One of my longstanding usage questions answered

I've been puzzled over the last ten years or so by the rise of the phrase "I am wanting to" in spoken English.

Maybe I just wasn't listening closely when in the 80's and 90's, but I don't recall people saying that. For example, "I am wanting to go to the Bears game."

I try to adhere to proper usage when possible (as I recall from one episode of 30 Rock, Liz asks Jack why he's wearing a tuxedo, and Jack replies, "It's after six, what am I, a farmer?"). But I no longer correct people when they misspeak. For example, if they say "literally" but they don't mean it, or if they say "I could care less" when it's clear that they couldn't. No one likes a usage scold, and where do you draw the line? Should I be berating guys in the men's room who don't wash their hands, or counseling people not to smoke for health reasons? At some point, I trust adults to know better.

But hearing people say "I am wanting to" hits my brain with visceral discordance. It sounds so odd, even grotesque. How did it come into being? Was it once acceptable usage, back from banishment? Language has evolved quite a bit if you look at broad time periods, and so usage we once found perfectly normal, like the passival tense, now sounds like the type of error made by someone for whom English is a second or third language.

Perhaps it was just a way of softening the expression. Sometimes you want something, other times you want it, but to a lesser degree, so you're wanting it. Still sounds wrong, but perhaps that's how it arose.

I tried finding a definitive answer to the question online but couldn't, so I decided to send a tweet to my usage idol, Bryan Garner, author of my usage Bible, Garner's Modern American Usage. I revere this book so much I own three editions of it, and going to grab the link just now I realized there's now a Kindle edition, so I will probably own that version also by the time I've finished writing this post.

I asked Garner:

Can you comment on the usage of the awkward sounding phrase "I am wanting to"? When, if ever, is it preferable to "I want to"?

Garner responded:

Never.

So there you have it.

I'm still curious to hear the story of the rise of this phrase in spoken English (a quick peek at Google n-gram viewer indicates low usage in books over the years). Perhaps someone will do that sleuthing someday.

Regardless, from now on, if you say to me, "Literally, I want to eat a person, I could care less what everyone thinks." I will cringe, but I'll bite my tongue.

But if you say, "Literally, I am wanting to eat a person, I could care less what everyone thinks." We'll have words. If you want to eat a person, stand behind that feeling, don't soften it with such a feeble construction.

James Bond's most advanced gadget: his suit

Vulture interviewed a tailor to see how James Bond can fight in those suits.

As one of those trademark moments of levity that we love in the Bond franchise, I wish they'd had Ben Whishaw's Q explaining some of this sartorial technology to Daniel Craig's James Bond instead of all that discussion of the Walter PPK. Craig's signature piece of gear, his most important and symbolically potent totem, is his tuxedo.

In Casino Royale they had Le Schiffre strapping a naked Bond to a bottomless chair and assaulting his family jewels with a sling, like David trying to fell Goliath, to which Bond replied with cackles (through his tears). In Skyfall, we saw Javier Bardem's sexually ambiguous Silva running his hands slowly up Bond's thighs, to which Bond replied with a quip and a sly grin. So we know this Bond doesn't mind a bit of humor centered around his groin.

So the tailor's explanation, in that interview, of why Bond's pants would have to have such a high and tight crotch seems like a match made in heaven for this Bond incarnation.

Q PULLS UP ON BOND'S TUXEDO TROUSERS HARD. BOND WINCES.

BOND: Easy there, love. Some of us need to leave room there to hold a...substantial firearm.

Q: Oh believe me double O seven, I've heard enough stories about your weapon of choice. But if you plan to do any running and kicking this evening, and you want a slim-fitting trouser, we'll have to raise the London Bridge as high as it will go, if you catch my fancy. And you do want a slim cut, do you not? We wouldn't want you representing Her Majesty in baggy trousers, now would we?

Q TUGS UP AGAIN, HARD. BOND EXHALES AUDIBLY. Q CINCHES THE SIDE ADJUSTERS ON THE TROUSERS, THEN STANDS AND GIVES BOND A GENTLE PAT ON THE BACK.

Q: Now then, ready for action. And if you're planning on any action tonight, I suggest you keep those trousers where they are.

BOND: The only action I'm planning will require just the opposite.

JUDI DENCH'S M, STANDING OFF TO THE SIDE, ROLLS HER EYES.

Barbara Broccoli I am WAITING FOR YOUR CALL.

The 5¢ Coke pricing mystery

One of my favorite podcasts, which Ken turned me on to, is NPR's Planet Money. I enjoy some long-form podcasts, with episodes approaching two hours at times, but ones like Planet Money are more listener friendly for being concise (you can listen to one in a short commute on foot) and crisply produced and edited, more like edited news segments than audio transcripts of talk radio.

One great recent episode was Why Coke Cost a Nickel for 70 Years. The story of why Coke cost a nickel for the first 70 years after it was made is more interesting than you'd suspect. I won't ruin it for you, go take a listen (or you can read the text summary, but it's only 4:34 long, and in this case, listening to the story conveyed verbally is like hearing a good story around the campfire, a tradition some of the best podcasts have helped to sustain in this high speed scanning/parsing web environment; it's the web's storytelling version of the slow food movement).

The Lance Armstrong affair post-mortem part 1

I'm still not all the way through the USADA report on Lance Armstrong. It's old news by this point to most people, especially as most Americans only followed cycling for the years Armstrong was relevant.

This won't be my moral judgment on the whole affair, and anyhow that's probably the least interesting information I could offer up at this point given that most people have already affiliated themselves on one side or the other of the argument.

I did want to highlight, though, some more broadly interesting bits of the USADA report and Tyler Hamilton's tell-all book The Secret Race for those who didn't bother with them.

First of note, and I must confess to feeling deep guilt for being fascinated by this material, are some of the emails between some of the players in this affair. For example, here's an email exchange between Armstrong and then teammate Frankie Andreu from Andreu's wife Betty Andreu's affidavit (PDF). It won't take long to read, go ahead and power through it, and then come back.

Amazing, right? I don't mean amazing in the sense of inspiring (for example, in the sense of giving hope to millions of cancer patients). I mean amazing in the sense of how deeply trivial the whole argument seems and yet how heated it becomes, in the very real way that friendships and relationships often fracture in the real world. To be honest, it's a bit of a coincidence that this bickering email exchange is even included in the USADA report as it's only tangentially related to doping (and then only in the sense of demonstrating the retaliatory environment Lance threatened team members with, or at least that's the guess on the part of me with my zero law degrees).

I already have a deep fascination of this entire form, the emotional battle fought via email. A close variant are professional coaches or players who complain about each other to reporters instead of to each other. Or friends who bicker via text messages. These are all extreme forms of passive aggression, and passive aggressive people are both cowardly and riveting.

When I read these emails I picture people pounding away at their keyboards, faces constricted with anger. The same anonymity shield that enables trolling has enabled an entire class of passive aggressive warfare the likes of which the world has never seen.

If you ever planned to send an email like this, my advice is to not do it. Or if you write the email, don't send it. Keep it there, memorize it, then go find the person and speak to them in person, using your email as an outline. It will be far more productive, you will likely strip some of the most cruel attacks way down when speaking in person, and some time later you'll read the email, find it shockingly melodramatic, and delete it. Having been in the business world for a while now, I'm often convinced that half of becoming a senior leader in a company is learning to shed away layers of passive aggression.

But if you can't help yourself and must hide behind the technological veil of email, then at least lob grenades on topics of enough public interest that these emails surface to the public so we can enjoy hours of juicy textual soap opera magic.

The Andreu - Armstrong email exchange is interesting because two years later, Armstrong and Andreu have a more tender email exchange (PDF), with Armstrong prodding Andreu to return to racing.

Many of the emails are intriguing not for the nuggets about doping but for all the other human interaction that just happen to be packed into the email around them. For example, this email from Christian Vande Velde to Frankie Andreu (PDF) has only the briefest relevance to the doping case (It mentions "You'd be find for a day under the proper care of Louis" which is a one-line reference to Luis del Moral, a Spanish doctor among the central figures in the doping investigation). Surrounding it is a friendly check-in email that conveys much about rider psychology and the particular fabric of male camaraderie among the team, in the way that old letter exchanges between Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning tell us so much about the nature of not just their romance but all romances and great loves of their age.

Here is another rich transcript, this one an IM exchange between Frankie Andreu and Jonathan Vaughters, discussing their feelings about Lance's doping program. It's a riveting exchange, indicative of how much everyone inside cycling knew about how the doping worked, down to specific details, and how Andreu and Vaughters felt about Armstrong (as with most people not in Armstrong's inner circle, they thought he was an asshole), but even more remarkable to me in some ways is the sheer length of the exchange. I text a fair bit, but I have never had a single text message exchange of this duration. You can feel the intensity of emotion from Andreu and Vaughters rising off of these short bursts of text from this traditionally concise communication medium. Vaughters sense of guilt and remorse is palpable, and it makes his op-ed in the NYTimes  many years later (published in August this year) feel like the closing of a loop.

Today we collect and republish remarkable letters from years past at sites like Letters of Note. But for modern communication, we're not waiting. We have sites like HeTexted and Texts From Last Night commemorating communications in near real-time for public dissection. I hope we have sites in the future that publish email exchanges as well. It's the dominant long-form communication method of this age, and in so many ways it's the richest documentation of human interaction, especially within tech companies where it's the dominant communication medium.

I had an idea for a series of books documenting tech company histories comprised entirely of just emails sent to and from employees of that company. Maybe the series would be titled 1001 emails, and each book in the series would look at a different company, like Amazon, Google, Microsoft, Apple, Facebook, etc. It will probably never happen given how secretive tech companies are, but that would be amazing, wouldn't it?

Until then, if you're just mildly interested in the Lance Armstrong case, I suggest the exchanges linked above, and if you want to dive in deeper, Appendix A (at the top of the page here) holds the majority of the most readable, general interest material. We may not get our hagiographic Lance Armstrong biopic starring Matt Damon anymore, but in this material is in some ways a richer vein of human drama.

Using coolness to age breakthrough technology

From a recap of a Neil deGrasse Tyson talk:

Tyson’s theory is that technology retains its coolness factor so long as it remains best-in-class. Therefore, whenever the coolest objects in a particular technology are decades old, that’s an immediate notice that we have essentially abandoned that technology. 

It's a simple but still appealing theory, that coolness can be used as a way of carbon-dating timeless and breakthrough technology and also to see which sectors we've abandoned.

The tech gadget I owned that elicited the most adoring throngs of people when I first purchased it is still the first iPhone. To me, no product embodies all that the modern Apple is about than that first iPhone. I wish I hadn't lost mine.