An Assemblage of Grandiose and Bombastic Grandiloquents

Ahoy, my sea whisperers, and welcome back! Today we go to the depths of the Arctic seas, to explore a creature both mystical and beautiful - sometimes referred to as the sea unicorn, today’s word is: narwhal.

A narwhal is a type of whale found in Canadian Arctic, Greenlandian, and Russian waters, that is distinctive due to the tusk that protrudes from its head. It is, in fact, a canine tooth that projects from the left side of the upper jaw, through the lip, and forms a left-handed helix spiral. The tusk is found in around fifteen percent of female narwhals but is far less common. It has been deduced that the tusk has no critical function, as females live to be the same age or longer, but proposed functions include use of the tusk as a weapon, for opening breathing holes in sea ice, in feeding, and as an acoustic organ. They have been known to dive as deep as 800 meters up to fifteen times a day, and have been recorded diving as deep as 1500 meters, one of the deepest known dives of all marine animals. Narwhals do not have a dorsal fin, which is perhaps an evolutionary adaptation to swimming easily under ice, to facilitate rolling, or to reduce surface area and heat loss.

The word ‘narwhal’ comes from the Old Norse word ‘nár’, meaning ‘corpse’ and ‘hvalr’ meaning ‘whale’. This is supposedly in reference to the whale’s pigmentation, which is grey and mottled, similar to that of a drowned sailor. Adding to the comparison of this cheery image is the narwhal’s summertime habit of ‘logging’, where the whale will lie still at or near the surface of the sea. The scientific name, ‘Monodon monoceros’, is of Greek derivation, and means ‘one-tooth, one-horn’, where ‘mono’ means ‘one’, ‘don’ means ‘tooth’ - as in orthodontist, and ‘ceros’ means ‘horn’ - as in rhinoceros. (the ‘rhino’ in rhinoceros means ‘nose’ as in ‘rhinoplasty’.)  

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Good day to you, sparkling people of the word, and welcome back! Today’s word is for my social butterflies, my people persons, and my extroverts. Don’t worry my darling, introverts, you can listen to this one too, but today’s word might not be one you associate with, as today’s word is: anthropophilia.

Anthropophilia is a biological word which means ‘to prefer human beings over animals.’ More specifically, it can refer to a parasite or dermatophyte preferring humans over animals, such as mosquitoes, who prefer the blood of humans, or dermatophytic fungi, that prefers to grow on humans. It can also refer to animals that prefer to live close to humans rather than in nature, such as geckoes or cockroaches. The word ‘anthropophilia’ comes from the Ancient Greek ‘anthropo’ meaning ‘man or human’ and ‘philia’ meaning ‘fraternal love’, thus, the love of humans. Cute? Gross? You be the judge.

Sexual anthropophilia is a sexual attraction to humans developed by birds or mammals who imprint when being raised by humans in close contact. One example is a female giant panda from the London Zoo named Chi Chi, who refused to mate with a male panda when taken to the Moscow Zoo, but made a ‘full sexual self-presentation’ to a zookeeper.

A similar word, ‘anthophilia’, is used to refer to the colloquial ‘furries’, or ‘sexual attraction to non-human but humanoid creatures’. Urban Dictionary states that ‘extreme cases of anthrophilia cause the impure to disregard gender when it comes to their sexual preference, and may cause them to find human men/women boring in comparison thereby removing sexuality from humans.’ Hopefully that made more sense to you than it did to me.

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Hello my little lambs, and thanks for being with me once again! Today I ask you to dig out your valuables, take down those old paintings, and find that weird tchotchke Nanna gave you for your sixteenth birthday, because who knows? It might be worth something. We may just find out as we explore today’s word: impignorate.

Impignorate is a word meaning ‘to pawn or mortgage something’ and comes from the Latin ‘pignoration’, which is from ‘pignoratio’ from ‘pignerate’ meaning ‘to pledge’. For example, you might say, ‘I wish to impignorate this weird tchotchke from my Nanna, as I cannot tell whether it is a naked lady or a melted Empire State Building, and I would prefer the money in any case.’ Next time, perhaps think to clarify with your Nanna when she gives it to you.

Robert Louis Stevenson, uses the word in what might be called a fair better example, used here in a letter to a friend from Honolulu in 1889: ‘I have got the yacht paid off in triumph, I think; and though we stay here impignorate, it should not be for long, even if you bring us no extra help from home.’

A similar word, ‘pawn’ means ‘to pledge, stake or wager’ comes from Middle French ‘pan’ meaning ‘pledge or security’ and is comparable to Middle Dutch ‘pant’, and Old High German ‘pfant’. Similarly, there is ‘hock’ meaning ‘to leave with a pawnbroker as security for a loan’, which comes from the Dutch word ‘hok’ meaning ‘hutch, hovel, jail, pen, or doghouse’. It’s also comparable to the Middle English ‘hukken’ meaning ‘to sell; peddle; sell at auction’. Anyone else ready for an episode of ‘Pawn Stars’, the reality TV series from 2009 that ran for a whole seventeen seasons? Yep, me too. 

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Servus, my lovely literary loves, and thank you for listening in once again! You may have guessed by European greeting, that we are once again heading to the wonderful land of Germany, to explore today’s nifty word: treppenwitz.

Treppenwitz is a German word meaning ‘a clever remark that comes to mind when it’s too late to say it’. You might, for example, be lying in bed one night, when the rap battle of the previous day drifts to mind, and you experience treppenwitz, as you suddenly think of a better rhyme than you first uttered to fit the first line about your opponent’s dog looking like a squashed bagel. Ah well. You’ll get ‘em next time. 

The word ‘treppenwitz’ comes from the German words ‘treppe’ meaning ‘stairs’ and ‘witz’ meaning ‘wit or joke’; thus, staircase wit, or a remark thought of only too late. It is a calque produced from the French expression ‘l’esprit de l’escalier’ which means ‘mind of the staircase’. During a dinner at the home of a statesman, Denis Diderot was left speechless by a remark made to him. He wrote, ‘a sensitive man, such as myself, overwhelmed by the argument levelled against him, becomes confused and can only think clearly again at the bottom of the stairs’, and thus the idea of the ‘staircase mind’ - thinking of something only when the moment has passed. ‘Espirit’ in French means ‘mind’ or ‘immaterial or incorporeal substance’ and ‘escalier’ means ‘stairs’. If we return to the German, the word ‘treppe’ comes from Middle High German ‘trappe’, which is from Old High German ‘trappa’, and possibly from Proto-Indo-European ‘*dremb-’ meaning ‘to run’. ‘Witz’ comes from the from Old High German ‘wizzi’, from Proto-Germanic ‘*witją’, in turn from Proto-Indo-European ‘*weyd-’ which means ‘see or know’. And it all makes sense.

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Salutations, you beautiful thing, you, and thank you for joining me once again. No, I’m not sick, and it’s not the mumps. In fact, cast the viral infection that affects the salivary glands, easily preventable by vaccination FAR from your mind, as we explore today’s word: mumpsimus.

‘Mumpsimus’ is a word to describe ‘a stubborn person who insists on making an error in spite of being shown that it is wrong’. Okay, bring the mumps back into your mind as I provide you with this example: you might say, ‘Geraldine is being a real mumpsimus - she insists on not vaccinating young Sammy for mumps even though we’ve given her numerous pamphlets detailing scientific research, procedures and outcomes!’. Okay, you can forget the mumps again now. Thank goodness none of us know a mumpsimus like that, right?

The origin of this word is rather clever - it’s a malapropism, or incorrect but amusing adaption of the word ‘sumpsimus’ which means ‘adherence to or persistence in using a strictly correct term in rejection of a more common, but technically incorrect, form. The story goes that an illiterate priest used ‘mumpsimus’ instead of ‘sumpsimus’ during mass, and when someone attempted to correct him, he replied that he ‘would not change his old mumpsimus for his critic’s new sumpsimus’. 

Perhaps the first time we see it in writing is 1530, where William Tyndale's book ‘Practice of Prelates’ states that the men whom Cardinal Wolsey had asked to find reasons why Catherine of Aragon was not truly the wife of King Henry VIII of England were "all lawyers, and other doctors, mumpsimuses of divinity”’. An excellent use, I think you’ll agree. In 1883, John Burgon commented on errors in translations in the bible, ‘If men prefer their 'mumpsimus' to our 'sumpsimus', let them by all means have it: but pray let them keep their rubbish to themselves—and at least leave our SAVIOUR's words alone.’ Oof. Heated stuff. 

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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A warm and sunshiney day to you, dear listener, and thank you for joining me once again! Today, we’re thinking sunflowers, we’re thinking lemons, we’re thinking rubber ducks, taxis and bananas! Have you guess it? Today’s word is: yellow.

Believe it or not, the word for the colour yellow has a long and tangled evolution. Hope you’re wearing your best yellow boots, because here comes the etymology of ‘yellow’: from Middle English ‘yelwe’ or ‘yelou’, from Old English ‘ġeolwe’, which is an oblique form of of Old English ‘ġeolu’, which is in turn from Proto-West Germanic ‘*gelu’, which itself is from the Proto-Germanic ‘*gelwaz’, which, in turn, is from the Proto-Indo-European ‘*ǵʰelh₃wos’ meaning ‘gleam or yellow’. Still with me? There’s more! You can compare the origins of yellow to: the Welsh ‘gwelw’ meaning ‘pale’, Latin ‘helvus’ meaning ‘dull yellow’, the Irish ‘geal’ meaning ‘white or bright’, the Ancient Greek ‘khlōrós’ meaning ‘light green’, and the German ‘gelb’, meaning, of course, yellow. These words can be traced back to a few different ideas or meanings, including gold and shining. 

The word yellow can also be used to describe a coward, or someone weak or scared. The origins of this are debated, and rather unclear. Some surmise that it comes from yellow-bellied birds such as the sapsucker, or even eels or fish. Some say it goes back to a derogatory slang for certain races, or as a way to describe people living in remote areas with a pale or sickly complexion. Another guess is that it refers to a gut related illness or even jaundice, describing the colour of...well, certain biles or bodily fluids. It’s anyone’s guess, really.

Yellow can also be used in conjunction with journalism, to describe a kind of false storytelling, usually bundled with sensational headlines, exaggerated facts, rumours, and even scare tactics. 

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Hola my little prickly pears! Thank you for joining me as we take a trip to Mexico to explore one of the world’s favourite fruits and today’s word: . 

I’m sure you’re familiar - avocado is a fruit with a soft, squishy centre, often mushed to make guacamole or spread on toast with a smattering of feta and offered for an increasingly high price by small cafe owners. The word ‘avocado’ is from the Spanish ‘aguacate’, which in turn comes from the Nahuatl word ‘āhuacatl’. This Nahuatl word could also mean ‘testicle’, likely due to the similarities between the fruit and the body part in shape and appearance. This word can be combined with other words - for example ‘ahuacamolli’, meaning avocado soup or sauce, from which the word guacamole derives. 

Today’s English word ‘avocado’ comes from a rendering of the Spanish ‘aguacate’ as ‘avogato’, first written in English in 1697 as ‘avogato pear’. This was later corrupted to ‘alligator pear’, a term still used by many to describe avocados in the Southern USA and the Caribbean. Some guess that ‘alligator’ also refers to the likeness of texture or rough green skin of both alligators and avocados. Because the first translation ‘avogato’ sounds like ‘advocate’, many languages reinterpreted the word avocado to share this meaning. The French word for avocado is ‘avocat’, which also means lawyer, comparable to the Dutch word ‘advocaatpeer’. In India, the avocado is referred to as ‘butter fruit’. In Australia, avocado is commonly shortened to ‘avo’, a colloquialism that has also become popular in South Africa in the United Kingdom, but one that also causes confusion between the regularly used ‘arvo’ - an Australian abbreviation for afternoon. Afternoon on toast anyone?

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Good day to you, my sweet smelling flowers of language! Today we journey to the centre of your very face, to the nose! To explore today’s word: macrosmatic. 

‘Macrosmatic’ is a word meaning ‘to have a good sense of smell.’ You know that one person who goes, ‘Has Terrence been over lately? I swear I can smell his eau de cologne’, when in fact Terrence hasn’t been over in at least five weeks. Creepy.

‘Macrosmatic’ is made up of ‘macro’ meaning ‘large or long’ and ‘osmatic’ meaning ‘relating to the sense of smell’; thus, large sense of smell. Macro comes from the Ancient Greek ‘makrós’ meaning ‘long’. You might, for example, have had the misfortune of studying macroeconomics in your first year of business studies, which relates to the ‘branch of economics concerned with large-scale or general economic factors, such as interest rates and national productivity.’ ‘Osmatic’ comes from the French osmatique, supposedly coined by one Paul Broca, and from the Greek ‘osmē’ meaning ‘smell, scent, odor’. One can also be microsmatic: having little sense of smell, or anosmatic: lacking the sense of smell entirely.

Let us take a moment to examine the word we use to describe the place all smells are smelt - the nose! ‘Nose’ comes from Old English ‘nosu’, from Proto-Germanic ‘*nusō’. My favourite comparison is to the Norwegian ‘nos’ meaning ‘snout’. ‘Nos’ in Norwegian can also refer to a steep protruding point on a mountain. The word ‘nose’ can be used as a verb in many different ways, including to snoop, detect, push or to move cautiously somewhere. It can also mean ‘the bulge on the side of a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, that fits into the hole of its adjacent piece.’ Who knew? 

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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Hello hello my shining stars! And thank you for joining me this glowing day and/or night. Today, we are shooting for the stars, aiming for the moon, and flying high in the sky as we look at today’s word: constellate.

‘Constellate’, though related to the word ‘constellation’ does not necessarily relate to astronomy, but means ‘to combine as a cluster’. It comes from the Latin ‘constellatus’ meaning ‘starred’, ‘Constellate can also mean ‘to shine with united radiance, or one general light’. Now isn’t that lovely?

The related word ‘stellar’, meaning ‘of, pertaining to, or characteristic of stars’, comes from the Latin ‘stēllāris’, which comes from the Proto-Italic ‘*stērolā’ meaning ‘star’. The word ‘constellation’ is similarly derived, and refers to ‘an arbitrary pattern of stars forming in the sky, especially those identified by astronomers.’ It can also refer to astrology, in terms of where the planets are located at one’s time of birth, as used for determining one’s horoscope. ‘The twelve equal divisions of the zodiacal region into signs or houses, each named for a prominent constellation in the region’ is called the ‘zodiac’, or your star sign. The word ‘zodiac’ comes from Old French ‘zodiaque’, from the Latin ‘zōdiacus’, which in turn is from Ancient Greek ‘zōidiakós’ meaning ‘circle of little animals’. In astronomy, however, ‘zodiac’ means ‘the ecliptic: the belt-like region of the celestial sphere corresponding to the apparent path of the sun over the course of a year.’

Let us take, for example, my zodiac! I am an aquarius. Aquarius is the 11th zodiac sign from the Latin ‘aquarius’, a loan translation of the Greek ‘Hydrokhoos’ meaning ‘the water-pourer,’, which is also the old Greek name of the constellation for which the house is named. Aquarians were a group of Chistians who drank water instead of wine at the Lord’s Supper, and the ‘Aquarian Age’ is an astrological epoch thought to have begun in the 20th century embodying the traits of this sign and promoting world peace and human brotherhood. You might recognise this concept from the popular song ‘Age of Aquarius’ from 1967, featured in the hit musical ‘Hair’. 

Isn’t language wonderful?

Written by Taylor Davidson, Read by Zane C Weber

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A wonderful welcome to you, language lovers, and thank you for joining me today! Today we explore a kind of person, and we have all met one of these - I’m sure you know the type. Annoying, grating, the kind that makes you want to roll your eyes at the nature of the situations they seem to put themselves into. I trust of course, dear listener, that today’s word does not apply to you! Today’s word is: lickspittle.

A lickspittle is described as ‘a fawning subordinate; a suck-up’. The kind of person, say, who might pipe up in class to ask a confusing and unnecessary question about the non-required reading, just to prove to the teacher and the class that they actually bothered to do it. Or perhaps it’s the kind of person who inexplicably carries your bag, brings you coffee, and shines your five dollar Kmart shoes, when you don’t require any of these things to be done at that moment, and certainly not by them. 

The word ‘lickspittle’ is a compound word, made up of ‘lick’ and ‘spittle’, the latter having the meaning ‘saliva’. ‘Spittle’ is an alteration of dialectal ‘spattle’ which comes from the Old English ‘spātl’, which in turn is related to ‘spǣtan’ which can mean ‘to spit’ or ‘to squirt’. Ew. The word ‘lick’ comes from Old English ‘liccian’, from Proto-West Germanic ‘*likkōn’, and can be compared to Old Irish ‘ligid’, the Latin ‘lingō’ or ‘ligguriō’ meaning ‘to lap or lick up’, and the Ancient Greek ‘leíkhō’. ‘Lick’ has multiple meanings as both a noun and a verb, and can be used to connote a range of things from the literal ‘licking of an ice cream’ to the more musical ‘guitar licks’ all the way to describing something small, like ‘a lick of good luck’. 

Isn’t language wonderful?

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