Do Elephants Jump?
Page 17
Oxford American Dictionary of Current English (the first listed is for “more frequent or preferred pronunciations”): “Fri-DAA, Fri-DEE”
Random House Webster’s Dictionary (no stated policy about variants): “Fri-DAA, Fri-DEE”
Oxford English Dictionary (“The order of variants need not be one of decreasing frequency.” Variants are shown “which can safely be regarded as allowable in British English at the present time, within the formal received pronunciation that does not give rise to any social judgement when heard by most native speakers.”): using IPA equivalents of “Fri-DAA, Fri-DEE”
Penguin Webster’s Handy College Dictionary: (“The criterion for pronunciations is the best usage in regions where there is no marked peculiarity of speech and in normal conversation rather than in formal speech.” This is the only dictionary we’ve found that lists only one pronunciation per word): “Fri-DE” (the dotted E is defined as “sounding the e in maybe as opposed to the first e in mete).
Webster’s New World Dictionary: (“Each variant pronunciation may be regarded as having wide currency in American English unless a qualifying note has been added to a particular variant indicating that it is less common.”) “Fri-Da”
Victory! While the American Heritage Dictionary remains unmoved, Webster’s New World Dictionary has not only pushed “Fri-DAA” to the front, but also banished “Fri-DEE” to “pron purgatory.” In your lifetime, Richard Jackoway, perhaps AHD will see the light.
Submitted by Richard Jackoway of San Luis Obispo, California.
Special thanks to Erin McKean, of Chicago, Illinois.
Why Do the Speed Controls on Fans Go from “Off” to “High” to “Low”? Wouldn’t It Make More Sense for Them to Go from “Off” to “Low” to “High”?
Who would think that this humble mystery would be among the ten most-often asked here at Imponderables Central? Several readers compare fan controls to audio devices, which after all, don’t go from “off” to “ten” to “one.” The audio configuration saves a little energy and a lot of our residual hearing. When you are shutting off a piece of musical dreck, the last thing you want to hear is the noise at maximum volume right before you reach the exalted bliss of silence.
The analogy between radios or stereo system and electric fans (or air conditioners) isn’t perfect, though. When you turn on a fan, you are usually uncomfortable. The room is too warm, or too stuffy, or too humid, and you want relief. As Don Thompson, an engineer at fan manufacturer Comair Rotron, put it: “If I turn on a fan, I want maximum cooling to relieve myself or perform a task. Immediately!”
If the maximum setting isn’t strong enough to cool off the room, you need a stronger fan. If “max” is too much, that’s what “low” is for.
Thompson calls this approach the “period of patience” — customers want maximum relief as soon as possible. When the zone is reached, the device is switched to a lower mode to decrease the noise and conserve energy.
The speed configuration isn’t only for the benefit of us end users, though. Charles Richmond, vice president of engineering at cooling manufacturer EBM Industries, wrote Imponderables that the off-high-low configuration makes engineering sense. The greatest workload of a fan or air conditioner is right when it starts — when the motor must fight against inertia, the ambient air is the most stagnant, and the user’s point of patience is leaning toward the impatient.
Think of a merry-go-round. Its motor faces its heaviest load when it starts to spin from a standing start; once it is turning at its normal operating speed, it requires much less work for the engine to maintain the same speed. If you started the engine at a lower power, you might not have enough juice to start the merry - go - round from a dead start. There may be no wooden horses or brass rings on a fan, but the principle is the same.
Submitted by Herman London of Fishkill, New York. Thanks also to Brett Holmquist of Burlington, Massachusetts; Josh Metzger of Hamilton, Ohio; Ned Smith of Menands, New York; Suzanne Amara of Boston, Massachusetts; Rob Shifter of Los Angeles, California; William Wimmer of Benton, Arkansas; Robert King of Grand Forks, North Dakota; Eric J. Roode of Claremont, New Hampshire; and John Chaneski of Hoboken, New Jersey; and many others.
Why Are Public Radio Stations Clustered on the Low End of the FM Dial in the United States?
As part of the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967, the United States Congress mandated that twenty channels on the new FM band be reserved for noncommercial, educational use — 87.9 MHz through 91.9 MHz.
Of course, we know that men and women with pure hearts, untainted by avarice or ambition, populate our Congress. But more cynical folks might wonder why Congress would allocate such valuable “real estate” on the broadcast dial to educational, artsy-fartsy types who presumably had little lobbying power and even less money to contribute to political campaigns.
Maybe we should be more cynical. In reality, most of the pressure to lump the noncommercial broadcasters together on the FM dial came from commercial broadcasters who did have bucks to throw around. Prior to the 1967 allocation, many colleges ran “carrier current” AM stations, closed-circuit transmissions with low wattage that often managed to interfere with the signal of commercial stations. The big AM stations squawked about the problem, but the FCC did not have the manpower to police the problem.
But as Michael Starling, vice president of National Public Radio Engineering, explains, another issue was even more pressing:
There were ongoing complaints about noncommercial stations that were assigned high-power AMs that were very desirable frequencies commercially. This was compounded by a growing number of mutually exclusive applications between commercial and noncommercial stations — something the commission had no way to resolve. This was an apples-and-oranges situation that pitted public-service, educational institutions against large commercial broadcast interests.
Thus, the FCC thought this would be the ideal solution: set up a part of the new FM band to move the carrier current stations, which would clean up the carrier current interference without having to do battle with the Harvards, Columbias, etc., who had these low-power AMs. These became the Class-D 10-watt stations. It would also be the home of the future noncommercial stations, so that there would not be the previous mess of trying to evaluate in a comparative context commercial and non-commercial interests.
The non-commercial stations are clumped at the bottom of the dial, where they can interfere only with one another’s signals. Why were they put at the low end of the dial instead of the high? No one seems to know.
Submitted by Ed Katzmark of Superior, Wisconsin. Thanks also to Leonard Berg of Van Nuys, California; a caller on the Kerry Rodd Show, Minneapolis, Minnesota; and Tara Alexander, of parts unknown.
Why Do Pregnant Women Get Strange Food Cravings? And Why Do They Suddenly Start Hating Foods They Used to Love Before They Were Pregnant?
Is there something specific about being in the family way that produces a sudden passion for a pickle sundae? A pork-and-banana sandwich? Or Twinkies with a dollop of mustard?
A few social scientists subscribe to the notion that cravings are “all in pregnant women’s heads,” but the nutritionists and medical experts we consulted dissent. Food cravings are prevalent all over the world: We found scores of studies that found at least some food cravings in one-half to more than 90 percent of pregnant women, with most falling in the 65 to 75 percent range.
Cravings are likely a result of hormonal changes that alter taste perception. One strong argument for hormones as the culprit is that women tend also to undergo strong food cravings (and aversions) during menopause, another period when hormones are raging and changing. Janet Pope, an associate professor of nutrition and dietetics at Louisiana Tech University, told Imponderables that pregnant women evaluate flavor differently, so they may try different foods or combinations of foods to find foods that will now satisfy them.
And then there is the indisputable fact that the little fetus is draining some nutrition
from the mother. “You are now eating for two,” so the cliché goes. But most nutritionists believe the average female need consume only 300 extra calories a day of a well-balanced diet to compensate for the other life she is carrying. It would seem logical to assume that the fetus is taking in nutrients unevenly, and that is the reason for weird cravings and aversions. Ethiopian women believe that their sudden aversion to usual staples can be explained by their babies’ distaste for that particular food. But biologists and nutritionists still can’t explain the unpredictability in food preferences during pregnancy.
Some cravings are relatively easy to explain on a strictly nutritional basis. For example, a woman who craves olives or pickles might be low in sodium. A newfound peanut-butter fanatic might need additional protein, fat, or B vitamins. But sodium can be obtained from Triscuits or pretzels, too. Protein, fat, and B vitamins are contained in fish or meat, as well. Cross-cultural studies indicate that most mothers crave nutritious items that are not part of their regular diet. In the West, many expectant mothers swear off meat; where meat is prized but scarce, it is among the most common cravings. Unusual food cravings may also be, in part, an attempt to find new food combinations to stave off some of the unpleasant symptoms of pregnancy, such as morning sickness.
Almost as many women experience food aversions as strong cravings, often from foods and drinks that they enjoyed before pregnancy. One theory is that aversions are nature’s way of assuring the fetus obtains good nutrition by diversifying the diet of the mother. This might explain why in Third World countries, poor women often experience aversions to staple grains — many mothers’ normal diets contain too much cereal and starch, and not enough protein and fat.
Others contend that food aversions are a way of safeguarding the fetus by making dangerous substances unpalatable to the mother. Some chain - smoking, coffee - sipping, booze - guzzling females find it remarkably easy to shed their vices when pregnant. They might maintain that their sudden upgrading of habits is done out of altruism, but studies indicate that these were among the most common aversions even before their potential damage to the fetus was known. Likewise, many women find themselves nauseated at even the thought of consuming raw meat, sushi, or soft cheeses, substances that are usually safe to consume but do offer increased health risks if prepared inadequately.
But some cravings have no conceivable nutritional advantage. Perhaps the most popular craving of pregnant women is ice: ice, not water, a Popsicle, or a soda. Ella Lacey, a nutritionist at Southern Illinois University’s medical school, says that nobody understands why women often crave foods that offer few, if any nutrients, let alone the particular nutrients she might lack. She theorizes that it may be some form of addictive behavior, where there is a drive to gain satisfaction, even if the outcome doesn’t fulfill the deficiency.
The most aberrant addictive craving is pica, a condition most prevalent in the South of the United States and Central America, in which folks crave and eat non-food substances, often dirt, clay, chalk, dishwasher detergent, and, least scary, ice chips. Pregnant women comprise the largest, but by no means only, group of pica practitioners, but in most, the desire goes away once the baby is born.
Pica is more prevalent among poor folks, many of whom have nutritional deficiencies, leading some nutritionists to believe that pica, and especially geophagy (eating of dirt and clay), is a response to an iron or calcium deficiency. The more affluent woman is likely to detect such a deficiency by consulting a doctor or nutritionist, and once diagnosed, more likely to turn to spinach and liver than the backyard for a remedy.
All of a sudden, that pickle sundae is starting to sound awfully tempting.
Submitted by Angela Burgess of Los Angeles, California. Thanks also to Jerry De Duca of Montreal West, Quebec; and Steffany Aye of Lawrence, Kansas.
Why Can’t We Buy Fresh Baby Corn in Markets?
You can buy fresh baby corn at specialty food stores, especially Asian markets, and we spoke to three wholesale produce markets that sell the stuff. But factors conspire to keep it out of your local supermarket.
The biggest problem in marketing baby corn is that there simply isn’t enough demand for the little ears. Few Western recipes call for baby corn, and the family that decides to roast baby corn to accompany the barbecued hamburger is doomed to frustration, if not starvation. First of all, baby corn in its natural state requires husking, which is more time consuming and difficult than cleaning “regular” corn. Then, even if the ears are successfully de-silked, it tends to dawn on consumers that baby corn is, uh, tiny, and not sufficient to sate the appetite.
Most tend to buy baby corn as a novelty or garnish, according to Eddie Fizdale, of Peak Produce in Washington, D.C., especially as the little critters are more expensive than their full-sized brethren, and the edible portion averages only 13 percent of the weight of the ear and husk. Because of the expense, Lauren Hiltner of Babé Farm in Santa Maria, California, indicates that at this point, except for the Asian market, only high-end supermarkets tend to carry fresh baby corn.
The main customers for baby corn are restaurants and salad bars. Professional chefs know how to prepare the delicate corn without bruising or overcooking it. Salad bars use either canned or jarred baby corn to save preparation time, further diminishing the market for fresh baby corn.
Although most of the baby corn found in North America is imported from Thailand, Taiwan, and Indonesia, American farmers are increasingly trying to compete with homegrown products. Farmers can sell by-products from the baby corn, such as the husk, silk, panicle, and stem to cattle farmers for livestock feed.
Best of all, any kind of corn designed for human consumption can be grown as baby corn. Baby corn is produced from regular corn plants (and can grow alongside the other crop) and picked while very immature. Although the image of a baby six-inch-high plant, with little ears hidden in the brush is charming, in reality they grow on six-foot behemoths.
Submitted by Kathleen R. Dillon of Brooklyn, New York. Thanks also to Beth Neumeyer of Las Vegas, Nevada; and Rachel P. Wincel, via the Internet.
Why Are the Strips of Staples Designed for Office Staplers Too Long for the Space in the Stapler, Leaving Little Clumps to Clutter Drawers?
Reader Howard Labow’s drawers resemble those at Imponderables Central. We own two handheld Swingline staplers that refuse to degrade, but we wish we could say the same for our boxes of staples. The boxes are full of scruffy odds and ends — what we call “orphans” — “stripettes” of anywhere between five to twenty-five staples — enough to keep around, but annoyingly difficult to load into the stapler.
So we called Swingline Staplers and spoke to technical-support representative Anthony Lojo, who professed astonishment that we would have any problem. The standard Swingline strip consists of 210 staples, and the stapler itself is designed to provide a half-inch cushion before the follow block (the little piece that pushes the staple forward) locks.
Suspecting a whitewash, we sought refuge with Lori Andrade, a customer-service representative at Swingline’s biggest competitor in office staplers, Stanley Bostitch. But Lori reported that although half-strips are available for smaller staplers, she couldn’t figure out why the 210-strip wouldn’t fit in a standard office stapler from Swingline or Stanley Bostitch, and all of her companies’ staplers are designed to take full or half-strips.
Frustrated, we decided to further research this Imponderable by taking a field trip to the most appropriately named office superstore we could find — Staples. As befits its name, the office superstore offers a bewildering array of staplers, but every single basic office stapler offered was designed to accept 210-strips. As advocates of the scientific method, we decided to perform empirical research. We came home, emptied the magazine of our stapler of all staples, and inserted a 210-strip of staples in our Swingline. Guess what? It entered with no problem. No orphans.
Well, not exactly. Now we were left with the staples that we had extricated from the stapler. And
that led us to what we hope will win us one of those “genius” fellowships.
When do we put new staples in our staplers? When the stapler doesn’t work, of course. Some of the time, we do so because the magazine is completely empty. But in our experience, this doesn’t occur often. Usually, a few staples have broken apart from the rest of the strip, and are not aligned properly. A pen or nail file is used to extricate the errant staple(s), and whatever significant portion of intact strip is left inside.
But perhaps the magazine is 80 percent empty. So like the prudent motorist who doesn’t wait for the fuel gauge to hit E before gasing up, we try to insert the new strip before the stapler’s magazine is emptied.
Any way you attack the problem, you end up with orphans. If you take out the remnants of the old strip, they become lame-duck staples. If you try to insert the full strip, it won’t fit. If you break the strip in half, at least you end up with an intact fraction of an orphan strip, but it’s still an orphan.
There is only one solution to this less than earth-shattering problem. If you end up with bits and pieces of staples, toss them.
Submitted by Howard Labow of San Marcos, California.
Why Do Most Staplers Have a Setting to Bend Staples Outward?
The stapler manufacturers might have blanched when we suggested that their staplers weren’t large enough to accommodate a strip of staples, but they were well armed for this Imponderable. They get asked to solve this mystery often enough that Swingline put an answer on the FAQ (frequently asked questions) section of its Web site: