Weird thing, well weird to me, is that defenestration makes me think it should actually mean removing the windows from a building. I get its real, rather nasty and scary meaning, but even so I still think there's a certain ring to 'yes, we're planning a few changes...a total defenestration and then replacing with some pretty Georgian numbers...so much more in keeping with the scale'.
I mean there'd be nothing, other than its barbaric nature, to stop above quoted posers from actually defenestrating anyone they fall out with (who would then actually fall out either onto a dung heap or to be rescued by angels) once they've installed the new Georgian numbers.
By the way, in french lugubre is used on a much more daily basis than lugubrious might be in English. In fact, literally just before reading your fab piece I had done so re the light today (which is really getting to me...! oh spring please come soon!)
Your mention of the word "moist" made me think of a recent Jeopardy! category. I was able to find a transcript of it to share with you...
(Alex: Now this category came about because David Letterman did the "Top 10 Rejected Jeopardy! Categori and MOIST THINGS came up No. 1, so just to prove David wrong. we have...)
MOIST THINGS
$200
This 9-letter word for a small piece of paper used for cleansing often follows "moist"
$400
In chapter I of Dickens' "Bleak House" this is "everywhere... up the river... down the river... in the eyes & throats..."
$600
This Iberian plant seen here hanging from a tree needs to be in a moist habitat
$800
This moist cake with cream citanse icing is preset the most popular cake named for a garden root veggie
If you have personal experience with a polecat, the word delightfully conveys the immediate caution aroused by the gentle critter carousing outside your house or barn with its long furry tail sticking straight up. Gentle enough, a child is tempted to pet the little creature, but she will only try once. Afterwards, she will never forget the word polecat.
You are correct, Gene, that skunks (polecats?) are pretty adorable. We had a family—a mother and three babies—take up residence in our crawlspace. When they were out rambling around one day, I locked them out, and they seemed genuinely hurt and disappointed. They hung out beside the crawlspace door for days...it was like they were saying, "Can't we just go in and get our stuff?"
I am delighting in two words lately. Both are intriguingly and beautufully bipolar, yet they have been reduced to one-sided monotony. The Latin-based 'superfluous' should convey excessive abundance. But English speakers ignore that feature and use it to mean unnecessary and irrelevant. And the English word 'meadow' should convey a land of milk and honey. But we ignore the honey because of changing habits of drink. I want to restore these words to their fullness.
I think it’s in Absalom, Absalom that Faulkner uses the phrase “lugubrious pulchritude.” That’s about the time my seniors riot and attempt their own defenestrations.
I can't tell whether or not you're teasing me about Faulkner using the phrase "lugubrious pulchritude." I wouldn't put it past him, but the Google machine doesn't seem to know anything about it. Thankfully, I can't find my copy of Absalom Absalom, or I might sit here and read through it.
Wellllll I set out to prove myself and basically skimmed the entire book. You and the machine were right. The phrase is "presbyterian effluvium of lugubrious and vindictive anticipation." No mention whatsoever about pulchritude. But now I'm double confused. Doesn't pulchritude mean beauty?
This letter made me laugh out loud. I really enjoyed it!
Loved this. Thank you very much.
Weird thing, well weird to me, is that defenestration makes me think it should actually mean removing the windows from a building. I get its real, rather nasty and scary meaning, but even so I still think there's a certain ring to 'yes, we're planning a few changes...a total defenestration and then replacing with some pretty Georgian numbers...so much more in keeping with the scale'.
I mean there'd be nothing, other than its barbaric nature, to stop above quoted posers from actually defenestrating anyone they fall out with (who would then actually fall out either onto a dung heap or to be rescued by angels) once they've installed the new Georgian numbers.
By the way, in french lugubre is used on a much more daily basis than lugubrious might be in English. In fact, literally just before reading your fab piece I had done so re the light today (which is really getting to me...! oh spring please come soon!)
Just delightful! Thanks!
Your mention of the word "moist" made me think of a recent Jeopardy! category. I was able to find a transcript of it to share with you...
(Alex: Now this category came about because David Letterman did the "Top 10 Rejected Jeopardy! Categori and MOIST THINGS came up No. 1, so just to prove David wrong. we have...)
MOIST THINGS
$200
This 9-letter word for a small piece of paper used for cleansing often follows "moist"
$400
In chapter I of Dickens' "Bleak House" this is "everywhere... up the river... down the river... in the eyes & throats..."
$600
This Iberian plant seen here hanging from a tree needs to be in a moist habitat
$800
This moist cake with cream citanse icing is preset the most popular cake named for a garden root veggie
Amazing!
I'm only coming on Thursday if someone's getting defenestrated.
Haw!
If you have personal experience with a polecat, the word delightfully conveys the immediate caution aroused by the gentle critter carousing outside your house or barn with its long furry tail sticking straight up. Gentle enough, a child is tempted to pet the little creature, but she will only try once. Afterwards, she will never forget the word polecat.
You are correct, Gene, that skunks (polecats?) are pretty adorable. We had a family—a mother and three babies—take up residence in our crawlspace. When they were out rambling around one day, I locked them out, and they seemed genuinely hurt and disappointed. They hung out beside the crawlspace door for days...it was like they were saying, "Can't we just go in and get our stuff?"
Best of all time use of "polecat"... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_gHh5IEgi0
I am delighting in two words lately. Both are intriguingly and beautufully bipolar, yet they have been reduced to one-sided monotony. The Latin-based 'superfluous' should convey excessive abundance. But English speakers ignore that feature and use it to mean unnecessary and irrelevant. And the English word 'meadow' should convey a land of milk and honey. But we ignore the honey because of changing habits of drink. I want to restore these words to their fullness.
Yes! I approve of your rehabiltation of "superfluous"!!
I think it’s in Absalom, Absalom that Faulkner uses the phrase “lugubrious pulchritude.” That’s about the time my seniors riot and attempt their own defenestrations.
I can't tell whether or not you're teasing me about Faulkner using the phrase "lugubrious pulchritude." I wouldn't put it past him, but the Google machine doesn't seem to know anything about it. Thankfully, I can't find my copy of Absalom Absalom, or I might sit here and read through it.
Wellllll I set out to prove myself and basically skimmed the entire book. You and the machine were right. The phrase is "presbyterian effluvium of lugubrious and vindictive anticipation." No mention whatsoever about pulchritude. But now I'm double confused. Doesn't pulchritude mean beauty?
Pulchritude means beauty. That puts you back at regular confused.
Ok, good. That’s where I like to be.