Poka-yoke (ポカヨケ^?) (IPA: [poka joke]) is a Japanese term that means “fail-safing” or “mistake-proofing”. A poka-yoke is any mechanism in a Lean manufacturing process that helps an equipment operator avoid (yokeru) mistakes (poka). Its purpose is to eliminate product defects by preventing, correcting, or drawing attention to human errors as they occur. The concept was formalised, and the term adopted, by Shigeo Shingo as part of the Toyota Production System. [Wikipedia]

Peter Abilla offers a great new example of design that accommodates human frailty: Embeda, a newly FDA-approved pain-killer with

…an interesting property: If you take the medication as prescribed, it works fine; if you abuse the medication, it ceases to work.

…EMBEDA(TM) contains extended-release morphine pellets, each with an inner core of naltrexone hydrochloride, an opioid receptor antagonist. If taken as directed, the morphine relieves pain while the sequestered naltrexone hydrochloride passes through the body with no intended clinical effect. If EMBEDA(TM) is crushed or chewed, the naltrexone is released and absorbed with the morphine, reversing the morphine’s subjective and analgesic effects.

After all, if pain killers can’t relate to human weakness, what can?

illative: [adjective]

1. Of, relating to, or of the nature of an illation.
2. Expressing or preceding an inference. Used of a word.
3. Of, relating to, or being a grammatical case indicating motion toward or into in some languages, as in Finnish Helsinkiin, ”to Helsinki.”

(American Heritage Dictionary via Dictionary.com)This word also seen in Five Days in London: May 1940 by John Lukacs, in this context:

“Yet the immediate effect of these speeches [of Churchill’s] on the British people was limited. Their effect was cumulative (or, to use Cardinal Newman’s favorite adjective, illative).”

It’s an interesting use, since in this context, illative implies a significant effect produced by a prior accumulation of insignificant impacts, whereas the dictionary definition suggests a subtler manipulation.

rhodomontade: braggadocio: vain and empty boasting; vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, blustering talk. (Dictionary.com)Wow.Not just an unusual word, but one I don’t think I’ve ever even seen before. I came across it in the following context:

…now Halifax asked Churchill ‘to come out in the garden with him’ for a talk. Before that Halifax told Cadogan, ‘I can’t work with Winston any longer.’ Cadogan: ‘I said, “Nonsense: his rhodomontades probably bore you as much as they do me, but don’t do anything silly under the stress of that.”‘ (from Five Days in London: May 1940, page 153 by John Lukacs)

(Do you think Cadogan actually used the word “rhodomontades” in conversation?!)

Tergiversation: [1] equivocation: falsification by means of vague or ambiguous language, fickleness; [2] apostasy: the act of abandoning a something or someone, betrayal

Wow, I saw this used in a highly-charged letter — it would have to be a pretty sensitive subject to trigger use of such a word, I guess.

Did the author already know the word tergiversation prior to writing this letter, or did it show up in a thesaurus? If he knew it, why? And did he get all worked up just to create the context in which he could use the word (smarty pants)? Enquiring minds want to know.

Here’s something really interesting: Mike Volpe’s word clouds allow you to get a visual sense of the content of President Bush and President Obama’s inaugural speeches. Seen side-by-side, you get a feel for how they are similar — and different. (The size of the words is determined by the number of times it was used; larger words were used more frequently.)

I’m not going to share my personal interpretations, or my reactions to the most recent inaugural address. But I confess to being fascinated by the ideas it triggered, and these clouds add another thoughtful aspect to that contemplation.

[from A Marketing Blog and other stuff]

It’s cruel, but it must have provided some welcome humor during a frustrating drive. A great sign, posted by @caseywright.

The sign reads: “You’ll Never Get To Work On Time HaHa!!”

From the “Beyond Words” blog:

In 2004, the British Council asked this question to approximately 40,000 non-native English speakers in 46 different countries. According to the survey results, the top ten most beautiful English words from a non-native speaker’s perspective are:

mother
passion
smile
love
eternity
fantastic
destiny
freedom
liberty
tranquility

In a different kind of assessment, a distinguished lexicographer and the originator of the Reader’s Digest Column “It Pays to Enrich Your Word Power”, Wilfred Funk, compiled the following list of the most beautiful words of the English language:

asphodel
fawn
dawn
chalice
anemone
tranquil
hush
golden
halcyon
camellia
bobolink
thrush
chimes
murmuring
lullaby
luminous
damask
cerulean
melody
marigold
jonquil
oriole
tendril
myrrh
mignonette
gossamer
alysseum
mist
oleander

amaryllis

rosemary

Do you notice a difference between the lists? Unscientifically, it seems to me that the first list of Most Beautiful Words (the list chosen by non-native English speakers) is weighted more towards the meaning of the words, plus their overall strength or punch. The second list (from a professional word lover) is weighted more towards the “mouth feel” of the words (with an apparent bias for the “s” sound!), plus their romantic or nostalgic memories (although I can’t fathom the inclusion of “bobolink”…).

I find that difference really, really interesting. It kind of points to the meaning and nostalgia with which words become impregnated over time. The layers of implication that we build up over years of use, misuse, abuse of words. Fascinating.

Elchanan sent me the following story:

LONDON (AFP) — Officials in Wales mistakenly erected a road sign that read “I am not in the office at the moment” in Welsh after a translation mix-up.

The sign originally said in English, “No entry for heavy goods vehicles. Residential site only,” but when Swansea Council officials sent it to be translated, they received an automated e-mail written in Welsh that read: “I am not in the office at the moment. Please send any work to be translated.”

Unaware of the actual meaning of the e-mail, officials had the sign printed and put up near a supermarket, only realising their mistake when Welsh speakers pointed it out.

All road signs in Wales are required to be written in English and Welsh.

“Our attention was drawn to the mistranslation of a sign at the junction of Clase Road and Pant-y-Blawd Road,” a Swansea Council spokesman said.

“We took it down as soon as we were made aware of it and a correct sign will be installed as soon as possible.”

I think part of what makes silly or erroneous signs so funny is their official-ness: a printed sign has an authority and seriousness that we learn to obey from a very young age. An error on an official sign is like a policeman with a button open — a humanity and vulnerability is revealed unexpectedly and inappropriately.

Reminds one of the well-publicized story of a Chinese restaurant’s English sign, posted specially for the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing:

[Images via Neonascent]

© Tevfik Ozakat | Dreamstime.com

You know those awkward moments where you don’t know whether it’s better to say something or just to keep your mouth shut? Like when someone is walking around in their best suit, dragging a bit of tissue on the sole of their shoe. Or giving a presentation with a button open.

On the one hand, if you inform your hapless acquaintance, you will spare him a lot of future embarrassment — but at the cost of being the agent of humiliation. On the other hand, if you say nothing, you can pretend you haven’t noticed anything, but eventually the guy will realize what has happened, along with everyone else he has met that day since talking to you.

What do you do?

I received an email today from a business contact with whom I am barely acquainted. His automatic email signature misspelled his first, last, and company names. His first name is now that of a wild animal; his last name sounds like the evil scientist in a kids’ sci-fi flick; and his company has just changed cultural allegiances.

These are worse than ordinary typos, of course: they are embedded in the footer that goes to every email correspondent. Sigh.

Should I say anything?

If you’ve read this blog before, then you know that my favorite thing about words is how the sound, overt meaning, implied meaning, personal use history and spelling all work together to create an experience of a word, something I celebrate from time to time with “Word of the Day”.

One of the things that I love about words is the way they not only provide a window on our thoughts, they can actually shape our thoughts. There are startling uses of this (hypnotism, suggestion), and controlling uses (advertising, propaganda), of course.

But there’s another commonplace use of words that really intrigues me: the use of internal conversation to influence emotional response. In psychology this power is used to “reframe”, to intentionally use words to encourage one’s attitude to a situation (”How will eating this donut help me with my diet?” instead of “But I want it so badly!”).

It seems to me that inner-conversation has the power to put the rational or logical part of our thinking in control over the emotional or irrational reactions. This is a mighty weapon, and an underused one.

Lately, I’ve seen a number of studies demonstrating the power of inner conversation, for better and for worse. For example, talking about an experience soon after it occurs tends to blunt or dull the emotional reaction to it — thus negative experiences are felt less awfully if you speak (or write) them out, but positive experiences lose their sharpness similarly.

Is the effect of immediate verbalization on event memory (people are more liable to remember an event incorrectly when they speak about it soon after it occurs) related to the emotional blunting? Or is this completely different?

Does reliance on menuing systems for mobile operating system functions contain within itself the seeds of emotional distance and reduced learning capacity? (More on this to come…) Ouch.