n. a hired mourner at a funeral
GATEMAN, sides reversed, is NAMETAG.
And that sentence is a palindrome.
n. the dislike of beautiful women
In 1965, Dmitri Borgmann noted that this expression:
11 + 2 – 1 = 12
… is valid also when interpreted as a set of characters:
11 “+ 2″ = 112; 112 “- 1″ = 12
… as a set of Roman numerals:
XI + II = XIII; XIII – I = XII
… and even as a set of letters:
ELEVEN + TWO = ELEVENTWO
ELEVENTWO – ONE = LEVETW (= TWELVE)
GOLDENROD-ADORNED LOG is a palindrome.
n. one who constantly contradicts his companions
In 1994, Leonard Gordon showed that all 37 presidential surnames to date can fit into a 22 × 18 rectangle:
In this sentence there are sixteen words, eighty-one letters, one hyphen, four commas, and one period.
n. the act of imagining a person naked
PIET MONDRIAN is an anagram of I PAINT MODERN.
n. a side road taken to avoid turnpike tolls or traffic
n. a blundering preacher
Devised by Lee Sallows, each of these lists inventories its own contents:
- fifteen e’s, seven f’s, four g’s, six h’s, eight i’s, four n’s, five o’s, six r’s, eighteen s’s, eight t’s, four u’s, three v’s, two w’s, three x’s
- sixteen e’s, five f’s, three g’s, six h’s, nine i’s, five n’s, four o’s, six r’s, eighteen s’s, eight t’s, three u’s, three v’s, two w’s, four x’s
adj. inclined to fight when drunk
The following message was composed for Bizarre Notes and Queries, July-August 1890, to show “that it would be possible to write a technically grammatical sentence, which would be almost unintelligible.” “The words below can all be found in the dictionary, and all are grammatically used: and yet the thing is as hopelessly dark as if written in Cherokee.” It purports to be a note from an author to a critic:
Sir:– You have behaved like an impetiginous-Croyle! like those inquinate, Crass-sciolists who envious of my moral celsitude, carry their nugacity to the height of creating symposically the facund words which my polymathic genius uses with uberty to abligate the tongues of the weetless! Sir–you have crassly parodied my own pet words, as though they were tangrams. I will not coacervate reproaches–I would abduce a veil over the atramental ingratitude which has chamferred even my undicerptible heart. I am silent on the foscillation, which my coadjivancy must have given you when I offered to become your fautor and admincle. I will not speak of the lippitude, the ablepsy, you have shown in exacerbating me–one whose genius you should have approached with mental discalceation. So I tell you sir syncophically, and without supervaceneous words, nothing will render ignoscible your conduct to me. I warn you that I would vellicate your nose, if I thought that any moral diathrosis could be thereby performed–if I thought that I should not impignorate my reputation by such a digtadiation.
“For an entire solution of the above highly interesting missive, the reader is invited to amuse himself an hour or two with Walker’s or Webster’s Unabridged.”
RAISE and RAZE are both homonyms and antonyms.
The Spanish word esposa means both “wife” and “handcuff.”
n. difficulty getting out of bed in the morning
Pity the sign makers in this Welsh village:
That’s the longest place name in the United Kingdom. It’s Welsh for “St. Mary’s church in the hollow of the white hazel near to the rapid whirlpool and the church of St. Tysilio of the red cave.”
That doesn’t take the prize, though. The longest place name in an English-speaking country belongs to a hill on New Zealand’s North Island:
It means “the summit where Tamatea, the man with the big knees, the climber of mountains, the land-swallower who traveled about, played his flute to his loved one.”
n. having yellow teeth
Here’s Wordsworth’s “Upon Westminster Bridge”:
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Why start over? Wayne Carlson rearranged the words to make a new poem:
A city is lying still, asleep in the dull morning;
A steep hill towers more unto the smokeless sky,
Touching the heart and soul of God.
Bare fields doth lie in the valley,
Like ships that glideth, all silent in the river.
I saw all His own houses, now temples to the sun;
Sight at first has never felt more dear.
Who would not wear His gament, open to the calm air?
Could anything be so beautifully bright and glittering?
He will never show its theatres and domes;
Or pass by this fair Earth; a mighty rock,
Of very deep beauty, splendour, and majesty
Ne’er did seem so sweet!