More Stupidest Etymology

As usual for the last etymology post of the year, I’m going to do something different. Once again I’m going to look at the weirdest etymology I’ve gone over this past year, because there’s been quite a bit of it.
 
Warp means transport these days because of astrophysics, and mostly Star Trek.
 
Nacelle, defined as the cockpit of an aircraft (or other similar structures) comes from the Latin word navis, ship, for the stupidest reason possible. Navis then Late Latin made it a diminutive navicella, Vulgar Latin made it a, naucella, then Old French made it nacele. It came to English meaning a small boat, and then, in 1901, because a “gondola of an airship” looked like a small boat, we started calling parts of metal things that fly in the air a small ship.
 
Inward and outward are not related to award, reward, or anything else with ward in it. The former two are in- or out- + ward, which means toward and from wer-, a PIE root that means turn or bend. The rest are from a different PIE wer-, this one meaning perceive or watch out for, and is the origin for guard and words ending in -gard.
 
Kaput. Just kaput. It definitely wins the stupid prize here.. It’s from German, but it’s actually a misused form of the phrase capot machem, which is a translation of the French phrase faire capot, which was used to say you won all the tricks in an old card game. The phrase’s literal translation is “to make a bonnet”. What the hell.

Reflections 2023

What the absolute hell happened? This year was… not great. In multiple ways. And very, very expensive. Companies are reporting record profits, because cereal is eight dollars now. Face lotion is thirty. If you go into Target, you can’t find someone to unlock the electronics you want to buy because there are like three people working in the whole store. Life is an endless nightmare, and we’re going into an election year. I want to crawl into a hole now before they take away my healthcare and a single cereal bar costs eighteen dollars.
 
I’m not even sure I can stomach to look at what I was supposed to do the last year.
 
Resolutions 2023
1. Keep looking for ways to promote my web serial (I am so, so bad at this).
Yeah, I’m even worse at this than I thought. Marketing and promotion are really confusing. I suppose I could create a hundred fake accounts and downvote a bunch of books by POCs and only upvote mine, or has that been done?
 
2. Write the second part of that web serial.
At least this was easy enough.
 
3. Finish the new web serial project I’ve been working on (less seriously, I don’t have much of a plan for this one).
This too, as I do really, really enjoy writing.
 
4. Write something else. Not sure what. I’m just assuming this will happen at some point.
Hey, I did this too, and have finished a book that I have been envisioning in some form or other for something like twenty five years. It’s nothing like how I first conceived it, but that’s probably a good thing.
 
5. Find a new social media to be active on since twitter is being slowly murdered. So far, Mastodon seems too complicated and Hive too shaky. There’s Tumblr, of course, but it’s, well, Tumblr.
Bluesky! It’s actually not terrible. I have some invite codes I have no idea what to do with, if anyone’s interested.
 
6. Work on losing some weight. Probably not going to happen, but I can try.
Okay, why the hell did I make this a goal? That was a stupid idea.
 
7. Start reading some new books. For the past few years, the only new things I’ve read have been graphic novels/comics, so I’d like to get back to reading some word novels again.
Hey, I did this! And now I’m chewing my nails waiting for the last book in the series trying to come out.
 
Don’t let the relative completion fool you. 2023 was terrible. Off to the hole.

Language Of Confusion: Instrumental

Yeah I’m totally out of ideas. Plus it’s almost the holiday, and I’m tired.
 
Guitar
Guitar showed up as a word in the mid seventeenth century, from the French guitare. That’s from the Old French guiterre/guiterne, from the classical Latin cithara, guitar, and Greek kithara, also guitar. It was always a stringed musical instrument, though it used to be a triangular, seven-stringed lyre-like instrument. There are several other instruments descended from these words, including the gittern and the zither, and kithara might be descended from the word sitar as well. Though this is etymology, so maybe not.
 
Lute
Lute is a much older word, having shown up in the late thirteenth century from the Old French lut/leut. That’s from the Old Provençal laut, a messed up form of the Arabic al-‘ud, their word for lute, which literally translates into the wood.
 
Harp
Harp comes from the Old English hearpe, which is also just a harp. That’s from the Proto Germanic harpon, a word of uncertain origin, though it might be related to the Late Latin harpa. Which, you know, would make sense, but again, etymology.
 
Lyre
Lyre showed up in the thirteenth century from the Old French lire, classical Latin lyra, and Greek lyra, so there really hasn’t been much variation in a thousand years. The word’s origin is unknown before that (though the instrument is supposedly from Egypt), though it did give us the word lyric as a lyrical poem in the late sixteenth century.
 
Violin
Violin showed up in the late sixteenth century from the Italian violino, a diminutive of viola. Viola actually didn’t show up in English until 1797, but it was in Italian a lot earlier than that, coming from the Old Provençal viola, and Medieval Latin vitula, and that might actually be from a Roman goddess.
 
Fiddle
Finally today, fiddle showed up in the late fourteenth century (violin actually replaced it as the word for the instrument). It comes from the Old English fiðele, which is somehow related to the Old Norse fiðla, though no one knows where that actually came from. Who knows? Maybe someone called it that once as a joke and it stuck.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Orbis Latinus
Encyclopedia Mythica

From The Spamfiles

Last spam of the year! Which means the year is almost over, a frankly horrifying concept.

Does the lack of an Oxford comma bother anyone else or is it just me?

I don’t know why anyone would think I need more web reach on my blog. Look at all my visitors! [sound of crickets chirping]

CarShield has not heard of spaces between words.
 

I’m guessing the DA is the “Domain Authority” Ashfaq was talking about there, something I don’t care about and am not entirely sure is a real thing.

So close to sounding like a real native English speaker, but you did mess up a few verbs and nouns. Also how is that not the sketchiest address sending me this text? Plus, this actually came in at like three in the morning, which I of course did not see because I was asleep. No, nothing suspicious about that!

Language Of Confusion: Toys

Toy itself showed up in the fourteenth century, but back then it meant “amorous playing” (yikes) or sport, then meaning a piece of fun/entertainment until the sixteenth century, which morphed into a thing of little value and finally a thing a child plays with. It’s origin before that is unknown, and one theory is it’s a combination of more than one word. Not that anyone has any idea what those words might be.
 
Next, game showed up in the thirteenth century as a game, then hunting or fisher in the fourteenth century. It’s from the Old English gamenian, to joke or play. It’s Germanic in origin, from the Proto Germanic ga- prefix with the suffix mann meaning person. Gamy is from here, though it didn’t show up until 1844 meaning “spirited or plucky”. It didn’t have to do with taste until almost twenty years later in 1863, and who knows what brought on that weird change?
 
Doll is an interesting one since it actually showed up as a nickname before it was a toy. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the name Dorothy, slightly before dolly was used the same way. By the early seventeenth, it started to be used as a pet name for a woman you were involved with, and then by the middle of the century it meant… well, slut. Yeah. Then, by the seventeenth century, it meant a child’s toy baby, and by the end of the eighteenth century it was being used for women again in a fond way. Then by the mid twentieth century it was back to being patronizing again.
 
Finally today, puppet showed up in the mid sixteenth century meaning a little figure moved by strings. It comes from the Middle English popet, their word for doll because they didn’t use doll that way, from the Old French popette, from popee, a doll or puppet. That’s from the Vulgar Latin puppa, from the classical Latin pupa, which means doll or girl. Fun fact, that’s from pupillus, which is the origin word for pupil.
 
Have you finished your holiday shopping yet?
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Encyclopaedia Britannica

Special Offer

Tis the season.

That one day only offer lasted a good five days.

Language Of Confusion: Gifts, Part II

All these words are descended from the Proto Indo European root ghabh-, to give or receive. Though every one of these words you’re going to look at and say WTF???
 
First is debt of all words. It showed up in the fourteenth century—with debtor actually showing up in the previous century, and back then they spelled it dettur/dettour, sensibly without the silent B! Debt is from the Old French dete, from the classical Latin debitum, debt, while debtor is from the Anglo French detour (no, not related to detour), Old French detor, and then classical Latin debitor, debtor. Both words are from the verb debere, to owe or originally to keep away from someone. The de- means away, and the rest is from habere, which as I mentioned last week means to have and is from ghabh-. A debt is something that needs to be given away. A debtor is someone it’s given away to.
 
Similarly, there’s due. It showed up in the mid fourteenth century as what’s customary or regular, then later on in the century as what’s owed, and then also becoming a noun in the early fifteenth century and an adjective in the sixteenth century. It comes from the Old French deu, from the verb devoir, to owe, from debere in Latin. So due is from debt, but they didn’t stick in the useless letter this time. The word duty is pretty much the same. It showed up in the late fourteenth century first spelled duete, from the Anglo French duete, which is also taken from the Old French deu.
 
But that’s not weird enough. How about endeavor being from the same place? It showed up in the early fifteenth century meaning the effort taken to obtain something, actually coming from the phrase to “put yourself in dever”, which meant to make it your duty (to get something). Dever is an Old French word meaning duty, and is also from debere. Because people used to say “in dever” a lot, we have endeavor.
 
Finally is a word you’re definitely not going to expect: malady. It showed up in the late thirteenth century from the Old French maladie, from malade, which means ill. That’s from the Late Latin male habitus, which means feeling sick. Male literally means badly, while habitus is like habit, attitude, or disposition—when you have a malady, you’re in a poorly disposition. And habitus is of course from habere. A malady is to have illness.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Fordham University
Orbis Latinus

December Goals

How the hell is it December??? That’s just not right. I need to complain about this to someone. We should only be in April at the latest, but here I am looking at what I did in November.
 
November Goals
1. Get to 60K on my WIP.
Hey, I did this. It was actually pretty easy.
 
2. Continue editing and posting my other WIP.
Another easy one. Set goals you were going to do anyway. It makes things easier!
 
3. Thanksgiving (dread)
Most of my extended family was busy this year and only able to stop by briefly. I didn’t have to stress myself out socializing and I got more desserts! Win-win!
 
It went better than I could have anticipated. You know, if you don’t look at the horrifying state of the world what with all the innocent people being slaughtered. Ha ha, things are terrible!
 
Anyway, December.
 
December Goals
1. Finish my WIP.
 
2. Keep editing and posting my web serial.
 
3. The holidays! Maybe they won’t be bleak and full of despair!
 
Oof. November. Not really expecting much from December either. What do you want to do this month?

Language Of Confusion: Gifts, Part I

It’s that season, where you literally can’t escape Christmas without locking yourself in the house and not going on the internet. Seriously, every two hours I get a notification from Amazon telling me to buy something. Anyway, gifts and the words related to it.
 
Gift showed up in the mid thirteenth century, coming from somewhere in Scandinavia as Old Norse has gift/gipt and then there’s the Proto Germanic geftiz, from the Proto Indo European root ghabh-, to give or receive. So, gift has been surprisingly consistent over the years.
 
There are a bunch of words from ghabh-, and most of them are going to seem weird. First of all, able. But not the suffix -able at the end of words like vegetable, which is not related at all. In fact, the only other word ending in able that’s related is disable. Able showed up in the early fourteenth century, from the Old French able, from the classical Latin habilem/habilis, which basically means handy or able. It’s actually from the verb habere, to have (or the record, not where have is from), which is from ghabh-. So first it dropped the G, then it dropped the H because it was silent.
 
And there’s habit, which is less surprising now that you’ve seen habere. It showed up in the early thirteenth century, but first it only meant religious attire, changing to mean a customary practice in the early fourteenth century. It’s from the Old French habit/abit, a religious habit, from the classical Latin habitus, demeanor or condition. And that’s from habere, too. There’s also habitat, which is fairly recent having shown up in 1762. It’s actually taken right from Latin word for lives as it was used by scientists for the habitats of flora and fauna. Habitat is just another version of habere. Funnily enough, inhabit is much older, having shown up in the late fourteenth century. It’s from the Old French enhabiter, and classical Latin inhabitare, to inhabit. Habitare actually means to live, and the in is from en and means in. Inhabit, to live in.
 
Then we have inhibit. It showed up in the early fifteenth century from inhibition, which is from the Old French inibicion and classical Latin inhibitionem. That’s from the verb inhibere, to hold back or check, with the in the same as above and the habere meaning to have and from ghabh-. Exhibit (mid fifteenth century) and prohibit (early fifteenth century) are the same with the ex- meaning out (holding something out is showing off, in a sense), and pro- meaning away or forth. Prohibiting is… holding forth.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

Definition

As related to me by my mom.

You can look up a word on Kindle by tapping on it. Not so much for a real book.

Thanksgiving Comics #2

Today’s Thanksgiving! I’ll be eating desserts.

More cheesecake for me.

Thanksgiving Comics #1

It’s the week of Thanksgiving! I have tons of stuff to do! Here’s a comic!

Typical in my family.

Language Of Confusion: Buffed Out

A short one this week, as next week is Thanksgiving and I’m running out of steam.
 
The word buff first showed up in the late sixteenth century meaning soft leather made from buffalo hide, coming from the French buffle, their word for buffalo. Then in the late seventeenth century, it became an adjective, first meaning like buff leather, then in 1762 the color. Buff as in to polish showed up later than that, in 1849, definitely from the leather, either from the treatment of it or from using a buff cloth to polish metals.
 
The word buffer is also pretty recent, having shown up in 1835 from the verb buff. But not the polishing buff, which is related, just in a stupid way. See, this buff meant to make a dull sound when struck, and then in 1886 it evolved to mean something which absorbed a blow, hence buffer. It actually showed up several decades after buffer as in a polisher, which showed up in 1854. Anyway, absorption buffer comes from the Old French bufe, a blow or punch. And that word is from buffet. Uh, not that buffet.
 
You’re probably thinking a buffet like food, which showed up in 1718 meaning a sideboard and then a table of refreshments in 1792, a word from the French buffet. Its origin is unknown, but there’s no indication it’s related to the other buffet, which showed up in the thirteenth century and means a hit with a fist or bludgeon. That’s the word buff is from. It comes from the Old French bufe, a punch, which is just thought to be from the sound it makes when you punch.
 
And of course there’s buffalo—the word, not the city name. It showed up in the late sixteenth century, also from the French buffle, from the Portuguese bufalo, Medieval Latin bufalus, which is from the classical Latin bubalus, all of which mean buffalo or a wild ox. And for some reason American bison are called buffalo, despite not being buffalo. Oh, and the city Buffalo is in all likelihood not related and is either from an indigenous word or from the French beau fleuve, beautiful river.
 
You wouldn’t expect one word to be so complicated.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
Dictionary of Medieval Latin

The Neighbor’s Lawn

A true story.

And then the sign was gone because clearly it was making things worse.

Language Of Confusion: Laundering, Part II

All these words come from the Proto Indo European leue-, to wash, just like laundry. You might be scratching your head at some of them, though.
 
First of all, deluge showed up in the late fourteenth century, meaning a great flood, and specifically the one in the Bible. It’s from the Old French deluge/deluve, which is from the classical Latin diluvium, flood—so Old French for some reason changed the V to a G. Anyway, diluvium is from the verb diluere, to dilute or wash away, the prefix dis-, away, and the rest from lavare, to wash, from leue-. A deluge washes things away.
 
Speaking of dilute, it shoed up in the mid sixteenth century meaning to weaken or remove the strength of, and not meaning to water down liquid until a full century later. It comes from the classical Latin dilutus, which means diluted, and is just the past participle of diluere. So yeah, dilute and deluge come from the same place.
 
And now for a word that either makes no sense or perfect sense: lavish. It showed up in the mid fifteenth century from the Old French lavasse/lavache, which meant a torrent of rain and is from lavare. So how did it get from wash to bestowing profusely? Well, to lavish is to wash in gifts. Apparently. Yeah, I think it’s weird, too.
 
Lotion showed up in the fifteenth century spelled loscion, a liquid preparation for skin. It’s from the Old French lotion, from the classical Latin lotionem, which means pretty much the same thing. It’s from the word lotus/lautus, washed up, which is from lavare. We don’t exactly wash our skin in lotion, but I get how it came from there.
 
Finally, the word ablution, which is not a word we hear a lot. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, meaning it’s older than most of these words, coming from the classical Latin ablutionem, which just means ablution. It’s from the verb abluere, another word for to wash, a mix of ab-, away, and luere is the same as what was part of diluere. Well, it makes more sense than lavish.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language

November Goals

Well, it’s November somehow. I’m not pleased with this. Only two months left of the year! What the hell?
 
What did I plan to do last month?
 
October Goals
1. Keep editing the WIP and posting the chapters.
Well, this one was easy enough, and thankfully I did it.
 
2. Ugh, time to update the etymology page again.
UGH. This is such a chore, but I did it.
 
3. Get to work on the new WIP idea I have. Definitely excited about this.
I already made it to 32K, so about a third of the way through. Yay!
 
Successful, I guess. I still can’t believe it’s November, though. What should I do this month?
 
November Goals
1. Get to 60K on my WIP.
 
2. Continue editing and posting my other WIP.
 
3. Thanksgiving (dread)
 
The holiday season is upon us. Unfortunately. What do you want to do this month?

Language Of Confusion: Laundering, Part I

This week, we’re looking at words related to washing things, many of which are actually related.
 
First, laundry showed up in the late fourteenth century, where it meant a place for washing, not meaning washing itself until the mid fifteenth century. Then there’s launder as a verb, which actually didn’t show up until the mid seventeenth century, though it did appear as a noun meaning one who washes in the mid fifteenth century. Launder comes from the Old French lavandier and Medieval Latin lavandaria, while laundry was the Middle English lavendrie and Old French lavanderie, and before that the Vulgar Latin lavandaria, and yes, the two different varieties of Latin had slightly different meanings even if the words are the same. Both are from the classical Latin lavare, to wash, from the Proto Indo European leue-, to wash. And hey, laundering money didn’t come into existence until 1961 and was popularized by Watergate. Just FYI.
 
Now quite a few words come from leue-. First is lather, which makes sense, as lathering is part of washing. It actually comes from the Old English leaþr, which means foam or soap. Before that, it was the Proto Germanic lauthran, and Proto Indo European loutro-, which is also from leue-. What a sensible origin.
 
Then there’s lavatory, which I can see since lavatories (should) involve washing. It showed up in the late fourteenth century as a word for washbasin, then meant a washroom in the mid seventeenth century, and meaning a bathroom in 1864. It’s from the Late Latin lavatorium, from the classical Latin lavatorius, something for washing, which is from lavare. Lavatories—wash your hands! Plus there’s also latrine, which showed up in the fourteenth century. It’s thought to be from the classical Latin latrina/latrinum, toilet, and that’s actually a contraction of lavatrina, bathroom, and of course it’s from lavare. I can’t believe they got rid of the V in a contraction. I mean, the word is barely any shorter.
 
Finally today, lye, which used to be a word for soap. It comes from the Old English laeg/leag, lye, from the Proto Germanic laugo, which is from leue-. Because lye was used as soap, it is from the word to wash.
 
I know, this week seemed very reasonable. Don’t worry, there’s more, and I’m sure it’ll be weird then.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Dictionary of Medieval Latin
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Orbis Latinus

From The Spamfiles

Happy Halloween! We’re celebrating with spam. Because it’s sooooo spooooooky!
 

Apparently I’ve been invited to review the city of Pittsburgh, a place I’ve never been to, as I am one of their customers!

I don’t know what content they have, but I assume it’s some sort of scam, and possibly a virus as well.

Two hundred fifty to five hundred per days! That sounds totally like something a real actual person would say!

I don’t know how I got on Blanca’s mailing list, but I wish she’d leave me alone. Also I can’t stand Tom Cruise.

 

Bots come in bursts on Tumblr. It’s quiet now, but a few weeks ago, I was getting a lot, most of which are empty. Amber here is a rarity because she actually filled her blog with these pictures, all of which seem to be from different people who I swear don’t look like real people.

Language Of Confusion: Damaged

Now for various names for injuries. Because that’s fun!
 
Damage
Damage showed up in the fourteenth century as both a verb and a noun, coming from the Old French damage/domage, from dam, which is from the classical Latin damnum, damage. And… that’s the origin for damn. Seriously. Damn showed up in the late thirteenth century as a legal term, to declare guilty, not being a mild curse until the early seventeenth century.
 
Lacerate
This one showed up in the early fifteenth century from the classical Latin laceratus, torn, from the verb lacerare, to tear. That’s just from the Proto Indo European lek-, to rend, so no big surprises here.
 
Lesion
Lesion showed up in the fifteenth century from the Old French lesion, and before that the classical Latin laesionem, injury. While that’s from the verb laedere, to hurt, it’s another one where further origins are unknown.
 
Wound
Wound comes from the Old English wund, which means, you know, wound. It’s from the Proto Germanic wuntho, and before that is uncertain, but it would make sense if it was from the Proto Indo European wen-, to beat or wound. But at this point you should realize how stupid etymology is, so maybe not.
 
Mutilate
Mutilate showed up in the sixteenth century, but back then it meant disfigure writing or books (by cutting something out), not referring to people until a few decades later. It comes from the classical Latin mutilatus, mutilated, from the verb mutilare. Mutilation actually first showed up in Scottish law, but is from the same place. But you want to know the real WTF thing? Mozzarella is from the Italian verb mozzare, to cut off (as in a slice/cut off part of cheese). And mozzare is from mutilus. Mutilate and mozzarella… are related.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary

Two Seconds Before Disaster

Kittens are pesty.

Peaches jumped about three feet into the air.

Language Of Confusion: Not Buried

Now, as I said last week, bury is from the Proto Indo European root bhergh-, to hide or protect. But there’s also another bhergh, this one meaning high and having a bunch of completely different words descended from it.
 
The first is barrow, but not like a wheel barrow which has a totally separate origin. This one means a mound, a hill, or a grave mound, and yet, I want to emphasize, it is not at all related to the hide/protect bhergh-, or burrow or borrow. While I don’t think this is the stupidest etymology I’ve seen this year, it is definitely up there. That barrow comes from the Old English beorg, a mountain, hill, or barrow from the Proto Germanic bergaz, which is from the high bhergh-, possibly because hills are high and etymology is dumb.
 
What is related to this is burg, as in a town or a city, which showed up in 1843 in American English from borough. Borough comes from the Old English burg/burh which means a city or town. It’s from the Proto Germanic burgs, which is from bhergh-, with the thought that burgs were originally hill forts and fortified elevations before they became town names. You’d think it would be from the protect burg, but no. It’s also amusing that bourgeoisie is also from burg. It showed up in 1707 meaning the people of a French town (i.e. the French middle class), with the French bourgeois from the Old French burgeis/borjois, from borc, a town or village, from the Frankish burg, from bhergh-.
 
More on the WTF side of things is burglar. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the Anglo Latin burglator/burgator. It’s from the Medieval Latin burgator, from burgare, to break open or commit burglary. It’s from the classical Latin burgus, which means a borough, fortress, or castle. I guess because that’s where burglars break into?
 
Then there’s iceberg. It showed up in 1774 meaning a glacier shaped like a hill, so you probably see where this is going. It’s related to the Dutch ijsberg, where ijs is ice and berg means mountain. And is also from bhergh-. Well, this one makes sense at least. Mostly.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin

From The Spamfiles

It’s that time again!

For some reason, this one did not get caught by the spam filter in spite of the email address, which is thirty nine random characters long. Because that’s a totally normal address to have.

Yes, periods in between words for toolsets I didn’t order is totally normal.
 

When your butt doesn’t smell like butt is time to worry.

You can tell it’s spam because it calls it “e dash mail” instead of email like a normal person.

Yes, the USPS absolutely sends a text from a Hotmail account full of random letters.

Language Of Confusion: Burying

Today I think is a good day for looking at the word bury and all the words that are related to it, which have nothing to do with burial. Why would they? This is etymology.
 
Bury comes from the Old English byrgan, to bury or inter in a grave. It’s from the Proto Germanic burzjan-, protection or shelter, from the Proto Indo European root bhergh-, to hide or protect. Because you’re hiding someone with dirt I guess.
 
So while that one took on a bit of a morbid meaning, most of the other words descended from it didn’t. Harbor, for example. It showed up in the early twelfth century meaning a lodging for ships, from the Old English herebeorg, which meant military lodgings. Here literally meant army or host, while beorg translates to a mountain, hill, or barrow. Yeah, I’m guessing that’s figurative. The phrase is actually from the Proto Germanic harja-bergaz, lodgings, and the second half of the word comes from burzjan-, which means it’s from bhergh-. A mound of dirt and army lodgings are the reason we have harbor.
 
To make things more confusing, there’s borrow. No, that’s not a mistyping of burrow or barrow, both of which would make more sense. Borrow, like borrowing something. It comes from the Old English borgian, to pledge, which is from the Proto Germanic burg-, from bhergh-. And as far as I can tell, is not related to the suffices -burg or -berg. Because of course not.
 
And bargain is also from there. It showed up in the thirteenth century from the Old French bargaignier, which is from the Frankish borganjan, to lend. That’s from the Proto Germanic brogan, which is also from bhergh-. I can see this one being related to borrow, but the rest of them? That’s just bizarre.
 
Maybe next week I’ll do the other PIE bhergh-, just to show you how all the burg- words are somehow not related to this one.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
University of Texas at Austin Linguistic Research Center
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary

Taking A Shower

The absolute worst time to find out the hot water isn’t working.

When it reset, it started working again, but there could be a problem with the igniter. Because everything has to be very, very expensive.

Language Of Confusion: Ak-!, Part IV

Now for our final look at words descended from the Proto Indo European root ak-, meaning to be sharp, rise to a point, or pierce. Turns out things can get much weirder than last week.
 
Exacerbate means to increase the bitterness of—generally figuratively. It showed up in the mid seventeenth century while exacerbation showed up back in the fifteenth century, and when do you ever used that word these days? It’s from the Late Latin exacerbationem, from the classical Latin verb exacerbare, to exacerbate. The ex- is though to mean thoroughly here, while the rest is from acerbus, bitter, which we actually talked about three weeks ago as being the origin of acerbic! To exacerbate, to make more bitter.
 
I feel like no one’s going to expect this one after all the words we’ve had about sharp smelling things. Oxygen—yes, air!—showed up in 1790 from the French oxygène, because the gas that we breathe was named by a French chemist. It’s from the Greek oxys, which means sharp and is from ak-. Oxygen, the thing famous for not smelling like anything, for some reason has the root word for sharp. I don’t know why. You’d have to ask Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier.
 
Epoxy is actually from the same place. It didn’t show up until 1916, with the epi- a word forming element meaning on or upon and the oxy from oxygen. Epoxy is a resin used to make glue, it has oxygen in it, there’s bonding involved, so epoxy.
 
Now for something different: paragon. It showed up in the mid sixteenth century from the French paragon. That’s from the Italian paragone (a touchstone to test gold), Latin paragonare, and Greek parakonan, to sharpen or whet. Para- means alongside, with akone meaning whetstone and from ak-. Whetstone to touchstone to a paragon of excellence. I can see it. Weird journey, though.
 
How about we look at the opposite of that? Mediocre showed up in the late sixteenth century, from the French mediocre and classical Latin mediocris, average. The first part is from medius, the middle, while the end is from ocris, a jagged mountain. Being mediocre is being halfway up the mountain. Man, I really didn’t expect that one to make sense.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
University of Texas at San Antonio’s page on Proto Indo European language
Encyclopaedia Britannica
Orbis Latinus