Wonderings and Googlings (Wherein I wonder about words, then I Google them)

Reading about creme fraiche today, I noticed that one website said it has a "nutty, slightly sour taste." Is it just me, or does it seem that every ingestible under the sun is, at times, said to have a "nutty" flavor?

I decided to find out. I did a Google search for the term "nutty flavor." Here are just a few of the foods that were described this way.

coffee
cheddar cheese
buckwheat groats
honey
fundamentalist Christians
tawny port wine
butterscotch pie
Peterson Gran Reserva cigars
red snapper
roux
farro
"strawberry fields" marijuana
brown ale
teff
spelt
parasitic grubs
soy milk
jicama
squash
caviar
green tea
asparagus bean
bread
parsnips
apricot jam
brown butter sauce
nutmeg
garlic
lecithin granules
two varieties of apples
sesame seeds
fungus
hemp seed butter
basmati rice
soy bean flour
Irish whiskey
lentils
whole wheat biscuits
broccoli raab
purple asparagus
El Tesoro anejo tequila
avocado
tahini
nicoise olives
processed lard
cabbage
cured raw ham
and, of course, the occasional nut

Looks Like 'Seasoned' and 'Professional' May Be on the Outs Anyway

Just saw a tweet from Ben Zimmer about a Google tool that lets you search book databases for keyphrases and keywords. So, with "seasoned professional" fresh in my mind, I did a search for it.

A chart of its occurrence shows a steady and marked increase in its use since the late 1920s until its sudden dropoff in the 2000s! I guess those two words are sick of each other, too.

I like this search engine. I like it a lot.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

"seasoned" and "professional"

"Seasoned professional" is one of those terms I've long relied on. I use it in my own writing and I'm sure I've inserted it into articles I've edited.

But something happened yesterday. I must have seen the pairing one time too many and I just snapped. Suddenly, "seasoned professional" ceased to be a familiar, easy, informative term and became instead droning, meaningless noise in my ear.

I guess I just reached my limit for seasoning my professionals this way.

Yes, these two words have had a great run. But it's time they went their separate ways.

Words Writers Are Too Dependent On

nestled

Seems every house, hotel, or restaurant is "nestled " into or alongside something -- hills, a shoreline, mountains, golf courses.

I don't have any better suggestions. But someone should come up with some because "nestled" is so overused that it's starting to make "situated" sound good in comparison.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

highways and byways

This is a true Ike and Tina pairing. Poor byways has so much to offer. But it's completely subjugated in its relationship.

Of all the times I've heard someone say "highways and byways," I've never once believed the "byways" carried any meaning for the speaker. It's like the person wanted to speak only of highways, but he just couldn't resist the urge to make more sounds come out of his mouth.

A byway, according to American Heritage online, is a "secluded, private, or obscure road." Good word, huh? Handy and powerful for a mystery author writing about a drifter or a romance writer describing a backseat tryst.

WorldNet's definition, "a side road little traveled," suggests all kinds of wonderful metaphors.

But no, byways (in my experience) is used not to convey meaning to a listener but to provide empty gratification to the speaker or writer.

I can understand why these two words hooked up. Were it not for its brain-numbing overuse, the phrase "highways and byways" would be useful and visual -- a comprehensive snapshot of the roads that might be traveled. But too many people have used it as white noise for too long. It's time these two split up.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

fell and swoop

Really, are there no other kinds of swoops? Must every swoop be "fell" (which means savage, cruel, or fierce)? Is there no other kind of swoop? Couldn't you have a robust swoop, a thorough swoop, hell, a happy swoop? How about a swift swoop? A comical swoop? A no-nonsense swoop? A dizzying swoop? A waggish swoop? A mirthful swoop? A snooping swoop? A plain-vanilla swoop?

How about a barbarous swoop?

And why must fell swoops only come in quantities on one? Couldn't you accomplish something important in two fell swoops? Or would that suck the fellness right out of them?

Dangler, Cliche du Jour

Dangler* du Jour: "Themed 'Where the Wild Things Are,' kids can have fun in this interactive animal exhibit."

Better: "Themed 'Where the Wild Things Are,' this interactive animal exhibit is a fun place for kids."

Cliche du Jour: "She's like a bad boomerang. She just keeps coming back."

Better:

No, that white space isn't a mistake.

(*Procured while copy editing. As always, the actual words are changed to protect the innocent. As always, "the innocent" means me.)

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

pomp and circumstance

In fact, maybe poor pomp ought to hook up with sundry to start some kind of support group for co-dependent words, or at least aspire to become what the kids these days are calling "power bottoms."

Words I'm Looking Up (One in an occasional, cleverly named series on words I'm looking up)

underscore

I've been complaining about this word for a long time -- ever since I was an editor at Business Wire where it seemed that every single press release I read said that something "underscores our commitment." Despite its usefulness the first jillion times it's used, this expression became as tired and meaningless as "Have a nice day" or "Employees must wash hands before returning to work."

Then, on Saturday night, I was at a performance by the Groundlings -- a local improv and sketch troupe. Director Karen Maruyama was setting up an improv scene in which two actors had to perform a very mundane task -- scrapbooking -- in high-intensity Mission Impossible style. Karen turned to the pit musicians, asking them to "underscore" the scene with action-scene-type music.

In all my years of criticizing the overuse of this word, I never once noticed its musical implications. If you can score a film, it seems pretty natural that you might underscore a scene. Suddenly, I had a whole new appreciation of underscore.

Unfortunately, most dictionaries don't share my appreciation. Webster's New World College lists just one definition underscore: "a line drawn under a word, passage, etc., as for emphasis."

A Dictionary.com search shows that American Heritage Dictionary says it means just to "underline," "emphasize" or "stress."

Dictionary.com's own database is the only one that specifically mentions the word's musical implications: definition No. 4: "music for a film soundtrack; background for a film or stage production."

Of course, this does little to underscore my reasons for ceasing to hate underscore.

Fun with Google Searches

’Tis the season: 1.36 million hits
’Tis the season to be jolly: 126,000 hits

Apparently, ’tis always the season to chop up this song lyric for one’s own purposes in everything from magazine articles to blog entries. Maybe ’tis time to give it a rest.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

in and actuality

In fact, here's hoping that the "in" in this relationship soon becomes a widow.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

echoed and sentiments

As in:

"We believe in creating jobs," said Senator B. Lowhard. His colleague,
Senator Hautair, echoed his sentiments. "Yes! Jobs!"

Yuck.

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

peals and laughter

Once upon a time, back when it was still kosher to make fun of Siegfried and Roy, I visited their Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat at the Mirage Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. (Some of you are already seeing a potential connection with peals of laughter. But the comedy gets better.)

I visited the exhibit after having seen their show. (See, I told you the comedy gets better.) As the show began, the lights dimmed and the dramatic music began. Then, about four seconds after the curtain went up, I looked over at my fiance Ted, and noticed he was choking with laughter. The show was, well, a little flamboyant by his standards.

It was almost worth the $100-a-ticket and two-drink minimum just for this precious memory alone. Almost.

The Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat, however, I loved unabashedly. (Well, it got a little abashed when listening to the recorded audio tour, in which Roy himself spoke of a deep, almost mystical connection he experienced one time when looking into the eyes of one of his white tigers. The story went something like this: Roy and the tiger were wrestling, and then at one point the tiger just looked into Roy's eyes and Roy could see that the tiger had been taken over by the savage animal inside. He was going to kill Roy. And then he didn't -- a testament to Roy's magical connection with the beasts. Quite a story, huh?)

But the animals were cool. All the literature and audio assure visitors that the animals only sit a few hours a week in the zoo and spend most of their time happily roaming on wide expanses of land.

The Dolphin Habitat was especially entertaining, and afforded me a chance to ask a question I'd always wanted to know: If dolphins must keep moving at all times, how do they sleep?

The guide/dolphin expert answered: They're not sure, but they think that they sleep one half of their brains at a time.

And with that, we arrive back at my original point, because, by my math, that's half a brain more than is needed to write the brain-dead, overused, spewed-without-thinking cliche that is peals of laughter. Further, I'd bet that anyone who uses the term would do no better than your typical dolphin at answering the question: What's a peal?

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

spark and debate

Words That Should Get a Divorce (One in an occasional series on words whose relationships have grown tired)

torrential and rain

This cliched coupling is made worse by the fact that torrent, the root of torrential, means, among other things, "a violent downpour of rain." So torrential rain basically means "heavy-rain-like rain."

I'm not saying it's wrong. It's an accepted idiom that appears in the dictionary. I just wish -- oh, how I wish -- we could find an alternative that's not so incredibly tired.

Great Moments in Copy Editing (One in an occasional series on stuff I've come across while copy editing)

"Cliches are a double-edged sword."

Media Moment (First in an occasional series on notable uses of language in the media)

NBC correspondent Tim Russert, when asked on Aug. 23 how big was the news that Republican Senator John Warner had broken ranks with the president on the war issue, answered:

"In a word: Very big."