Write a Note to the Person Above You III

Dear Glenburne,

No, google translate has in fact condescended to make an accurate translation, which doesn't mean that I do not still loathe it with a fiery passion.

We prefer more literal names for our animals. A robin is a "little red-throat", not to confuse with "little red-coat" alias Rotkäppchen, whose natural enemy is not cats but a talking wolf in grandma's pyjamas. Also it's not a bird.

Sincerely,
Freckles
 
Dear Freckles,

I figured that German animal names were automatically longer, given what my history textbook said was the German name for "tank." On the bright side...pretty sure English spelling is worse. Because it usually is.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glen,

Which meaning of tank are we talking about? Please enlighten me. And yes, German words may be longer, but they're often also more literal (as demonstrated on the robin) and rely less heavily on Latin than English does, so you can often understand more complex words with only a basic understanding of the language, even if you've never heard the word before. Whereas with English, either you know Latin or someone's just got to tell you what the new word means.

About English spelling... You have spoken truly.

Sincerely,
Summersprouts
 
Dear Freckles,

After some research, I am wondering if the authors of my high school history textbook did not do their research properly. I don't have the textbook on hand, but the word could have been Schützengrabenvernichtungspanzerkraftwagen. But apparently it only appears in Ernest Swinton's autobiography Eyewitness, and it's not clear whether he was actually serious that WWI Germans used it, or making fun of the German language.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glenburne,

I can't tell you if he was making fun, because I don't have a sense of humor. But I can tell you that the word which you typed includes a lot more information than just 'tank'. 'Tank' is simply Panzer, while yonder monstrous word means 'trench elimination tank (motor vehicle)'. Personally, I would be disinclined to believe anyone called Ernest because people are generally prone to believe them, and they all take advantage of it, the cheeky rogues.

Sincerely (<-- don't trust them, either)
Freckles
 
Dear Freckles,

Your translation is more succinct than the one in my textbook, but it might be the same word.

So, I am disillusioned again. You know, I went most of the way through high school ranting about how badly my textbooks were written, and growing up has not made me see them in a better light. They weren't even particularly bad textbooks. It's just that textbooks seem to be particularly bad.

You are turning me into more of a cynic than I was already, which is depressing and highly unfair,
Glen
 
Dear Glenburne,

I take absolutely no responsibility for your turning into a cynic, sonic, panic, Titanic, teacup, or anything whatever.

About textbooks, I agree. Our beginners' textbook has a box with helpful phrases for expressing pain, where it says, "Au", "Aua," "Ahhh," and "Autsch." I always make a point of going through that box with my learners just to make sure there are no misunderstandings next time they slam the door shut on their fingers.

Sincerely,
Freckles
 
Dear Freckles,

Well, it could be a sort of mindfulness experience for your students: slam the door shut on their fingers and see if they can remember to make the appropriate sort of response. Too many people yell nonsensical things when someone slams a door on their fingers, such as: "WHY?!" "You idiot!" "Get out of here! Out! OUT!" These sorts of phrases are definitely not in that little box and should never be uttered by thoughtful human beings, but most humans beings seem to think that being thoughtful means not slamming a door on someone else's fingers. Their self-centeredness is disturbing.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glen,

I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your correspondence with Miss Freckles; but I'm afraid that I must insert my two cents. Or I would, if I had the slightest idea of what you two were talking about.

Quite Truly,
Lonny
 
Dear Lonny,

Your two cents are radioactive. Overexposure to the Duffer Sun tends to do that. I stuck them in my wallet, and it turned green. Like the forum. Then my dog ate the wallet...maybe I should call poison control?

Any suggestions are welcome, my dog is dumb enough without getting a radiation overdose.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glenburne,

You could
1) call poison control (like boring people)
2) threaten everyone with radiation poisoning through the radioactive dog to get your way and eventually achieve world domination, live it up in the metropolises of this world, then be reminded of your meanwhile forgotten dog years later to realize he has slowly been turning into a superdog and is not too pleased to have been abandoned by you, find yourself being chased around the aforementioned metropolises by the superdog and his chums until he catches up with you, accidentally swallow the radioactive two cents that started it all, manage to kill the dog, then briefly relive all the good times you've had together as he lies dying in your arms, and spend the remainder of your (brief) life building monuments and donating to Curie foundations

Well, I'm out of ideas, so that's all for now!
Freckles
 
Dear Freckles,

That was only two suggestions. I'm very, very disappointed in you. Poison control is for losers, and threatening people is illegal. Can't you come up with any better ideas?

Judgmentally,
Glen
 
Dear Glenbeanbag,

I really can't. Just google it. I don't care anymore.

Regards
Snotnose

PS. If I feed a radioactive wallet to my cat, will it die? Just asking from, um, concern and stuff.
 
Dear Soapy,

Personally, I'd be more inclined to save the wallet. If you believe Tom Sawyer, cats can be more valuable dead than alive because they make great bartering tokens.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glenburne,

This is very interesting information.

Sooo... What could I barter a cat for? Would it be worth, say, a newspaper? (It could be an old newspaper. My cat is pretty old.)

Yours faithfully
Freckles Cat's Bane
 
Dear Freckles Cat's Bane,

No. You clearly have missed the point. You can trade the dead cat for something like pipe tobacco that your Aunt Polly doesn't want you to have, or all your best friend's string. Newspapers are too much like school, and are pointless, unless they include your obituary, which is always fascinating to read.

Sincerely,
Glen
 
Dear Glen,

The thought of people writing about me after my death makes me not want to die. Do you still have the number of one of the Numenorean kings?

De mortuis nil nisi bene.
Freckles
 
Dear Freckles,

You need to take a lesson or two from the Egyptian kings and plan your funeral, tomb, and presumably any obituaries in advance.

Unless, of course, you end up like Hatshepsut and someone tries to wipe out your memory. Which is always possible. But funeral planning is a great leisure activity, so who cares?

Sincerely,
Glen
 
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