Pendantry: an explication

Picture, if you will, in your mind’s eye, a small boy. Gangly, gawky, somewhat geeky; he likes girls, and is constantly puzzled by the attitude of his peers, who seem to think that this makes him somehow not quite right in the head.

Although he doesn’t yet know it, the boy has a very good friend (a small girl).

One day, the small girl’s parents decide to emigrate overseas, and, in an interaction that is long lost to any recollection, the girl’s new address finds its way into the small boy’s hands. He writes his soon-to-be-friend a letter, and thus begins forty years of back-and-forth transactions of the written word that employ a now archaic ‘handwriting’ system. (For reasons too convoluted to explore right now, sadly almost all of these scrawls now exist only as their constituent atoms.)

Then, tragically, the no-longer-quite-as-small girl dies.

Needless to say, there’s much more to it than that: but the full tale may only ever be found in the vast tome holding the lost stories of every being ever to walk the Earth. (If you ever come across that, could you please send me a copy?)

To err is human: to mess things up completely requires a computer.

Imagine now, if you will, the early days of the Internet.

Suddenly, there’s an explosion of text communication in a world that, previously, was dominated by the spoken word. Hundreds, then thousands, soon millions of people begin to use this new medium; but the vast majority have little experience with asynchronous communication (let alone writing), and are unwary of its many pitfalls.

Smilies appear: the representation of a vain attempt to introduce facial expression into a language that lacks any, yet, through millennia of human evolution, requires it. Overuse soon robs these of the vestigial meaning for which their champions had hoped.

The Internet: facilitating miscommunication at the speed of light since the late twentieth century.

The small boy (remember him?) is now no longer quite as small as he once was. He has grown, and he has learned. He believes that he has a ‘good eye’; but he also knows that he has a bad one, too: and what he sees with these eyes is that everyone makes mistakes. Through many years he dodges and dives, and tries (so hard!) to avoid the conclusion, but eventually admits: the term ‘everyone’ does include him. Oddly enough, this realisation brings with it the understanding that, in general, people don’t like to be told they’re wrong (and, indeed, are incredibly reluctant to admit it even when they know they are).

So, having identified his — often annoying — tendency to pedantry, having acknowledged that he isn’t — after all — infallible, and recognising that people have an — often intense — dislike of criticism: the no-longer-quite-as-small boy sets out on an epic quest to devise a means by which he can continue his penchant to correct folk, but in a way that minimises the sting (and one that, incidentally, just happens to neatly sidestep the fallout in the case of the inevitable error). The solution he arrives at involves an attempt to inject humour into the mix, cross-breeding pedantry with witticism.

(Of course, it didn’t really happen that way at all: it actually came about more or less by accident, but that doesn’t sound half as good.)

Thus he coins the term ‘pendant’:

Pendant (n): one who, by correcting others, gives himself (or herself) just enough rope by which to hang.

And in those early days hanging around (pun intended) the Internet, he appends this to all his emails as his .sig as a kind of ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ card for those (all too frequent, if truth be told) occasions when he gets it completely wrong.

Now and then, naturally, someone accuses him of spelling ‘pedantry’ wrongly. Fun times πŸ™‚

He, in short, is me.

But you already knew that.

Advertisements

About pendantry

Phlyarologist (part-time) and pendant. Campaigner for action against anthropogenic global warming (AGW) and injustice in all its forms. Humanist, atheist, notoftenpist. Wannabe poet, writer and astronaut.
This entry was posted in ... wait, what?, Just for laughs, Tributes and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

24 Responses to Pendantry: an explication

  1. yeltnuh says:

    I, too, am a notoftenpist! (facial expression deleted by request)

  2. leavergirl says:

    A worthy quest! πŸ™‚

  3. Martin Lack says:

    Thanks for the explanation to the question I dared not ask (in order to avoid being tiresome).

    Thanks also, as ever, for the quotes from Douglas Adams(?) and others…

    πŸ™‚ – As you say, over-used and insufficient; but still necessary!

    • pendantry says:

      Believe it or not, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask, for quite a while now. I hope I don’t give the impression of being unapproachable…

      /doubtletake Douglas Adams quotes? Where? Hmm… the ‘to err is human…’ quote is variously attributed to Paul Ehrlic, Farmer’s Almanac, unknown and even an old saw (economists :eyeroll: can’t even forecast a ‘credit crunch’); the other two are mine, all mine (muhahahaha!*)

      * There really should be a smilie for that.

      • Martin Lack says:

        You unapproachable? Only in the sense that your sense of humour is hard to beat sometimes.

        Well, knock me down with a feather, I was sure that was a Douglas Adams quote from THHGTTG.

        • pendantry says:

          Not sure which quote you’re referring to, but I choose to interpret your words as a compliment.
          Unless, of course, you’re right, and my belief that I coined them phrases is simply a symptom of a deluded imagination.[1] I’m re-reading H2G2 at the moment, so I’ll let you know πŸ™‚

          [1] Actually, that sounds about right: I’ve long been convinced that either everyone else on the planet is insane, or I must be. Occam’s Razor clearly indicates the latter…)

  4. WendyT says:

    Amusing, as ever. Very sorry to read about your Canadian penfriend 😦

    • pendantry says:

      Thanks, Wendy. It seems that that time of life has arrived, when friends begin to drop like leaves from a tree. Here’s hoping you’ll outlive me πŸ™‚

  5. Dr Bob Rich says:

    I once wrote a poem about the pun — but a computer crash took it from me, illustrating the terrible truths of your quotes about the internet.

    There was not a single pun in the poem.

    πŸ™‚
    Bob

    • pendantry says:

      A poem about the pun, containing not a single one? I feel poorer for its loss. Isn’t technolaggy wonderfuel?

      Thank you for your visit, your comment, and your email (which I shall address separately).

I'd love to hear what your views are!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s