ODS by Fred

Fred přibližuje nerozhodným voličům partaj po partaji, začíná ODS:

ODS is an odd name for a political party. That’s because when you pronounce the initials in English, it comes out sounding like „odious“, which means Exciting or deserving hatred or repugnance.

Volební pornografie obrazem ZDE.

Vo co go?

Řekni mi vo co go… „Tell me what’s going on“ is a common enough phrase for speakers of all ages. In traditional Czech, you say „o co jde“. In modern Czechyou can now say „vo co go“. By replacing „(j)de“ with „go“ and adding a „v“ to the front of „o“, a new and attractive rhyme is created. So if you want to be hip (freekoolin?) you can try out this neologism.


Though one would think that education would be easy to translate into Czech, it’s not. Edukace sounds good, but it is in fact just stupid. I would have known this if I’d attended the Czech 101-class at the University of North Carolina, where they use SlovoDne as a teaching tool. Unfortunately, I remain as ignorant as ever, struggling along with my research associates at the local pub.


There is an undeniable wonderfulness in being with the one you love as they whisper in your ear, Yes, yes, yes. Unfortunately, the Czech word for yes is ano. Ano is often shortened to no, especially when one is excited. So take pity on us poor foreigners, lonely in a strange land, who finally find ourselves in an intimate situation, only to be told No, no, no.

Smažený květák

Not all Czech food is dangerously fat-laden and over spiced. Deep fried cauliflower is a real treat. Golden brown, hot and mild, it’s a perfect sping time meal. It’s not even too difficult to pronounce, which is always a plus considering ordering řízek can be so confusing for everyone involved. I just wonder, for the sake of linguistic and culinary flexibility, if one couldn’t make květinný smažák.


Sometimes, the worst Czech is that which is derived from English. For example, I’m rather fond of what at KFC is called a Twister. This is a flour tortilla wrapped around chicken bits with a bit of vegetable matter and majonaise squirted inside. Though it doesn’t sound so great, they’re quite tasty. The problem comes when it’s time to order more than one. It’s easy to say jeden twister prosím. As soon as it’s plural, this somehow turns to twistery. Can you say that? I cannot. Prosím, dvakrát twister is the best I can do, because when I try to put the plural endings together I end up involuntarily spitting at the clerk. Then he spits on my Twisters.

Today´s language breaking from Fredoteque.


Another English word to enter the Czech language in recent years is Mejkap (make up). In English, this is the whole category of things known also as cosmetics (kosmetika), or anything a person puts on their face to improve their appearance. In Czech, however, it seems to mean only the liquid or powder base spread on the face and then covered with still more stuff, such as blush. Well, no matter how you say it, I’ve got one good question for the manufacturers of this stuff. Why does it always taste so bad? I mean, you kiss a beautiful woman, and it’s like eating an oil slick. Can’t they make something that both looks and tastes good?


Although the literal translation of To bude oříšek is That will be a little nut, the meaning is equivalent to That’s a tough nut to crack. This is an expression that both languages have in common. Is it because early Englishmen and early Czechs both had difficulties opening nuts?