Does anyone do the viz anymore?

BERNIE’S Best Bet - our fun Twitter tipping service – selects Dash for Viz at lovely Flemington racetrack in Melbourne today.

Dash for Viz is a a 5-year-old gelding by Dash for Cash out of Miss Academic.

The horse is splendidly named, as Dash for Viz  meets the sublime naming criterion of reflecting the monikers of sire and dam.

Viz dashes

Dash for Viz is by the mare Miss Academic and the name reminds me of my days in halls of higher learning.

Academics would dash towards a Latin phrase or word when an English equivalent just would not do. Latin abbreviations were gold.

Entering university, I had barely come to terms with Agatha Christie’s pesky Belgian detective Hercule Poirot and his annoying habit of peppering his speech with French mots. Incroyable!

Reading academic texts, I now had to grapple with a new set of odd expressions, viz words such as viz.

The word crept into the English language in the 16^th century.

Viz is the abbreviation of the Latin word videlicit, which means ”namely’’.

The British hoi-poloi long ago punted viz from their everyday lingo. This was as good a reason as any for the academics to hang on to it as a mark of respect for their esoteric knowledge.
            You may recall some of the other favourite Latin shorts: ibid, op cit, et al.

The academics when citing some of their fellow travellers would list authors in the fashion of Dot Kansas, Red Ragger et al.

Et al stood for “and others”. I always wondered if this was done to save space or to tell the reader the als were not of any importance. I would have been offended if I was an al.

Contemporary uni students should be able to tell us whether academics do viz anymore. If the academics have ditched it, we commoners should consider reclaiming it.

‘I am having lunch with the girls today, viz Trudy, Judy, Lucy and Pippa.'

Or ‘I’m having lunch with the girls today, viz smoked salmon and mango jus.’

There is nothing wrong with a dash for viz, as long as we do not all do it at once.

Here is our celebratory song to complement the name Miss Academic

SCHOOL SONG

An apostrophe a semicolon and a hyphen walk into a bar

STAND-UP comedian Lenny Bruce would read transcripts of his obscenity trials towards the end of his career. It was embarrassing rather than funny. Literary jokes are thin in the air.

“J. K. Rowling is writing a contemporary adult novel; what’s that all about?” is not in the comedic handbook as the intro to a gig. Yet, with so many funny books out there, the world of literature should be a fertile field of frivolity.

Let us see if we can create a few immortal literary jokes – even a few timely ones will do.

This one is supposedly true though I have embellished it to a joke format. American artist James Whistler is holding a dinner party in London in honour of his mother Anna. Among the guests are French writer Guy du Maupassant and Irishman Oscar Wilde. Du Maupassant delivers a bon mot before dessert. “I wish I said that,’’ Oscar Wilde says. Whistler replies, “You will Oscar. You will.”

A very old man knocks on heaven’s doors. From the other side St Peter growls, “We’re closed; come back tomorrow.’’ The old man wearily protests he has been looking everywhere for his son. St Peter asks what is his son’s name. The old man replies, “I don’t know what name he goes by now but he has nails in his hands and his feet. The gates open wide as St Peter says, “Jesus, get out here, someone to see you.” Jesus rushes out to embrace the old man. “Father,” he says.  The old man warmly returns the embrace. “Pinocchio,” he says.

An apostrophe, a semicolon and a hyphen walk into a bar. That is all I have.

How does this joke end? You tell me. Send me the ending or a literary joke you know. Respond here or email bentbananabooks@gmail.com Your joke will be available for publication, so please supply a name of some sort.

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