From The Spamfiles

Happy Spam Day! I love months with five Tuesdays in them.

I can one hundred percent guarantee that I don’t want to meet anyone with the email address “Hot Butt”.

Protip: don’t give out your informations to anyone who spells it informations.
 

Okay, if I’m down fifty two pounds in twenty eight days, I’ve lost a limb—possibly two.

They say no tricks so obviously they’re telling the truth.
 

Most of the spambots following me on Tumblr are just pictures of half-naked women with empty blogs, so this one that is trying to get me to sell/pawn stuff is pretty unique. Not to mention way off for Tumblr’s userbase.

Delicate Voice

This cat sounds like a siren going off.

Thankfully I didn’t have to worry about this with my cat Veronica when she went deaf, as despite being a giant, fifteen pound ball of fur, Veronica could only ever muster a light trill when she meowed.

Language Of Confusion: Going In Circles, Part II

This week, we’re back to looking at words related to the Proto Indo European sker-, except this version of sker- means to turn or bend instead of to cut like the other one. It just goes to show that there have been homophones for as long as there has been language.
 
Now this word gave us circle, and you might be surprised to find out that it also gave us ring. Ring comes from the Old English hring, which means ring and also used to mean circle before it was replaced in that regard. I mean, kind of. You see a circle you can just as easily call it a ring. It’s from the Proto Germanic hringaz, which is from sker-, as weird as it might seem. Germanic did what’s called “nasalizing”, which basically means a consonant sound spoken with the soft palate, like M or N. I really don’t know how that works, because it sounds crazy to just start saying a word in a completely different way.
 
Also from the same place is rink. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, meaning ground sectioned off for combat or a race, and then in 1787 a section of ice for curling, and then smooth wood for skating in 1875. It’s thought to be Scottish in origin and taken from the Old French renc/reng, and that’s thought to be from hringaz as well.
 
It’s kind of funny that shrink is also related, yet surprisingly not as much to rink. Shrink comes from the Middle English shrinken and Old English scrincan, which also meant to shrink. It’s from the Proto Germanic skrink-, which actually makes more sense as being from sker-, although it doesn’t make much sense that to turn/bend changed into to make smaller. Still, I suppose I can kind of see it.
 
Then there’s ridge—ridge! It comes from the Middle English rigge and Old English hrycg, which meant ridge or a spine, and is actually what gave us rucksack. Yes, rucksack. The ruck literally meant back, and the sack is just sack, so it’s a backpack (or back sack!). Anyway, it’s from the Proto Germanic hruggin, which is thought to be from the Proto Indo European kreuk-, a form of sker-. However, this one is a lot more of a guess than the others, so it would make sense if this isn’t true. But it’s not like etymology is about making sense.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
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
Old English-English Dictionary
Encyclopaedia Britannica

From The Spamfiles

Let’s see what the Spam Fairy has brought for us this week.

Obviously a cancer widow, and one who doesn’t know how to use question marks.

Yes, I’m sure the British High Commission (whatever that is) is very interested in giving me, a non-Brit, many things.

Gee, I don’t remember sending these to myself, but I don’t remember not sending them to myself.

Yet another cancer widow, I assume. She really is stressing me with her predicaments.

Oh isn’t this just a parade of red flags. I love them advising me (oops, advicing me) to prohibit other transaction with an unknown source.

Stupid, Cheap Piece Of Crap

If you’ll remember, right before last Christmas, I tripped on the cord (rushing to stop the cat from puking on the rug of course) and the connector bent, rendering it unusable. And now this, with no outside cause.

The new one finally came in. It better last more than six months.

Language Of Confusion: Going In Circles, Part I

Back into a multipart series! I’ve actually done the etymology of circle before, but it was long ago enough that it can be done as a refresher. Besides, there are a TON of other words related to it.
 
Circle itself showed up in the fourteenth century from the Old French cercle and classical Latin circulus, which just means circle. And I’m sure everyone has noticed that looks like circus, and there’s a reason for that. Circus showed up in the late fourteenth century where it meant large, open air enclosures for racing, not meaning what we’d call a circus until 1791. Circus was taken from classical Latin, as Romans used the word to refer to circular arenas where performances or contests took place. Circus is related to the Greek kirkos (also circus), which is thought to be from the Proto Indo European sker-. But not the “to cut” sker- we talked about as being the origin of carnage. Because words were stupid even back then, this sker- is completely different, and means to turn or bend.
 
Also related is circuit, which makes sense since a circuit is always supposed to be a closed circle. It showed up in the late fourteenth century, though back then it only referred to the circumference of something, even if it wasn’t circular in shape—no electricity back then, obviously, so they didn’t start using it in that way until 1746. It comes from the Old French circuit, from the classical Latin circuitus, circuit, circumference, or revolution, from the verb circuire/circumire, to go around. It’s why pretty much anything with the prefix circum- involves going around (i.e. circumvent, circumference). Circum literally means around in Latin, and it of course is from circus.
 
Now for some things not obviously related to circle… at least by the spelling. Crown showed up in the early twelfth century, so it’s pretty old. It comes from the Anglo French coroune, Old French corone, and classical Latin corona, which we also use in English. It’s from the Greek korone, crown, and that’s thought to also be from the to bend sker-. Because crowns and circles bend.
 
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

From The Spamfiles

Happy Spam Day!

The Great Reset is warning me my face was hacked (???) and also that the next fifty five Americans to act will get… something. This is like three different spam messages pasted together.

So. Is it a hundred dollars with apparently factional cents or a hundred thousand dollars with a period instead of a comma? I almost wish I answered this one so I’d know because this is bothering me.

Definitely a cancer widow. Though I’m curious to know what the 241 means.

No way am I ever answering a message from someone called “Sindy”.

Maybe they should use their psychic ability to figure out they’re spewing nonsense.

It’s Already Started

It feels like we just finished the last one.

I don’t think I can take another year and a half of this.

Language Of Confusion: Floral

`We’re looking at flowers this week, since spring is finally starting to warm things up around here.
 
Rose
Rose comes from the Old English rose, which just means, you know, rose the plant. It’s from the classical Latin rosa, and I’m sure you can guess what that means. Not a lot of change here. It’s thought to be from the Greek rhodon, which means either rose or rhododendron, so that makes sense. It’s actually thought rhodon comes from the Iranian root word vrda-, which was a very old Persian word for rose (and FYI, the v was pronounced like a u). And by all accounts, the flower rose is not related at all to the past tense of rise.
 
Lily
Lily comes from the Old English lilie, from the classical Latin lilia, which means lilies, while the singular is lilium. That’s related to the Greek leirion, but what spawned both those words is unknown.
 
Tulip
Tulip has an actual century attached to it, showing up sometime during the late sixteenth century. It’s from either the German or Dutch tulpe, which comes from the Turkish word tülbent, which means… cheesecloth. Or gauze, or muslin, or a wrapping like a turban. It’s from the Persian word dulband, turban, because apparently the flowers were first imported to Europe from Turkey, and people thought they resembled turbans.
 
Daisy
Daisy showed up fairly early, in the fourteenth century, from the Old English daegesege, which is a mix of daeges, day, and eage, eye. Because the petals of a daisy open in the morning and close at night, the flower was called the “day eye”.
 
Daffodil
Daffodil showed up in the mid sixteenth century as asphodel, from the Middle English affodill. It’s from the Medieval Latin affodillus, classical Latin asphodelus, and Greek asphodelos, daffodil. Where’d the D come from? Well, in Dutch, they’re called de affodil, the asphodel, and since the Netherlands was an exporter of the flowers, English kind of copied the D and started saying d’asphodel or daffodil.
 
Sources
Online Etymology Dictionary
Google Translate
Omniglot
University of Texas at Arlington
Tony Jebson’s page on the Origins of Old English
Old English-English Dictionary
Dictionary of Medieval Latin

From The Spamfiles

Spam is so stupid and pointless and that’s why I love it.

Yes, a twofer. It’s just amusing that both are very different in style and content, yet both have the #(random number) in them.

This spammer is attentive enough to change the random letters they have in each address and subject line, but too lazy to get rid of the HTML editor line that clearly has nothing to do with anything.

I’d like to know how I managed to get on a spam list under the name “slslmgo ylwazxd”. I’m afraid if I say it out loud, I’ll be warped to another dimension.

CONGRAT.

Because you asked, I’m totally going to go read your blog post, absolutely real person who commented the same generic message twice on one post.

Subtle

Subtle like a baseball bat to the head.

I suppose I should be happy she’s giving me an idea when she usually doesn’t.

Language Of Confusion: Warning, Etymology Ahead, Part III

Final post of words descended from the Proto Indo European wer-, to cover, which gave us warning. And a lot of other words you wouldn’t think it gave.
 
First this week, we’re going back to words beginning with G: guarantee showed up in the late seventeenth century as a noun and over a century later as a verb. Originally, it was spelled garrant in English and used to refer to the person making the guarantee, coming from the Old French garant, from the Proto Germanic war-, warn or protect. As I told you two weeks ago, war- is the origin word for warn, and is directly from wer-. A guarantee is a promise to cover. How strangely sensible.
 
Then there’s garage, yes, like you put a car in. It’s a cover of sorts, so nothing too outlandish. However garage didn’t actually show up until 1902! It’s from the French garage, which I’m going to take a wild guess and means garage, from the verb garer, to park, shelter, or even to dock ships. That’s from the Old French garir, to protect or save, from the Frankish waron, which is also from the Proto Germanic war-. A garage is a place to protect cars.
 
Now we’re going to look at overt, which is not in fact related to over. Like, at all. Overt showed up in the early fourteenth century, but it meant open or unfastened before shifting a few decades later to mean obvious or in plain view. It’s from the Old French overt (verb form ovrir, which is actually a lot like covrir, the origin for cover), and that’s actually from the classical Latin aperire, to open. So French switched the V to a P??? Anyway, aperir is from the Proto Indo European ap-wer-yo, with the ap- coming from apo-, off or away, the origin of the prefix apo- (as in apology). We know what wer- is, so the word actually means something like “cover off”, which does make sense for overt, something is obviously going to be seen when its cover is off. The whole ap- to ov- thing is stupid, though. France.
 
Next in our list of words somehow not related to over is overture, of all things. It’s actually older than overt, having shown up in the mid thirteenth century meaning an opening or aperture. In other words, it meant a hole, then meaning an introduction in the mid fifteenth century, and then in the mid seventeenth century, music started using it to mean an opening movement. The word comes from the Old French overture, from the classical Latin apertura, the origin for aperture—which didn’t come to us from French, which must be why there’s no ov-. Anyway, apertura is from aperire, which we already know. In conclusion, overture is not over + ture, it’s overt + ure.
 
Finally, the last of the words: pert. Yes, pert. Frankly, after apertura, this shouldn’t be too much of a shock, though it would be if you didn’t know the backstory. Pert showed up in the mid thirteenth century, but it meant evident or obvious. By the early fourteenth century it started to mean attractive, and then later on in the century it meant impudent. No, I don’t see that progression. The word was apert in Middle English, which was from the Old French apert, which is from the Latin aperire. I don’t know how French managed to not switch to ov- for just this word, but it did.
 
That’s all for the warn words. Now I have to think up something else…
 
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
Encyclopaedia Britannica

May Goals

Well, as predicted, April was a pretty ugh month. I don’t even remember what I was supposed to be working on.
 
April Goals
1. Finish the web serial edits. Not sure I’ll be able to get there, but I should be able to get close.
I actually finished this! It’s a miracle! I thought it might take another month. I think it’s pretty good, but of course I’m horrible at judging my own work.
 
2. Update my etymology page. You know what a treat this always is. Stupid Google.
I did this, though as usual I was unable to get rid of the horrible space between all the words. I swear, Google is breaking Blogger bit by bit to drive us all away. It would explain why it’s suddenly not emailing me blog comments anymore.
 
3. Find some way to get my work out there more. Not that I have any idea how to do this…
As if I was able to figure this out. I really wish there was a list of clear, specific instructions for this sort of thing.
 
Okay, I guess. I’m not really looking forward to the stress May’s going to bring with it, though.
 
May Goals
1. Plan out the second part of the web serial.
 
2. Keep working on marketing—why does this have to be so hard?
 
3. Try to recharge in some way so the stress doesn’t cause me to spontaneously combust.
 
What do you want to do this May? Anything fun? If you’ve signed up for blog comments to be emailed to you, are you still getting them?