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True Confessions of a Ricochetti
On another thread, one of our members admitted something:
I always confuse Horace Greeley with William Jennings Bryan.
I’ve seen a few other comments like this over the years I have been here. When Ricochetti go wild and make their true confessions, it usually isn’t the sort of thing you would see on Facebook or Jeff Bezos’ diary. How many people on your Facebook feed even know who Horace Greeley and William Jennings Bryant are? This is a high-class joint with high-class true confessions.
My true confession: the older I get, the more trouble I have with homonyms. I tend to write out loud. I once found an error in one of my books where I had used the word “clamber” instead of “clamor,” for instance.
What’s your most Ricochet-style true confession?
Published in Humor
I’m perfectly comfortable with sherbert.
I almost never associate names with faces. If you showed me a picture of, say, Justice Breyer I’d have to work from the robes to figure out who he was. Makes the photos accompanying articles somewhat useless.
Notable exceptions to this include Nancy Pelosi. I only wish I could forget that rictus lack-of-grin.
We know what @rightangles will say to that. 😜
I don’t actually “follow” a particular Ricochet Member…. I stalk Her.
I have next to no singing ability.
My Latin skills are rather poor.
I have weird interpersonal problems. I understand instantly what people’s sentences mean and what that meaning entails; I wonder why other people don’t understand that, but I don’t have any idea what weird notions they’re picking up from my tone of voice. Meanwhile they might wonder why I don’t catch on to their attempts to communicate through facial expressions or tone of voice.
Nothing too dramatic or crippling, but I’m sure the psychiatrists would diagnose me with something if I let them. (They might try Asperger’s; if that didn’t quite work, they might describe my life and label it “Boone Syndrome” after me.)
I’m shocked! And not in a Casablanca kind of way. How are your Greek, Aramaic, and Hebrew?
I think Mozart’s music is effete and nothing near the equal of Schubert’s. And if every note of Haydn’s music disappeared from the earth tonight, I wouldn’t be sorry.
No Hebrew or Aramaic.
I normally do a new verse of John in Greek every weekday, and read an old paragraph. When I get to the end of the chapter I read the whole chapter in Greek. Better than many pastors, but . . . not very good.
I never finished The Recognitions by William Gaddis or Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon but still have both on my Kindle in case anybody checks.
I avoid saying Simone de Beauvoir because no matter how many times it’s been said to me, I feel as if I sound like Gomer Pyle trying to speak French. Instead I just mumble things about that Marxist feminist married to that atheist philosopher who had a thing for Stalin….
I can top that: I don’t even know what they are.
English transliteration: See moan duh Bo vwah. It’s close enough for a ‘Merican girl.
Alright, you want a scandalous one? I can’t recite all the protections in half the Bill of Rights. I never remember the specifics covered by amendments 4-8.
I love the “duh” in the middle! I’ll practice, @arahant! You should give me guides for all French names.
Speaking of her husband… Is it Sart? Or Sart-tra?
That Greek is saving you, man. It’s the only thing keeping you from exile to the island of Facebook right now. 😜
No. Jesus saves.
commie.
If letting my Facebook lingo out, this post made me LOL. :)
I once posted Pogo’s take on clamor.
I always confuse Betty Crocker with David Crockett.
I don’t even have the Greek to save me. And I can’t get exiled to Facebook because I don’t have an account.
Jeoh(n)-Pohl Sahrtr. The first name is said through the nose, and the N is not so much pronounced as a hum through the nose. The middle name is a long O, not how we pronounce Paul. The last name is much more difficult because we really don’t have a sound like the French R in English. In English, we pronounce an R in the front of the mouth, unless we’re Southrons. The French pronounce it in the back of the throat. You might compare this to trying to do a pirate R (West-country dialect), which is often a growl in the side of the mouth, “Arrrr, matey!” So the French R is in the back of the throat and closer to a growled H or glottal stop when between two vowels, as in Pah-hee (Paris). Thus we have the first R in Sartre like that growled H. The second does form a second syllable, but is almost more of a tap or short trill on the end of the T. If you can trill your tongue, the easiest pronunciation might be just: Sot(very short trill).
I never thought twice, or thrice about SdB until my Dad went on a rant one day about her testimony as to the awful tortures inflicted upon women during one or another Algerian uprising. I was so revolted, and so repelled by the revelations, that I’ve not really been able to move beyond them since. I do expect, knowing what I do, that what she said was true.
On the “true confessions of a Ricochetti” front, all I’ll say is that I follow the same rules with respect to what’s alleged here as I do with everything, and everywhere else in both my real and my online presences: Trust, but Verify.
Go ahead and repost it here, if you have it handy.
One’s fictional, the other is descended from Huguenots who escaped to Ireland.
Like the enemies of Gondor?
Oh my gosh.
He’s gonna remain the dude who liked Stalin and was married to the Marxist feminist….
Yes, but you aren’t a big-time philosophy or theology professor.
Neither am I.