bkswrites

Admissions test

In legal lingo, media laziness, political titles on June 9, 2017 at 4:32 am

Washington Post 6/8/17 evening edition: “In a remarkable admission, former FBI director James B. Comey testified he helped reveal details of his private conversations with President Trump because he thought doing so would spur the appointment of a special counsel to investigate the administration.”

I’ve heard the admit word used by others in reference to Comey’s testimony to the Senate Intelligence Committee, most notably, perhaps, by the attorney hired privately to speak about the testimony for Mr. Trump. I don’t wonder why Marc Kasowitz would use the word four times in a statement of 600 words (by CNN’s transcript), though I find a few of his charges overblown even by what little I know about the situation. I’ve always said, if I weren’t a writer, I’d be an attorney, because of the principle of precise use of language. But Comey is also an attorney, and when I read his prepared statement the night before his testimony, I did not see the word admit.

Of course, that’s only wise. To “admit” to something in a Senate hearing would be to self-incriminate. Isn’t that why Mike Flynn said he would “tell his story” only with a grant of immunity? But who would prosecute? Not the Senate itself. Perhaps the special prosecutor. But if Comey’s “admission” was that he provoked the appointment of the special prosecutor, that seems unlikely.

Kasowitz says he and his client will “leave it to … authorities” to determine whether Comey’s “leaks” constitute crimes. I’m certainly not qualified to make such a determination, but it appears the decision might hinge on the words classified and privileged.

Comey did use classified, but not privileged, as far as I could tell. He said that the January 6 meeting, at Trump Tower, was at the end of a routine intelligence-community briefing of a president elect. Well, the focus of the briefing on Russian interference in the election wasn’t routine. And it was to provide even more sensitive material — Comey called it “salacious” — that was more personal, for which Comey remained alone with Trump, although others knew of the material and agreed with him that the considerate thing to do was to inform Trump, and one on one.

Beyond the words salacious and personal, Comey did not disclose the content of his January 6 meeting with Trump. In his live testimony, I heard him say that he began documenting that meeting on a classified laptop because that was the resource he had brought along to the classified meeting. I have not understood that the memo remained on the classified laptop or was classified itself. And I have not heard any content I would call “salacious” unless it’s Comey’s report that, in a phone call initiated by Trump on March 30, Trump brought up “hookers.”

I’ve no idea where Kasowitz gets privileged. It could be that Trump thought he was invoking some kind of privilege by clearing the room for his conversations with Comey, but surely Kasowitz knows better. And as I understand it, any attempt to limit Comey’s disclosure under executive privilege was obviated by Trump’s firing him.

So what, in fact, did Comey “admit”? Perhaps he admitted to being a well-trained attorney, and a man who is accustomed to being responsible and accountable for his own career and oath to uphold and defend the Constitution, and admitted to finding himself with a man who is accustomed to either having someone at his elbow to create the record, or having his very presence dominate the interchange, unquestioned. I’m afraid there’s a lot more admitting yet to come, and not, probably, from John Comey.

I think I’d be more comfortable with some acknowledging, which doesn’t carry near the implication of culpability.

“This is unchartered territory.”

In compound expressions, eggcorns, thoughtless patterns on August 26, 2015 at 3:36 am

Gabe Sherman, National Affairs Editor, New York Magazine

 MSNBC 8/25 3:50-ish PM regarding Trump leading his followers away from Fox


No, he’s far from the only one to do this. And I doubt he’ll be the last one in the coming political circus, because it’s becoming a habit among more and more folks on the lookout for longer words to bolster their arguments. So what’s so wrong with it?

Mostly, it creates a dreadful mix of metaphors, robbing the second word of its significance. The original, uncharted territory, is clear and powerful. One pictures pilots of ships, reading the shoreline and the push and pull of currents, wondering about shallows that would be predictable if the cartographers had gotten there first. I never learned to read marine charts, but I love the look of them, with their underwater topographic curves. With the corruption, I’m afraid I lapse over into the Monty Python song about chartered accountants.

I generally prefer to address errors found in print, because you can be more sure someone had a chance to correct themselves. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one in writing. Maybe in the act of writing or typing two extra characters, the wrongness jumps out. I don’t understand, though, how it doesn’t register when the -r- in particular has to be pronounced. And today it was just a charter too far.

I’ve recently learned to call this particular kind of error an “eggcorn,” which gives it a category, but doesn’t make it grate any less.

“The Single Greatest Country in the World”

In comparatives, redundancy again, thoughtless patterns on January 28, 2016 at 9:49 pm

Marco Rubio campaign ad

So it’s the turn of the third-place scrambler, the one with the fully Hispanic name, and it’s about an English error so common few of my writeous colleagues even notice any more. But I can’t ignore it. This time there isn’t even anyplace to put the excess word.

A superlative like “greatest” is already singular. There is none greater. Often, the “single” is simply misplaced as in, say, “I’d like to thank the single largest donor to my campaign,” one among many. Australia could be the greatest single-country continent, but I don’t see any other way to get to a greatest single country.

There could be great things for a country to do alone — humanitarian achievements, support for the arts, peacemaking — but then we’d probably use words like “solo” or indeed, “alone,” and use identification of the nation to modify something like “effort” or “action.” That might be too specific for a campaign ad, or indeed for this campaign over all.

Come to think of it, there is one thing I like about Rubio’s double superlative: It celebrates the current greatness of the USA, instead of asserting some vague past and greater greatness to which we might return. That may be all Rubio and his writers wanted, to distinguish their campaign from that other one that has made greatness its watchword. And there certainly isn’t any more greatness to which yet another campaign might aspire.

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