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

I noticed recently that both major style guides' preferred dictionaries advocate the spelling "doughnut."

Merriam-Webster, which is followed by most book publishers says that "donut" is a variant spelling of "doughnut." Translation: Down with "donut."

Webster's New World, which is followed by most news media, says that "donut" is informal for "doughnut." Translation: We're down with "donut," too.

But the masses, it seems, beg to differ. Doughnut gets about 6.8 million hits on google. But donut gets about 9,830,000.

Usually, I'm pretty awed by lexicographers and how well they do their job. But every once in a while, I just gotta poke holes ...

After-party or Afterparty?

Today I edited an article that contained the word “after-party.” The writer’s choice to form a noun from the words “after” and “party” by attaching them with a hyphen seemed logical. But I wasn’t sure it was the best choice.

I checked our designated dictionary, “Webster’s New World.” It does not contain the word “afterparty” (or “after-party,” for that matter). But I still wasn’t satisfied. My thinking: Who says that “after,” in this context, is a word? Can’t it be a prefix?

In the online version of Webster’s, I couldn’t figure out how to find the prefix “after-,” so I checked the hard copy of the dictionary. There it was, the “after-,” which Webster’s said was a “combining form,” (meaning you just splice it right on to the front of whatever word you’re pairing it with).

I was pleased with that answer and made the change, even writing a note in the text to explain it to the section editor. An hour later, the section editor came up to my desk. Long before I edited the piece, she had checked the archives of the publication that I work for and seen that house style demonstrates a clear house preference for the hyphenated form: after-party.

Had I worked just a little bit harder, I'd have gotten it right. Had I been lazier, I'd have gotten it right. But my half-baked efforts were just enough to assure I got it wrong.

Words I'm Accidentally Looking Up (One in an occasional series on words I stumbled across in the dictionary)

beefalo

an animal developed by crossing the American buffalo, or bison, with beef
cattle (Webster's New World College Dictionary)

Copy Edit du Jour

Some proofreading catches send a chill down my spine -- usually because I almost didn't catch them at all. Only on a second reading did I notice the error in this passage. Even then it felt like a fluke that I caught it. Here's the sentence:

Guests sipped signature cocktails and nibbled hors d'oeuvres into the wee
hours until the evening winded down and they went home with gift baskets teeming
with treats from local merchants.

The catch ....





















I changed "winded" to "wound."


"Winded," 99% of the time, means out of breath. The proper past tense of the verb "to wind" is "wound." Webster's New World does allow "winded" as a past tense, but calls it "rare." And in copy editing, we never opt for secondary dictionary choices, much less "rare" ones.

That was almost the one that got away.

What Part of Speech is the "Due" in "Due To"?

Came across this interesting usage note at Webster's New World's online dictionary. I hadn't realized that "due to's" function was disputed. Here's what I learned.

due to preposition: Because of

Usage Note: Due to has been widely used for many years as a compound preposition like owing to, but some critics have insisted that due should be used only as an adjective. According to this view, it is incorrect to say The concert was canceled due to the rain, but acceptable to say The cancellation of the concert was due to the rain, where due continues to function as an adjective modifying cancellation. This seems a fine point, however, and since due to is widely used and understood, there seems little reason to avoid using it as a preposition.

Words I'm Accidentally Looking Up (First in a series on words I stumbled across while looking for other words)

hagridden

adj. 1. (obs.) ridden by a hag

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

bade

I know what bade means. It's the past tense of bid. Today I bid you farewell. Yesterday I bade you farewell.

That's not why I was looking it up. I looked it up because I wanted an official ruling on how to pronounce it.

On the rare occasions when I hear people use this word, they always pronounce it "bad." Seemed like a bad call to me. If they would pronounce it as ryhming with "made," there would be less chance of confusion. After all, "bad" is a very common word but "bayed" is pretty rare (despite the sudden emergence of werewolf chic).

So, at long (long, long) last, I looked it up.

"Bad" news. I was wrong.

Dictionary.com and Webster's New World College both said it's pronounced "bad," not "bayed."

Makes me wanna howl.

Fun Stuff Shamelessly Pilfered from Twitter

Bryan Garner, author of "Garner's Modern American Usage," tweeted this morning:

Two of my favorite words: "ultracrepidarian" and "mumpsimus." They're closely related.

ultracrepidarian = one who pretends to greater knowledge than he or she actually possesses; esp., a know-nothing know-it-all.

mumpsimus = one who persists in error despite irrefutable correction. President. G.W. Bush was a mumpsimus when it came to saying "nuclear."

Neither Webster's New World College Dictionary nor Merriam-Webster contained either word. But Dictionary.com had 'em: ultracrepidarian

mumpsimus

Copy Editor Confessions

It's tough to admit that I had no idea how to spell a word I've used all my life, but there I was sitting at my desk this morning wondering why my spell-checker wasn't questioning the word "temperamental."

I was also patting myself on the back for my eagle-eyed spotting of that little A before "mental," messing up a word that should of course be spelled "tempermental." Then I looked it up.

Ouch.

temperAmental

tempermental

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

rocket

Learning a foreign language is always trying. But learning from speakers of a foreign language that you're deficient in your own language is truly frustrating.

I recently began listening to Italian language lessons in my car. (It's part of my "stop saying we're going to Italy someday and just go, dammit" campaign, which has been dragging on for quite some time and will likely continue through at least the summer of 2011.) In one audio lesson, the sample dialogue had two Italian speakers listing toppings they wanted on their pizza: " ... funghi, capperi, rucola ..."

Then they translated into English. I already knew that funghi would be mushrooms. I wasn't surprised to hear that capperi meant capers. I was anticipating the last word to be arugula, but it wasn't. I couldn't make out what they were saying. It sounded like "ararahkt." So I looked it up online and saw that rucola in English means -- rocket.

Rocket?

Turns out it's a synonym for arugula.

So to learn an Italian word I had to learn an English word. That's a long way to go just to order a pizza.

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

acronym

I'm teaching on online copy editing course (or, as the school calls it, a copyediting course). This week, students are learning about "acronyms."

I've long had an issue with this word. People use it interchangeably with "initialisms." But not all dictionaries support that.

Webster's New World College Dictionary, which is the designated resource in the newspaper copy editing work I do, says that an acronym is a set of initials pronounced as a word: radar, NASCAR. Initials that are pronounced as individual letters are not acronyms but initialisms: FBI, FAA, CIA.

BUT, Merriam-Webster, which is the designated dictionary for the Chicago Manual of Style, which is what we follow in the course, does allow using acronym to mean initialism, albeit reluctantly.

The author of the textbook for the copy editing course mentions this distinction in a footnote, but adds that it's common to call initialisms acronyms -- then she proceeds to do so throughout the chapter. I couldn't leave it alone. I informed students that, according to another widely used dictionary, this use of "acronym" is an error and that, even according to our dictionary, it's questionable.

I recommended that, as copy editors, they observe the distinction.

I have no doubt that the dictionaries will soon be changed to reflect real-world usage of the word "acronym." But, until they do, I think that people who aspire to careers as copy editors should take the more conservative approach. (Or at least be made fully aware of the controversy.)

The Cosmos Were or the Cosmos Was

A guy who reads my newspaper column wrote to scold me about using "the cosmos were" in the column in the sentence "I realized the cosmos were begging me to question 'beg the question.'"

The reader had "double-checked" a dictionary and saw that "cosmos" is singular. Therefore, it should have been "cosmos was."

After writing this column for nearly nine years, you'd think I'd be used to stuff like that. But I'm not. I always bristle and get defensive and run around my house looking for books that back me up.

I didn't like what I found. All three of the dictionaries I checked treated "cosmos" as, basically, a singular. There is a plural form, spelled the same way, but, as the dictionaries very briefly mention it, it seems to apply only when you're talking about two or more cosmos (cosmoses?). And who the heck ever does that?

Plus, none of the dictionaries I checked had any discussion/usage notes that you see with words like "politics," which can take a singular or plural verb depending on the sentence.

But, after fifteen minutes of scrambling for weapons with which to defend myself, I had a strange urge to check the original article I had turned in to my editors. Turns out, I had written "the cosmos was." An editor changed it "were."

Often, "gotcha" e-mails inspire columns. Whether I'm right or wrong, these correspondences with readers usually deal with issues that make good columns. I'm always more eager write about the arguments I win, of course. But I can sometimes man up enough to publicly admit when I'm wrong.

But this time is different. Neither the reader nor I was wrong, per se. If there was an error (and I find that highly disputable), it was an editor's. Even if it wasn't a language error, it's always an error for an editor to make a chance s/he hasn't researched.

Still, can you imagine a column in which a columnist whines about how an editor made her look bad in a prior column? Not cool.

Will the reader believe my reply of "It wasn't my fault. Honest! I was framed!"? Probably not.

I'm not sure why I chose the singular verb to go with "cosmos." I didn't put any thought into it. Still, I'm not sure where I stand. "The cosmos are cruel" sounds much better to me than "The cosmos is cruel." And I don't know if I agree with the interpretation that the dictionaries support only the singular verb.

I'm still too frazzled to make up my mind. But someday I'll be grown-up enough to handle these things better ....

'Supposably' Is In the Dictionary

Merriam-Webster says that the adverb form of "supposed" is indeed "supposedly," but the adverb form of "supposable" is "supposably."

Webster's New World is a little vaguer, noting "supposably" only as a "related form" of supposed. However, because WNW has a separate listing for "supposedly" and none for "supposably," there's no doubt which form they prefer.

So, what, exactly is the difference between the adverb form of "supposable" and the adverb form of "supposed"? In their adjective forms, they're clearly different. But as sentence adverbs, the distinction blurs.

I'm going to have to think on this one for a long, long time (after I stop retching, of course). Until then, I'll file this under "things I should have looked up a long time ago."

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

wainscoting

As work continues on our bathroom addition, I become more — not less — confused about how to pronounce this word. Some people say it "WAYNE'S-coating," others say it "WAYNE-scotting."

So I finally went to YourDictionary.com, where they have audio files that let you hear the pronunciation, and here's what I heard: "WAYNE-skuh-DING."

I guess nobody knows. Sure looks pretty, though.

Just When I Thought I Knew Every Possible Reason to Dislike Merriam-Webster ...

... I learned that, according to Merriam Webster, we copy editors don't copy edit. We copyedit.

I'm not saying it's wrong. I'm just saying it's gross, unseemly, disorienting, and disturbing. Other dictionaries let me copy edit, why can't Merriam?

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

teabagger

In a recent column on healthcare, Paul Krugman wrote that "the teabaggers have come and gone."

I've been hearing variations on this word a lot in the last few years, but not like that. Not like that at all.

Usually, the term is uttered by a Jon Stewart or a Seth Rogen and received by snickering twentysomethings privy to all kinds of filthy new figures of speech. I've resisted the temptation to look up the Stewart-Rogenesque form of the word because, well, I don't know. Maybe I'm getting too old for Beavis and Butthead humor. I certainly hope not.

But when a Princeton professor and New York Times columnist uses "teabagger," well, that lends some academic legitimacy to my search for truth.

But here's the thing: Neither Webster's New World online, American Heritage online, nor Merriam-Webster online contains an entry for "teabagger," nor for "teabag" or "tea bag" as a verb.

Which leaves readers like me with no better resource for understanding Krugman's comment than UrbanDictionary.com's definition of the verb "to teabag."

Hey, I wonder if there's an old Beavis and Butthead episode on ...

If I Were Callin' the Shots Around Here ...

I'd say that "healthcare" is now officially one word (contrary to how the New York Times and one of the major dictionaries write it) but "cell phone" is not. Not yet, at least.

(Until it becomes more standard, "cellphone" will continue to make me think "selfown.")

Berks are Such Knob Jockeys

Just started playing with this "British American Dictionary" -- a service of the BBC.

I recommend selecting "insulting words" and "England" from the pull-down menu.

I'm not really sure its purpose, but it sure would be handy for traveling American jerkwads who want to understand what a waiter in a London cafe is saying about them.

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

douchebag = 1,920,000 hits
douche bag = 799,000 hits

If the Google search is any indication, the dictionaries are making the wrong call. Enter "douchebag" into dictionary.com (which includes American Heritage), Merriam-Webster's site, or Webster's New World College Dictionary's site, and they'll politely suggest "douche bag" instead.

Of all these dictionaries, only dictionary.com acknowledges that the term actually describes a type of bag. The others list it only as an insult or slang.

I love English.

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

short and shrift

On some level, I like the expression short shrift. But I just can't condone such unhealthy codependency. Like trove and amok, shrift is devoted to a partner that doesn't return the loyalty. On any given day, short can be seen running around all over town with everything from sell to order cook to man's disease.

This case of codependency is so bad that shrift has pretty much lost its own identity. Dictionary.com and American Heritage via dictionary.com don't give shrift an entry at all. Dictionaries that do tend to treat it as archaic and define it as: "a remission of sins pronounced by a priest in the sacrament of reconciliation," which leaves the reader wondering how this resulted in the short shrift we know today, which roughly means "careless treatment" or "scant attention."

Freedictionary.com tries to shed a little light on the matter, but doesn't fully connect the dots. In other words, shrift gets short shrift.

I say shrift needs to go out on a date with long. A long date.