Realm of the Wombat

Odie started calling me ’sirrah’ on the train the other day. We figured it was the predecessor of ’sir,’ which turned out to be true. But ’sirrah’ holds a different connotation, according to dictionary.com:

–noun Archaic.
a term of address used to inferiors or children to express impatience, contempt, etc.

Origin: 1520–30; extended form of sir; source of final vowel is unclear

As I recently learned from Mental Floss, “arachibutyrophobia” is a word. According to dictionary.com it is:

noun
a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth

Is this really a condition? Even if it is, does it need a specific word to describe it? This is a general problem: most phobias don’t deserve to have a term defined for them. I understand having words for the fear of heights or fear of spiders. Those are natural, evolutionary survival responses. But do we need a word for the fear of flutes (aulophobia)? Or the fear of sitting down (kathisophobia)? Defining terms for these conditions removes their irrationality. Someone who is afraid of flutes does not need validation; the person needs help, or at least the shaming that comes from saying the words, “I am afraid of flutes.”

Check out this list of phobias for hundreds of other words we don’t need. Except for scabiophobia. Let’s keep that one.

George Washington used the word “panegyric” in a humble reply to a poem dedicated to him by Phillis Wheatley at the outset of the Revolutionary War. From dictionary.com:

noun
1. a lofty oration or writing in praise of a person or thing; eulogy.
2. formal or elaborate praise.

We all know that the english language does not always make sense. It’s not surprising then that there have been attempts to reform spelling rules. Apparently Andrew Carnegie [wikipedia entry], the steel tycoon and philanthropist, was a proponent of these reforms. He wrote a scathing attack on “ough” words in the New York Times in 1906 [pdf]. What I found most interesting is that Carnegie saw this as a step toward world peace. His reasoning was that english was emerging as a worldwide language, and that non-native speakers would resist learning english due to its inconsistent spelling rules. That’s quite a contrast from what the U.S. does now in the name of world peace.

Inspired by Neatorama
Article on Carnegie from the Journal of the Simplified Spelling Society

According to the State Poet Laureates list, Indiana is the most literary. Why? Because they have not one, but two state poets. Apparently, Indiana’s state poet was traditionally appointed by the Indiana State Federation of Poetry Clubs, an honor currently held by Carol Ogdon Floyd. However, in 2005 the state created an official position of Poet Laureate. Interestingly, they did not choose to give the job to Carol Ogdon Floyd, but instead installed Joyce Brinkman.

Who are the least literary? Arizona, Hawaii, Massachusetts, Michigan, Missouri, New Jersey, New Mexico, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Washington don’t have state poets at all, although Hawaii has a state writer.

Here’s an exchange that recently transpired:

Labmate: Are you rooting for the Rockies in the playoffs?
Our Hero: Yes. They’re the most innocuous team left.
Labmate: Innocuous?

That’s a prompt for some learning action. Here’s the entry from Webster:

adjective
1 : producing no injury
2 : not likely to give offense or to arouse strong feelings or hostility

That #2 definition perfectly describes the Rockies.

You’re a cowboy, and get involved in a three way pistol duel with two other cowboys. You are a poor shot, with an accuracy of only 33%. The other two cowboys shoot with accuracies of 50% and 100%, respectively. The rules of the duel are one shot per cowboy per round. The shooting order is from worst shooter to best shooter, so you get to shoot first, the 50% guy goes second, and the 100% guy goes third, then repeat. If a cowboy is shot he’s out for good, and his turn is skipped. Where or who should you shoot first?

Continue reading for the answer…

I got a postcard in the mail yesterday! Normally, I’d be thrilled about this turn of events, except the postcard wasn’t for me. I’ve heard that you’re not supposed to open someone else’s mail. But in this case, I didn’t open anything. And I had to look at it to figure out that it wasn’t for me. So am I a criminal or what?

On the plus side, I did learn that the “corsair” (that’s a fancy word for pirate) Uluç Ali Reis was from La Castella, Italy. Thanks Wikipedia!

In his article in the latest Newsweek about Al Gore and Bill Bradley, Jonathan Alter used the word “jeremiad.” This piqued my interest, as you might expect. I should have guessed the etymology as biblical and hence the meaning. Here’s the listing from dictionary.com:

noun
a prolonged lamentation or mournful complaint.

If I ever decide to change the name of this site, it sounds like a good alternative.

I had never heard the word “bailiwick” before a month ago. Then it appeared throughout The Cuckoo’s Egg and as the name of a theater in Lakeview, the Bailiwick Repertory Theater. I figured I should look it up.

noun
1. the district within which a bailie or bailiff has jurisdiction.
2. a person’s area of skill, knowledge, authority, or work: to confine suggestions to one’s own bailiwick.

Learning… It’s great!

“Factotum” first appeared in the Jack Black classic School of Rock. It since graduated to a movie of its own, starring Matt Dillon. That was the tipping point for me to look it up.

noun
1. a person, as a handyman or servant, employed to do all kinds of work around the house.
2. any employee or official having many different responsibilities.

Today’s term Odie used that I had to look up on Wikipedia: Gandy dancer