Best Research EVER!
Gricean theory and linguicism: Infringements and physical violence in the relationship between Manuel and Basil Fawlty
Abstract
The present paper aims to demonstrate how a refined version of the Gricean theory of non-observance of maxims based on the Schutzean notion of imposed thematic relevance can be applied to shed some light on the intercultural issue of the relative imbalance in native (or ‘expert’ non-native) vs. (‘non-expert’) non-native communication. This demonstration will be accompanied by examples from the British comedy series Fawlty Towers, where the relationship between Basil Fawlty and his Spanish dogsbody Manuel offers a neat caricature of the issues at stake. The paper argues that the (often) higher number of occurrences of deviations from (native speaker) norms (=non-observance of ‘maxims’) in non-native speech causes an over-attentiveness in the hearer and an increased interpretational activity which often ‘does not pay off’, something which, may trigger negative reactions and support the growth of linguicism. This tendency, it is claimed, can perhaps be countered by raising the awareness of the general public as well as that of political representatives as regards the specific drawbacks of being a second/foreign language speaker in a globalized world.
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“Pass that car!” I commanded my father.
We were driving fast in an old Alfa Spider. The roads outside Paris were narrow and twisted but other cars were scarce. My mother was scared to death. She kept mumbling something about responsibility. I paid no attention. I was content in letting the wind rush through every fiber of my hair. I was very happy, I was nine years old.
The countryside kept getting more beautiful as we got further from Paris.
“Slow down” said my mother, this time with resignation in her voice.
“Where are we going?” I asked, “we left an hour ago.”
I was informed we were going to a friend’s house for lunch.
The downshifting of the gears was smooth as we pulled into the driveway. It was rather a boulevard more than a driveway, and the house was more like like a castle than a house, or at least it seemed that way back then. We weren’t used to luxury.
The ceremonial salutes with our hosts took place and we were accompanied inside the house. I sat on the biggest chair in the world and started sipping on my orangina. I must have almost dropped it when she came in.
I loved her. From the first moment my eyes saw her I must have loved her. A feeling of panic took over me. I had never felt that way before. I was one of those boys who hated girls and teased them cruelly during school breaks. But this time was different. From the first moment we saw each other, we loved each other.
We spent the whole afternoon playing games. I kept telling her I loved her and she did the same. We would lock ourselves in different rooms and laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much or so freely in my life. We played almost naked in the garden spraying water at each other and our lips met over and over.
When we left that evening I was not sad. I was happy. Happy to have met her, happy to be alive, and most of all I was happy to love and to be loved more than anything in the world. You see, there was nothing to stop us, there were no responsibilities, no doubts, no cynicism, most of all no fear, no thing but our pure hearts, touched for the first time in the most beautiful way. Little did I know at that moment of absolute and perfect happiness that I would never feel that way again. Everything changes when you grow up. Since that day I have loved, and I have been loved, but it isn’t the same. It can’t, some things can only happen once.
“Please overtake that car” I begged my father.
My mother shook her head in despair.
– schrodingers dog (circa 1985)
AMERICAN TREASURE: THE DAVID LYNCH INTERVIEW PROJECT
David Lynch’s Interview Project has recently and quietly come to its scheduled end. The well-produced online-only project comprises a full 121 video interviews with random people, shot by Lynch’s team (led by his son Austin) on a year-long road-trip around the United States.
Lynch and co. manage to tap deeply into the wealth of personal stories in the great American working class that was first mined by the likes of oral historian Studs Terkel. But Interview Project filters Terkel’s ultra-earnest approach through the post-thereputic present, often getting a surprising amount of confessional material from a literal stop-and-talk encounter.
via: http://www.dangerousminds.net/index.php/site/comments/the_david_lynch_interview_project/
Sounds good
THREE-TIME NWA WORLD WRESTLING CHAMPION DUSTY RHODES SOLVES
THE GULF OIL
SPILL CRISIS.
BY MATTHEW ROBERSON
– – – –
Hey there, ‘Merica. It’s me, the ‘Merican Dream, Dusty Rhodes, and I think I got a way to fix this here oil spill down there in the Gulf.
First, for the record, I wanna say that the ‘Merican Dream had nuthin’ to do with that thing there. Now, it’s true that the other night, me and Sweet Sapphire got good and ripped on gin and Tang after celebratin’ my son Dustin’s graduation from The Learning Annex (talk about a Rhodes Scholar). And, like we do, Saph and I started making sure all my shotguns worked. We just were firing all over the place, trying to take out my target bats. When we’s run out of bullets, we turn on the light box, and sure ’nuff, Ol’ Mean Gene Wolf Blitzer sayin’ some oil rig in da Gulf done lit up like one of ‘dem fine cigars I seen Rick Flair smokin’ after he and Tully Blanchard bashed in my leg in ’86! At first, I done worried Sapphire and me done hit the damn thang with our shootin’, but by morning I had realized no bullet can travel from Carbondale, IL all the way a hundred miles into the Gulf of Mexico. Least not the kind they sells me at Big Lots.
But just ’cause the ‘Merican Dream Dusty Rhodes is free and clear of this thang don’t mean he don’t wanna help. So here’s what I propose. ‘Merica, you gonna need to scrape together bout $2100. Somebody saying, “Hey, D-Rhodes. Ain’t that the price of that sweet ass T-Top Chevette your cousin Larry’s selling, plus a grand for new tires and Yosemite Sam mud flaps, and I say, “You betcha, brother!” The ‘Merican Dream gonna be stylin’ AND pro-filin’ in Larry’s custom Chevy Chevette. APR Gar-ron-tee, baby! Auto Panty Remover! Oh brother, you give me that, plus bus fare down to Oopaloosa, a per diem of five or six hamburgers, and a triple-XL yellow polka dot singlet, and the three-time NWA World Wrastlin’ Champ gonna be all over that slick SON-OF-A-BITCH!
Here’s my plan: I been savin’ bottle corks since me and Magnum TA christened the openin’ up of our first unfinished furniture store in Charlotte, NC, and now, I got a whole mess of ’em. I mean the garage is full of them corks. Sweet Saphire always complain’ ’bout it, saying she ain’t got nowhere to park her big, black Cady-lac. I says, “You mean the one the Million Dollar Man Ted Dibiasi gave ya for switchin’ sides on me at SummerSlam? I says, “Baby, you had a price, and now you gotta pay… by parking in the cul-de-sac.” Being left by your lady for a man with enough money that he can afford to get dollar signs bedazzled on the lapel of his suit! That’s HARD TIMES, daddy! Now, once the bus done dropped me off at the Gulf shore, what I’m gonna do is put on my snorkel gear, take one mess of a deep breath, and swim on down with my corks. When I’m deep down, I’m just gonna start stuffin.’ Crazy like, you know. Just crammin’ that hole with all them corks till the unleaded stop flowin’. ‘Member how George the Animal Steele used to be on them turn-buckles? Well that’s gonna be me and the corks, and eventually, with ’nuff corks, that damn thang gonna have to stop. Hey, its physics, daddy! And when it do, ol ‘Merican Dream gonna swam back up, give Sweet Sapphire a big ol’ wet kiss with all that oil on me, then head on over to BP so I can drop a big ol’ ‘Merican-made Bionic Elbow courtesy of Uncle Sam on them oil executives, so they know better than to do this again!
So balls in your court, United States. If you ready to stop screwin’ round with droppin’ down these tin shack lookin’ things… all these… robot arms, if you want to fix this oil thang before it’s too late, before all them perty lil’ birds can’t swim cause they covered in petrol, just give ol Dusty Rhodes a call. If you can’t reach me at home, try my pager, and if that don’t work, try the Greases Pieces All You Can Eat Country Buffet on Highway 41. Give ’em a ring baby, and ask for The ‘Merican Dream!
A propos …
The story of a South African township football team ‘The Rainbow Chiefs’ and what it means to them to have South Africa host the World Cup.
Signal or Noise: 8 Mysterious Unsolved Sounds
The Philosophy of the Matrix
A must read: http://onwardoverland.com/matrix/philosophy.html
serge 