J'ai pas mal des chose à faire.

Molly Picon : Busy Busy

Oi vey! You said it girl.

Lost in Translation

The other day, meeting some friends up there at the coulée verte behind the Bastille (a recently discovered little urban sanctuary in Paris, not yet overrun by tourists. It's an old railroad tresle converted into a lovely park.), conversation turned on the word "crowbar." "What is a crowbar in French?" I inquired. None of the four gathered knew and we turned to the sole French native and acted out using a crowbar until she understood. "Oh, c'est un pied-de-biche!" (Literally, foot of a deer.)

Now for the three Americans gathered, this seemed the silliest nomenclature. If any animal's gonna try and jack your car late at night, it ain't gonna be no Bambi.

Later that same day, I'm having dinner with two friends: a Swede and a French woman and I relate this story to them. After finding out the Swedish word, "kofot" (literally, cow foot), I'm suddenly in the minority. Suddenly (like Schwarzenegger's political career) animals mean enough to want to wield iron bars are losing ascendency to grazing animals. (I'm not sure one should trust cows so much, they might try and jack your car. I just can't imagine what they'd do with it after.)

Here's an odd bit of translation:

Cindi & Bert -- Der Hund von Baskerville (c. 1971)

How it was that the abstract meanderings of Ozzy became a Sherlock Holmes story is in itself a mystery worthy of the detective. Even odder is why did Cindi and Bert choose to cover Black Sabbath instead of, say, The Monkees or the 1910 Fruitgum Company? Rammstein, that's certainly dark enough, and Einstürzende Neubauten could inspire more chills than Black Sabbath itself. In fact, to the American ear, pretty much anything in the German tongue inspires fear. Die Schlümpfe? Hermann Hesse? They're probably machines that eat babies. Eine kleine nachtmusic? What ever it is, keep it away from me! But Cindi and Bert? Weren't they on Sesame Street?