Tag: amusing
Even Racists Got the Blues
A particularly ironic tale of translation gone awry on The Geeky Gaeilgeoir:
I’m often baffled by the number of people who seem to think that you can translate from one language to another simply by pulling the words of one language from a dictionary and plugging them into the syntax of the other. It just doesn’t work that way, friends. Repeat after me: “Languages are not codes for one another.”
That’s exactly what happened here, though. Someone either found a dictionary or searched the internet for the three words “blue,” “lives,” and “matter,” and stuck them together as if they were English. Oy. Dia sábháil (that’s Ulster Irish for “oy”).
[…]
Another thing this poor “translator” apparently forgot is that the word “lives” in English can be pronounced to rhyme with “gives” or with “hives,” and that the meaning changes accordingly.
What was wanted here, of course, is “lives” as rhymes with “hives.” Three guesses as to which one the “translator” chose. Yep. Wrong one.
[…]
The funny thing here is, the Irish word gorm actually does mean “blue” in most contexts. Just not in this manner, and definitely not in this context.
When color is used to describe a person in Irish, it typically refers to hair color. For example An bhean rua: The red-haired woman. […]
All that having been said, though, here’s the lovely, delicious irony: When the word gorm is used in reference to people, guess what it means?
It means “Black.”
People of African descent, or with similarly dark skin, are described as “blue” in Irish (most likely because dubh (“black”) and dorcha (“dark”) have negative connotations in the language and donn (“brown”) would be understood to refer to hair color).
That’s right. At the end of the day, allowing for grammatical travesties (of which there are many) and horrendous word choices, what this person’s shirt says is “Black Lives Matter.”
Somehow that makes me strangely happy.
I’ve been cackling at this linguistic mess since I saw the tshirt. Irish is not a wierd looking version of English, it’s an ancient and evolving language with a different way of structuring sentences with a range of pitfalls, and I’m glad that racist bollox fell right into one. Tá daoine gorma tábhachtach!
Also, as an aside, Ireland doesn’t have a police force, we have An Garda Síochána, or the Gardaí. In English, it means Guardians of the Peace, and as a rule they don’t carry guns unless they’re part of an armed response unit.
@maawi @obaewankenope @deadcatwithaflamethrower @stonefreeak @eclipsemidnight @lilyrose225writes @sanerontheinside some linguistics for your entertainment
*CACKLING*
Arctic Cat demands walkies! 😾
polar cat
Mraaaah! Mraaaaah!
Mraaaaaaaaaahhh!!
OMG HE DOES VIDEOS OF HIS KITTY?!
[Video with a very fluffy white cat who looks like an incredibly cute goblin. The cat is loudly meowing throughout everything the human says. “You do realize it’s like, twenty below. It’s twenty degrees below zero. It’s the same temperature as Antarctica today! We can’t go walking when it’s that cold. We can’t. Too cold! Too cold! Too cold.”]
(Source: https://www.instagram.com/)
MAKE HIM FAMOUS
“well, it seems we are at an impasse.”
“so we are. carry on, cat”
“same to you, bird.”
They literally were in an awkward situation
I love how the bird leaves like “well, I best be hitting the dusty trail”
Friends, I suppose. Or familiar with one another. At the very least, business acquaintances in the rodent-control industry. Though it’s interesting that it was the eagle who decided to leave…
@thebibliosphere I don’t know why but this made me think of you
Probably because I’m so shit at responding to messages a raven might actually be better xD
so cute
the age old tale
oh my god…
EHEHEHEHE.
Concept: conjured demon obliged to give lesson in informed consent when novice warlock attempts to sell somebody else’s soul.
“But you see, sir,” the warlock says, ritual dagger still held high over his head, “I want it more though.” He glances uncertainly between the young man bound to the altar and the demon in the summoning circle.
“That doesn’t matter,” the demon says. He’s still relaxed, still nonchalant, but his patience is wearing thin. “It doesn’t matter how much you want someone’s soul– you can’t take it if they don’t give it to you.”
The warlocks brow furrows. “Uuuuh, yeah I can? I’m literally about to–” he makes a stabbing motion down, prompting the bound man to scream into his gag.
“No!” The demon can’t believe he’s being forced into this position: convincing a human to NOT murder. “If you do that, you get nothing, I get sent back, and you’ve got the stain of murder on your immortal soul.”
“But–”
“No,” the demon says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, okay? Did you ask if you could take his soul?”
“No, but–”
“Then end of story. He didn’t agree to it, he didn’t know tonight would end in murder, and he didn’t know that he’d be part of a devil deal. So no, his soul won’t work and you can’t harvest it to bind me to your will.”
“But… I can’t use MY soul,” the warlock says. The dagger lowers slightly and he squints at the demon in confusion. “How would i become all powerful if you owned my soul?”
“That-that’s the catch,” the demon says. He doesn’t even want this mortal anymore. He just wants to go back to hell and wait for someone actually ready to play be the rules. “Okay? Devil deals can never make you all powerful because the demon had power over you in death. Th-that’s just how it works.”
The warlock frowns. “So you trick people into giving you their souls? How’s that better than–” he gestures to the angry man bound to the altar “–this?”
“Because you know I’m going to take your soul!” The demon bursts out. The flames around him flare higher and he takes calming breaths. “You know it belongs to me! I don’t promise all power– I just promise power. It’s– I inform you of what you get and the consequences. You agree anyway because you’re human and greedy. Okay? Get it?”
The warlock nods slowly, free hand coming up to rub his chin. “Yes….yes. I see.” He nods. “I just need to get someone to agree to pay the soul toll for me!”
The demon resists the urge to banish himself.
There's a Mirror on the Wall 