Kel's previous Ozwords of the day...

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“Hopium” and “Copium” Sometimes words are invented just because people wish there were such words—and (I suppose) wish that what they name actually existed. This appears to be the case when it comes to these new words ‘hopium’ and ‘copium.’ Both words are to be found in the Colins Dictionary—one of the authoritative dictionaries of the English-speaking world—so these words must have appeared in print often enough to catch the eye of the lexicographers. The Collins people say that ‘hopium’ means, ‘a substance said to have been ingested by those who maintain an unrealistically optimistic outlook.’ The dictionary says that ‘hopium’ is a humorous blend of ‘hope’ and ‘opium.’ There was a newspaper column with the headline: ‘Hopium helps you forget several unpleasant facts.’ The column by John Kass and appeared in the Chicago Tribuneof July 30, 2008. I remember being told once that optimists have an unrealistic view of the world but tend to live happier lives; while pessimists have a much more realistic view of the world but tend, on the whole, to be more miserable. Such seems to support the fanciful notion that the optimists in this life are the people who take a little white ‘hopium’ tablet every day with their morning coffee. Then there’s the related word ‘copium.’ This one is in the Merriam-Webster as well as the Collins, and is a similar word with a related meaning. ‘Copium’ we are told, means, ‘a substance said to have been ingested by those who remain unduly optimistic in the face of defeat or disappointment.’ In other words, they are coping far too well. These are the people whose coping mechanism is firing on all cylinders. Coping mechanism, by the way, is a complex noun that is in the great Oxford English Dictionary recorded from as long ago as 1941. Mind you, ‘coping mechanism’ is a bit of psycho-babble, a bit therapy flatulence of dubious value. But this imaginary preparation ‘copium’ if it was available at the local chemist (and listed on the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme) would be genuinely useful. Ah, well, we can hope (or, at least, those of us taking the ‘hopium’ can!)

Australophile Speaking on his show on Sky New Andrew Bolt said that what Australia needs are more leaders who love this country. I agreed with him, and I coined a new word to say exactly that. The word is ‘Australophile’. The first part of the word clearly comes from our national name ‘Australia’, while the suffix (‘-phile’) comes from the Greek word for love (or one of four Greek words for love) ‘philos.’ The ancient Greeks had (as I mentioned) four words for love: eros, philos, storge, and agape. ‘Eros’ was their word for romantic love (no, not for sex—for romantic love, think of hearts and flowers, Mills and Boon novelettes, love songs and so on); philos, (the one we are using here, was their word for the love of friends and friendship); storge (pronounced ‘stor-gee’ or ‘stor-gay’ with a hard G sound) was family love (the love that binds mother and child, that binds siblings together and so on); while the last ‘agape’ was the gracious love of generosity (loving the unlovely or the very difficult to love, pronounced ‘agg-apay’ with a hard G sound). Out of those (‘philos’) is the one that the English language has chosen to ‘form nouns and adjectives with the sense of loving the person or thing denoted by the first element’ (Oxford English Dictionary). When Aussies get together for a barbecue today, or go to the beach, and have Australian flags on their T-shirts or beach towels it is because they are ‘Australophiles.’ These are people who love this place—love the landscape, the bush, the sweeping horizons, the startling beauty, the gum trees, the call of the kookaburra, our strange (and sometimes deadly!) wildlife, and the friendly, sunburnt people who live here. These are people who love our national story—the arrival of civilisation in the form of a bunch of convicts and their gaolers but gave rise to a great democracy. When Andrew Bolt says we need more leaders who share our love he makes a lot of sense. It is hard to believe that Anthony Albanese, with his grim, unhappy face, really loves this place the way we do. But we do! So happy Australia Day fellow Australophile!

Newspeak The word “newspeak” was coined by George Orwell in his novel “Nineteen Eighty-Four” published way back in 1949. Orwell used the expression to label the repressive propaganda language being forced on the subdued population in his dystopian novel. A reader of my website drew my attention to this word as his way of describing Google’s recently introduced updated rules for its Google docs platform encouraging what it calls more “inclusive” language. This includes saying that the pronouns “he” and “she” are transphobic and an expression such as “blind date” discriminates against people with disabilities. I replied on my website that such heavy-handed attempts at controlling language normally fail, because language is a democratic institution in which the users of the language determine what words they will use when they speak or write. But, can such attempts at language control ever work? Can a form of “newspeak” ever be imposed? The answer is that for “newspeak” to work it needs two things (both present in Orwell’s novel): (a) a cowed population, and (b) a totalitarian ruling class. Well, cancel culture and the abusive social media of the Woke suggest we have a totalitarian ruling class waiting the wings, completely intolerant of any disagreement. And there are major corporations that are cowering in fear and giving in to them. I guess if anyone is going to resist an imposed “newspeak” it will have to be us!

“Nuclear” versus “nucular” Talking to John Stanley on 2GB, 4BC, 2CC and the Nine Radio Network this issue came up of the pronunciation of “nuclear” (yet again! 

This one irritates everyone, and I am often asked about it). Of, course, the only correct pronunciation is newk-LEE-ah. If you’re irritated every time anyone pronounces the word 'nuclear' as newk-YOU-lar, you’ll be depressed to learn that this is listed as an alternative pronunciation the Merriam-Webster Dictionary--and has been since 1961. To everyone who protests the Merriam-Webster people sends out a defensive 400-word letter arguing that they don’t list newk-YOU-lar as an acceptable alternative--just as an alternative, meaning it’s “a pronunciation variant that occurs in educated speech but is considered by some to be questionable or unacceptable.” They go on to say they do this because of the widespread use of newk-YOU-lar among educated speakers including scientists, lawyers, professors, congressmen, US cabinet members, and four presidents: Eisenhower, Carter, Clinton and Bush. My experience is that people who say newk-YOU-lar do so because they’re simply unable to wrap their tongue around newk-LEE-ah and so resort to making it a parallel with words like 'circular' and 'spectacular.' I've told the story before of a colleague I worked with (a radio newsreader) who constantly made this mistake, and try as I might, I just couldn't train him to get the syllables around the right way. But even allowing for that, there are politicians whose job it is to talk about this subject, and why they don't make a mighty effort to get this one right! (At the very least they'd stop irritating those of us who care about our language!)

Moon words I noticed recently that the moon is full (or just about full) making our back deck shine with brilliant light in the middle of the night. At the same time a recent word newsletter from Collins Dictionary is full of “moon words”—so this seems like the right time to share them with you… although I must warn you, some of them are a bit weird. A good example of a weird word is “apocynthian”—which is the point at which a spacecraft in lunar orbit is farthest from the moon: a word most of us are not going to need to use often, I would have thought. But if it does crop up, here’s how to pronounce it—appoh-SIN-thian. It comes from Cynthia, the Latin goddess of the moon (there’s something else we’ve learned) with the prefix apo- meaning “away.” Much easier to work out is “earthrise”—which works just like our familiar “sunrise.” It’s when (for an astronaut standing on the moon, or a spacecraft orbiting the moon) the earth “rises” over the visible horizon. A more interesting word is “plenilunar” which means “a full moon”—bringing us more or less back to where this ramble began. So you could, I suppose, call a night on which a full moon was expected a “plenilunar” night. But according to the Oxford English Dictionary it can also be used metaphorically, so that anything that resembles a full moon can be called “plenilunar.” I guess that means that the late comedian Benny Hill had a “plenilunar” face—as round as a full moon. (You see the sort of stuff you get when the moonlight wakes me up in the middle of the night!)

Hoon The Oxford English Dictionary records hoon as Australian and New Zealand slang for a show-off with limited intelligence adding “origin unknown”. Hoon is most often applied to young male drivers who are more interested in attracting attention than in being cautious. Sid Baker, in The Australian Language suggests hoon might be a contraction from the houyhnhnms (the anthropomorphic horses in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels). The problem with this idea is that the horses are civilised, it’s their human slaves, the yahoos, who are the dills. Hoon might be of New Zealand origin, since New Zealand has many other related expressions: hoonish, hoon bin, hoon chaser, hoondom, hoonery, hoon it up and so on. It’s often been suggested that hoon is a contraction of “hooligan” or, perhaps, a combination of “hooligan” and “goon”. Another proposal is that it’s rhyming slang for “baboon”; while yet another suggestion is that it’s based on “buffoon”. All are possibilities. A more unusual suggestion is that huhn is German for “chicken” and thus a hoon might originally have meant someone running around like a headless chicken. And there is, apparently, another (very similar) German word for an ancient mythical race of clumsy giants. Lots of possible sources for hoon – no certainties! 

Attack In New South Wales there have been four shark attacks in 48 hours. Former Prime Minister Tony Abbott says it's time for a shark cull. But the Chris Minns government is refusing to do that. Marine experts and conservationists are insisting we stop using the word 'attack' with respect to sharks, declaring that the majestic predatory fish has been unfairly stigmatized as deliberate killers. Instead, officials have suggested that violent run-ins with sharks be dubbed with more neutral words — such as “interactions.” “‘Shark attack’ is a lie,” said University of Sydney language researcher Christopher Pepin-Neff, who argued that a majority of what people call ‘attacks’ are merely nips and minor injuries from smaller sharks. Well, language researcher or not Pepin-Neff has got this wrong. A 'playful nip' from a small bull shark can take the leg off a swimmer! So, let's look at the word 'attack.' This word “attack” has been part of the English language since at least 1576 and is borrowed from an old Middle French word. The core meaning of “attack” (both the verb which came first and the noun) is “aggressive action.” What these people are trying to do is hide the fact that sharks are aggressive. When someone on a surfboard loses an arm, it is an insult to call it a “bite” or a “nip”. When sharks bite or nip, they are testing to see if what they are biting on might make a nice lunch. It is the nature of sharks to be aggressive. On top of which, a significant number of the shark attacks being reported around Australia are not from smaller sharks but from Great Whites or Bull Sharks. A mere “nip” from Great White when you are swimming will mean you either lose your leg or your life—because the “nipping” action of a powerful shark is an aggressive action. Sharks are predatory by nature, which is why the victims of shark attacks are traumatised by the experience (if they survive it, that is). It is an insult to such shark attack victims to pretend that they were not attacked. This sort of playing with words is dangerous—it is minimising human suffering and preferring sharks over people. That is why it is a misuse of the English language to call it anything other than a “shark attack.” 

“Mis” / “Dis”—information In the confusing world we live it can be helpful to spell out the difference between “misinformation” and “disinformation.” Basically, the difference is this—“disinformation” is a lie, it is straight-out falsehood invented and spread in order to deceive people; “misinformation”, on the other hand is a falsehood repeated by someone who believes it, it is someone passing on information they have heard, not knowing it to be a lie. Here is a simple example. The bushfires of 2019-2020 were called “unprecedented.” They were not. There were many earlier bushfires that were far worse. To take just one example, the “Black Saturday” bushfires in Victoria in 2009 were far worse: they killed 173 people (in 2019-20 bushfires 34 people died). Now 2009 was only ten years before 2019—you would expect journalists to either remember or at least check the newspaper files. This appears not to have happened. Instead, news report after news report kept repeating this false, untrue word of “unprecedented.” How can that happen? It happened mainly because people kept on repeating a falsehood on the mistaken assumption that it was true. That is “misinformation”—passing on something false which the person who repeats it mistakenly believes to be true. But is started somewhere. Someone, somewhere, invented this falsehood—invented this lie. That is “disinformation.” That is deliberately trying to mislead, and deceive. For what it’s worth, here’s my theory: “misinformation” is far more common than “disinformation.” Most people unthinkingly, and uncritically, just repeat what they’ve heard. They don’t check the facts, they just repeat the fiction. So, when false, or distorted, or misleading or deceptive information is flying around the world it’s source is likely to be 1% malice and 99% stupidity.

Locked and loaded President Donald Trump is encouraging the protestors in Iran to continue taking to the streets and voicing their anger at the repressive regime of the mullahs. He has also said he is prepared to take action to support them, although exactly what action is unclear. The expression Trump used was that he is ‘locked and loaded’ and ready to come to the aid of the protestors. Which raises the question—what exactly does ‘locked and loaded mean, and where does it come from? The meaning, it turns out, is fairly straight forward—it is related (as you have probably already worked out) to firearms. The Oxford English Dictionary says that ‘locked and loaded’ means ‘To prepare a firearm for firing by pulling back and ‘locking’ the bolt and loading the ammunition.’ Although it can also be used figuratively to mean, ‘to ready oneself for action or confrontation.’ So, ‘locked and loaded’ refers to a firearm that has a round in the chamber and the safety catch-off, meaning it’s ready to fire. The earliest appearance in print that the experts at the Oxford has been able to find is from a piece in the New York Times in November of 1940. That piece quotes a firing range officer booming through his microphone the order ‘lock and load.’ Two thoughts on this: first, I find this surprisingly early, I would have expected the expression to be of much more recent coinage; and second as a non-gun person it always looks backwards to me. Surely, you load the gun and then lock it (in the firing position)? But, as I say, I’m a non-gun person so what would I know. The next citation in the Oxford is from 1983, so perhaps it was coined early but caught on much later? The first time I can ever remember hearing it, it was spoken by Mister Data in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. At any rate, is it clearly now part of conversational English, and is (most probably) used most often in a figurative sense, rather than with reference to literal firearms. Let’s hope that’s how Trump used it!

Like The Economist ran an article about the overuse of the irritating word “like”, except that—strangely—the magazine didn’t seem all that irritated. The article made the point that “like” is used by the younger generation as what is called a “discourse particle.” That means it just a small bit of language used to hold a sentence together. Which is fair enough. But it is the way it’s used that can become annoying. The so-called “Valley Girls” from the San Fernando Valley in California are supposed to have started the craze by saying such things as “It’s like five miles away…” or “He’s like a consultant…” These are vague and pointless uses of the discourse particle. Sometimes “like” is used to introduce a quote. That gives us such deathless prose as “She was like ‘You can’t do that, and I’m like “Yes, I can.’” This is not normal English construction. (That use of “like” was popularised in Australia by the character of Kylie Mole played by Mary-Anne Fahey on the Comedy Company show.) This use of “like” is sometimes thought to go back to the Beatnik era of the late 1950s and early 60s—the days when Maynard G. Krebbs, played by Bob Denver on The Doby Gillies Show, was saying things along the line of “Like, wow, man.” We all of us use some discourse particles from time to time such as “so”, “but”, “then” and others. The problem with like is that it appears to be like the only discourse particle this younger generation knows and so it is like used over and over and over again. I suspect they’ll grow out of it as they grow older.

Part and parcel A reader has asked me for the origin of the expression part and parcel. Well, this is an odd sort of tautology, not uncommon in English—a double expression where both words mean much the same thing. “Parcel” means the sort of thing the post office delivers (called a “package” in the US)—and it just means a quantity of something. So you could have a “parcel” of land, for example. “Part” serves a very similar purpose, it helps us to talk about a quantity of something—e.g. the quantity of something that we have is not the whole of the toilet roll, it’s just what’s left, a “part” of the toilet roll. The Oxford defines part and parcel as meaning: “An integral part of a larger whole”—and with this meaning it’s been around since 1463. So there’s nothing new about this. Michael Quinion, on his World Wide Words website explains the expression like this: “part and parcel is a tautology, since both words in effect mean the same thing. English loves this kind of doublet: nooks and crannies, hale and hearty, safe and sound, rack and ruin, dribs and drabs. Many derive from the ancient legal practice of including words of closely similar meaning to make sure that the sense covers all eventualities: aid and abet, fit and proper, all and sundry. Part and parcel is a member of this second group — it appeared in legal records during the sixteenth century. We use it to emphasise that the thing being spoken about is an essential and integral feature or element of a whole.” To which I would add that the reason it has survived for so long is because the English language seems to like these groups of words that have either alliteration (starting with the same letter) or rhyme. The sounds and the rhythms must just appeal to the ears of English speakers, because so many phrases built on that sort of construction have survived as part of our language for so long. So, there you are, an old expression, and a good one.

Offence archaeology This is the practice of going through the social media history of a public figure to find offensive or embarrassing things they have said in the past. This expression “offence archaeology” was drawn to my attention by 2GB’s Luke Grant. Many millions of social media users at one time or another have posted something that someone, somewhere will be offended by. And, since the Internet is forever, you can bet an offense archaeologist is digging into it, particularly if you are a public figure. According to the Urban Dictionary this involves: “Examining the digital past of a contemporary public figure in order to unearth any statements that might be offensive to the ruling class. These offenses are best presented devoid of context or intent, which maximizes the potential for self-righteous virtue signalling among the people who are pretending to be outraged.” But offense archaeology isn’t reserved solely for celebrities. Anyone who has ever posted on social media is a potential target. The late Sir Roger Scruton was a distinguished English philosopher who specialized in traditionalist conservative views. He became a victim of offense archaeology after he was appointed to advise the Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government as the unpaid chairman of a new public body to champion beautiful buildings. The offense archaeologists—who are notably left-wing—began digging. Politically incorrect phrases were unearthed, torn from their original context, and passed around like a shame file. Sir Roger was also one of the most brilliant, articulate, and wide-ranging intellectual figures in the English-speaking world—a man of intelligence, sensitivity, and political courage. In the 1980s, he worked tirelessly and at great personal peril behind the Iron Curtain to help those fighting against the totalitarian jackboot of Communist tyranny. Which made his attackers appear ridiculous to everyone but themselves, but not, alas, any less virulent.” But where so many other victims of offense archaeology eventually apologize for past statements, Scruton did not, but he did resign from the body to which he was appointed. Offence archelogy wins again. That is the ugliness of the world we live in.

Swamped Demographer Bernard Salt once wrote a column for the magazine section of The Weekend Australian in which he lamented that the Australian language is being swamped by Americanisms. So, is the Australian language under threat? Salt claimed that he noticed changes to the Australian accent: “To my ear, the pronunciation of Melbourne has changed, and quite recently too. When I was a kid it was pronounced Mel-bun, whereas today to Mal-bun. Sydney has collapsed to Sinny, a shift that is being led, I think by the locals.” Both his observations are correct, but neither is new. They have both been around for a very long time. For twenty years (at least) people have been pointing out to me that Melburnians reverse “EL” and “AL” sounds. Clive Robertson complained to me many years ago that Melburnians collect CD el-bums not al-bums and that if “Ellen” married “Allan” in Melbourne everyone would be confused as to how to pronounce the couple’s names. As for Sinny—that was coined by Alistair Morrison (under his pen name of “Professor Afferbeck Lauder) back in 1965 for his book on Strine. These things are not new, and are well established parts of the Australian language. He also complained about the Americanised pronunciation of his own name from Bern-udd to Bern-ARD. Well, he may be right about that, and he has my sympathy. But Australians still spell “colour” with a “U” and (in general) our language is not being swamped by Americanisms. The truth is that American English is having an impact on every dialect of English around the world. As long ago as 1922 the great Henry Fowler complained about the American influence on English. But we not being swamped. Australians pick and choose which American expressions will be useful to them, and discard the rest. Despite the influence of American media we still have chemist shops not drug stores, and we still fill our cars with petrol not gas. Salt goes on to worry that “with the birth of AUKUS and the rotation of more American troops in the Top End, we will see a fuller integration of American and Australian culture.” He’s fears are unnecessary. In the 1960s huge numbers of American troops spent time in Sydney during the Vietnam war (on “R and R”—“rest and recreation”) and the result was the export of Australian expressions to American instead of the other way around. Bernard Salt simply does understand either the history or the strength of the Australian language. He writes: “For the better part of 200 years Australia projected British language, pronunciation and culture.” This is simply untrue. As Bruce Moore has shown in his book Speaking Our Language, and as I explain at length in my book The Story of Australian English our distinctive language came into existence surprisingly early. There is evidence that by the 18320s (only 50 years after the founding of the colony) the Australian language had its own distinctive accent and vocabulary. So, stop worrying Bernard—Aussie English is doing well, and is not being swamped by anyone!

Dawn culture Recently on Mammamia.com Emily Vernem and Holly Wainwright have complained (both jointly and individually) about the rise of what they call ‘dawn culture.’ Both are still young, and they complain that people their own age have stopped going out at night (rejecting invitations for drinks or for dinner) because their alarms now go off at the crack of dawn and they are out jogging or swimming by dawn’s early light. Emily writes, ‘Suddenly, all the people in my life who are roughly my age have decided that being a night owl is tragic, gross and deeply uncool.’ She goes on to complain, ‘It's completely derailed the rhythm of friendship. Gone are the spontaneous late-night walks, the deep 9pm debriefs, the joy of being messy after dark. Everything is now structured around a timetable that is clearly designed for people who run on sunlight and kale.’ And Holly Wainwright asks, ‘What time does your alarm go off in the morning?... For many, many, many people, that number is getting earlier, and earlier, thanks to something called Dawn Culture.’ That phrase ‘dawn culture’ is a new one, and is not yet in any of the major dictionaries. It’s not even in the online, hyper-hip Urban Dictionary. So this, folks, is at the cutting edge of language. If Emily and Holly’s phrase catches on it may become the freshest new thing, and by the end of the year might be up for a trendy Word of the Year award (which, as you know, can go to a phrase as well as a word). As for the complaint it names—well, I have some bad news for these youngsters: your friends are behaving like old people. Or, at least, like people much older than yourselves. As we age our body clock seems to change and we wake earlier and earlier. We just adjust to the new timetable our bodies set for us. We are up early having our first coffee of the day. We breakfast earlier. We do our chores earlier. And it seems to suit us just fine. At the end of the day we are happy to tumble into bed at 9:30 and be sound asleep by 10pm—ready to wake after seven hours sleep, to be up and at ‘em at five the next morning. We invented the ‘dawn culture! So, Emily and Holly—welcome to Old World!

Jewish lobby / Israel lobby As Australia continues to suffer from (and be anguished about) the evil of antisemitism a phrase (or two phrases if you count the two different versions) has emerged— ‘Jewish lobby’ (and the variant version is ‘Israel lobby’). So, what does this expression mean? And where does it come from? The earliest written use of ‘Jewish lobby’ I have been able to find in print comes from America from 1943—but it is undoubtedly older than that. This notorious expression is used pejoratively to allege disproportionate Jewish influence in politics and government, a variation of the old antisemitic lie about an ‘international Jewish conspiracy.’ In other words, this term ‘Jewish lobby’ (which, more or less overlaps with the phrase ‘Israel lobby) is the offensive claim that there is a lobby group that operates behind the scenes and pulls the strings controlling what is going on in a democracy. These are not nice things to talk about, but we have to honest and face the notions that can poison a society if they are not confronted. Many, many years ago I worked in radio a man who was a strong supporter of conspiracy theories. However, he was always secretive and mysterious about what lay behind the various so-called ‘conspiracies’ he talked about. Eventually he hinted that it was—the Jews! It turned out he had embraced full-on antisemitism. So, where does this come from? Almost certainly from a famous forgery called The Protocols of the Elders of Zion published in Russia in 1903. It claims to report the contents of so-called ‘secret documents and plans’ drawn up by Jewish leaders to take over the world banking system, and thus, the government of the whole world. This was not only (as I said) a forgery and deeply racist, but it was also always transparent nonsense. But Hitler believed it. Hitler even claimed that Jews were behind communism, and that all communism was a Jewish front organisation. So you can see how absurd this all becomes. Tragically, there have been some prominent Australians who have used this offensive expression ‘Jewish lobby’ (or its variant “Israel lobby’) in the not-too-distant past. We can only hope they are too ashamed to ever use such language again.

More new slang Today we continue with the examples of new slang unearthed by the lexicographers at the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. As I said yesterday, slang is the fastest changing and most ephemeral part of the English language—so these terms are likely to be hot for a few months, and then slowly fade away to nothing. But while they’re here, we an amuse ourselves by looking at what the young and the hip are saying. Here is part of the list:

Blue-pilled—the full slang term is ‘having taken the blue-pill’ means you are mindlessly accepting an illusion and ignoring reality. This was coined as the opposite of ‘red-pill’, so we need to start with that. The term ‘red-pill’ comes from the 1999 movie The Matrix where everyone lives in an illusion, but if you take the ‘red-pill’ you can see reality. Well, ‘blue-pill’ is the opposite—if you take the blue-pill you turn your back on reality and embrace the illusion. Hugh Marks, the Managing Director of the ABC, seems to have ‘taken the blue-pill’ since he joined the organization, as he now cannot see bias or lack of impartiality even when it’s staring him in the face!

Borg—according to the experts this means a gallon jug of water where some of the water has been replaced by vodka with a dash of fruit flavouring added. (Sounds perfectly revolting to me!) This supposed comes from American college campuses from undergraduate drinking games. ‘Borg’ is said to be an acronym from ‘black out rage gallon.’ But ‘borg’ (short for ‘cyborg’) has an earlier meaning—as the robotic villains in many Star Trek episodes. They were famous for their cry of ‘Resistance is futile!’ Perhaps when urged to take part in these college drinking games resistance was futile?

Bougee—also spelled bougie, is a way of describing something or someone as fancy, luxurious, or high class. Apparently it can either be a compliment or can be used disparagingly—depending on the context. It is a corruption of ‘bourgeois.’ 

Braggadocious—meaning a boastful, swaggering braggart (the type none of us like). Probably a combination of ‘braggard’ and ‘atrocious.’ Supposedly made famous by a 2003 hit song ‘Milkshake.’ (Having never heard the song, I’ll take their word for that.)

Brain rot—meaning the rubbish that people keep staring at mindlessly on their little screens. The construction of the expression is obvious, and it is said to have become popular around 2023-24.

Bruzz—is the latest spelling (and the latest pronunciation) of ‘brothers.’ As you know that word is abbreviated as ‘bros’ and now that abbreviation has been turned into this pronunciation (and new spelling as used in texts and emails).

But if we keep looking at weird new slang we are sure to lose our minds, so tomorrow back to real words!

New slang The master lexicographers at the Merriam-Webster Dictionary have recently released a list of new (or fairly newish) slang terms. Slang is the fastest changing and most ephemeral part of the English language—so these terms are likely to be hot for a few months, and then slowly fade away to nothing. But some of them can be fun while they’re here (even if us wiser heads never use them!). Here is part of their list:

Ate (and left no crumbs)—means someone had done a job perfectly, or at least so well it couldn’t be improved on. As in “The press agent got such good coverage that she clearly ate and left not crumbs.” Sometimes shortened to just ‘ate.’ Said to have originated in the New York Ballroom scene (whatever that is!) in the 2010s.

Aura farming—means the art of trying very hard to look cool and stylish. This means working on (‘farming’) your image (your ‘aura’). 

Baddie—we used to think this meant the villains in the movies, well, not anymore: ‘baddie’ now means someone (usually, apparently, a woman) who is stylish and attractive. It seems to come from a time in the later 2010s when ‘bad’ was being used to mean ‘good’ (a locution generally thought to have been either generated or made popular by Michael Jackson).

Based—is being used to mean someone who doesn’t care about other people’s opinions. So it is, I suppose, a rough equivalent of self-confidence. Perhaps it comes from the notion of someone have a strong ‘base’ of self-confidence.

Bed rotting—means staying in bed all day. (For someone who is well but just lazy this is a horrible notion!) It seems to have been around only since 2025.

Bet—is now being used to mean ‘sure’ or ‘definitely.’ As in ‘As the economy slows down the rich just get richer, right? Ok, bet.’ This one began in Black American slang in the 1980s as an abbreviation of ‘I bet you!’ (So it’s related to the old gambling notion.)

Bloatware—is used as a critical label to describe unwanted pre-installed computer software. The older meaning of ‘bloated’ is ‘swollen’ so I guess that was employed in coining this one (which happened in the early 1990s). Clearly it’s a variation on the old expression ‘software’ meaning computer progrms. It’s yet another example of tech driving our language (not always in good directions!)

More bits of new slang tomorrow.

Bellicose Looking around the world at the moment this is the word that seems to apply. This word ‘bellicose’ came into English in the mid-1400s and means ‘inclined to war or fighting; warlike.’ Behind it is a Latin word bellicōsus with exactly the same meaning (behind it are words such as bellator meaning ‘warrior’, bellum‘war’, and bellatorius ‘aggressive’). It is certainly the case that Russia is ‘bellicose’ in its treatment of Ukraine, China is ‘bellicose’ in its threats towards Taiwan, and in the Middle East Iran is ‘bellicose’ towards just about everyone. But the word can be used without actual gunfire. These days it’s quite often used metaphorically to label an attitude or an action that aggressive in some way. For example, in the United States when the Trump administration was accused of having the failed the people on cost of living issues (or ‘affordability’ as they always say there) President Donald Trump fired back. The New York Times ran a headline that said ‘A Bellicose Trump Points Fingers in Defending His Record on the Economy.’ As a result the people at the Merriam-Webster Dictionary report that ‘bellicose’ became a highly looked-up word on their website. They go on to say that ‘while it can be used figuratively, (it) often describes an attitude that hopes for actual war. The word is generally applied to nations and their leaders. In the 20th century, it was commonly used to describe such figures as Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm, Italy’s Benito Mussolini, and Japan’s General Tojo, leaders who believed their countries had everything to gain by starting wars.’ Does ‘bellicose’ ever apply (figuratively) to Australian politics? Perhaps it does. When Tony Abbott took on the failing Rudd-Gillard-Rudd government he was a strikingly effective opposition leader—as he took the battle for ideas right up to them. And the same could be said for any really effective opposition leader. While those in government tend to be most ‘bellicose’ when they are being defensive—such as Scott Morrison during major bushfires (‘I don’t hold a hose’) or Anthony Albanese defending his failure to tackle antisemitism. But it is definitely a word of our time.

Black arm band history My Christmas present from my wife this year is Tony Abbot’s new book about Australian history. The book is simply called Australia: A History—and it sets out to tell the story of Australia ‘from convict colony to a great democracy.’ 

The reviews I’ve read have heaped praise on the book (and I found it to be a great book: well written and a wonderful read)—and what makes it interesting is Tony Abbot’s goal of providing a counterbalance to what is called ‘the back arm band’ view of Australian history. 

The expression ‘the black arm band view of history’ appears to have been coined by distinguished Australian historian Geoffrey Blainey in 1993. It was popularised a decade later by Prime Minister John Howard. The expression comes from the frequent habit of wearing a black arm band as an expression of mourning. So Blainey’s phrase targets those who mourn about Australian history. In his words this view represents the ‘swing of the pendulum from a position that had been too favourable to an opposite extreme that is decidedly jaundiced and “gloomy”.’ We should bear this view in mind every time there are anti-Australia Day protests (as there are every year). These protests seem to embrace the ‘black arm band’ mentality that Australian history is horrible from beginning to end and is something to mourn (that there is nothing to celebrate). It is the view that all Australians should be ashamed of all of Australian history. The alternative view is that what arrived in Australia on 26 January 1788 was Western Civilisation: courts and the rule of law, a written language (which Australia lacked until then), education, medicine, engineering and so on. John Harris’ book about the history of Christian missions to aboriginal people is called Wish We’d Done Better. This title probably sums up the view of many Australians about Australian history—a balanced view that celebrates the good stuff while still wishing that the people of those earlier days had done better.

Words with two UUs Yesterday I reported my delight, as a child, in discovering the word ‘vacuum’ because of the two UUs in the middle. I suggested that ‘vacuum’ is the only word in the English language to contain two adjacent UUs in this way. My suggestion has been challenged by a reader who has sent me a website article which claims that the ‘Merriam Webster Dictionary lists fifty-four (54) words containing the occurrence of “uu” in their spelling.’ Really? I find that an extraordinary claim—so let’s see what evidence this article produces. It starts by referring to the Latin origin of the two UUs in ‘vacuum’ (which I also referred to yesterday). In Latin ‘vacuus’ meant ‘empty’—and one way we can talk about someone who is not very clever is to say that they are ‘vacuus’. If that were true that would give us a second word in English that has the two UUs side by side. But it’s not true. In English the word is spelled ‘vacuous’ and recorded in the Oxford from the 1650s. Two hundred years later it took on the meaning of ‘unintelligent; empty of ideas.’ So let’s go back to the article and see if the writer can produce anymore of this two UUs words. Well, there is the Latin word ‘continuum’ (meaning a continuous body or thing) and I have to grant this one. So there are at least two words in English with the digraph of UU. But 54? I’m still not persuaded. The article suggests the word ‘ambiguus’ (which means ‘different possible meanings’). But there is no such word as ‘ambiguus’—at least, not in English: it’s a Latin word, and the English equivalent is ‘ambiguous.’ And that is what happens when Latin words with this digraph UU are borrowed into English. It is routine for English to convert the UU spelling into the ‘-uous’ spelling. So that one move, I suggest, disposes of most of those so-called ’54 words’ containing UU. Only in Latin, not in English. But there is one more—the Polynesian item of clothing called a ‘muumuu’. And I’ll grant that one. It was originally a Hawaiian word that was borrowed into English in 1888. But 54? I’m still not convinced.

Vacuum This is a fairly ordinary word, you might think. And you’d be right. The word ‘vacuum’ is recorded in English from 1550 to mean, pretty much what we mean by it today—an empty space, especially a space empty of air, especially one from which the air has been artificially withdrawn.’ Which is how a vacuum cleaner works, isn’t it? It draws out the air and (in so doing) also sucks up the dust and cleans the floor. The word ‘vacuum’ is stolen straight from the Latin word for ‘empty’ without any changes. I remember when I first learned this word as a child I was delighted to discover a word with had two Us side-by-side. (I think I’m correct in saying no other words has this letter combination.) But why are we talking about this? Because one of the pioneers of robotic vacuum cleaners has filed for bankruptcy. Even if you don’t own one, I’m sure you’ve seen these little robotics vacuum cleaners on TV at some point. They tend to be small, round, very low devices that roll on their little wheels across the floor changing direction every time they bump into a piece of furniture. I take it that the way to use one of these things is to turn it on, and then turn in lose in a room while you are somewhere else. (You don’t want it bumping into your feet as you walk around.) In fact, the idea solution might be to turn it on and then leave the house for a while. Planning to go to a restaurant? Then turn on your robot vacuum to clean the place up in your absence. Anyway, all this comes up because the maker of the Roomba vacuum filed for bankruptcy this week. iRobot was founded in 1990 by M.I.T. researchers who invented the popular robotic household device in 2002. Roombas are designed to suck up dirt and debris as they move independently around a room, powered by rechargeable batteries. The company has struggled in recent years with competition from other robotic vacuum makers and customer concerns about data privacy. So, we can feel sorry for the engineers who invented this thing, if it is indeed their company that has gone belly up. At the same time I’d rather push our Dyson around the room myself because (a) I can be sure nothing has been missed, and (b) it will be much quicker than waiting for the little robot to fiddle around. And all of this grows out of a ‘vacuum’!