To hospitable Parisians, the language of G.I. guests is more of a problem than it was in World War I. Last week Paris newspapers, tongue in cheek, offered what help they could. Resistance approached the matter deadpan and phonetically—when an American makes the sound spelled renigne ouâter, for example, he wants eau courante (running water). L’Aurore then went on to lecture its readers on American slang. Pointers (literally translated):
“Thus, mademoiselle, if the soldier whom you have invited to a surprise party asks you to go to cut up the carpet with him . . . don’t go look for your scissors, but understand that he wishes simply to ask you to dance some devilish swing. If he says to you that you are a cable of high tension . . . understand that you are full of life, and if he demands what you cook . . . he means only ‘How goes it?’ This is also what he is enquiring about concerning you, sir, if, qualifying you as his cousin, he enquires about your buzzing.
” ‘Jim does not cut some ice with me’ does not signify that Jim is a café waiter, but simply that he does not agreeably dumfound his friend.
“Finally, let it be permitted . . . to hope that if any boy in haste . . . may read this article he will not find it salted (corny), which would nowise mean that it is full of piquancy, but simply old stuff.”
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