Number 346 in a series of ¥.
It's one thing to mispronounce a word out of ignorance. It's quite another thing to mispronounce a word despite its spelling just because you're trying to appear urbane.
First off, let's tackle luxury cars. Jaguar/Ford offers a premium version of their XJ-series sedan called the Vanden Plas. For years I've been listening to TV and radio ads regaling me with the features and luxury of Jaguar/Ford's "vanden pla". This makes me want to slap somebody with a 2x4.
The folks selling the car are doing their damnedest to create an aura of sophistication around their car. Of course, the pinnacle of genteel sophistication has been utterly claimed by the French, at least according to provincial American bumpkins. If you're drinking expensive sparkling wine, it's probably French. If you're eating insanely expensive fungus or the liver of a tortured goose, it's probably French. All you have to do is add a "le" to the beginning of anything to improve its cachet (le car, le smegma). Just using a French word like "cachet" makes you appear more civilized to some folks. Well, the French are absolutely horrible at designing main battle rifles and cars, which adds a little irony here. Let's get to the bottom of this:
"Vanden Plas originated in Belgium, although the name derives from the Dutch, and to be grammatically correct should be expressed Van Der Plas."
(http://www.vpoc.org/History.htm)
So it is not French. This means the "s" is pronounced, just like it's spelled. If it were French, it would be pronounced "vahdeh pla" with the French nasal sound for the "ah" and "eh". So if anyone tries to impress you with their new "vanden pla", get to work with that 2X4.
Another example of Frenchified silliness is Avocet, a brand of bicycle accessory. Bicycling, especially the rarefied world of roadies, is a fertile ground for snobbery. The sport is quintessentially European. Heck, for a while there, when you bought a frameset, you had to worry about having French or Italian threads. Avocet the company takes its name from a graceful looking shorebird. Of course, the folks who don't know any better or who are insufferably pretentious pronounce the word "avosay". The word is English, from the French avocette from the Italian avocetta. Get that 2X4 ready.
Yes, dictionaries list these as accepted pronunciations for "huge" and "human", but it still drives me nuts.
With 50's-style computer noises in the background, William Shatner tells me that the Priceline.com computer is a modern miracle. It gets me the best price: my price.
What a steaming load of hogshit.
Priceline.com is one of the larger smoke and mirrors operations going on. The business model gives individual consumers the illusion of choice and self-determination. "You can name your own price" we're told. OK morons, I want to be able to fly to New Zealand for $5. I can name my price on the Priceline.com computer until I'm blue in the fingertips, but it's going to amount to squat. There's not an airline on the planet who wants to stay in business that's going to accept my price.
Essentially, Priceline.com is using the same business model as a Turkish carpet dealer. Say you're the carpet merchant. You know everything there is to know about carpets: styles, materials, construction, and pricing. Not one carpet in your shop carries a marked price. You dream of the day that some dumb tourist stumbles into your shop and falls in love with one of your carpets. He asks you how much the carpet costs. You ask the moke to name his own price. He offers $1500. You know that the carpet is only worth $500 on the open market and that you paid only $62.50. Trying to repress a gleeful smile, you make a moderate fuss and then take the dope's money. He's happy because he has his carpet. You're happy because the doofus just dropped his pants, bent over, spread his cheeks, and paid you a ridiculous premium for the privilege.
Priceline.com: one giant leap backwards.
Pakeha