I will explain a simple feature of human cadence.
We’re simple creatures. We like a da-DAH, da-DAH, da-DAH rhythm. Why? Because it’s our heartbeat. Simple. Elegant. A bassline accompaniment to everything we do. People who tell you they have no rhythm are either lying or vampires.
A pair of syllables (like da-DAH) that are unstressed-stressed is called an iamb. Most of English words and phrases fit this pattern; iamb followed by iambs followed by iambs. We stress the first syllable of a good chunk of words making up our language.
So when Lore Fitzgerald Sj�berg (yes, of the Shuttlecocks) remarked upon the eerie coincidence of posting his Twelve Actual AP Headlines Which, When Followed By ‘Doo-Dah, Doo-Dah,’ Can Be Sung To The Tune of ‘Camptown Races’ synchronous with the appearance of this article on writing catchy headlines, I checked the article out. The author seems to think he’s hit on some sort of miraculous discovery. I just shook my head and sighed.
It’s called iambic meter, folks. The best example of this is Shakespeare. Read this without stopping at the end of every line for breath, or without being overly dramatic. (That’s just wrong. Use the punctuation; that’s what it’s there for.)
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
(Hamlet, III.i, if you need to know.) See how it’s sort of sing-songy? The human ear likes that cadence; it’s familiar, and we like familiar things. I should actually go a step further and say that it’s the Western ear that likes that cadence, for I cannot state with any sort of authority that Oriental literature follows the same style as Occidental. (Incidentally, it’s the same with music. We like a nice balanced eight-note scale with proper intervals. Asian and Indian music is hard for some people to wrap their ears around because it doesn’t follow the same musical rules; their idea of what is aurally pleasing is completely different.) Anyway, if you remove the last three syllables (that would be a weak-strong-weak syllable sequence) from any of the first four lines I’ve quoted up there and replace it with “doo-dah, doo-dah”, you’d have the same phenomenon that the dork who wrote the news story discovered (the comma is a pause, replacing one of the beats in the musical line). Case in point:
“The SLINGS and ARrows OF outRAGE, DOO-dah, DOO-dah.”
You’re welcome.
You know, one of my friends called me from his copywriting job (not copyrighting; on the contrary, he likes to claim that the term “copyright infringement” was created for him) last week and said that I was his last hope for aid, having gone through other copywriters and English graduates of various levels. It was a question concerning the use of the terms “logistics systems” and “logistical systems”. I talked it through for him and he seemed impressed, saying, “That sounds like an actual rule!” “Rule?” I said. “No one’s ever taught me a rule about this. It just makes sense.” “Wait a minute,” he said, becoming slightly suspicious in an amused sort of way; “You’re using the Force on this one, aren’t you.” Heck, yes! Grammar is all about using the Force! It’s a feeling. It’s being aware of what you’ve seen used elsewhere, and knowing instinctively if it’s correct or not. It’s about scanning. (Not with a machine, to the ear.)
What’s wrong with using the Force anyway? Just because it’s a totally subjective matter that you have to take my word for and can’t quantify doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing…
Autumn: Jedi M.A. in English. Guardian of Peace, Justice, and the English Language within the Galaxy.
Okay, now I’m hungry. I’ve been awake for two and a half hours. It’s beginning to be light outside. This is just wrong.