Sign, spotted by Ellen Feld. It was in the window of a Cincinnati sporting goods store and this is what it said:
NOW IS THE DISCOUNT
OF OUR WINTER TENTS
— Ron Alexander, “Metropolitan Diary,” New York Times, March 15, 1989
Sign, spotted by Ellen Feld. It was in the window of a Cincinnati sporting goods store and this is what it said:
NOW IS THE DISCOUNT
OF OUR WINTER TENTS
— Ron Alexander, “Metropolitan Diary,” New York Times, March 15, 1989
As the U.S. tariff act of June 6, 1872, was being drafted, planners intended to exempt “Fruit plants, tropical and semi-tropical for the purpose of propagation or cultivation.”
Unfortunately, as the language was being copied, a comma was inadvertently moved one word to the left, producing the phrase “Fruit, plants tropical and semi-tropical for the purpose of propagation or cultivation.”
Importers pounced, claiming that the new phrase exempted all tropical and semi-tropical fruit, not just the plants on which it grew.
The Treasury eventually had to agree that this was indeed what the language now said, opening a loophole for fruit importers that deprived the U.S. government of an estimated $1 million in revenue. Subsequent tariffs restored the comma to its intended position.
George Washington’s teenage journal contains this love acrostic:
From your bright sparkling Eyes, I was undone;
Rays, you have, more transparent than the sun,
Amidst its glory in the rising Day,
None can you equal in your bright arrays;
Constant in your calm and unspotted Mind;
Equal to all, but will to none Prove kind,
So knowing, seldom one so Young, you’l Find.
Ah! woe’s me, that I should Love and conceal,
Long have I wish’d, but never dare reveal,
Even though severely Loves Pains I feel;
Xerxes that great, was’t free from Cupids Dart,
And all the greatest Heroes, felt the smart.
Reading the first letter of each line spells FRANCES ALEXA. Who was this? Possibly the subject’s full name was Frances Alexander and Washington hadn’t finished the poem.
“When Dr. Barton Warren was informed that Dr. Vowel was dead, he exclaimed, ‘What! Vowel dead? Well, thank heaven it was neither you nor I.'”
— William S. Walsh, Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities, 1892
One other oddity concerning street names: In 1971, the city planning board of Greensboro, N.C., proposed the name Forkover Place for the downtown street on which the regional office of the IRS was located.
The IRS objected, and the street was named Federal Place.
The avoid creating duplicate street names in Columbia, Maryland, developer The Rouse Company took its inspiration from famous works of art and literature. Street name maven Howard Channing cited these as some of his favorites:
These and more are listed in Paul Dickson’s 1996 book What’s in a Name?, and the town once published a book with the whole story. This database catalogs some of the names’ origins. Channing called Columbia the most “provocatively and imaginatively” named town he’s studied.

manducate
v. chew
congustable
adj. having a similar flavor
deturpation
n. a making foul
gazingstock
n. a thing gazed at with wonder
Beneath Seattle’s Pike Place Market is a 50-foot brick wall covered with used chewing gum. Begun in the 1990s, the wall now bears an estimated 180 pieces of gum per brick. In 2009 it was ranked second only to the Blarney Stone as the world’s germiest tourist attraction.
Washington state governor Jay Inslee called the “gum wall” his “favorite thing about Seattle you can’t find anywhere else,” but in fact Bubblegum Alley, in San Luis Obispo, Calif., is even bigger, at 70 feet long (below). Opponents call it offensive, but the Chamber of Commerce lists it as a “special attraction.”

In the best collective use,
Geese afoot are gaggles
(Even when one goose gets loose,
Falls behind and straggles);
Skein‘s the word for geese in flight.
Turtledoves form dools.
Barren‘s right (though impolite)
For a pack of mules.
Starlings join in murmuration,
Pheasants in a rye,
Larks in lovely exaltation,
Leopards, leap (they’re spry).
Ducks in flight are known as teams;
Paddings when they swim.
Herrings in poetic gleams
Please the wordsmith’s whim.
Cats collect into a clowder,
Kittens make a kindle.
Sloths of bears growl all the louder
As their forces dwindle.
Lapwings gather in deceit,
Apes convene in shrewdness,
Mares in stud (an odd conceit
Bordering on lewdness).
Foxes muster in a skulk,
Squirrels run in drays
While collectives in the bulk
Make up word bouquets.
— Felicia Lamport
When H.P. Re of Coldwater, Mich., died in 1931, his claim to have the world’s shortest name was up for grabs, and the Associated Press held a sort of contest to find his successor. J. Ur of Torrington, Conn., expressed early confidence because he had no middle initial, but, AP reported:
C. Ek and J. Ek, brothers from Duluth, promptly entered the lists as cochampions. Mrs. V. Ek, not to be outdone, claimed not only the woman’s title, but the mixed doubles championship. A former Duluth policeman said his name was C. Sy.
Then Fairmount, Minnesota, entered E. Py, farmer; Clinton, Iowa, put forward C. Au, J. Au, and W. Au, triple threats; Indiana offered Ed Py, inmate of Newcastle Jail; and Indianapolis made a poor try with Fix Ax.
In the end the palm went to Aaron A of Chicago, who went by A.A., a name that AP noted “leads all others in the Chicago telephone directory, alphabetically as well as longitudinally.” A’s ancestors had been jewelers in Saxony, and a philologist speculated that the surname derived from an old German word for river.

subtrist
adj. somewhat sad