Making a Mountain out of a Foothill.

The other day on the radio I heard a British Security Officer give a press conference, during which she stated that, "We are literally at the foothills of a major investigation." To their discredit, none of the assembled press asked her if she could please indicate those foothills on a map.

More literal excitement here, here, here and here.

UPDATE: Like a late birthday present, the A.Word.A.Day newsletter drew my attention to an opinion piece written for the Sydney Morning Herald by a fellow literal soldier. Not sure how long that link'll last, so I'll paste the text here for posterity.

It's hard to express irony with tongue literally in cheek
Sally Brownlow
February 28, 2007

I'M NOT a grammar prude. I admit to being amused by the ironic lack of irony in Alanis Morissette's song Ironic. Of course, the events listed in her song were not blessed with irony, they were just run-of-the-mill bummers. No matter how dramatically you sing it, rain on your wedding day is just rain on your wedding day. Thousands of us have had it and haven't gone off complaining to the Goddess of Irony.

If you were an internationally acclaimed meteorological forecaster and had chosen your wedding date based on years of data and weather modelling and then, in the midst of an unprecedented decade-long drought, it rained unexpectedly for the 20-minute duration of your outdoor wedding service, it could be getting closer to being considered ironic, but even then it would really still just be a bummer. Go complain to the Goddess of Bad Luck instead!

So no, I am not a prude. But, I have to draw the line somewhere. The misuse of "literally" has really got my goat. Metaphorically of course (not literally), as my goat is still in the paddock. I am bombarded (metaphorically) by it every day.

A quick Google of the news gave me a good sample. I was told that the Bush Administration has been on "a massive spending spree in Iraq, literally throwing tonnes of money at problems". A veteran of Australian Antarctic expeditions explained how the discovery of the ship Thala Dan had "literally blown us away". My 10-year-old often claims to literally laugh his head off. I hope he picks it up before I tread on it. I am surrounded by parents "literally bursting with pride" and their children "literally bubbling with excitement". Things could get unpleasantly messy.

Why do we feel the need to abuse this delicate and fragile word? When used correctly it is sublime. Consider the news item headlined "Doctor gives stripper a hand - literally" about a doctor who stole a severed hand and gave it to a stripper to display in her apartment. Perfect. We need to protect the sanctity of the word, to secure its integrity for future generations.

We all recognise the unwritten agreement that unless specified otherwise, we are speaking metaphorically. My earlier specifications in this article were obviously unnecessary; I was using them to make a point. You knew my goat was safe and that I was not being physically attacked by grammar errors on a daily basis. So let's just make a simple pact: literally never use the word "literally" unless the meaning is literal. Isn't it ironic that I'd need to suggest such a thing?

UPDATE 2: Jess has just drawn my attention to an entire blog devoted to misuses of the word 'literally'. Thanks Jess; I'm literally over the moon!

Blog on.

When Blogger launched their Shiny All New 'Blogger beta' last August, they were all but dribbling over themselves in excitement at their list of Shiny All New features. I was decidedly underwhelmed, however, as the list seemed like a list of things you'd get around to when/if you had the time. They hadn't implemented any improvements that I'd been hoping for (because really it's all about me), and though they said that more features were to come, they gave no hints as to what they were. I switched eventually, but more out of 'whatever' than a desire to be on the bleeding edge.

But then, over the last couple of weeks as I've been stumbling around my sites, I've realised that Blogger have quietly and discretely ticked off three large boxes on my Blogger Wish List. Like a thief in the night (but a thief who gives you things instead of taking them away), they've snuck in, dropped some things off, rearranged the furniture and flitted off without so much as a tip o' the hat. Presumably these changes were implemented with the Beta, but the Blogheads decided they were so inconsequential they wouldn't even bother to mention them. Apparently to anyone. (As far as my cursory googling can determine.)

So, first of all, they've added an 'Older Posts' link at the bottom of a blog's main page. I always felt this would be handy so that you could just keep reading without having to delve into the Archive, which I've always found to be counter-intuitive and thoroughly confusing. But, second of all, confusing no more, as they've totally revamped it, and it works in exactly the way that I'd hoped for. Though how to actually get it on my blog was confusing, and I only happened onto it when I was creating a new blog for someone else. New blogs have it active by default, you see, but pre-Beta blogs need to update their template to get it. Not that there's anything anywhere that tells you so. And lastly, possibly most useful of all, they've added the ability to subscribe to a post's comments! No longer do you need to laboriously check-in every 30 seconds to see if your particularly witty and urbane comment has been paid its due. Simply paste the feed link at the bottom of the thread into your RSS reader, and let Muhammad and the mountain come to you.

And if you don't have an RSS Reader, do yourself a favour, punch Molly Meldrum in the head, and check out Google Reader. It's full(ish) featured, it's web-based so you can access your feeds from anywhere, and it's free! Get yourself a Gmail address and get on board today. Automatons are standing by.

So thanks, Blogger. You might have a confusing set of priorities (and I've been reliably told that your CSS and HTML design is surprisingly bad), but you're alright with me.

Easter Bingo.

February 1st. No sign of the Easter Bunny Court, but I just spotted a 4-pack of Hot Cross Buns for $4.28 at Safeway. Can anyone raise me? I don't get to the supermarket all that often, so I have no idea when they first appeared. Maybe two days after Christmas? For a second I thought they were clearance items, and that Easter – normally such a special time – really hadn't made much of an impression on me this year.