That's Nice

 

That’s Nice

Effective communication between us assumes we agree on the meaning of the words we’re using. At least two issues arise. One concerns the confusing use of slang that inverts a word’s meaning, a practice typical of teens and those in their twenties. The other is words whose meaning changes over time.

Take the word bad. We agree that it means “not good” or “harmful.” Yet its slang usage is the opposite and means “good,” “appealing,” etc., as in “That party was bad.”

Then there’s sick. That’s the reason you didn’t show up to work. In slang the meaning becomes “awesome,” “impressive,” etc. Example: “Your presentation was sick.”

Words with opposite meanings are called contronyms. But the slang meanings are likely to be short-lived; slang tends to have a short half-life.

English has a surprising number of what we could call established contronyms, words whose double meanings have endured. One example is cleave, meaning to “split” and to “hold together.” Another is: overlook, meaning to look over and to neglect to look at.

Then what of words that change their meaning over time? Girl, for example, used to refer to a child of either sex. Egregious once meant “remarkably good” or “eminent.” Today, it means “shockingly bad,” as ThoughtCo puts it.

The poster-child for a word whose meaning kept changing is nice. Michael Quinion, a lexicographer, says it has gone through more shifts in meaning than almost any other English word.

It entered English around 1300, meaning “foolish” or “ignorant.” Calling someone “nice” was an insult. Its meaning shifted in the 1600s to mean “dainty” or “fussy,” then “precise” or “careful.” It then slowly morphed into meaning “agreeable” or “delightful,” and eventually to “kind” or “pleasant,” the sense in which we use it today. Now you know.

Have a nice day.

[300 words]

 

Words of the Year, and then Some

 

Words of the Year, and then Some

I read this week that a good contender for the word of the year for 2026 is affordability, given how prices in the US and elsewhere continue to rise.

But what about past years?

Here are the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) selections, from 2016 until last year. As you read the list, you might want to ask yourself the two questions I did: “Do I know what each of these words mean?” And “Have I used any of them in a sentence this past week?”

• 2025: Rage-bait
• 2024: Brain rot
• 2023: Rizz
• 2022: Goblin mode
• 2021: Vax
• 2020: No single word chosen (acknowledged as an unprecedented year)
• 2019: Climate emergency
• 2018: Toxic
• 2017: Youthquake
• 2016: Post-truth””

How fleeting is fame. The forces propelling Goblin mode into prominence in 2022 apparently vanished. Same with Youthquake.

Toxic is still around, as is the idea of Climate emergency. But I’ve never heard anyone speak of Brain rot.

I looked up rizz, which is short for charisma. Ít’s “internet slang for charm, style, or romantic appeal.” (I might need that if I’m asked to describe myself in a job interview.)

Most of these words or phrases, which received the linguistic equivalent of an Oscar, were one-year wonders: waving to adoring fans one year but fading into oblivion the next.

If you want to go back farther, other has-beens await your attention. The OED started announcing their words of the year in 2004.

If you want to go back farther still, say 15,000 years, Inc.com reports that scientists have identified the 23 oldest words in English that have survived all these millennia. Among them are thou, I, mother, bark and black.

Here’s the study, reported in 2017: https://www.inc.com/melanie-curtin/science-says-these-23-words-are-oldest-in-world.html. That was the year of youthquake, a word that I’m confident won’t be around in 15,000 years.

[300 words]

The 2026 Word Cup: All You Need to Know in 300 Words

 

The 2026 Word Cup: All You Need to Know in 300 Words

This year’s Word Cup, featuring participation of a record 48 entries, is now at the half-way mark and has reached the Knockout Stage.

The 16 words remaining in the competition are:

1.     Aardvark

2.     Amok

3.     Baguette

4.     Flammable

5.     Haiku

6.     Hum

7.     Introspective

8.     Nasal

9.     Otorhinolaryngologist

10.  Pebble

11.  Plop

12.  Rhythm

13.  Stewardesses

14.  The

15.  Titanium

16.  Wobble

The Group Stage saw several surprises, including the elimination of Flummox, last year’s champion, by 28^th ranked Pebble – a first-time entry that nobody expected to advance to the Knockout Stage.

Another surprise was Otorhinolaryngologist (an ear, nose and throat doctor, or ENT, as its fans abbreviate the word), which beat Thinker in extra time. ENT proved to be surprisingly nimble and completely outplayed its opponent despite its length disadvantage.

Another favored word that didn’t make it past the Group Stage was Bookkeeper. Admired by its supporters for its unique OO-KK-EE spelling, this word was eliminated for using the F-word. It incurred a red card and was ousted from the tournament.

Sacrilegious couldn’t participate because of a spelling error; its visa spelled the word “sacriligious,” and US immigration officials denied it entry into the country because of the discrepancy. Fragile was forced to withdraw because of injury in its first-round match against Plop.

A highly anticipated upcoming match is between Rhythm and Stewardesses. Rhythm is one of the longest English words without a regular vowel and Stewardesses is the longest word that can be typed on a regular keyboard with only the left hand.

The remains the odds-on favorite, however, having won the Cup four times. It’s the most used word in English and that makes it a perennial favorite with the fans.

The final is scheduled for July 19, the same day as another, lesser-known, cup event.

 [300 words]

Picky, Picky, Picky

 

Picky, Picky, Picky

We’ll divide today’s blog into two kinds of problem: the imprecise use of words and advice that is plainly wrong.

Category 1: “In our hiring, we don’t discriminate against anyone.” Nonsense. The act of hiring by definition excludes people who aren’t qualified. If you’re hiring a butcher you discriminate against bakers and candlestick makers. What candidates should expect is unjustifiable or unwarranted discrimination.

Another overstatement: Maybe your church or some other organization proclaims that “everyone is welcome.” Everyone? How about a dozen neo-Nazis in full fascist regalia? Barely tolerated, perhaps, but certainly not welcome.

Then there are the idealistic young souls who may say: “I want a career where I can make a difference.” Good and well. But remember: Adolf Hitler made a difference. We presume the young person means a positive difference.

Category 2: Now consider the inherent inaccuracy in many English proverbs or words of advice. Example: “A watched pot never boils.” Really? Just wait.

How about “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”? Try telling that to someone who’s been diagnosed with Ebola and is at death’s door.

Then there’s this nonsense we hear at graduation ceremonies: “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.” Anything? So if I just tried hard enough, I could become a champion sumo wrestler? Or a gold medal gymnast?

Yes, I’m being unfair, using these examples of speech whose intent people understand perfectly well. We know what’s intended when someone aspires to “make a difference.” We recognize too the wisdom embedded in proverbs or advice that isn’t intended to be understood literally.

The point is to think more carefully about our words. If I’m to err in my choice of words, I’d rather do so in the direction of more, not less, precision. Pickiness has its place.

[300 words]

 

In the Doctor's Waiting Room

 

In the Doctor’s Waiting Room

Our focus today isn’t on individual words. Rather, it’s the combination of words I imagined overhearing while in a doctor’s waiting room….

“Listen up please. The doctor is way behind on his appointments and we’re looking for three volunteers who are willing to give up their appointments today. We guarantee that we’ll get you in first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll also give you a food voucher, a hotel room for tonight, and a free hysterectomy or any elective surgery for you or an immediate family member.”

***

“Yes, we have your latest test results but privacy regulations won’t let us share them with you.”

***

“Good. You’re all checked in. How do you want to pay your front-desk fee? It’s $27.50. Yes, this is a new fee. What’s it for? Well, it’s to cover our overheads—our computers, our front-desk phones, appointment reminder cards: everything needed to help you check in smoothly today and next time. It’s like the shop fee they charge when you have your car’s oil changed, or the resort fee at those fancy places. And there’s my salary… No, we receptionists don’t have to pay for malpractice insurance…”

***

“No, I’m sorry; it’s been a long, long time since we accepted green stamps to pay one’s bill.”

***

“Yes, we can refer you to a specialist. But off the top of my head I can’t think of anyone in town who’s a pediatric gerontologist.”

***

“We charge $1,300 for each cataract surgery. Yes, we’re aware that Dr. Reesley across town charges only $799. But you’re right, he doesn’t have any openings for six months. We also charge only $799 when we have no openings.”

***

“What do you mean, you want to change your date of birth?”

***

“I’m afraid you must have misunderstood, Mrs. Swallop: we don’t give out free urine samples.”

[300 words]

 

A Week of Words

 

A Week of Words

Well, 10 days to be precise. I’ve just returned from helping to look after our twin three-and-a-half year-old granddaughters in Pennsylvania. Always alert to new, unexpected or otherwise interesting words or expressions, I identified about a dozen that surfaced during our trip.

1.     Tiara. Why was the woman on the flight to Chicago, two rows in front of us, wearing one?

2.     From the Agatha Christie novel I read on that Chicago flight: Cheese-paring, meaning stingy or niggardly, and hole and corner, meaning an attempt to avoid notice or something secret.

3.     Also from Agatha: Chasseur, a soldier trained for rapid movement, especially in the French army.

4.     Somehow the question arose, “What’s a collective noun for dinosaurs?” Google says: “There is no single scientific term for a group of dinosaurs, as they are usually referred to by standard collective nouns based on their behavior, such as a herd of herbivores (e.g., sauropods) or a pack of hunters (e.g., raptors).”

5.     Personal belongings. On several flights, this recurring irritant: What other belongings do I have?

6.     “Too often we have strayed…” Another recurring irritant, from the prayer of confession in church. As with “there are too many accidental gun deaths…,” how many times of straying or gun deaths are acceptable?

7.     Chugga-chugga choo-choo, a refrain as our human train made its way endlessly around the back yard.

8.     Arepas: What we had for lunch at a Peruvian restaurant, defined as a grilled cornmeal cake, often filled with meat.

9.     In the Mary Oliver book, Upstream, read on the way home: scute, an external bony or horny plate, like those on tortoises.

10.  And one I can be sure you haven’t heard, Permoop: a word invented by either Hazel or Sophie, that she said means someone who falls in the toilet.

[300 words]

Squawk 4234

 

Squawk 4234

We focus today on our words for numbers.

The computer or phone on which you’re reading this owes its existence to air conditioning. The first huge computers, from which our current devices are descended, were easily the size of your living room. They got so hot that they would have fried if it weren’t for the availability of effective air conditioners.

Imagine if we hadn’t moved beyond those huge machines. Or imagine how our lives would be different if we still used Roman numerals.

Take air traffic control. An air traffic controller could give this instruction to a pilot ready to taxi:

Cherokee 8121K, Greensboro Ground, cleared to Raleigh, maintain VFR at or below 3,000, departure frequency 118.5, squawk* 4234, advise when ready to taxi.

Using Roman numerals, this would read:

Cherokee MMMMMMMMCXXIK, Greensboro Ground, cleared to Raleigh, maintain VFR at or below MMM, departure frequency CXVIII.V, squawk MMMMCCXXXIV, advise when ready to taxi.

We find numbers at every turn, every day in English, like a visit to that convenience store, VII-XI, which boasts that it’s open round the clock, XXIV/VII.

Perhaps you’re blessed with XX/XX vision as you watch one of your top-X movies—not to be confused with X-rated movies.

Some music lyrics would need adjusting, ranging from hymns like “We III Kings” to popular tunes such as “VIII Days a Week” or “When I’m LXIV” by the Beatles.

Back to air traffic control: What to do with this vector for departure: “After takeoff, fly heading 030.” In Roman numerals…

Uh oh: the Romans didn’t have zero. So the air traffic controller may say, “Um, after takeoff, fly heading a bit to the left. Or the right. Whatever.”

I’m sure you can think of other examples. Phone with suggestions, no later than X-XV p.m. My number is DIX-CDLXVI-MMMMMCMXVI.

[CCC words]

*  Google says that “in aviation, ‘squawk’ refers to setting a specific four-digit code on an aircraft’s transponder, which communicates its identity and status to Air Traffic Control (ATC) radar, allowing for tracking and specific alerts like emergencies.”