tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53657351283712040772023-11-15T09:15:45.481-08:00WriteAtHome, the BlogA place to talk about words, writing, learning, and language, by Brian Wasko, founder of WriteAtHome.comBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-71382705112952297212011-02-22T19:20:00.001-08:002011-02-22T19:22:16.080-08:00New Blog!Hey folks! We've moved our blog (and changed our focus) to <a href="http://blog.writeathome.com">blog.writeathome.com</a>. Come check us out over there!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-45043709961925799192010-09-04T07:50:00.001-07:002010-09-09T10:10:15.260-07:00Where did the word "soccer" come from?The English rather arrogantly insist that the game be called <em>football</em>, and all of us have probably acknowledged that the name is rather more apropos after all. Certainly it makes more sense than what we Americans call <em>football</em>.<br /><br />The irony is that the English were the first to call the game <em>soccer</em>. While we were killing each other during our Civil War, the English were being far more productive, establishing the first official rules of football, and forming what came to be known as the Football Association.<br /><br /><em>Association football</em> became a common term when it was necessary to distinguish it from <em>rugby football</em>.<br /><br />Soccer is a colloquial abbreviation of <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">association</span></em>, derived from the second syllable of the word. Some believe it was first shortened to <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">assoccer</span></em>" and later to the simpler <em>soccer</em>.<br /><br />This part is only legendary, but many have it that a certain schoolboy named Charles <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wreford</span>-Brown was asked by some Oxford friends to join them in a game of "rugger" (rugby). He supposedly replied that he'd prefer a game of <em>soccer</em>. The name stuck, and there you have it.<br /><br />What's important to remember here is that <em>soccer</em> is not a crass Americanism. The word is part of the rich history of the game, and supposed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">aficionados</span> who denounce it reveal only their own ignorance.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-8458175308374272162010-09-01T13:45:00.000-07:002010-09-01T13:48:16.094-07:00There's no such word as...<em><strong>supposably</strong></em>. The word you are looking for is <em>supposedly</em>.<br /><br />Why does that irritate me so much?<br /><br />And why can't people pronounce the first two syllables in the sentence, "I appreciate it"?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-58344997922845575422010-08-27T13:18:00.000-07:002010-08-27T13:24:06.338-07:00If God Had Texted the 10 Commandmentsby Jamie Quatro<br /><br />1. no 1 b4 me. srsly.<br />2. dnt wrshp pix/idols<br />3. no omg's<br />4. no wrk on 2/end (sat 4 now; sun l8r)<br />5. pos ok - ur m&d r cool<br />6. dnt kill ppl<br />7. :-X only w/m8<br />8. dnt steal<br />9. dnt lie re: bf<br />10. dnt ogle ur bf's m8. or ox. or dnkey. myob.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-17605164539074505842010-08-24T05:10:00.000-07:002010-08-24T05:34:55.598-07:00How Many Ways Can You Say Vomit?English is a colorful language. Maybe lots of languages are equally colorful; I wouldn't know, since I only speak English. But English, for sure, is colorful. <div><br /></div><div>For example, how many ways can one express the idea of vomiting? </div><div><br /></div><div>vomit</div><div>throw up</div><div>upchuck</div><div>get sick</div><div>puke</div><div>hurl</div><div>barf</div><div>yang</div><div>spew</div><div>ralph</div><div>spit up (only appropriate for newborns)</div><div><br /></div><div>And those were just off the top of my head. A quick perusal of a thesaurus adds:</div><div><br /></div><div>disgorge </div><div>bring up</div><div>heave</div><div>eject</div><div>emit</div><div>expel</div><div>regurgitate</div><div>retch (good one!)</div><div>ruminate</div><div><br /></div><div>But the best ones are the euphemisms that I suspect were all created by college frat boys:</div><div><br /></div><div>toss your cookies</div><div>lose your lunch</div><div>shout at your shoes</div><div>blow chow</div><div>the multicolored yawn</div><div>drive the big white Buick</div><div>recycle your lunch</div><div><br /></div><div>I have declined to include many of the <i>most</i> colorful expressions because they made me, well, a little nauseated. If you are really curious, you can see more at www.VomitNames.com (I am not making this up. Click at your own risk). </div><div><br /></div><div>And to those who are already planning to e-rebuke me for this post: you are right. I apologize. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-22735614788692200702010-08-23T12:12:00.000-07:002010-08-23T12:21:00.259-07:00I like this blog post alot...Thanks to my friend David Sims for pointing me to this post by a grammar nazi with an unusually good attitude.<br /><br /><a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html">http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html</a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-439744122253012722010-08-22T06:16:00.001-07:002010-08-22T06:30:08.322-07:00How Nerds Shape LanguageI'm old enough now to assume that I'm always way behind the times. I guess it takes longer for slang and cultural idioms to trickle down to forty-somethings. I apologize, therefore, to any geeky but culturally aware readers for only recently discovering the word "pwned." <div><br /></div><div>For the likewise ignorant, it's pronounced "poned": rhymes with "owned."</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not coincidental either. The word is used to describe the victim of a practical joke, or the loser in a battle (usually a computer/video game virtual battle), as in "You got pwned!" or "I totally pwned you!" </div><div><br /></div><div>When I was a high school teacher a decade ago, the word was "used." </div><div><br /></div><div>So, what gives with the spelling and weird pronunciation? The most common explanation is that the programmer of a popular computer game mistyped the word "owned," which appeared on screen when the player lost. He hit the "p" key instead of the "o" key, and nobody caught it. At least not for a long while. </div><div><br /></div><div>So instead of getting "owned," losers got "pwned." </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-27393991109229374562010-08-20T11:03:00.000-07:002010-08-20T11:14:20.188-07:00Used or Pre-Owned?I just heard an ad on the radio for a local car dealer. It <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">occurred</span> to me that used cars are now commonly referred to as "pre-owned" cars. But the prefix "pre-" doesn't mean "previously" does it? It means "before" as in <em>pregame, Precambrian, prepaid</em> and, well, <em>prefix</em>. A pre-owned car should mean a car that has not yet been owned--and therefore <em>new. Right?</em>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-62390704148415570742010-08-20T11:01:00.001-07:002010-08-20T11:02:47.805-07:00What "With All Due Respect" Really Means...I don't care who you are, or who you think you are, I'm about to give you a piece of my mind.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-20125020274447896742010-08-19T10:43:00.000-07:002010-08-19T11:02:02.357-07:00Some Shakespeare We Didn't Know Was ShakespeareIt's pretty mind-blowing how much William Shakespeare has influenced our language. He's been gone about 400 years, but we keep using his expressions. All of the following oft-repeated phrases come from the Bard:<br /><br />All that glitters is not gold<br />As (good) luck would have it<br />Bated breath<br />Be-all and end-all<br />Discretion is the better part of valor (Orig: The better part of valor is discretion)<br />Brave new world<br />Brevity is the sould of wit<br />Come what may (Orig: Come what come may)<br />Crack of doom<br />Dead as a doornail<br />Devil incarnate<br />Eaten me out of house and home<br />Elbow room<br />Fool's paradise<br />Forever and a day<br />For goodness' sake<br />Foregone conclusion<br />The game is up<br />Give the devil his due<br />Good riddance<br />It was Greek to me<br />Heart of gold<br />Hoist with his own petard<br />Household words<br />My kingdom for a horse!<br />In a pickle<br />In my mind's eye<br />Kill with kindness<br />Killing frost<br />Knock, Knock! Who's there?<br />Laughing stock<br />Lie low<br />Love is blind<br />Melted into thin air<br />There's a method to my madness (Orig: Though this be madness, yet there is method in it)<br />Milk of human kindness<br />Naked truth<br />Neither rhyme nor reason<br />Not slept one wink<br />One fell swoop<br />Out of the jaws of death<br />Own flesh and blood<br />Parting is such sweet sorrow<br />A piece of work<br />A plague on both your houses<br />Play fast and loose<br />Pomp and circumstance<br />Pound of flesh<br />Primrose path<br />Make short shrift<br />Sick at heart<br />A sorry sight<br />Spotless reputation<br />Still waters run deep (Orig: Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep)<br />A twice-told tale<br />Set my teeth on edge<br />Tell the truth and shame the devil<br />There's the rub<br />To thine own self be true<br />Too much of a good thing<br />Tower of strength<br />Wear my heart upon my sleeve<br />What the dickens<br />What's done is done<br />Wild-goose chase<br />Working-day world<br />The world's my oyster<br />Yeoman's service<br /><br />How many times have you used these expressions, or heard them used? How many did you know originated with the Bard?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-20164362023818568692009-09-14T10:33:00.000-07:002009-09-14T10:48:50.304-07:00Heteronyms are words with different meanings and pronunciations that are spelled identically. Say what? You'd think we could change up a letter or two just to avoid confusion, but no, when I say "moped" I might mean a motorized bicycle or I might mean that I felt glum and lazy yesterday.<br /><br />What I find interesting about heteronyms, however, is that they are common, yet most of us hardly notice them. Context seems to make the pronunciations and definitions clear without a conscious thought:<br /><br />"Feeling sorry for myself, I moped around all afternoon until I decided to enjoy the sunshine and take my moped for a spin."<br /><br />Here are some other examples. Thanks to Dani for the e-mail!<br /><br /><br /><ul><li>We must polish the Polish furniture.</li><li>He could lead if he would get the lead out.</li><li>The farm was used to produce produce.</li><li>The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.</li><li>The soldier decided to desert in the desert.</li><li>This was a good time to present the present.</li><li>A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.</li><li>When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.</li><li>I did not object to the object.</li><li>The insurance was invalid for the invalid.</li><li>The bandage was wound around the wound.</li><li>There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.</li><li>They were too close to the door to close it.</li><li>The buck does funny things when the does are present.</li><li>They sent a sewer down to stitch the tear in the sewer line.</li><li>To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.</li><li>The wind was too strong to wind the sail.</li><li>After a number of injections my jaw got number.</li><li>Upon seeing the tear in my clothes I shed a tear.</li><li>I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.</li><li>How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?</li></ul><p>I hope you are content with the content of this post.</p>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-7895049212302062792009-08-17T11:18:00.000-07:002009-08-17T11:19:16.630-07:00What do you call a delinquent who's no longer juvenile? A geriatric delinquent?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-55360923634462335842008-12-01T14:35:00.000-08:002008-12-01T14:54:29.119-08:00Practice and PerfectionHave you ever listened to a world-class musician and wondered how he is able to play with such grace and precision? Do you imagine the years of study and countless hours of diligent practice that such virtuosity requires? Or perhaps you have watched elite Olympic athletes and marveled at the dedication and discipline it took to get to that level of competitiveness.<br /><br />Excellence in any arena demands a commitment to regular practice. This, of course, includes writing. There's no way around it. Writers improve the same way musicians, artists, and athletes do--by hard work and regular practice. <br /><br />There is, however, another important ingredient in improving skills: the assistance of knowledgeable instructors. Virtually all master musicians and champion athletes can point to instructors and coaches who guided them along the way, nurturing their talents. The input of experts is essential to developing natural abilities. <br /><br />WriteAtHome is designed with this basic philosophy in mind: Improved writing comes with both regular practice <em>and</em> expert feedback. It's just common-sense. We offer no startling new techniques. No secret formula to make graceful, effective writing easy for everyone. Writing well requires writing often and getting help from more experienced writers. Leave out either part, and your writing will suffer. <br /><br />"Practice doesn't make perfect," my old high school coach once said, "only perfect practice makes perfect." Practice without instruction and advice can even be detrimental-l-ike a basketball player who shoots two-handed, or a golfer with an awkward swing. Without a coach to correct their technique, these athletes will never reach their potential. In the same way, you might write pages every day, but without a gifted teacher or editor, you might never identify and overcome your problem areas. <br /><br />Young writers often get discouraged about their writing. Writing well seems so complicated. There always seems to be something to correct or improve. Far too many students just give up and assume they just don't have what it takes. What they don't realize is that writing skills grow incrementally, sometimes so gradually that you barely notice the improvement as it comes, over time.<br /><br />A good writing coach knows this too. He knows that students will make the same mistakes over and over before good habits start to replace the bad. The important thing is to keep at it.<br /><br />WriteAtHome has shown consistent success with young writers because we understand these two essential components to sound writing development: practice and expert feedback. We consistently see growth in both skills and confidence. Whether you use WriteAtHome or not as part of your writing education program, keep these key components in mind as your students work to write better and better.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-47603214219528996072008-08-11T10:00:00.000-07:002008-08-11T12:19:48.959-07:00Words That Should Reasonably ExistWe talked about couth before--a word that was created via back-formation. I suppose it's become common enough that we must grant it the right to exist. But what about other "words" that should reasonably be formed by eliminating an apparent prefix or suffix? Questions from a previous blog include:<br /><br />Is a pleased person <em>gruntled</em>?<br />Are nice people <em>ruthful</em>?<br />May an intelligent person be described as <em>becile</em>?<br />Would someone who makes himself obvious be going <em>cognito</em>?<br /><br />Here are a few more...<br /><br />If surgery is performed reattached a severed head, is it called a <em>capitation</em>?<br />If an arm or leg is reattached, is the patient being <em>membered</em>?<br />Is someone who can easily be overcome considered <em>vincible</em>?<br />If something is in motion, might it be described as <em>ert</em>?<br />If something causes harm, is it <em>nocuous</em>?<br /><br />All of these are examples of what are called <em>orphan negatives</em>--words that have no positive form. There are more of these than you realize. In fact, author Jack Winter wrote the following story implementing a surprising number of orphan negatives in The New Yorker (July 25, 1994). I found it <a href="http://www.alphadictionary.com/fun/orphan_negatives.html">here</a>.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>How I Met My Wife</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="left">It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.</div><div align="left"><br />I was furling my weildy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.</div><div align="left"><br />I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it, since I was travelling cognito. Beknowst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.</div><div align="left"><br />Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.<br />So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make head or tails of.</div><div align="left"><br />I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated—as if this were something I was great shakes at—and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.<br />Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had not time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myselfs.</div><div align="left"><br />She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savoury character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation became more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-49688172904271270332008-03-25T07:15:00.000-07:002008-03-25T07:36:57.258-07:00Washington Post NeologismJust got an e-mail from my friend Lindsey with the following included. I haven't verified that it's actually from the Washington Post, but they were too good not to include.<br /><br />Once again, <em>The Washington Post</em> has published the winning submissions to its yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternative meanings for common words. A selection of the winners include:<br /><ul><li><strong>Coffee</strong> (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.</li><li><strong>Flabbergasted</strong> (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.</li><li><strong>Abdicate</strong> (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.</li><li><strong>Esplanade</strong> (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.</li><li><strong>Negligent</strong> (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.</li><li><strong>Lymph</strong> (v.), to walk with a lisp.</li><li><strong>Gargoyle</strong> (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.</li><li><strong>Flatulence</strong> (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.</li><li><strong>Balderdash</strong> (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.</li><li><strong>Rectitude</strong> (n.), the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.</li><li><strong>Oyster</strong> (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.</li></ul>The Washington Post's Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are some of this year's winners:<br /><ul><li><strong>Bozone</strong> (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.</li><li><strong>Giraffiti</strong> (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.</li><li>Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.</li><li><strong>Inoculatte</strong> (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.</li><li><strong>Hipatitis</strong> (n): Terminal coolness.</li><li><strong>Karmageddon</strong> (n): its like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.</li><li><strong>Decafalon</strong> (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.</li><li><strong>Dopeler effect</strong> (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.</li><li><strong>Arachnoleptic fit</strong> (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.</li><li><strong>Caterpallor</strong> (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating. </li></ul>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-16123874903467844522007-12-06T09:52:00.000-08:002007-12-06T09:57:32.232-08:00OUR STRANGE LANGUAGE by E.L. Sabin<br /><br />When the English tongue we speak,<br />Why is "break" not rhymed with "freak"?<br />Will you tell me why it's true,<br />We say "sew" but likewise "few",<br />And the fashioner of verse<br />Cannot cap his "horse" with "worse"?<br />"Beard" sounds not the same as "heard",<br />"Cord" is different from "word";"<br />Cow" is cow but "low" is low,"<br />Shoe" is never rhymed with "foe";<br />Think of "hose" and "dose" and "lose",<br />And of "goose" and also "choose";<br />Think of "tomb" and "bomb" and "comb",<br />"Doll" and "roll" and "some" and "home",<br />And since "pay" is rhymed with "say",<br />Why not "paid" and "said" I pray?<br />We have "blood" and "food" and "good",<br />"Mould" is not pronounced like "could";<br />Wherefore "done" but "gone" and "lone"?<br />Is there any reason known?<br />No, in short, it seems to me<br />Sound and letters disagree.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">from: Practical Rules for Pronounciation, arranged by C. Heyman, Teacher of English in the Haarlem H.B.S. Third Edition; probably around 1910 (slightly adapted) </span>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-43622089093952814862007-12-06T09:28:00.000-08:002007-12-06T09:51:49.669-08:00OUGH!I've read <em>Pilgrim's Progress</em> several times and still can't remember how to pronounce <em>slough</em>, as in Slough of Despond. Does it rhyme with <em>cow</em>? <em>Do</em>? <em>Cuff</em>?<br /><br />No letter combination in English is more frustrating than <em>ough</em>. It can be pronounced at least 9 different ways:<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">rough (uff)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">through (oo)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">bough (ow)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">cough (off)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">dough (oh)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">hiccough (up)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">fought (aw)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Poughkeepsie (uh)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Coughlin (og)</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><em>Slough</em> causes problems because it's pronounced different ways, depending on meaning. <em>Slough</em> pronounced <em>sluff</em> is the term for shedding skin, like snakes do. <em>Slough</em> meaning wet, swampy ground can be pronounced either <em>sloo</em> or <em>slou</em>. Dictionary.com prefers <em>slou</em>, while the American Heritage Dictionary prefers <em>sloo</em>. I'm going with <em>sloo</em> too. </span>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-91244964286194913792007-11-29T07:14:00.001-08:002007-11-29T07:52:17.687-08:00Feghoot #1<span style="color:#000000;">Not familiar with a <em>feghoot</em>? You probably are, but didn't know that's what they are called. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Ferdinand Feghoot is the fictional creation of sci-fi writer Reginald Bretnor (1911-1992), who published under the name Grendel Briarton. The stories involving Feghoot were always very brief and concluded with an elaborate pun. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">A feghoot today doesn't need to be science fiction, but it must be brief and ridiculously punny. They are also known as <em>groaners</em> or <em>shaggy-dog stories</em>. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Mark Rapacioli, Editor of <em>Planet Relish E-zine</em> says, "A feghoot isn't just a short-short story with a joke at the end. A Feghoot is a short-short story that ends in a very groan-worthy pun." (quoted from:</span> <a href="http://www.dowse.com/articles/Feghoot-article.html">http://www.dowse.com/articles/Feghoot-article.html</a>)<br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Enough explanation. Let's get to some examples:</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Two vultures board an airplane, each carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at them and says, <strong>"I'm sorry, gentlemen, only one<br />carrion allowed per passenger."</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">A dog on crutches walks into a bar in the Wild West and says, "<strong>I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Mahatma Gandhi walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him .... what? (Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good)<br /><strong>A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">This one stakes its claim as the "original shaggy dog story":</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">In the days of yore, a knight on an important mission, rode his horse so hard that it became lame. Spying a village ahead, the knight headed straight for the stables there.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"I must have a horse!" he cried, "The life of the King depends upon it!"</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The stablekeeper shook his head. "I have no horses," he said. "They have all been taken in the service of the King."</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"You must have something--a pony, a donkey, a mule, anything at all?" the knight asked.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Nothing. . . unless. . . no, I couldn't"</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The knight's eyes lit up. "Tell me!"</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The stablekeeper led the knight into the stable where they saw an enormous dog! It was almost as large as the knight's horse. But it was also the filthiest, shaggiest, smelliest, dog the knight had ever seen.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Swallowing, the knight said "I'll take it. Where is the saddle?"</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The stablekeeper was adament. "I can't do it." he told the knight.</span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Why won't you give me the dog?" cried the desperate knight. </span><br /><span style="color:#000099;">The stablekeeper replied, <strong>"I wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this."</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">For more of these, check out: </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><a href="http://gendertree.com/Feghoot.htm">http://gendertree.com/Feghoot.htm</a></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><a href="http://www.badpuns.com/list.php?section=shaggy">http://www.badpuns.com/list.php?section=shaggy</a></span>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-51618076200942087742007-11-28T07:07:00.000-08:002007-11-28T07:33:33.603-08:00Fear the Olive!Starbucks may be guilty of intentional size obfuscation, but they are neither the first nor the worst.<br /><br />Have you ever checked out the terms used for olive sizes? To quote Dave Barry again, I am not making this up. The olive industry uses the following sizes, based on the number of olives that make up a pound:<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">small: 128-140 per pound<br />medium: 106-127<br />large: 91-105<br />extra large: 65-90<br />jumbo: 47-64<br />colossal: 33-46<br />super colossal: <33</span><br /><br />In Europe, the sizes are even more complex (and ridiculous):<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">Bullets 159-172 per pound<br />Fine 146-159<br />Brilliant 132-145<br />Superior 118-132<br />Large 105-118<br />Extra large 91-104<br />Jumbo 83-91<br />Extra Jumbo 74-82<br />Giant 65-73<br />Colossal 55-64<br />Super colossal 50-54<br />Mammoth 46-50<br />Super Mammoth 41-45<br /></span><br />I find it hard to imagine being confronted with a mammoth olive, much less a super colossal olive. Frightening, in fact.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-26888636914475987412007-11-28T06:34:00.000-08:002007-11-28T07:34:50.266-08:00Starbucks SizesI stand an unimposing 5 feet, 5 inches. Recently, a wise-acre student of mine told me, "Mr. Wasko, you're tall...Starbucks style!"<br /><br />I've got no problem with Starbucks calling their largest size cup of coffee a <em>venti</em>. It's pretty clever, really, since <em>venti</em> is Italian for twenty--the number of ounces in the large cup. But it's just downright marketing madness to refer to the smallest size as <em>tall</em>. I understand the desire to avoid terms with any negative connotations, but sometimes people just want a small cup of coffee. If I want small and get offered something tall, it troubles me.<br />Fortunately, the Starbucks coffee jerks (okay, <em>baristas</em>, dang it) around here don't correct me when I ask for a "little one." In fact, I say "big one" instead of <em>venti</em> too, not because I disapprove, but because it sounds so pretentious.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.iht.com/articles/2004/10/08/features/bar9.php">Dave Barry </a>agrees:<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">...this trend began several years ago when Starbucks decided to call its cup sizes "Tall" (meaning "not tall," or "small"), "Grande" (meaning "medium") and "Venti" (meaning, for all we know, "weasel snot"). Unfortunately, we consumers, like moron sheep, started actually USING these names. Why? If Starbucks decided to call its toilets "AquaSwooshies," would we go along with THAT? Yes! Baaa!</span>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-30815922860042778562007-11-28T06:27:00.000-08:002007-11-28T06:30:23.011-08:00Area Rug?An <em>area rug</em>, I guess, is a rug that covers an area. As opposed to...?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-29856791742823495772007-11-08T05:38:00.000-08:002007-11-08T06:17:26.048-08:00How Many Words in the English Language?It's a simple question, but pretty much impossible to answer. The problem lies in determining what constitutes a word. Take almost any verb--<em>call</em> for example. Are the various forms of the word separate words (<em>calls, called, calling</em>, etc.)? And is the noun form of <em>call</em> a word distinct from the verb? What about the 33 separate definitions listed for the verb form by Dictionary.com, and the 31 definitions of the noun form? Is <em>call</em> one word or 64? And then there are idiomatic expressions using <em>call</em>, like <em>call for</em>, <em>call out</em>, or <em>call in.</em> These have unique definitions as compound expressions. Do they count as words in combination, or only as separate words?<br /><br />What about technical or scientific terms? Do we count the hundreds of thousands of chemical and medical terms that are unused in common parlance?<br /><br />What makes a word English? English speakers and writers use lots of words from other languages. Do we count <em>burrito</em>, <em>bourgeois</em>, <em>habeas corpus, wanderlust, karate</em>? Then there's the debate of slang and jargon. How long must a term be in popular use before it is considered a "real" word?<br /><br />What about proper names? Should <em>Edward</em>, <em>Lincoln</em>, <em>Chicago</em> be considered words? What about foreign places and names? Should or shouldn't <em>Bangladesh</em>, <em>Argentina</em>, and <em>Moscow</em> be considered English words?<br /><br />With these significant complexities taken into consideration, sources will put the number of English words at anywhere from a quarter million to two million. Take your pick.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-87417921458597016752007-11-07T12:57:00.000-08:002007-11-23T14:50:22.680-08:00A Whole Nuther ThingWhat's up with that? I often hear people using the expression "a whole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nuther</span>." A local football coach was quoted in the paper using it. No dictionary I know includes <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nuther</span>. </em>I don't believe anyone who uses the expression would even argue that <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nuther</span></em> is a word.<br /><br />I did a little web research and found some interesting discussion of this odd construction. One these two theories seems to explain it:<br /><br />1) The modifier <em>whole</em> is inserted in the word <em>another</em>. This is a linguistic phenomenon called <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">infixation</span>, </em>which most commonly occurs in expletives. Mild examples would be "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">abso</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">bloomin</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">lutely</span>," or "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">guaran</span>-darn-tee."<br /><br />2) The other theory is that people confuse <em>another</em> with <em>a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">nother</span></em>, and are simply applying the adjective <em>whole</em> to the second word. This sounds odd, but it's a linguistic occurrence called <em>reanalysis</em>. It's how we now have the word <em>apron</em>. It derived from the french word <em>naperon</em>. People misconstrued "a naperon" as "an aperon."<br /><br />I find the first explanation easier to buy, but it was interesting to learn that it's a matter of some debate.<br /><br />The question remains, of course, whether "a whole other thing" or "another whole thing" are adequate replacements for "a whole nuther thing."Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-25781812603493911772007-11-05T07:21:00.000-08:002007-11-05T08:22:12.020-08:00Tom SwiftiesA Tom Swifty is a quip where an adverb attached to a dialogue tag carries both a literal and a "punny" meaning. They are also easier to demonstrate than explain. Here's an example:<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"The pencil needs sharpening," Tom said bluntly.</span></strong><br /><br />As you have already experienced, the most common response to a Tom Swifty is a groan, although I admit several have made me chuckle.<br /><br />As to the origin of the term, Tom Swift was the young adventure hero of a series of early twentieth century novels by Edward L. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Stratemeyer</span> (who published under the pseudonym Victor Appleton). Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Stratemeyer</span> loved to qualify all of Tom's dialogue with adverbs: "...Tom said <em>knowingly</em>," "...Tom replied <em>eagerly</em>," "...Tom cried <em>desperately</em>," etc.<br /><br />Thus a Tom Swifty involves a playful pun on the dialogue tag. Here's a short sampling.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"This pencil needs sharpening," Tom said bluntly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"The salad has too much vinegar," Tom said acidly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Give me a haircut," Tom said barbarously.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"The doctor removed my left <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ventricle</span>," Tom said half-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">heartedly</span>.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I'll use a darker font," Tom said boldly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I presented my case to the judge," Tom said briefly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I've dropped the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">toothpaste</span>," Tom said, crestfallen.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Congratulations on your graduation!" Tom said diplomatically.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I am a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">schizophrenic</span>," said Tom, being frank.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"For what we are about to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">receive</span>, may God make us truly grateful," Tom said gracefully.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I've gained twenty pounds," Tom said heavily.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I learned the somersault years ago," Tom said flippantly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I work out every seven days," Tom said weakly.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Nay!" said Tom hoarsely.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Waiter! My salad needs more cheese!" Tom said gratingly.<br /><br /></span></strong>A slight variation excludes the adverb, and just makes a pun of the verb. It's still a Tom <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Swifty</span> if Tom isn't doing the speaking, by the way:<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"This must be the weight room," Tom worked out.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"My parents are Billy and Nanny," Tom kidded.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"She probably has her own jet," Tom leered.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"The sun is rising," Tom mourned.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I told you not to ride that old horse," Tom nagged.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I didn't take a single look!" Tom peeped.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"The exit is right here," Tom pointed out.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I teach at the university," Tom professed.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I couldn't believe I had won by 3,457 votes!" Tom recounted.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Okay, you can borrow it again," Tom relented.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">"I'm taking the ship back to the harbor," Tom reported.</span></strong><br /><br />Most of these come from <a href="http://www.fun-with-words.com/">http://www.fun-with-words.com/</a>. Please share your originals--they are not hard to create.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5365735128371204077.post-14920995315262058502007-10-25T12:49:00.000-07:002007-10-25T12:57:22.607-07:00More On The Terminal PrepositionIn researching the last post, I found the following and had to share it. It comes from Mark Israel at <a href="http://alt-usage-english.org/excerpts/fxprepos.html">http://alt-usage-english.org/excerpts/fxprepos.html</a>.<br /><br />***<br /><em><span style="color:#000000;">The Guinness Book of (World) Records used to have a category for "most prepositions at end." The incumbent record was a sentence put into the mouth of a boy who didn't want to be read excerpts from a book about Australia as a bedtime story: </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#000000;"></span></em><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><em>"What did you bring that book that I don't want to be read to from out of about 'Down Under' up for?" </em></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><em></em></span><br /><em><span style="color:#000000;">Mark Brader (all this is to the best of his recollection; he didn't save the letter, and doesn't have access to the British editions) wrote to Guinness, asking: "What did you say that the sentence with the most prepositions at the end was 'What did you bring that book that I don't want to be read to from out of about "Down Under" up for?' for? The preceding sentence has one more." Norris McWhirter replied, promising to include this improvement in the next British edition, but actually it seems that Guinness, no doubt eventually realising that this could be done recursively, dropped the category.</span></em>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095677114990459599noreply@blogger.com0