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5 definitions found
From The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48 [gcide]:
Saga \Sa"ga\ (s[=a]"g[.a]), n.; pl. {Sagas} (-g[.a]z). [Icel.,
akin to E. saw a saying. See {Say}, and cf. {Saw}.]
A Scandinavian legend, or heroic or mythic tradition, among
the Norsemen and kindred people; a northern European popular
historical or religious tale of olden time.
[1913 Webster]
And then the blue-eyed Norseman told
A saga of the days of old. --Longfellow.
[1913 Webster]
From The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48 [gcide]:
Sagum \Sa"gum\, n.; pl. {Saga}. [L. sagum, sagus; cf. Gr. ?. Cf.
{Say} a kind of serge.] (Rom. Antiq.)
The military cloak of the Roman soldiers.
[1913 Webster]
From WordNet (r) 2.0 [wn]:
saga
n : a narrative telling the adventures of a hero or a family;
originally (12th to 14th centuries) a story of the
families that settled Iceland and their descendants but
now any prose narrative that resembles such an account
From Jargon File (4.3.1, 29 Jun 2001) [jargon]:
saga n. [WPI] A cuspy but bogus raving story about N random broken
people.
Here is a classic example of the saga form, as told by Guy L. Steele:
Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates at MIT
for many years. One April, we both flew from Boston to California
for a week on research business, to consult face-to-face with some
people at Stanford, particularly our mutual friend Richard P.
Gabriel (RPG; see {gabriel}).
RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us back to
Palo Alto (going {logical} south on route 101, parallel to {El
Camino Bignum}). Palo Alto is adjacent to Stanford University and
about 40 miles south of San Francisco. We ate at The Good Earth,
a `health food' restaurant, very popular, the sort whose
milkshakes all contain honey and protein powder. JONL ordered
such a shake -- the waitress claimed the flavor of the day was
"lalaberry". I still have no idea what that might be, but it
became a running joke. It was the color of raspberry, and JONL
said it tasted rather bitter. I ate a better tostada there than I
have ever had in a Mexican restaurant.
After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned Ice
Cream Parlor. They make ice cream fresh daily, in a variety of
intriguing flavors. It's a chain, and they have a slogan: "If you
don't live near an Uncle Gaylord's -- MOVE!" Also, Uncle Gaylord
(a real person) wages a constant battle to force big-name ice
cream makers to print their ingredients on the package (like air
and plastic and other non-natural garbage). JONL and I had first
discovered Uncle Gaylord's the previous August, when we had flown
to a computer-science conference in Berkeley, California, the
first time either of us had been on the West Coast. When not in
the conference sessions, we had spent our time wandering the length
of Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in Cambridge) was
lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting little shops.
On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley store. The
ice cream there was very good. During that August visit JONL went
absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one particular flavor, ginger
honey.
Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth -- indeed, after every
lunch and dinner and before bed during our April visit -- a trip
to Uncle Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was mandatory. We had
arrived on a Wednesday, and by Thursday evening we had been there
at least four times. Each time, JONL would get ginger honey ice
cream, and proclaim to all bystanders that "Ginger was the spice
that drove the Europeans mad! That's why they sought a route to
the East! They used it to preserve their otherwise off-taste
meat." After the third or fourth repetition RPG and I were
getting a little tired of this spiel, and began to paraphrase him:
"Wow! Ginger! The spice that makes rotten meat taste good!"
"Say! Why don't we find some dog that's been run over and sat in
the sun for a week and put some _ginger_ on it for dinner?!"
"Right! With a lalaberry shake!" And so on. This failed to faze
JONL; he took it in good humor, as long as we kept returning to
Uncle Gaylord's. He loves ginger honey ice cream.
Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up
(putting up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank them
JONL and I took them out to a nice French restaurant of their
choosing. I unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and KBT had
je ne sais quoi du jour, but RPG and JONL had lapin (rabbit).
(Waitress: "Oui, we have fresh rabbit, fresh today." RPG: "Well,
JONL, I guess we won't need any _ginger_!")
We finished the meal late, about 11 P.M., which is 2 A.M Boston
time, so JONL and I were rather droopy. But it wasn't yet
midnight. Off to Uncle Gaylord's!
Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo Alto.
In leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101 going north
instead of south. JONL and I wouldn't have known the difference
had RPG not mentioned it. We still knew very little of the local
geography. I did figure out, however, that we were headed in the
direction of Berkeley, and half-jokingly suggested that we continue
north and go to Uncle Gaylord's in Berkeley.
RPG said "Fine!" and we drove on for a while and talked. I was
drowsy, and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5 minutes. When
he awoke, RPG said, "Gee, JONL, you must have slept all the way
over the bridge!", referring to the one spanning San Francisco
Bay. Just then we came to a sign that said "University Avenue".
I mumbled something about working our way over to Telegraph Avenue;
RPG said "Right!" and maneuvered some more. Eventually we pulled
up in front of an Uncle Gaylord's.
Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so sleepy,
and I didn't really understand what was happening until RPG let me
in on it a few moments later, but I was just alert enough to notice
that we had somehow come to the Palo Alto Uncle Gaylord's after
all.
JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but hadn't
caught on. (The place is lit with red and yellow lights at night,
and looks much different from the way it does in daylight.) He
said, "This isn't the Uncle Gaylord's I went to in Berkeley! It
looked like a barn! But this place looks _just like_ the one back
in Palo Alto!"
RPG deadpanned, "Well, this is the one _I_ always come to when I'm
in Berkeley. They've got two in San Francisco, too. Remember,
they're a chain."
JONL accepted this bit of wisdom. And he was not totally ignorant
-- he knew perfectly well that University Avenue was in Berkeley,
not far from Telegraph Avenue. What he didn't know was that there
is a completely different University Avenue in Palo Alto.
JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey. The guy at
the counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it first,
evidently their standard procedure with that flavor, as not too
many people like it.
JONL said, "I'm sure I like it. Just give me a cone." The guy
behind the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste first.
"Some people think it tastes like soap." JONL insisted, "Look, I
_love_ ginger. I eat Chinese food. I eat raw ginger roots. I
already went through this hassle with the guy back in Palo Alto.
I _know_ I like that flavor!"
At the words "back in Palo Alto" the guy behind the counter got a
very strange look on his face, but said nothing. KBT caught his
eye and winked. Through my stupor I still hadn't quite grasped
what was going on, and thought RPG was rolling on the floor
laughing and clutching his stomach just because JONL had launched
into his spiel ("makes rotten meat a dish for princes") for the
forty-third time. At this point, RPG clued me in fully.
RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our
chuckles. JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice cream
with the guy b.t.c., comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other ice cream
shops and generally having a good old time.
At length the g.b.t.c. said, "How's the ginger honey?" JONL said,
"Fine! I wonder what exactly is in it?" Now Uncle Gaylord
publishes all his recipes and even teaches classes on how to make
his ice cream at home. So the g.b.t.c. got out the recipe, and he
and JONL pored over it for a while. But the g.b.t.c. could
contain his curiosity no longer, and asked again, "You really like
that stuff, huh?" JONL said, "Yeah, I've been eating it
constantly back in Palo Alto for the past two days. In fact, I
think this batch is about as good as the cones I got back in Palo
Alto!"
G.b.t.c. looked him straight in the eye and said, "You're _in_
Palo Alto!"
JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in a
fit of giggles. He clapped a hand to his forehead and exclaimed,
"I've been hacked!"
[My spies on the West Coast inform me that there is a close relative
of the raspberry found out there called an `ollalieberry' --ESR]
[Ironic footnote: the {meme} about ginger vs. rotting meat is an urban
legend. It's not borne out by an examination of medieval recipes or
period purchase records for spices, and appears full-blown in the works
of Samuel Pegge, a gourmand and notorious flake case who originated
numerous food myths. The truth seems to be that ginger was used to cover
not rot but the extreme salt taste of meat packed in brine, which was
the best method available before refrigeration. --ESR]
From The Free On-line Dictionary of Computing (27 SEP 03) [foldoc]:
saga
(WPI) A {cuspy} but bogus raving story about N
{random} broken people.
Here is a classic example of the saga form, as told by {Guy
Steele} (GLS):
Jon L. White (login name JONL) and I (GLS) were office mates
at {MIT} for many years. One April, we both flew from Boston
to California for a week on research business, to consult
face-to-face with some people at {Stanford}, particularly our
mutual friend {Richard Gabriel} (RPG).
RPG picked us up at the San Francisco airport and drove us
back to {Palo Alto} (going {logical} south on route 101,
parallel to {El Camino Bignum}). Palo Alto is adjacent to
Stanford University and about 40 miles south of San Francisco.
We ate at The Good Earth, a "health food" restaurant, very
popular, the sort whose milkshakes all contain honey and
protein powder. JONL ordered such a shake - the waitress
claimed the flavour of the day was "lalaberry". I still have
no idea what that might be, but it became a running joke. It
was the colour of raspberry, and JONL said it tasted rather
bitter. I ate a better tostada there than I have ever had in
a Mexican restaurant.
After this we went to the local Uncle Gaylord's Old Fashioned
Ice Cream Parlor. They make ice cream fresh daily, in a
variety of intriguing flavours. It's a chain, and they have a
slogan: "If you don't live near an Uncle Gaylord's - MOVE!"
Also, Uncle Gaylord (a real person) wages a constant battle to
force big-name ice cream makers to print their ingredients on
the package (like air and plastic and other non-natural
garbage). JONL and I had first discovered Uncle Gaylord's the
previous August, when we had flown to a computer-science
conference in {Berkeley}, California, the first time either of
us had been on the West Coast. When not in the conference
sessions, we had spent our time wandering the length of
Telegraph Avenue, which (like Harvard Square in Cambridge) was
lined with picturesque street vendors and interesting little
shops. On that street we discovered Uncle Gaylord's Berkeley
store. The ice cream there was very good. During that August
visit JONL went absolutely bananas (so to speak) over one
particular flavour, ginger honey.
Therefore, after eating at The Good Earth - indeed, after
every lunch and dinner and before bed during our April visit
--- a trip to Uncle Gaylord's (the one in Palo Alto) was
mandatory. We had arrived on a Wednesday, and by Thursday
evening we had been there at least four times. Each time,
JONL would get ginger honey ice cream, and proclaim to all
bystanders that "Ginger was the spice that drove the Europeans
mad! That's why they sought a route to the East! They used
it to preserve their otherwise off-taste meat." After the
third or fourth repetition RPG and I were getting a little
tired of this spiel, and began to paraphrase him: "Wow!
Ginger! The spice that makes rotten meat taste good!" "Say!
Why don't we find some dog that's been run over and sat in the
sun for a week and put some *ginger* on it for dinner?!"
"Right! With a lalaberry shake!" And so on. This failed to
faze JONL; he took it in good humour, as long as we kept
returning to Uncle Gaylord's. He loves ginger honey ice
cream.
Now RPG and his then-wife KBT (Kathy Tracy) were putting us up
(putting up with us?) in their home for our visit, so to thank
them JONL and I took them out to a nice French restaurant of
their choosing. I unadventurously chose the filet mignon, and
KBT had je ne sais quoi du jour, but RPG and JONL had lapin
(rabbit). (Waitress: "Oui, we have fresh rabbit, fresh
today." RPG: "Well, JONL, I guess we won't need any
*ginger*!")
We finished the meal late, about 11 P.M., which is 2 A.M
Boston time, so JONL and I were rather droopy. But it wasn't
yet midnight. Off to Uncle Gaylord's!
Now the French restaurant was in Redwood City, north of Palo
Alto. In leaving Redwood City, we somehow got onto route 101
going north instead of south. JONL and I wouldn't have known
the difference had RPG not mentioned it. We still knew very
little of the local geography. I did figure out, however,
that we were headed in the direction of Berkeley, and
half-jokingly suggested that we continue north and go to Uncle
Gaylord's in Berkeley.
RPG said "Fine!" and we drove on for a while and talked. I
was drowsy, and JONL actually dropped off to sleep for 5
minutes. When he awoke, RPG said, "Gee, JONL, you must have
slept all the way over the bridge!", referring to the one
spanning San Francisco Bay. Just then we came to a sign that
said "University Avenue". I mumbled something about working
our way over to Telegraph Avenue; RPG said "Right!" and
maneuvered some more. Eventually we pulled up in front of an
Uncle Gaylord's.
Now, I hadn't really been paying attention because I was so
sleepy, and I didn't really understand what was happening
until RPG let me in on it a few moments later, but I was just
alert enough to notice that we had somehow come to the Palo
Alto Uncle Gaylord's after all.
JONL noticed the resemblance to the Palo Alto store, but
hadn't caught on. (The place is lit with red and yellow
lights at night, and looks much different from the way it does
in daylight.) He said, "This isn't the Uncle Gaylord's I went
to in Berkeley! It looked like a barn! But this place looks
*just like* the one back in Palo Alto!"
RPG deadpanned, "Well, this is the one *I* always come to when
I'm in Berkeley. They've got two in San Francisco, too.
Remember, they're a chain."
JONL accepted this bit of wisdom. And he was not totally
ignorant - he knew perfectly well that University Avenue was
in Berkeley, not far from Telegraph Avenue. What he didn't
know was that there is a completely different University
Avenue in Palo Alto.
JONL went up to the counter and asked for ginger honey. The
guy at the counter asked whether JONL would like to taste it
first, evidently their standard procedure with that flavour,
as not too many people like it.
JONL said, "I'm sure I like it. Just give me a cone." The
guy behind the counter insisted that JONL try just a taste
first. "Some people think it tastes like soap." JONL
insisted, "Look, I *love* ginger. I eat Chinese food. I eat
raw ginger roots. I already went through this hassle with the
guy back in Palo Alto. I *know* I like that flavour!"
At the words "back in Palo Alto" the guy behind the counter
got a very strange look on his face, but said nothing. KBT
caught his eye and winked. Through my stupor I still hadn't
quite grasped what was going on, and thought RPG was rolling
on the floor laughing and clutching his stomach just because
JONL had launched into his spiel ("makes rotten meat a dish
for princes") for the forty-third time. At this point, RPG
clued me in fully.
RPG, KBT, and I retreated to a table, trying to stifle our
chuckles. JONL remained at the counter, talking about ice
cream with the guy b.t.c., comparing Uncle Gaylord's to other
ice cream shops and generally having a good old time.
At length the g.b.t.c. said, "How's the ginger honey?" JONL
said, "Fine! I wonder what exactly is in it?" Now Uncle
Gaylord publishes all his recipes and even teaches classes on
how to make his ice cream at home. So the g.b.t.c. got out
the recipe, and he and JONL pored over it for a while. But
the g.b.t.c. could contain his curiosity no longer, and asked
again, "You really like that stuff, huh?" JONL said, "Yeah,
I've been eating it constantly back in Palo Alto for the past
two days. In fact, I think this batch is about as good as the
cones I got back in Palo Alto!"
G.b.t.c. looked him straight in the eye and said, "You're *in*
Palo Alto!"
JONL turned slowly around, and saw the three of us collapse in
a fit of giggles. He clapped a hand to his forehead and
exclaimed, "I've been hacked!"
[My spies on the West Coast inform me that there is a close
relative of the raspberry found out there called an
"ollalieberry" - ESR]
[Ironic footnote: it appears that the {meme} about ginger vs.
rotting meat may be an urban legend. It's not borne out by an
examination of mediaeval recipes or period purchase records
for spices, and appears full-blown in the works of Samuel
Pegge, a gourmand and notorious flake case who originated
numerous food myths. - ESR]
[{Jargon File}]
(1994-12-08)
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