I asked about the construction ‘tu me manque’ (‘I miss you’) and got some speedy and helpful answers.
I was confused because it looks like it means ‘You miss me’. I was thinking of when I learnt French at school, and I thought we learnt that to say ‘I need an X’ we should say ‘Je manque un X’, meaning something like ‘I lack an X’. It turns out that this is basically right, although there should be a ‘de’ in there too. This is the construction with ‘de’ + a direct object, and it means ‘to lack something’.
But there is also this other construction, used when you mean ‘to miss a person or place or thing’, in which the subject is the missed thing, and the person feeling the lack is the indirect object. ‘Me’ in ‘tu me manques’ is dative (= ‘to/from me’), not accusative (=’me’), and it means ‘you are missing from me’, as the gazillions of tumblr-language-romantics have pointed out.
It’s similar, I think, to the construction ‘me gusta X’ in Spanish, which means something like ‘X is pleasing to me’.
Never thought about these constructions in terms of datives before but now it makes so much sense.
![thedailywhat:
Best Word Ever of the Day: After overhearing nearby diners discuss the worst words ever (moist, etc.), blogger Ted McCagg was inspired to hold a March Madness-style contest to find The Best Word Ever — and diphthong ended up the champ. To which we say: Diphthong? Really? Hornswoggle should have won, hands-down.
[kottke]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_many0ugfqW1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
![superlinguo:
This is a wug.
And if there were two, there would be two ______
If you said wugs with the s sounding like /z/ rather than /s/ then congratulations! You have productive morphological capabilities. That is, when faced with a word you’ve never seen before, you were able to use your knowledge of how English works to figure out that -s is plural, and it’s voiced (z instead of s) after voiced consonants (such as g).
It’s not remarkable that an adult native speaker can do this, but when Jean Berko Gleason invented the wug for a test in 1958, she demonstrated that children can also do such things, and at a much younger age than was previously assumed.
Berko Gleason’s work is admired for its elegance and importance to the field, but many linguists are also fond of these little critters that she created. They’ve become something of a mascot for linguists, some get wug tattoos, and they appear on the International Linguistics Olympiad page.
They never fail to amuse me.
[Image is from McMaster Linguistics - a cached Geocities blog (how retro) but it’s originally from one of Berko Gleason’s papers]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma7h41drLw1qj0haoo1_500.jpg)
![vowelsme:
[via]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m0pipeynWO1r5twvgo1_500.jpg)

![superlinguo:
“holographic russian nesting dolls”
It would be nice to say that when it comes to naming linguistic phenomena things are a little more scientific than T-Rex suggested… but it isn’t really. There’s no official body for accepting and naming phenomena like there is for the periodic table (although, really, with names like Seaborguim and Ununhexium maybe they aren’t doing any better).
[Click image to get to more Dinosaur Comic goodness, or to make it bigger for reading]
Usually to name a linguistic phenomenon you have to come up with a name you have to come up with something good, and then share it with enough of your colleagues, and hope they accept it - so something of a more organic approval system. It doesn’t always take; one example that comes to mind is the ornative case used in George van Driem’s 1993 grammar of Dumi and then never again by anyone else that I’m aware of.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lw235gnO1t1qj0haoo1_500.png)