#Pédagogie agressive : cette image ne passait pas car son #url comportait un accent... J’ai donc été obligé de l’effacer de mon Serveur, de la renommer correctement et, enfin, de la placer à nouveau... Tout ce travail car un ignare ignorait les règles de base du #code_internet. Alors, puisqu’il faut que j’y revienne : Puisqu’il faut le dire encore : Du « problème » des #accents. Et puis, les règles des espaces pour la #ponctuation...
Mentionné dans : Faut pas pousser Papy = ▻http://oxymoron-fractal.blogspot.fr/2016/07/faut-pas-pousser-papy.html
The Period, Our Simplest Punctuation Mark, Has Become a Sign of Anger
The period was always the humblest of punctuation marks. Recently, however, it’s started getting angry. I’ve noticed it in my text messages and online chats, where people use the period not simply to conclude a sentence, but to announce “I am not happy about the sentence I just concluded.”
Say you find yourself limping to the finish of a wearing workday. You text your girlfriend: “I know we made a reservation for your bday tonight but wouldn’t it be more romantic if we ate in instead?” If she replies,
we could do that
Then you can ring up Papa John’s and order something special. But if she replies,
we could do that.
Then you should probably drink a cup of coffee: You’re either going out or you’re eating Papa John’s alone.
This is an unlikely heel turn in linguistics. In most written language, the period is a neutral way to mark a pause or complete a thought; but digital communications are turning it into something more aggressive. “Not long ago, my 17-year-old son noted that many of my texts to him seemed excessively assertive or even harsh, because I routinely used a period at the end,” Mark Liberman, a professor of linguistics at the University of Pennsylvania, told me by email. How and why did the period get so pissed off?
Tiens, cette semaine j’ai appris que les américains utilisaient trois tirets : le court (hyphen), le moyen (en dash) et le long (em dash).
En dash se réfère à la largeur du N cap, em dash à la largeur du M cap.
Le tiret — d’incise.
Analyse genrée, conclusion indéterminée — bien pratique.
The problem with the dash—as you may have noticed!—is that it discourages truly efficient writing. It also—and this might be its worst sin—disrupts the flow of a sentence. Don’t you find it annoying—and you can tell me if you do, I won’t be hurt—when a writer inserts a thought into the midst of another one that’s not yet complete? Strunk and White—who must always be mentioned in articles such as this one—counsel against overusing the dash as well: “Use a dash only when a more common mark of punctuation seems inadequate.” Who are we, we modern writers, to pass judgment—and with such shocking frequency—on these more simple forms of punctuation—the workmanlike comma, the stalwart colon, the taken-for-granted period? (One colleague—arguing strenuously that certain occasions call for the dash instead of other punctuation, for purposes of tone—told me he thinks of the parenthesis as a whisper, and the dash as a way of calling attention to a phrase. As for what I think of his observation—well, consider how I have chosen to offset it.)
Shady Characters » The #Pilcrow, part 1
For all this quiet ubiquity, the pilcrow gets short shrift in typographic reference books. Take the trouble to look it up and it becomes apparent that in most cases the humble pilcrow warrants only a few lines, dismissed briskly as a “paragraph mark” (…) This is a crying shame. The pilcrow is not just some typographic curiosity, useful only for livening up a coffee-table book on graphic design or pointing the way to a paragraph in a mortgage deed, but a living, breathing character with its roots in the earliest days of punctuation.