In my ongoing quest to understand the world around me, I recently discovered the power and insight offered by anagrams. Originally requiring hours of head-scratching bafflement to solve, I can now figure out anagrams within seconds thanks to the several handy tools on the Web. These so-called anagram solvers are provided free of charge by such kind people as Andy of Andyıs Anagram Solver (www.ssynth.co.uk/~gay/anagott.html) and Anu Garg who provides the Internet Anagram Server (www.wordsmith.org/anagram/index.shtml). Better than playing albums backward to hear subliminal messages, better than watching "The Wizard of Oz" while listening to Pink Floyd, and better even than trying the ancient art of reading tea leaves, anagrams offer undeniable insight into the driving forces of our world.
An anagram, as defined by the American Heritage Dictionary, third edition, is "a word or phrase formed by reordering the letters of another word or phrase, such as satin to stain." So for example, if you rearrange the letters in "ice cream," you suddenly have a "crime ace" on your hands. Take the "insanity plea" and you get a "felony pianist" (not a bad deal). Go so far as to call yourself "generous" and youıre actually an "ego nurse." If you turn the analytical eye to our industry in particular, the results are insightful but often downright eerie.
When I started with DBMS magazine, I was shocked to discover that its very same letters can be rearranged to make "gas biz madmen" (though not enough letters to provide the more politically correct "madpeople"). My displeasure only worsened when I discovered that our focus, database, spells out "bad as tea" (any avid tea drinker will understand my plight). Imagine my dismay when I saw that DBMSıs parent company, Miller Freeman, contains the same elements as "Riflemen Realm." Thereıs a sign prohibiting handguns in our office, but it says nothing about rifles. Or does it? Note to self: Check sign next time I leave building.
I next examined some of the more common terms, starting with the business intelligence arena. (Business intelligence gives you a nearly perfect "bestselling en cuisine.") If youıre fond of military references, youıll be glad to know that data warehouse offers "a warhead into us" and "a seaward ho unit" ı or you could just settle for "our waste ahead." Meanwhile data mart is "a mad tart," but data mining is "a giant mind." The coup de grace comes with online analytical processing, which gives us "politely canonical angriness," "insanely antic ponce gorillas," or "so replying as in cancellation."
In the Web/OLTP arena, online transaction processing reveals "crass, clean, intolerant poisoning," while electronic commerce takes on the rather self-centered "me me or eclectic corn." Applet fittingly becomes a "lap pet," while the Java Virtual Machine may actually be nothing more than a "vain, cavalier jam hut." Most frightening of all, Java database connectivity is actually an "adjective vacation by Satan."
Vendor names do not fare well either under anagrammatic scrutiny. Oracle, for example, spells out Lo Care. The name for our friends up in Redmond can be rearranged to spell Firm Scoot or Comfort Is. The most unfortunate anagram came from Informix, which spells Minor Fix and Infirm Ox. (Out of respect for the company, I refuse to comment further on this one.) Sybase, if you add Incorporated to the mix, brings you "a descriptor soybean." Sun Microsystems becomes "censor Miss Musty" (whoever she is), while Symantec sits by the sidelines overpowered with "yam scent."
If you do it with people you can often anticipate their alter-egos. For example, Bill Gates is "big Stella." Larry Ellison, on the contrary, is a "censorial newell" (newell, for those of you who donıt know, is a 14th-century term for nut). Scott McNealy becomes a brow-furrowing "lost my accent." Not wanting to exclude myself from the fun and games, I am proud to say that my name converts to "a sacral perk," or, as those around me would find more fitting, "ask her la crap."
OK, so maybe Andyıs Anagram Solver and Anu Gargıs Internet Anagram Server didnıt provide any earth-shattering revelations. Just like the Magic 8 ball grows tiresome after the 15th or 16th "Reply Hazy, Try Again," anagrams only deliver the goods in a few memorable situations. But they clearly demonstrate that the Web is not only a tool for complex, business-critical computing. In my mind, what sets the Web apart as the most important innovation of the 20th century is that it permits instant gratification for random curiosity, reinforcing the age-old concept of Online Drilling Yielding Endless Lucky Little Eccentric Resolutions ı commonly referred to as OLD YELLER.