Memento mori = Don’t forget to die

Over at Mr Harvey’s place, to whom and all a happy Christmas.

One day I’ll explain how for certain folks “Vamos a comprar un pato” came to mean “Let’s get stoned out of our fricking tree,” but today is a day of joy, hope and peace, and so they may slumber on while I cook the bloody thing.

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This post pre-dates my organ-grinding days, and may be imported from elsewhere.

Anonymous corporate (1):

Barcelona (489):

English language (429):

Föcked Translation (413): I posted to a light-hearted blog called Fucked Translation over on Blogger from 2007 to 2016, when I was often in Barcelona. Its original subtitle was "What happens when Spanish institutions and businesses give translation contracts to relatives or to some guy in a bar who once went to London and only charges 0.05€/word." I never actually did much Spanish-English translation (most of my work is from Dutch, French and German) but I was intrigued and amused by the hubristic Spanish belief, then common, that nepotism and quality went hand in hand, and by the nemeses that inevitably followed.

Spain (503):

Spanish language (426):

Translation (463):


Conversation

  1. The burning bush was a watershed event I am waiting to see copied in this corner of the world.

    Meanwhile, as they say in German, everybody is cooking their own soup, and we're all condemned to taste the results.

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