The Case of the Missing Pi Day 4s

Yesterday was Pi Day, 3/14 (those who prefer days before months can have Pi Approximation Day, 22/7) and in celebration of this momentous annual event, I invited several of my American colleagues (who have learned to tolerate my numerical eccentricities) over to my house in Canada for an International Pi Day Pie Party, which was a great success.  And, of course, as befitting this event, we had Pie, complete with Pi (to two decimal places) on top:

It's blueberry!So far, so good.  (And for the record, it was very good).  There was only one problem: the local dollar store I went into had a very odd distribution of candle numerals: it had tons and tons of 0, 1, 2, and 9, some 3s, but no 4s, 5s, 6s, 7s, or 8s.  As a professional numbers guy, and also as a guy who needed a 4 for his pi(e), this was deeply disconcerting.

After a moment, I figured out why. Ordinarily, when stores buy products that come in different varieties from wholesalers, the default is to order the same amount of each variety.   In this case, the store had obviously ordered an equal amount of each numeral, but they were being purchased by consumers at different rates.    Now, there is nothing about the properties of the natural numbers that would lead to this observed distribution (if it were Benford’s Law in action, it would be 1 and 2 that would be in short supply). Rather, the explanation is a social one:   Many parents do not buy birthday candles for their child’s first, second, or third birthday, because, while, as my (thankfully childless) brother noted, “Babies love fire!”, parents of toddlers do not.    At the other end, by the time your kid is about 9, and certainly by the double digits, they’ve probably outgrown the ‘giant novelty numeral candle’ phase of their lives.  Ages 4-8 are the sweet spot, and thus these sell out much more quickly.

I also note that, for adults, decadal birthdays like 20 and 30 tend not to attract much numerological attention, whereas 40, 50, and 60 certainly do (not so sure about 70 and 80), and by 90 most of the clientele is deceased.    This doesn’t explain why there were so many 0s available – perhaps purchasers are aware of this phenomenon and order extra zeroes, but don’t take account of differential demand for the tens digits.

Now, if we lived in a perfect world where suppliers and store owners had full information about their stock and made perfectly rational decisions, purchasers would notice such discrepancies and perhaps order more of the missing numerals.  The local dollar store, however, does not occupy such a world.  Fortunately, this being Windsor, Ontario, there was another dollar store across the street, and while it also had a skewed distribution, lo and behold, it did have one lonesome 4 for purchase (seen above).   Thus my Friday Pi Day pi display supply foray was saved.  Yay! (Try saying that in Pig Latin.)

Actually, this is not the first time I had encountered this phenomenon.  Back in 2008, when American gas prices first regularly began to hit $4.00 a gallon, the New York Times reported on, of all things, a shortage of numeral 4s, because their number sets were purchased with an equal distribution across all ten digits (presumably with extra 2s and 3s purchased individually to deal with those dollar amounts).  Once that leading digit got to 4, there was a temporary shortage, leading to some store owners writing their own makeshift 4s until new ones could arrive.

Thus, while we think of linguistic and symbolic resources like numerals as being effectively infinite, in contexts like these, you can indeed have shortages and surpluses.   Thankfully, now that we’re on to the Ides of March and our Pi Day shortage is dealt with for another year, I can store these candles for future use, if I want.  The pie, on the other hand, has gone to a better place.  Because, while you may sometimes need to ration your fours, let’s hope we never live in a world where we have to ration pie.

What’s so improper about fractions?

Yesterday, as part of the Wayne State Humanities Center brownbag series, I gave a talk entitled, “What’s so improper about fractions? Mathematical prescriptivism at Math Corps”, based on my long-term ethnographic research in Detroit.   For those of you who might be interested, you can watch the video below (or on Youtube itself), and the powerpoint is available for download here.

Help ignite the Schwa Fire

A really exciting new digital initiative in linguistics journalism is on the horizon: Schwa Fire.    It’s the brainchild of Michael Erard, a Ph.D. in linguistics and a superlative science writer.  Erard is seeking to fill the gap between the language blogs (of which you’re currently reading one), where content is relatively short and the authors unpaid, and the literary and intellectual magazines like the New Yorker, where there are occasionally linguistic essays of some importance, but not nearly often enough or in enough detail.  Schwa Fire will be a low-cost ($1.99) ad-free digital magazine available on the web and for mobile devices featuring important ideas from people from across the linguistic sciences.

Erard is currently running a major Kickstarter initiative to get his project off the ground, and is over halfway to his $25,000 goal.  I supported it today and I would encourage others with an interest in seeing high-quality, long-form, language-related on-line non-fiction (perhaps with not so many hyphens) to do so as well.

A hithertofore unrecognized neologism

I got a note last week from a correspondent asking me about the word hithertofore, and whether or not it was a ‘proper word’.  I have to admit that at first glance I was very surprised, because of course it was a perfectly good word, and one whose meaning I knew well.   But when the correspondent said that she’d looked around and hadn’t found it, I looked at it again and realized that of course it wasn’t a word.  Or was it?

English has two words with a distinctly archaic flavour that mean ‘up to the present time’, hitherto and heretofore.    These synonyms also start with the same letter, are compounds containing to, and to top it all off, hither and here are also synonyms, so it’s not even semantically odd.   Neither word is especially common, and as you can see from this Ngram, hitherto and heretofore are really quite rare and becoming rarer.    It’s hardly surprising, then, that some speakers and readers might blend these two. Whether we think of it as adding -fore to hitherto, or substituting hither for here in heretofore, doesn’t much matter, as the result is the same, hithertofore.

What should perhaps be more surprising is that hithertofore hasn’t hithertofore been included in any dictionary, not even with a usage note.   It’s not hard to find in use in printed books; Google Books claims 67,500 works containing it (although that number is probably inaccurate) in lots of different genres.  There are plenty of words in big unabridged dictionaries that are far less common than that.   I’ve found it going back at least as far as 1708, and I didn’t have to look very hard. While it seems at a glance that a higher than average proportion of these works are authored by non-native English speakers, I also would argue that one has to be relatively fluent to even make such an error, conflating two already-unusual words.

Note, though, that its Ngram, rather than slowly declining from the 19th century until today like those of its two constituents, shows it to be largely a product of the mid-20th century, peaking around 1970.  This suggests, firstly, that perhaps it was at its most popular when its two constituents had declined enough in frequency that they had fallen out of regular use (and were thus prone to confusion), but were still common enough to be intermixed.   It hit its sweet spot half a century ago, but now the two well-accepted words themselves are falling out of use in favour of previously  or other terms, so hithertofore may actually have lost its chance to become another widely used variant (even at its most popular, it was less than 1% as frequent as heretofore).    I still think it’s a neat example of the way that memory, meaning, and phonology can lead to the appearance of nearly-invisible blends, and given that it is a relatively common error, it could probably use some lexicographical attention.

 

 

‘False friend’ follies

Last week in my class, we were discussing loanwords as well as semantic change.    You couldn’t ask for a more perfect (although bothersome) news story incorporating these two aspects of linguistic change than this story about a  bilingual promotional campaign in Canada for Vitaminwater, in which random English and French words were paired on the bottom of drink caps.  But it all went horribly wrong when under one cap, the English word ‘you’ was combined with the French word ‘retard’ for ‘late’, as detailed in this article in the Province , and was then found by an Alberta family.   Another cap had the perfectly ordinary French word douche ‘shower’.  Coca-Cola (the parent company) has apologized profusely and cancelled the promotion (to its credit), and has said it was all a coincidence gone awry, although I still wonder whether it could be a rogue employee’s doing.

Learners of second languages are often warned to beware of ‘false friends’ – words that look like English words but in fact, in the other language, have a radically different meaning.  Obviously ‘retard’ has a very specific and highly offensive meaning for most English speakers.   But I’m a little surprised that, in the coverage of this story, there hasn’t been really any mention of the fact that ‘retard’ (with second-syllable stress) is not just a French word meaning ‘late’, but an English verb that, until recently at least, was in common use as a synonym for ‘delay’.     Of course, these days the offensive connotation means that the verb ‘to retard’ is becoming increasingly rare, although it’s not hard to find plenty of examples from recent news articles.     There is not a massive protest every time someone uses this verb in the customary way.   This leads me to conclude that in fact, the real troublemaking word on the bottlecap is not ‘retard’ at all, but rather, ‘you’, which immediately turns the following word from … whatever it was, in English or French … into an insult.  If the English word had been ‘kumquat’, I do not know whether we’d even have heard about this.