One of the more frustrating things about British English is the occasional use of completely nonsensical rhyming slang. Wikipedia was kind enough to kick in a few example/definitions:

* porkies = pork pies = lies
* apples = apples and pears = stairs
* Barnet = Barnet Fair = hair
* brass = brass nail = “tail” = prostitute
* bristols = Bristol Cities = titties = breasts
* dog = dog and bone = telephone
* jam = jam jar = car
* water = water bottle = throttle
* china = china plate = mate
* pony = pony and trap = crap
* saucepan = saucepan lid = kid
* frog = frog and toad = road
* Rosie = Rosie Lee = tea/gypsy
* Ruby = Ruby Murray = Curry
* J. Arthur = J. Arthur Rank = bank/wank
* trouble = trouble and strife = wife
* Tom = Tom Tit = shit
* tom = tomfoolery = jewellery
* skin = skin and blister = sister
* Listerine = Anti Septic = Septic Tank = Yank = American (From The U.S.A.)

There really was no way to figure this out on your own.

If I had the time, the money, and/or the technical know-how, I would create a dictionary that lists the current definition of a word, as well all the previous definitions of that word, organized by year, from most recent to most ancient. Wouldn’t it be great too be able to look up a word, and then see how that word’s definition has mutated over time? Haven’t you ever wondered what the word “haberdashery” meant in 1850, but had no easy method of researching it? This would make Justice Scalia’s day!

Realistically, the best way too go about doing this would be to partner with a pre-existing, well established and long-published dictionary. The OED, for example, has been publishing since the 19th Century and would make a perfect source work. You’d type in a word, get their current definition, as well as every definition they’ve published in the last 150 years.

You could even do a fair amount of this work without permission. Works published prior to 1923 in the US are in the public domain and can be freely republished. Someone should start with the OED’s first edition, and digitize every version through 1923. While the OED only goes back to the mid 19th Century, other dictionaries go back even farther, and they could be added to run back as far as English words have been defined (since 1604).

Am I the only person who thinks this would be interesting and useful? Is there already a way to do this that I’m unaware of?

I wish I were British:

Save the Wig! “Various types have been threatening to abolish barristers’ wigs for decades. But to my dismay, I learned last night that the Lord Chief Justice of England and Wales has resolved to abolish wigs in all civil courts in England and Wales. Voice your opposition.”

Perhaps those in opposition to wig abolishment want to ensure they continue to be recognized as barristers rather than solicitors, for reasons set forth by the next group.

“Barristers are better than solicitors in every conceivable way” group. “On the one hand you have barristers- dashing, glamorous, obscenely intelligent and effortlessly classy. Daily they stride forth, fearless and proud, to fight tirelessly for justice, freedom and the underdog, while nobly robed in wig and gown, which may be archaic, yet remain oddly alluring. The pitiful masses can only gaze in admiration as counsel hoist aloft their verbal lances, and engage in their rhetorical joust, intent only on victory (and on getting the £50 fee for some shitty bail application).

And on the other side you have solicitors- squinty eyed, sallow skinned desk monkeys. Clothed in their cheap, sensible suits, boasting less charisma than a volume of the white book, and more often than not impotent. Essentially glorified secretaries, these bastards still for reasons unbeknown to any reasonable man receive sickeningly generous training contracts, before starting work on a salary which would give the average pupil a wet dream. But this is clearly only a comfort blanket, a pathetic attempt to numb the awe and envy we know they all feel for their glorious legal brethren at the Bar.”

Thanks Lorelei.

Word I learned today: casuistry. From the Hitchens waterboarding thing.

An AP story about training daycare students to perform in sex shows included an odd phrase:

Mineola, about 80 miles east of Dallas, is a close-knit, conservative bean-processing town of with more than 30 churches. Residents there want to put the scandal behind them as quickly as possible.

Is “bean-processing” a euphemism? Like being a bean-counter?

Can women be “clean-cut,” or only men?

If it’s not a sequel, and it’s not a prequel, it must be a midquel.

I always had a dream of writing a novel in the second person future tense. I’m currently reading a novel in the second person present tense (apparently there’s a lot of them), which has only rekindled my interest in the subject.

You will always have a dream of writing a novel in the second person future tense. You will be reading a novel in the second person present tense (apparently there will be a lot of them), which will only rekindle your interest in the subject.

I thought I just came up with a new phrase, “no ham, no fowl,” as an unfunny take-off of “no harm, no foul.” Sadly, as always, Google destroys any illusions of self-creativity that I might have. Thanks Google, don’t let my ego get too big.

Reverse Dictionary? Genius! Now if only I can get a buyer for my Reverse Thesaurus…

I use the word scattershot all the time. “Covering a wide range in a random way; indiscriminate.” It’s a great word.

How did it take me this long to realize that fiancé and fiancée are two different words?

Part of what makes reading Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace fun as an intellectual exercise is his use of obscure language. Historically I tended to simply skip past the words that I didn’t know, but that seemed somehow unsatisfying, so during my most recent reading I tried to mark all the words I couldn’t immediately define. Here now is that list of words.

When a word has an ascertainable definition, the word has been linked to it. When the word has no clear definition, either because it’s too obscure or it’s a neologism (or a fauxlogism), I’ve left it unlinked. Feel free to hypothesize as to the meanings of these words. I did not include multiple variations on the same root, as long as the second or third word’s definition would have been fairly obvious from the definition of the first. Words that I think were spelled incorrectly are marked as typos.

Pages 1 to 99:

wen, kekuléan, lapidary, mimetic, presbyopic, ideogram, creatus, cirri, pases, enfilade, espadrilles, barnwood, hypophalangial, etiology, pleurisy, caries, prescriptive, assignations, anaplastic, lyrologist, apposite, nonpareil, febrile, anfractuous, pylacteryish, benighted, élan, kismet, apocopes, meatus, pertussives, megaspansules, dipsomania, neuralgia, neoplastis, lachrymose, concupiscence, recondite, mordantly, feck, festschrift, chiaroscuro, agaric, synesthesia, deliquesce, hypocapnia, plangent, circumorals, thigmotactic, synclinal, leptosomatic, quincunx, calliopsis, plosivity, diagnate, pedentive, amaneunsis (typo: amanuensis?), uremic, pedalferrous, fulvous, quiescent, digitate, suppliants, atavistically, piebald

Pages 100 to 199:

extant, aperçu, osseously, homuncular, verisimilitude, éclat, swinishest, fingerling, aether, bafflegab, formants, fricatives, trochaically, formication, limned, facies, acromegalic, hyperkeratosistic, enuretic, torticollic, transuranial, treillage, sulci, abducent, gyrus, sulcus, serodermatotic, tabescent, chachetic, steatocryptotic, scofulodermic, steatopygiacs, subhadronics, leukodermatic, xanthodantic, pyorrheic, peronic, teratoidal, aceryulus, diaphoretic, granulomatous, lazarettes, oubliettes, kyphotic, lordotic, pulchritudinous, Actaeonizing, papuled, ergotic, varicelliformally, lycanthropically, mansard

Pages 200 to 299:

mesomorphic, arpeggio, gonfalonish, mucronate, frustum, entrepôt, otiose, greatcoat, tumbrel, imprecated, carbuncular, scopophobic, tesseract, labile, scopophiliacal, blinis, tartines, aioli, strettoing, acclivated, propitiate, apotropaic, lacuna, paroxysmic, coccyges, jonquil, cruciform, egregulous, nystagmic, deafflatusized, sedulous, anthracnose, sinecure, phylogenic, apical, attar, strabismic, cathedran

Pages 300 to 399:

neurasthenic, dysphoric, bilirubin, tumid, verbiform, saluki, jerkin, blepharoplasty, mucronate, bradyphrenic, epistemically, saguaro, bradyauxetic, dysautonomically, bradypedestrianism-wise, lordosis, rectilinear, homodontic, tangrams, eidetic, frisson, thanatoptic (typo: thanatotic?), solander, peritonitis, prognathous, onanism, apothegm, apicals, caparison, cunctations, aphasiac, etiology, breviary, toque, aigrette, agnation, effluvia, adipose, jejune, enjambment, halcyon, purled, glabrous, assuasive, hagiography, pruritis, calotte, convolved

Pages 400 to 499:

saprogenic, brillantined, catastatic, avuncular, mycological, redemisement, cuirass, miasma, votaried, suppurating, orts, nacreous, picric, morendo, hinked, ablative, twiny, tympanum, woppsed, aphonia, aphrasiac, inguinal

Pages 500 to 599:

catalepsy, anhedonia, astrolabes, prickets, styptic, escutcheon, insouciant, tulle, micological (typo: mycological), brisance, reseau, twidgelling, cathexis, cathected, esters, chuff, insousistent, skirling, crepuscular, threnody, coprolite, kalpacs, acclivity, intaglioed, anomic

Pages 600 to 699:

adtorsion, imprecating, coprolaliac, sylvan, appurtenances, swart, ruscant, stelliform, connubial, saltire, colposcope, patellar, chyme, baroquoco (portmanteau of baroque and rococo?), pericardium, thected, jape, dross, vermiform, raglan, fictile, involutional

Pages 700 to 799:

emetics, hanuman, novenas, sacristy, matins, vespers, catexic, sloe, verger, lapsarian, veronica, alacrity, sybaritically, agnate, basso, blancmange, varicoceles, swotting, maundering, mendaciously, restenosis, instantiation, lalating, parturient, synecdoche, olla, podrida, antinomically, gneiss, quoins, lintel, balsamy

Pages 800 to 899:

pizzicato, civety, perfidy, imago, strigil, acciaccatura, alembic, latrodectus, mactans, proprioception, testudo, bricolage, catalept, laertes, chronaxy, luculus, cerise, heliated, pleuritic, effulgence, brocaded, hulpil, huarache, guilloche, parotitic, liebestod, ommatophoric, synovial, ectopic, anipyretic (typo: antipyretic?)

Pages 900 to 999:

phocomelic, achondroplastic, enervated, neurasthenia, porcine, teleologic, clinamen, tessera, kenosis, askesis, prenominate, mellitus, lisle, siphuncular, inspissated, hemoptysis, ursine, fillip, gloaming, imprimatur, catadioptric, epicene, mimesis, sinciput, filigrees, finial, gambrel, étagère, delfts, hyperemic, seraglio, kyphotic, weal, piaffer, ciquatoxic (typo: ciguatoxic?), ataxia, fuliginous

Pages 1000 to 1079

redolent, quotidian, aprick, wakked, unperspicuous, xerophagy, ainsi, breviary, jaspers, solecistic, ascapartic, anapestic, bradylexia, bradyphenia, bradypnea, bradykinesia, gerontologic, hyperauxetic, parp, sallet, calpac, harquebus, escudo, shako, neurosomatic, angiomas, rhinorrhagia, blepharospecticity, ballism, hemispasms, phosphenism, sociosis, rhinophyma, phasece, delirium tremen, traversion, voluble, anaclitic, aspic, tittle, catachresis, vishnu, epithetic, creosote, communate, palliative, funiculi, gonions, uncolloped, latissimal, armamentarium, nictitater, sudoriferous, joss

If your vocabulary is larger than mine, now would be a prime opportunity to mock me.

If you’re curious about the context of any words, Amazon has the entire book online and you can search for the desired word.

Yes, this took longer than I thought it would.

From Wikipedia:

Posthumously funded by and named after Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw, the Shavian alphabet (also known as Shaw alphabet) was conceived as a way to provide simple, phonetic orthography for the English language to replace the difficulties of the conventional spelling. Shaw set two main criteria for the new alphabet: that it should be phonetic with, to the greatest extent possible, a 1:1 correspondence between letters and sounds; and that it should be distinct from the Latin alphabet so as to avoid the impression that the new spellings were simply “misspellings”.

They even managed to publish one of Shaw’s plays in Shavian.

Some people I know use the phrase “negative Nelly” (as in, “You don’t think I can jump across this acid filled chasm? Quit being a negative Nelly!”) and some use the phrase “negative Nancy.” This inconsistency came up in real life the other day, and today I saw one of the terms being used on South Park:

But Google apparently favors the other.

It’s possible that negative Nelly is really just a mis-remembering of nervous Nelly… or is it nervous Nancy?

Fauxlogism.com now comes with audio pronunciation, just like a real dictionary.  Here’s my current favorite.

While on a recent trip I found myself pondering a series of non-words or words that I had made up with silly or pointless meanings.  It seemed like just as good a reason to start a website as any other, so I present to you Fauxlogism.com.

The site will present one new word a day for the next seven days.  After that, I’ll either have to come up with some new words, or abandon the webpage.  50%/50%.

And yes, this is TOTALLY different from sniglets and Urban Dictionary.  Don’t ask me how, it just is.

I recently started reading Empire by Orson Scott Card. It’s generally vaguely crummy and has had a number of typos, but what’s most distracting is that he spells ‘cookie’ with a ‘y’ and no ‘ie’. Several times. Cooky. Really, who spells cookie that way? When he pluralizes it, he does spell it ‘cookies’, so he’s at least aware of the potential alternative construction.

Yes, the use of the word ‘crummy’ earlier was intentional, though I should have spelled it with a ‘b’.

Here’s a text file with every word used in British English, weighted by frequency of usage (more information). Here’s a webpage with a flash interface that provides the same information in a much more useful, interesting format. The two lists do not rank the words in an identical order; I suppose different ranking methodologies were used.

I suspect Troeltsch already has many such lists at his disposal.

I see a typo and I want it grammatically correct,
No commas anymore I want them to turn black…

Troeltsch & Lorelei point out that the official title to Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones contains a comma in the original release, as in “Paint It, Black.” Keith Richards apparently feels the comma was mistakenly added by a secretary at Decca Records, while alternate theories consider the title to be racist. The comma has appeared intermittently on track listings ever since (according to a cursory search of Amazon).

Who, knew?

Former U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky hosts the “Meta-Free-Phor-All: Shall I Nail Thee to a Summer’s Day” on the Colbert Report between Stephen Colbert and Sean Penn. It’s long, but it features references to “the moisture of George Bush’s soiled and blood soaked underwear” which is something you don’t get much in comedy writing.

The shtick is actually very similar to Stand Up and Win, Jerry Seinfeld’s Saturday Night Live game show spoof.

This rare online Tom Lehrer interview provides a few nice tidbits including potential rhymes for orange and nostril (no, not ‘wastrel’) and a confirmation that Tom Lehrer was a co-inventor of the jello shot.

Doorhinge.

This is really more CrazyMonk’s territory, but it’s surprising to discover that the following is a quasi-legitimate English language sentence:

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

Who knew?  Anyone feel like attempting to translate it into understandable English without actually looking at the explanatory link?