off their religious affiliation and daughters to marauding bands of barbarian knights from the West, or the new Turkish governors who were generally tolerant and efficient though alien and barbarian themselves. By the early 1400s Turks had been in Anatolia for generations and had already begun to become culturally assimilated. In comparison to the ruined state of the remaining Greek towns, the conquered Turkish territories appeared to be reemerging as stable and prosperous. Upstart Westerners had long been unsufferable boors to the Greeks, and with late Medieval technology, guilds, and a more dynamic post feudal social order, and a newly reformed Church certainly these “inferior barbarians” no longer felt the instinctive barbarian awe and deference to the imperial majesty of post-1204 Constantinople. They saw it for it what it was and could begin ignoring its very existence.
At this juncture the end of the Empire seems that much more inevitable. France and England and Burgundy, the leading powers of Western Europe, were embroiled in a highly complex, highly destructive war (the Hundred Years War) and had suffered the worst, documented epidemic in their history. The Iberian kingdoms of Castille and Aragon were preoccupied with the operations against the Moors there during the Reconquista. Italy was consumed with internal political struggles (typical) and power struggles between trading houses. Portugal was exploring the coasts of Africa and trying to circumvent Venetian control over the shipping in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Holy Roman Empire was in disarray as it usually was, and the Papacy and Patriarchy were still jealously haggling over turf wars in Eastern Europe. Saving the rump state of the Empire of Nicaea (which pushed the Crusaders out of Constantinople in the 1260s which was never forgotten) that was always short on money, troops, and even its own popular support, was simply not a very big priority for a newly confident, but distracted Europe.
In terms of dates the rot set in during the early 1100s (like the beginnings of the end of the Ming and Qing during the heydays of their dynastic cycles), but it didn’t become manifest until the 1180s when the Empire fell into disarray. The single decisive date was 1204 in which a small body of European adventurers could be convinced by Venetian merchants to seize the Eastern Roman Empire. This alone demonstrates how weak Constantinople had become and how little viability the whole political enterprise had left.
Nonetheless it did sort of have another, pathetic life as a Greek-nationalist successor state (among three) starting in 1260 and looking like it might have a chance at survival around 1320 or so. But then more internal discord left the sad remains of the once mighty Roman Empire prostrate for the irresistible Turks to pick up. That the Turks took their time in the process was a more a function of lack of will to take Constantinople, lack of will from the West to intervene to save it, and lack of any single power wanting to see it immediately destroyed or conceiving of a post-Greek Empire in the Eastern Mediterranean. By the 1390 or so the East Roman Empire was purely a marginal city-state at the mercy of foreign powers.
What is that one picture that best describes your city / country / state?
A2A Pegah.
I was going to post something smart-alecky about my country, Australia. But I see that it has already been covered:
- Shayne Bradbury’s answer to What is that one picture that best describes your city / country / state?
- User-10398731632804616022’s answer to What is that one picture that best describes your city / country / state?
I will instead post something about my country, Greece.
I am not a visual person; I am a words and music person. So I am going to use a picture that invokes the words and music I have in mind.
I am tired of Greece being laughed at. I am tired of Greece being venerated. We’re a country, same as any other. I am tired of us being hostage to our ancestors. We’re a country of living people, and we recognise ourselves in the neighbours we’ve told ourselves to disdain. There’s more to us than our past oppression. There’s more to us than our past glories.
There’s more to us than marble.
And yet.
File:Naxos, Portara quer 2016.jpg: — Portara – Naxos Island, Greece
Σε τούτα εδώ τα μάρμαρα κακιά σκουριά δεν πιάνει
μηδέ αλυσίδα στου Ρωμιού και στ’ αγεριού το πόδι
No evil rust will seize these marble stones;
no chain the Roman’s or the breeze’s foot.
—Yiannis Ritsos. Music: Mikis Theodorakis
1974 concert, George Dalaras singing. That brief spell, when my country had hope for a better future.
What happened to the Greek population of South Italy?
I refer you to Nick Nicholas’ answer to Why does Grecani language not exist in Sicily (Magna Grecia)?
From what I’ve read, the Greek-speaking population of Southern Italy gradually shrank geographically. It was quite a broad area in the 1600s; it was a much smaller area in the 1800s; and it’s pretty tiny now. In Calabria, it may well be completely moribund.
The Greek-speakers didn’t vanish into thin air, of course; they assimilated. The elimination of Greek rite Catholicism in the region would have expedited that. And you’ll notice how careful Greek scholars are about describing them as Greek-speakers, “hellenophones”, rather than Greeks. In all the cultural ways that matter, these people are Italians, and have been for a while.
Why do people use “Nope” even though “No” is easier to say and shorter to spell?
A2A by Z-Kat. Marc Ettlinger’s is the definitive answer:
—but I was a research assistant for a guy who worked on labiovelars, and I’ve mentioned it here. (No doubt Z-Kat saw the comment.)
So supplemental to what Marc said:
A glottal stop is easily confusable with p, t, or k. But in the case of no, the confusion is going to be even more pronounced.
/w/ is a labiovelar glide. That means that the breathing passage is constricted in two places: at the lips, and at the velum (back of the tongue).
A glottal stop constricts—in fact, it blocks outright—even further back in the oral cavity than the velum.
What happens when you say a very abrupt “no!” ? You get a /w/, followed by a glottal stop: [nowʔ].
Now, what happens if you either produce or hear the /w/ and the /ʔ/ as the one sound?
The labiovelar glide turns into a Voiced labial–velar stop : [ɡ͡b] . The combination is pretty common in West Africa; e.g. Laurent Gbagbo (this one’s for you, Habib Fanny). The combination also turns up as an allophone in Vietnamese, for final -uk. My Vietnamese colleague was rather puzzled at my boss getting her to keep saying the Vietnamese word for bee, or whatever it was.
The labiovelar stop is not a common feature of English. So people may hear or pronounce [nowʔ] as [nowɡ͡b], or [nowk͡p]; but they can only make sense of it within English as [nowp].
Hence nope. And then, by analogy with nope, yep, and more recently welp.
Who are some people you know who became fluent in a foreign language as an adult?
Here’s one.
Chie Hama. She was doing an MA in my linguistics department, under A/Prof Janet Fletcher. I’ve googled Chie; she’s now tutoring down the road at RMIT, but RMIT doesn’t give its casual tutors much of a web presence.
Chie Hama came to Australia from Japan. Chie swore to us blind that she did not really learn English in Japan. Having read about how the official teaching of English works in Japan, I’m not surprised.
Chie was adamant that she learned English in Australia. She had completely fluency, but I totally believe her.
Because she spoke English with every little quirk of inflection and mannerism of A/Prof Janet Fletcher.
“Yaaaaah… so we’re to test the…. okaaaaaaay? Yaaaaah.”
It was like listening to a recording.