To begin with, when we hear the word "dead," one's mind might instinctively leap to its most literal and unfortunate meaning—devoid of life. In biology, this means the cessation of all vital functions: no heartbeat, no brain activity, no breath. The ultimate and irreversible state that all living things, sadly, will eventually meet. It's quite final, isn't it? The end of the line. Kaput. There's no ambiguity here; dead means dead.
However, the wonders of language allow us to use words in metaphorical or idiomatic expressions to convey more complex or nuanced situations or states. And that's where "dead in the water" swims into the scene. This phrase, you see, has nothing to do with the literal cessation of life. Oh, no. It's far more colorful and applicable in a variety of non-lethal scenarios.
Originally, this idiom comes from the nautical world—a domain rich with metaphorical language, given the myriad challenges and adventures faced at sea. Imagine a ship, if you will, its sails billowing as it cuts through the waves. Now, picture it suddenly unable to move; the wind has died down to nothing, the sails slump, and the ship is merely adrift, going nowhere. It is, quite poetically, "dead in the water." The ship isn't literally dead, of course—it's just temporarily incapacitated, unable to proceed along its intended course until the wind decides to grace it with its presence once again.
Transposed into everyday usage beyond the high seas, "dead in the water" is a vivid metaphor for projects, plans, or initiatives that have come to a halt—stymied, unable to progress, much like that becalmed ship. It's used to describe something that has little hope of success or revival in its current state. For instance, if a business venture runs out of funding or a new policy is halted by regulatory issues, they might be described as "dead in the water." Not literally deceased, but stuck, with no forward momentum.
In essence, while "dead" is the cessation of life, "dead in the water" is about cessation of progress or movement—figuratively speaking, of course. The latter suggests a temporary state, a problem potentially fixable, perhaps with effort, change in strategy, or a shift in external conditions, unlike the permanence and finality of being literally dead.
Isn't it simply marvelous how language lets us draw such specific shades of meaning with just a tweak of phraseology? Through this exploration, we can appreciate not only the richness of English idioms but also the joy of explaining something so deceptively simple yet profoundly different. Here we stand—or float, if you will—at the junction of literal and metaphorical, grasping the beauty of expression. And isn't that what language is all about?
"We will only develop for Linux if you want it do it yourself" is the vibe I get from the Wayland team.
Why should FreeBSD be the ones who have to develop? The stubbornness of Linux users.