Lesson #387: Amok

Because you probably don’t live in isolation, you’re likely familiar with the phrasal verb “to run amok”. Our friends Messrs. Merriam and Webster have four related definitions for amok. The second, the one we know best, “in a wild or uncontrolled manner”, is of Malay origin and dates to the early 1670s.

However, the earlier (1665) definition,  “a murderous frenzy that has traditionally been regarded as occurring especially in Malaysian culture”, is apparently a thing that still exists that is bound almost entirely to Malaysian culture, but has also shown up in cases in the Philippines and Puerto Rico. It’s a rare madness — and is therefore classified as a mental illness — where someone will just completely lose his (or her) mind and causes serious bodily harm or straight up murders someone for no reason.

I can’t be the only person to notice that all three of these places are islands, right?

You can read more on Amok here.

M-W definition here, Etymology here.

Lesson #312: Soap Operas

Soap operas are not for me; when a show starts getting too soap opera-y, I give up on it.* If every imaginable tragedy and disaster happens to you in the run of a show, if I watched at one time, I’ll walk away from it sooner than later. As with my tenuous relationship with science fiction, there’s only so much I’m willing to suspend my disbelief. If you can’t be clever in your content, I can’t be bothered. 

But soap operas are called soap operas because of…soap. I would never have imagined that to be true because that’s absurd. The spanish word, telenovellas, makes clear and obvious sense. Soap operas less so. But it actually does make sense. The term comes from the time of (one can assume overly) dramatic daytime radio programs that were sponsored by — you guessed it — soap companies. 

*see: Grey’s Anatomy — abandoned somewhere in the second season, Glee — abandoned a few episodes into its third season, and True Blood, which despite the presence of two very tall, impossibly gorgeous, often half-naked men, lost me a third of the way into the fourth season.

Lesson #300: Simon the Zealot

Simon appears in all four of the synoptic gospels (because he’s an apostle and even the ones you’re hard pressed to name offhand get a bunch of love in the gospels) and to distinguish him from Simon Peter is called “Simon the Zealot.” But that’s all fine and good in English. In English, that’s just something we all learned in church (or, if you’re me, a combination of the church I grew up in — which was not Roman Catholic — and the Catholic grammar school I attended).

Anyway, the Zealots* as a group have a very interesting history. And I love me some subversive histories. So what I find most interesting about this is that, according to Catholicism, Simon the Zealot is a saint, considered to be a man who was a strict follower of Jewish law. 

Originally, the Zealots were the leaders of a political movement bent on removing Roman rule from the Judaic territories by force in the first century CE. (See? My kind of history!) The Jewish revolt of 66 CE was lead by the Zealots. The ancient historian Josephus wrote a whole slew of things about the Zealots, whom he considered to be a distant fourth sect of Judaism at the time. 

Etymologically, the lineage is so far from useful. The word we use comes from the late Latin/Greek words zelotes, from c. 1300, which just means “one who is a zealous follower.” Even the etymological roots of the word zeal are both relatively new and of unknown origin. So basically, our usage of the word zealot to describe Simon is a modern addition, not something that was translated from the ancient texts into the Greek. It was some guy at a table going, “oi! There are two Simons…what do I do?!?” and someone else solving the problem by making up a word. Or something not-so-different.

I find it disappointing when my research ends poorly, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Facts are facts. And sometimes, they’re not very interesting. I started more-or-less wanting to know about Simon the Zealot (because sometimes random things like lesser known apostles pop into my head for no reason), but it turns out that once you threw in a revolution, I was far less interested in the person,** and more interested in the revolution and the etymology.

*Interestingly, religiously speaking, the Zealots were not backed by the Rabbinate; They were considered to be non-religious in the strict sense of the word and were condemned for their use of violence.

**As with Jesus himself, there is absolutely no definitive evidence outside of the gospels that Simon existed. There’s been some question as to whether the Simon of the synoptic gospels and the Simon of whom Josephus wrote in his history of the revolt, The Jewish War, are the same person.

Lesson #249: Jaywalkers

According to Mental Floss, the term jaywalker is derived from the early 20th century American slang term “jay”, which meant a foolish or naive individual. They say that “when such a pedestrian decided to ignore traffic signals and street signs, he was referred to as a “jaywalker.””

The Etymology Dictionary corroborates this, noting that word jay (actually a late 19th century term — 1888 specifically) meant “fourth-rate, worthless”. As for the term jaywalker, it suggests that the word, which appeared no later than 1912* and certainly derived from jay,  may have originated in Kansas City and may have had an implied air of “boldness or impudence.”

*Merriam-Webster says 1915. They also tell me that Bartok (whose music I find incredibly painful to listen to — like someone running their fingernails down a chalkboard) rhymes with jaywalk, which though true, is really, really random. I’m at a loss for an occasion in which one would ever rhyme those two words.

Lesson #233: Luthiers

Stradivarii have come up twice this week, for no reason at all. The article I was reading today questioned whether a Stradivarius really produces a higher quality sound than modern pieces. I don’t play the violin and, while I have no doubt that at some point in the course of my musical education I’ve heard a Stradivarius played,* I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t recognize the sound if I heard it.

Anyway, none of that is the point. I’ll leave it to the higher paid and better informed to argue the aural value of the Stradivarius. The point is the word luthier. Because I’m a smart girl with good deductive reasoning skills, even though I had never seen the word luthier before, I was able to gauge that it is someone who makes violins.** Turns out that’s only sort of half true.

According to Merriam-Webster, a luthier is “one who makes stringed instruments.” As I’d suspected, the word is French and is derived from the word luth, meaning lute, which is in turn derived from the Middle French word lut, which has the same meaning.

*Not likely live, but I’m a fan of Joshua Bell’s work and he plays a Strad.

**Even though the word implies a lute maker.

Lesson #213: Ignivomous

This is my new favourite word.

Ignivomous, from the Latin ignis- meaning fire and vomere meaning to vomit, an adjective meaning vomiting fire. I have no idea when in my actual life I will ever be able to use this word, but maybe some pub quiz sometime will require me to know it.

Lesson #195: The Reiver Trail

I always like when I discover that something I love is more clever than I first thought.

Today’s word is “to reive” which is a Middle Scots word meaning to steal. Incidentally, it is also where we get the word bereaved.

The reivers were the Scottish border clans who were proponents of Scottish independence and tended to launch raids on both sides of the border. They were essentially lawless…enemies of England, probably Scotland and pretty much everyone not in their clan. I am a descendant of the Armstrong clan — though in fairness, you have to go back to my great-grandmother before you get to the Armstrong branch of my family.*

Anyway today’s actual lesson is that there is, in the old reiver country of Scotland, the Reiver Trail. This has now been put onto my list of things to see. I’m always down for a little bit of revolutionary violence. And a little bit of learning about the history of my family way, way back when. My grandfather is an excellent source of information, but I imagine that the museums whose focus is such things are even better.

Now, back to my first statement in this post. Joss Whedon’s Firefly bogeymen are called “reavers” — fighters living on the edge of civilization (also eating people, but poetic license is acceptable when setting a (criminally underrated by the network) TV show in space). I suspect I have figured out why. I have always liked him because he’s clever.

*If you want to read more about the border reivers, here’s where you should go to read up on them. I recommend it; it’s a pretty cool bit of history.

Lesson #192: Haptodysphoria

I learned a new word today. Haptodysphoria is the an unpleasant sensation associated with things like steel wool or running one’s fingernails down a chalkboard or peaches.

Really, I’m on board up to the peaches. I’m all for peaches in any incarnation. I have not yet met a peach I didn’t like.

Anyway, the word is derived from the root hapto- meaning touch and the word dysphoria meaning difficult to bear (from the Greek dyphoros.)

Lesson #191: To Decimate

I learned something awesome today. Well, awesome if you like words and historical bloodshed, which I do.

The English word to decimate , which we use incorrectly in modernity to mean, generically, to wipe out in large numbers or drastically reduce in strength or effectiveness, comes from the Latin decimare, meaning “the removal or destruction of one-tenth.”

The word arose from a Roman practice of killing one in ten of a rebellious group, usually a mutinous army. These men, chosen by the drawing of lots, were stoned or clubbed to death by their fellow mutineers as punishment for all involved.*

And, lest you think this practice was used only in antiquity, an Italian General (Luigi Cadorna) and a Soviet Corps commander used decimation tactics against underperforming Italian units in WWI and retreating Soviet soldiers in WWII respectively. During the Finnish Civil War of 1918, the Whites used decimation against the Reds (their enemy) in what is known as the Lottery of Huruslahti.**

*How I did not learn this when I was reading up on Spartacus, I don’t know because the practice was used by Crassus during his campaigns, including the Third Servile War.

**More can be read here and here.

Lesson #83: Marmalade

Urban Planner Housemate likes to put the radio on in the kitchen in the mornings, so while I was having a go at making meringue (it’s more marshmallow than it is meringue, but it still tastes good) because I had no idea what else to do with the 8 egg whites I had leftover from key lime pie and he was having his breakfast this morning, Urban Planner Housemate and I learned about marmalade.

Okay, what we learned was a little bit silly sometimes. According to the BBC, marmalade is a “testosterone-laden” flavour. Seriously, they said that. But they also got into the history of marmalade and where it came from and its rise in Britain and how its sales are declining in favour of things like peanut butter and chocolate spreads (read: Nutella).

Anyhow, the world marmalade comes from the Portuguese marmelada meaning quince. The Portuguese word, in turn, comes from the Greek word for quince, melimelon.

Marmalade is made from Seville oranges, which are a bitter orange not found naturally. Seville oranges are instead a hybrid of the mandarin and pomelo oranges, most likely developed in China about 4000 years ago. The Sevilles spread across India and then were taken by Arab traders to the Mediterranean, across north Africa and then into Spain. The Seville was popular in Europe as a flavour enhancer and for preserves until the sweet orange began to emerge at which point it suffered a decline in popularity, except in Britain where marmalade had become a staple. Britain eats 67,000,000 jars of marmalade a year and declining at 2.3% a year.*

Also — this was not in the programme, but I found in in my reading — at one time, the Brits used marmalade to fend off scurvy in sailors.**

*If you’re interested, you can listen to the whole programme here. You can also read more here. If you do decide to listen, notice that the volume control on the player goes to 11. That makes me laugh every time.

**More can be read here and here.

Lesson #7: To Loot

It’s best not to ask how my brain works. Sometimes things just pop into my head for no reason. Like yesterday, when for no reason, except perhaps my subconsciousness’ channeling of my 16-year-old self, No Doubt’s Just a Girl popped up.

Moving on…

To loot: according to Messrs Merriam and Webster, a transitive verb* dating to 1845 meaning to plunder or sack in a war, to rob especially on a large scale and usually by violence or corruption (awesome!), to seize or carry away by force especially in war.

Etymologically speaking the verb to loot is a precursor to the verb to google. Originally, the word was an Anglo-Indian noun derived from the Hindi lut, which is itself derived from the Sanskrit lota-m meaning booty or stolen property. And just like to google has made its way into dictionaries, eventually the vernacular usage of the noun loot as a verb landed to loot in the dictionary.

*a verb which requires a direct object in order to complete its meaning. An example from my all-time favourite grammar book? Gladly.  “The butcher who found the nose in his croissant never did get along with his wife.”