Inconceivable!

inigo1A few weeks ago, PR Daily posted a nice little article titled “8 words that may not mean what you think they mean.” One of the words, unique, is a word-in-residence here at Lexicide. Ms. Brockway’s column received an avalanche of responses, some suggesting words for the next article, others “insisting that the meanings of words change because ‘majority rules.'” In their estimation, literally means “figuratively” because that’s how so many people use it.

First, let’s address this ‘majority rules’ crap. I agree (and have written here) that language evolves. I agree we should roll with the changes and avoid words whose fluid definitions could cause confusion. But just because a gaggle of chowderheads use literally wrong by no means makes them “the majority.” Lexicide doesn’t cover words that have moved on  ̶  words like gay, nice (which once meant “foolish” and was used as an insult) or enthusiastic (my favorite  ̶  it started life meaning “possessed by spirits.”). We only fuss about words which a minority of people use incorrectly.

There wouldn’t be controversy about literally, leverage or disinterested if most people agreed on their (wrong) definitions. I argue that this is prima facie evidence that lexicidal maniacs are the outliers, and the rest of us are trying (sometimes failing) to do right by our words. Keep trying. And read “8 more words that may not mean what you think they mean.”

̶  Otto E. Mezzo

P.S.: I also recommend Laura Hale Brockway’s blog Impretinent Remarks.

Surety

SURETY: “1. security against loss or damage or for the fulfillment of an obligation, the payment of a debt, etc.; a pledge, guaranty, or bond; 2. a person who has made himself or herself responsible for another, as a sponsor, godparent, or bondsman; 3. the state or quality of being sure; 4. certainty” dictionary.com

A good friend, who happens to be a distinguished professor of religion, wrote me this note:

Lexicide moment: “All that can be said with any surety . . . ” Really? Are you going to give me something in exchange for letting you say what you want to say? Reading a very frustrating article right now. Changed “surety” to certainty and thought of you.

Aww. In return for that thought (and the C-note you slipped me), Lexicide’s word du jour is surety, which according to the popular website dictionary.com can indeed mean “certainty.” Even the OED lists “the state of being sure or certain of something” as a definition. Merriam-Webster lists “the state of being sure” as the primary definition!

Color me surprised. No, really. I asked the missus, who usually defends language misuse, and she’s never heard surety used in any context outside of a guaranty (as opposed to a guarantee). Of course, since she’s a distinguished attorney who used to work in insurance, her readings are skewed. For example, she hadn’t read this web review of Dickens’ Dombey and Son:

It is a lovely book, I can say that with all surety.

And on Yahoo Voices, a writer snarks:

Once again, promised with all surety the rapture was upon us, disappointment results.

And if those sites aren’t “legit” enough for you, here’s a testimony from a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints on their website mormon.org:

It took a lot of fasting and prayer on my part, but I can now say with all surety that God lives, that Jesus Christ is our Savior, and that the Book of Mormon is the word of God.

Interesting that two of those examples cited here are religion-oriented. And my friend is a professor of Jewish studies who came across the first example in her work. Surely there’s a joke here involving an airplane and a shortage of parachutes.

Again, we at Lexicide have to ask – why use surety when there is already an established, uncontroversial word for certainty: certainty?

Okay, here’s the joke: A Jew, a Mormon and an atheist are flying together when their plane malfunctions. As it spirals to certain doom, the Jew announces, “I believe with all surety that my name is written in the Book of Life, so I will soon see G-d.” The Mormon counters, “I believe with all surety I will soon be with Jesus in the Celestial Kingdom.” The atheist then says, “I believe with all the surety my brothers put up on this airplane, they are going to be pissed!”

Thank you. Please tip your waitress.

Otto E. Mezzo

References: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/surety?s=t

http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/surety

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/surety

http://www.factualopinion.com/the_factual_opinion/2012/04/no-pictures.html

http://voices.yahoo.com/rapture-disappoints-again-8517171.html

http://mormon.org/me/7VQB/

Hopefully, the AP gives in

Yesterday, the Washington Post reported on the AP’s surrender on hopefully. Now if you think Lexicide is pretentious, please read the editorial, which leads with “The barbarians have done it.” We at Lexicide would never refer to anyone as a barbarian. (We prefer “knuckle-dragging troglodyte.”)

On hopefully, I feel less severe than the Post. After all, using it to mean “it is hoped that” (“Hopefully, writers will stop using words incorrectly.”) does not eliminate the traditional meaning of “full of hope” (“She waited hopefully for word of her husband’s fate.”). Both seem to coexist peacefully, clarified by context. Also, “it is hoped that” is awkward and passive, and there are times when the first person “I hope that” is not appropriate.

You see? We at Lexicide welcome useful language drift — some of the time, at least. We promise to always be open-minded about these things. Hopefully.

Shoo-in

shoo-in

SHOO-IN: “a person or thing that is certain to succeed, esp. someone who is certain to win a competition.” – New Oxford American Dictionary

This is not a real lexicide, and to be honest, the perpetrator here is yours truly. Recently, I used the improper shoe-in on, of all places, Facebook. A “friend” (yes, one of those) called me on it. Like a preacher caught in a brothel, somehow the offense seems dirtier coming from me.

So off I went in search of shoo-in’s origin. Like many other useful terms (“hands down” comes to mind), shoo-in comes from the world of horse racing, where the nippy nags are literally shooed in to the finish (to shoo meaning, of course, to drive an animal where you want it to go). Presumably all the jockeys are shooing in their mounts, so how did this term come to apply only to sure bets? Opinions vary, but William Safire wrote that in a fixed race it was the other jockeys who shooed in the decided winner while simultaneously holding their own steeds back. This origin story sounds murky to me, but as this site demonstrates, crisp logic is not a prerequisite for etymology.

So please forgive this foray into non-lexicidal, non-corporatese misspelling, but I do feel like I’ve done a kind of penance. All the better to shoo away future lexicides.

Otto E. Mezzo

References: http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-sho1.htm
http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/5/messages/1034.html

ROI

ROI (Return On Investment): “A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or to compare the efficiency of a number of different investments. To calculate ROI, the benefit (return) of an investment is divided by the cost of the investment; the result is expressed as a percentage or a ratio.” — Investopedia definition of ROI.

Marketing people don’t know accounting. We don’t want to know accounting. Accountants are the villains, the inveterate naysayers. In the movies, accountants are the boring boyfriend or the bean-counting toady. But when a lazy Hollywood writer wants to give his hero a profession, right there in the “heroic professions” grab bag next to screenwriter and Navy SEAL is — ad man. Yes, we “creative” types are pretty smug. We’re brainier than salespeople, more fun than finance people and better dressed than operations people. And we don’t have to show results (much). Books off at month-end? Then as an accountant, you definitively, undeniably suck. Sales down from last year? No commission for you! Marketing plan not a barnburner this year? Define barnburner. Oh, and the economy stinks. What’re you gonna do?

But what the “soft” fields truly envy in the “hard” fields is the jargon. Percentile, delta, impedance mismatch! Gloriously thick words made more desirable by their impenetrability. We must use them. Definitions be damned! …What? What’s this? Return on investment? Why, yes, I think I understand that. Oh, and it has a snappy acronym, too — ROI. No no! Don’t tell me what it actually means. I don’t care what you CPAs think. I like it.

Being left-brained number-crunchers, you don’t see the possibilities here. ROI sounds so official, so — profitable:

“We’re seeing great ROI in our social media campaigns.” (We have three new Twitter followers.)
“Our services demonstrate appreciable ROI for our clients.” (ROI can be negative? I’m wetting myself with excitement!)
“I’m not convinced of that program’s ROI.” (See what I did there? Can I order a CPA certificate online?)

Why confine ROI to a boring formula? Let me have it for a month and I guarantee it’ll be meaningless when I’m done with it. Look on the bright side. When ROI means nothing more than “effectiveness,” then you can stop obsessing over that discrepancy in year-end close. That’s what they’d do in the movies.

Otto E. Mezzo

Out of pocket

OUT OF POCKET: “of, pertaining to or requiring a cash expenditure: out of pocket expenses… [alternately] suffering from a financial loss: even after our payment, he is still out of pocket.” — New Oxford American Dictionary

In a few days, the Lexicide staff will be out of pocket for the Christmas holiday. Did you get that?

Sure you did. You understood that we’ve leveraged our corporate checking account to pay for all these gifts. Or perhaps the boss decided these expenses are not reimbursable, so we must pay for the gifts ourselves — i.e., with money out of our own pockets.

How out of pocket came to mean “unavailable” or “incommunicado” is an easy deduction. Boss schedules sales guy (or gal) to go on an out of pocket trip. Sales dude (or dudette) grouses to everyone about how he (or she) is out of pocket for the next week. Salesperson of indeterminate gender has inadvertently committed lexicide. Now you can be out of pocket even while on an expense account.

And who doesn’t want to be both unreachable and also holding the company Amex? Especially at this time of year? Merry Christmas, everyone. May your words be merry and right.

Otto E. Mezzo

Trying too damn hard (to annoy us)

sweeneytodd2

A reader (who also happens to be an English teacher) writes:

Is there any reason… for people to use the word “egress,” other than to prove that they CAN? What other words automatically brand a speaker or writer as trying too damned hard?

Reader Teacher has hit upon the unfortunate genesis of so many lexicides. Call it compensation, pretense or evasion, in the end it just comes down to “trying too damn hard.” So to answer the question, here are my (least) favorite “trying too damn hard” words and phrases:

Vis-à-vis — Use “regarding,” or better yet, restructure your sentence. (“We need to analyze our conversion rates” reads better than “We need to analyze reporting vis-à-vis conversion rates.”)

Strategize — Just plan instead.

At a high rate of speed — You mean “fast?”

At the present time — Now.

On a daily basis — First, second, and fourth words: completely superfluous.

Superfluous — Okay, okay…

Obligate — Oblige! Oblige!

Time horizon — Wasn’t this a straight-to-VHS sci-fi movie?

One of several attorneys general — Okay, we get it. You know the proper plural for attorney general, even though you’re just referring to a single one. We’re happy you understand the Norman origins of the term. Now go away.

Grand Guignol — Critics like to throw this term around to “elevate” spatter films to high art. The only problem is The Grand Guignol did not traffic in high art. It offered — well, splatter shows in the Pigalle neighborhood of Paris (the same area that hosts the Moulin Rouge, if that gives you some idea of the competition). But what the heck — it’s French!

In contradistinction to — I confess, this is my big “trying too damn hard” habit. I don’t know where I picked it up. I may have watched one too many BBC costume dramas.

Any foreign spelling or pronunciation — No American is allowed to write colour, kerb or tyre (unless you’re writing for a Commonwealth audience). No American is allowed to pronounce garage, advertisement or valet the English way, either (and besides, the American way is closer to the French origin, if you must be snooty). If you live in California, you will not pull into a car park when your gear box gives out on the motorway. Ever. (Same applies to Commonwealth blokes, but in reverse.)

Any others?

Otto E. Mezzo

There really should be a word…

The Lexicide staff was discussing our upcoming high school class reunion.

Otto remarked, “I predict the bios of most of our classmates would read like the first half of a Nick Hornby book, but only the first half.” Lex responded, “And the irony is, the soundtrack would be Bruce Hornsby.”

!!!

An editor of Lexicide.com using irony incorrectly? That’s ironic!

But seriously, there really should be a word for an amusing coincidence like the one above — or the kind you read about on IMDb‘s trivia pages. What other wordless definitions deserve words of their own?


Socialism

SOCIALISM: “…an economic system in which the means of production are either state owned or commonly owned and controlled cooperatively; or a political philosophy advocating such a system.” —Wikipedia entry for Socialism

hammer-and-sickle-1Lexicide does not do politics. We prefer to annoy everyone, regardless of worldview. However, Lexicide is all about being current, and our drill-down of socialism is only about three years late.

The accusations of socialism — leveled against  everyone from Bill Clinton to Richard Nixon — pre-date the 2008 United States election (obvious, yes, but we’re talking about a media-obsessed nation with the attention span of a puppy on meth). Since then, conservatives, especially the fiscal conservatives and libertarians of the Tea Party movement, have sounded the socialist klaxon with regularity. My favorite (from a September 4 Politico article):

Romney’s supporters couldn’t have been more out of place at an event festooned with characters such as former Nevada Senate candidate Sharron Angle and the blunt symbols of the tea party movement — images of one stick figure shooting another under the heading “socialism” and of an automatic weapon with the legend, “Come and Get It.”

The trouble is, socialism does not necessarily involve a police state or high taxes. What decriers of socialism intend is to evoke the spectre of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, although not always. Sarah Palin’s PAC chief fretted that “someone must save our nation from this road to European socialism.” That statement is slightly more accurate. But let’s be clear. Socialism describes a political situation where the state controls factories, farms and other economic institutions. It does not require higher taxes (the U.S. has the second highest corporate tax rate in the world, while extreme socialist nations Norway and Sweden rank 14th and 15th, respectively). It does not demand the dissolution of gun ownership (Australia has accomplished that without socialism). Socialism apparently does not even muzzle the press, as three Scandanavian countries top the Reports Without Borders Press Freedom Index.

I think most opponents of “socialism” are really more wary of totalitarianism, which Wikipedia describes as “…a political system where the state recognizes no limits to its authority and strives to regulate every aspect of public and private life wherever feasible.” By definition, a totalitarian state cannot be one in which free enterprise thrives. It is one in which the government controls the totality of your living — everything from what foods you can eat to what kinds of health care you get. I don’t imagine many of President Obama’s critics will make the switch, however. Considering totalitarianism’s record, the criticism would come off as unduly harsh. But if they’re truly concerned that America is the frog in the slowly boiling pot, maybe they should take the leap. It may be political suicide, but at least it would be more precise.

Otto E. Mezzo

Something to think about

Our first lexicide entry was verbiage, followed by leveragepenultimate and enormity. Among our latest entries are bemused, exemplar and holistic. What’s the difference between these sets? The first array consists of words whose meanings get twisted due to constant misuse. In the second set, the words are similar to other, more common words. The less common word appropriates the meaning of the common (and shorter) word, and American Anglophones lose a word. Call the city lexicide squad.

Bemused | Continuum | Differential | Duplicitous | Exemplar | Fortuitous | Fulsome | Guise | Holistic | Minimalist | Schema | Simplistic | Stagnant | Thematic

Now you can argue that verbiage sounds like verbal and enormity sounds like enormous, but there is no noun that means and looks similar to verbiage, and enormousness is so inelegant it doesn’t exist in most people’s vocabulary. On the other hand, everyone knows the words amused, continuation, difference, duplicate, example, fortunate, full, guidance, whole, minimal, scheme, simple, static and theme, which are the correct words to use instead of the ones listed above. Folks just choose to tack a few extra letters on and sound more learned. Except they don’t.

Why do I belabor this point? After all, the lexicidal process is the same — people see or hear a word, assume it means the same as a similar word and start using it accordingly. Lexicide’s detractors — those who sniff at our haughty insistence on correct usage — defend this process as natural discourse analysis.

If that’s the case, why don’t people confuse:

stimulate for simulate

emergency for emergence

propositioning for proposing

communicable (think deliverable) for communication?

Something to think about. On second thought, don’t think too hard.

— Otto E. Mezzo

Type it out