Also, did you know?

Did you know that a cartel is a group that restricts supply to drive up prices? It doesn't have inherently have anything to do with drugs or an association, legal or illegal.

Hopefully you can be pretentious enough to correct people and help me rectify this.

Did you know?

Did you know that an 'alibi' is the proven fact of being elsewhere, not a false explanation or the proven fact of doing something else?

Now, the test is whether or not this will impact your usage.

Calembour, n

What's a calembour? It's a pun, plain and simple. We get it from the French, but it was originally the name of a jokester in German fairy stories.

I imagine this Calembour fellow was a faithful practitioner of the double entendre. Just a hunch. Actually, speaking of hunches, I imagine him as a hunchback too.
I'll go see if I can't read some of these stories. And learn German.
Not in that order.

Adamant/Diamond

Sometimes I uncover an etymological connection between words that seems quite obvious. This is usually accompanied by a self-depreciating slap to the forehead, as well as a somewhat exciting realization that revealing the history of some words might be easier than one thinks.

Of course, etymology is, apparently, not for those who only speak one language, but I nonetheless found this connection intriguing.

Adamant, as an adjective, means stern, unmoving, and unable to be persuaded. For example, "He is an adamant Leafs fan" would mean that the subject cannot be dissuaded from his fandom.

The cool part is that, if you remove the 'a' at the start of the word, it sounds a lot like 'diamond' which is, interestingly enough, a stone that is impervious to mutation.
So, the original word, which is actually from Ancient Greek, "adamas". meaning immutable, has been figuratively extended to the famously hard jewel. It isn't quite known when this transition happened, as the original work is over 4000 years old, and may have been extended to the actual stone in figurative terms long before it became a noun of its own.

I'm not sure about you, but, for me, the mere vowel at the start of 'adamant' had completely obfuscated the otherwise obvious connection between the two words.

I suppose I should sign off by saying how seeing etymological connections can be "hard", but that's just terrible. Oh well, it happened.

Temerity, n.

I'm certainly inspired after learning that my readership is now at least three times bigger than I had originally imagined it.

Here's an excellent noun plucked straight from Latin. It means foolish boldness, or rashness. You could consider it a close synonym to "recklessness", although that word lacks the connotation of intended courage that "temerity" connotes.

Hence, it would be recklessness to attempt to rob Fort Knox, but temerity to attempt to do it if the CIA had locked your family in there.

The etymology is simple. The Latin "temeritās" means both randomness and chance, as meaning almost exactly what the English word means.

Would it be temerity to attempt to use this word three times tomorrow? You'd might as well try!

coquicide, n.

Here's an obscure and possibly obsolete word which I love because of its vast usefulness in everyday conversation.

It means the murder of a chef or cook. Chances are, had you known this word, you would have used it already this week. Keep reading for the incredible quote.

In terms of etymology, it is actually an invention, as opposed to genuinely adopted from another language. Specifically, it arises from "New Latin", or the written use of Latin in Europe from the Renaissance onwards. From about 1500-1900, many new Latinate words were created, and then incorporated back into other languages.

For example, "suicide", was in fact created in England in the 1650s, in Latin, as "suīcīdium". Hence, it actually emerged as a Latin word and as an English word at the same time. A great example to cite when a Fracophile tries to tell you that English owes all its Latin to French, n'cest pas?

"Coquicide" is, as one might imagine, a humorous word, created in the 1800s with the intention of seeming overly pedantic. "Coq-" actually comes from "cook", and its Middle-English predecessor words, whereas "-cide" is from the Latin "-one who kills". The hybrid of languages in the word is supposed to be amusing in itself. It is pretty ridiculous, and appetizingly pretentious.

So, the quote? "...a unanimous verdict of justifiable coquicide." - Sir George Dasent, 1870.

Here's hoping you won't have chance to use it. But don't fail to leap upon the opportunity if it's served up.

auricomos, adj.

Meaning golden-haired. It can also be applied figuratively (and fancifully) to objects, particularly trees (pertaining to their leaves).

If you remember your periodic table, you'll remember 'Au' is gold, an abbreviation of the Latin "Aurum", which, believe it or not, means 'gold'. In English, you can still use "auric" as an adjective, to mean "of, or pertaining to, gold".

The "comos" part comes from the Latin word "coma" meaning "of, or pertaining to, the head". That's where the English "comb" comes from, as well as the succulently Shakespearean insult "coxcomb". That's "cock's comb", because jesters and fools wore hats that looked like a rooster crest. What's more, the noun "coma" comes from that root as well.

But back to auricomos. Heavily Latinate words usually seem to lack the expressive punch of their more concise Germanic counterparts. There seems to be an exception here. "Blonde", from Middle French, is almost too compact and consonant-ridden to convey a visceral sense of beauty in description. This is made even worse by modern pejorative connotations of the word.

"Auricomos", however, has a music to it. Try saying it and see. "OR-ic-OM-us". It scintillates, like golden hair caressed by a gentle gale. "Blonde", on the other hand, is an arresting thud, like an inebriated foot stumbling on the way out of a bar.

I suppose if you're simply trying to describe colour, "blonde", is your best bet. Plus, "auricomos" isn't a noun, so you can't say "she's an auricomos", though I know the temptation must be overpowering.

Hastiform, a, etc

Meaning spear-shaped. It comes from the Latin, "hasta", meaning "spear". -Form should speak for itself. Although it's quite specific and almost nobody would understand your use of the word, the word is actually not listed as obsolete. I have yet to encounter it, but I'd encourage anyone to keep their eyes (and ears) open!

As an aside, despite the superficial similarity, the Latin "hasta" isn't related to the English word "haste". Even stranger, the original Old Frieslandic and Old High German meanings of "hâst" meant more "violent, furious; strife" so the speed aspect of the word was only originally in connotation.

Is it just me, or is English "haste" a better verb than noun? "I must haste home" or "I must make haste home". No contest.

Speaking of spears, I've always loved the sound of the word "assagai". It's a type of light, metal-tipped spear. In English, the word is applied pretty generally to such projectile weapons as were used by South African tribes.

It's originally a Berber word, which was adapted into the Arabic "az-zaghayah". From there the Portuguese extracted the word "azagaia", and in English it still, aurally speaking, contains the flare of those oh-so-musical Ibero-Romantic languages.

Ceiling

It just struck me that the word "ceiling" must come from the French "ceil" for sky. Was it obvious? Maybe. But it's still pretty neat.

Lacuna, n.

It's not the most useless of words, but I love it anyways. It usually means a gap or missing portion of a text. Typically, this is in the context of an old document from which a component is missing. One thing I adore about the word is that the Latin origin means "basin". I'm always a fan of when a word's literal meaning evolves into a purely figurative one. Deee-liscious.

Another thing I dig about the word is that it can also be applied in a physical context to a small hole or gap. I'm not sure I like it in terms of a hole in the ground, but I'm incredibly tantalized to use it, say in a library. Imagine you're looking through a row of books and there's one missing; "there's a lacuna where my tome should be!".

Yes. Yes. By the end of the week, I'll use it in the physical context. And you should too.

Nemorivagant, adj.

I'll start off with one of my favourite obsolete words.

It means "Wandering in a wood or forest". Try to use that three times in a day and I bet you'll be able to! I have a feeling it probably originated in criticism of the Divine Comedy. As in the famous starting scene in which ol' Dants finds himself, well, wandering in a wood or forest.
In fact, Nemorivagent could even be metaphorically related to a crisis of faith or the soul. I mean, it isn't, but the potential for that allusive connection is so perfect that I'm quite tempted to try seeing if it catches on.

Speaking of etymology, (which I actually wasn't) "nemoralis" is Latin for "grove" (seen in the adjective "nemoral", meaning of a forest or grove). The second half is related to "vagrant", a word in everyday parlance.

Reprise

I recently made allusions to a word blog that, at the time, had ceased to exist. So, here it it. I aim to make it a repository of words I find amazing, grammatical observations, and other linguistic oddities. Chances are it'll either bore you to tears or pique your interest.