Gang Aft Agley

In the March 1992 newsletter of Australia’s Society of Editors, John Bangsund offered a rule that he called Muphry’s Law:

(a) if you write anything criticizing editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written;
(b) if an author thanks you in a book for your editing or proofreading, there will be mistakes in the book;
(c) the stronger the sentiment expressed in (a) and (b), the greater the fault;
(d) any book devoted to editing or style will be internally inconsistent.

In November 2003, the Canberra Editor noted, “Muphry’s Law also dictates that, if a mistake is as plain as the nose on your face, everyone can see it but you. Your readers will always notice errors in a title, in headings, in the first paragraph of anything, and in the top lines of a new page. These are the very places where authors, editors and proofreaders are most likely to make mistakes.”

Earlier, editor Joseph A. Umhoefer had observed that “Articles on writing are themselves badly written.” A correspondent wrote that Umhoefer “was probably the first to phrase it so publicly; however, many others must have thought of it long ago.”

Extra Large

Which is bigger, a jillion or a zillion? No one’s quite sure, though we all use these terms pretty readily. In 2016 Wayne State University linguistic anthropologist Stephen Chrisomalis cataloged the first appearance of 18 “indefinite hyperbolic numerals” — here they are in chronological order:

forty-leven
squillion
umpteen
steen
umpty
umpty-ump
umpty-steen
zillion
skillion
jillion
gillion
bazillion
umptillion
kazillion
gazillion
kajillion
gajillion
bajillion

The Oxford English Dictionary’s first cited usage of gajillion occurred in 1983, and they don’t yet have an entry for bajillion. So maybe that’s largest?

(Stephen Chrisomalis, “Umpteen Reflections on Indefinite Hyperbolic Numerals,” American Speech 91:1 [2016], 3-33, via Math Horizons.)

Same Thing

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:October_sky_poster.jpg

In 1998, as aerospace engineer Homer Hickam’s memoir Rocket Boys was being adapted for the screen, Universal Studios’ research warned that women over 30 would not see a movie with that title.

So the name was changed to October Sky — the same 10 letters in a different order.

An Awkward Pause

In 2014, three truck drivers sued Oakhurst Dairy of Portland, Maine, alleging that they’d been unfairly denied four years’ worth of overtime pay. Maine law generally required time-and-a-half pay for each hour worked above 40 hours, but it listed exemptions for:

The canning, processing, preserving, freezing, drying, marketing, storing, packing for shipment or distribution of:

(1) Agricultural produce;

(2) Meat and fish products; and

(3) Perishable foods.

That’s not quite clear. Does the law exempt the distribution of the three categories listed, or does it exempt packing for shipment or distribution of them? The confusion shows the value of the so-called Oxford comma, the often-skipped comma that follows the next-to-last item in a series, as in “A, B, and C.” A comma after “shipment” would have eliminated the ambiguity in the language above; the drivers’ lawyer said, “That comma would have sunk our ship.” But without the comma, the court ruled, the meaning is uncertain, and the dairy had to pay the drivers $5 million.

In 2017 the state legislature replaced the troublesome passage with this:

The canning; processing; preserving; freezing; drying; marketing; storing; packing for shipment; or distributing of:

(1) Agricultural produce;

(2) Meat and fish products; and

(3) Perishable foods.

The New York Times wrote, “So now we get to replace Oxford comma pedantry with semicolon pedantry.”

See Details.

(Thanks, Edward.)

Dead Letters

In 1814, as the British burned Washington, commander Sir George Cockburn targeted the offices of the National Intelligencer newspaper, telling his troops, “Be sure that all the C’s are destroyed, so that the rascals cannot any longer abuse my name.”

British politician Thomas Erskine (1750-1823) had such an enormous ego that, it was said, one newspaper had to curtail its coverage because its “stock of capital I’s was quite exhausted.”

Misc

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lady_Godiva_by_John_Collier.jpg

  • Lady Godiva’s horse was named Aethenoth.
  • UGHA in BROUGHAM is silent.
  • 7 × 58 × 73 × 28 = 7587328
  • APHELIOTROPISMS is an anagram of OMPHALOTRIPSIES.
  • “The French for London is Paris.” — Ionesco

“No general proposition is worth a damn.” — Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. (a general proposition)

Close Enough

In 1977 Jay Ames found he could approximate nursery rhymes using the names in the Toronto telephone directory:

Barr Barre Black Shipp
Haff Yew Anney Wool
Yetts Herr, Yetts Herr
Three Baggs Voll
Wan Farr Durr Master
Won Forder Dame
An Wun Varder Littleboys
Watt Lief Sinne Allain.

In 1963 the TV show I’ve Got A Secret searched the phone books of New York City to find residents whose names, in order, approximated the lyrics to “In the Good Old Summertime”:

Overspecialized Words

Some words become famous for their implausibly specific definitions:

ucalegon: a neighbor whose house is on fire
nosarian: one who argues that there is no limit to the possible largeness of a nose
undoctor: to make unlike a doctor

Mrs. Byrne’s Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words, by Josefa Heifetz Byrne, collects examples ranging from atpatruus (“a great-grandfather’s grandfather’s brother”) to zumbooruk (“a small cannon fired from the back of a camel”). My own favorite is groak, “to watch people silently while they’re eating, hoping they will ask you to join them.”

Alas, most of these don’t appear in the magisterial Oxford English Dictionary. Accordingly, in 1981 Jeff Grant burrowed his way into the OED in a deliberate search for obscure words. When he reached the end of A he sent his 10 favorite finds to the British magazine Logophile:

acersecomic: one whose hair was never cut
acroteriasm: the act of cutting off the extreme parts of the body, when putrefied, with a saw
alerion: an eagle without beak or feet
all-flower-water: cow’s urine, as a remedy
ambilevous: left-handed on both sides
amphisbaenous: walking equally in opposite directions
andabatarian: struggling while blindfolded
anemocracy: government by wind
artolatry: the worship of bread
autocoprophagous: eating one’s own dung

“I have been working slowly through ‘B’ and so far my favourite is definitely ‘bangstry’, defined as ‘masterful violence’, an obsolete term that is surely overdue for a comeback.”

(From Word Ways, November 1981.)