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/ kalebeul / 2005 / 10 / 17 /

(The) United States (of whatever)

Re a post by Amando de Miguel in his interesting, if fairly Pleistocene, language column for Libertad Digital, I’ve compiled a little table of hits over time from Mark Davies’ corpus for several Spanish versions of the Great Satan (no hits in there for el Gran Satanás unfortunately). I’ve omitted

USA = América because I’m interested [...]

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Cross-border hospital access

This would much better news if the Zapatero and Villepin, instead of merely consenting to allow citizens to use the nearest hospital, had agreed to enable them to choose the best. That would, however, means providing information to patients. Aragon is having a go at publishing waiting lists, Catalonia isn’t, and in France waiting lists [...]

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Exhaust fan

Dani Pedrosa has won the world scooter championships, but has betrayed The Nation by doing so in the wrong language. (I’m singing in a couple of weeks at a do for a gentleman who depresses accelerator pedals for a well-known Italian brand. His site is available in Catalan; the prizes will doubtless follow.)

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You know you’re getting on…

… when you discover that Telegraph columnists have experimented more widely than you have.

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Snow on Monte Perdido

Here.

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Coroner plays St James’ Infirmary

Following the news about a Galician politician-trombonist, here’s a Louisianan trumpet-playing coroner:
The first time Dr. Minyard ran, in 1969, he lost to the incumbent. But four years later, he and a slate of other candidates viewed as reformers - including Harry Connick Sr., the “Singing D.A.” - were swept into office. Another of those candidates, [...]

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Apparently immigrants are being denied access to virtually all night bars in Barcelona’s popular Raval district. I’m an immigrant, and I’ve never had any problems getting in (getting out is a different story), so I guess El Periódico is using the same definition as one of my ex mother-in-laws: “You’re not an immigrant, you’re white!” Despite the beatings and the burnings, Spain’s nignogs don’t complain, which is why the Americans and British are clearly racists while it is equally clear that the Spanish were just having a little innocent fun with those damn Chinkies.

Code-swapping, rather than Gibraltar-Andalusian. This week’s instalment comments on the stateless national soap opera, maritime conflicts and confusions with Spain.

Yesterday the state-approved and -subsidised competition to Baldie Galactic was observed claiming that trencadís was yet more proof of the quite extraordinary originality of the Catalan mind, etc etc. Not so: it has been around for centuries, and any connoisseur of English cathedral windows will be familiar with my favourite application of break-it-and-mend-it–the new/non-sense created from jumbled shards of medieval glass at places like Wells and Winchester after the Puritans had smashed things up. Which isn’t in any sense to diminish the marvellous pique assiette undertaken by Josep Maria Jujol for old Mr Gaudy at Park Güell:


Nosferatu in Bremen is essentially a flitting liminality … the German soul instinctively prefers twilight to daylight.” Way too many bloody Teutonic incorporeal materialist graffiteros lurking around on c/ Molist, Barcelona.


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