We have collective nouns for animals, like “a gaggle of geese,” “a pride of lions,” and “an exaltation of larks.” So why not collective nouns for plants? How about a “greasing of palms,” or a “pursing of tulips”? Also, the difference between further and farther, the proper use of crescendo, how Shakespeare sounded, and why a child’s runny nose is sometimes referred to as lamb’s legs.
This episode originally aired Nov. 20, 2010.
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Why not have collective nouns for plants, like a “greasing of palms,” or a “pursing of tulips”? Martha shares some others collected on the site of food writer Gary Allen.
Reverend William Archibald Spooner was known for transposing sounds, like raising a glass “to our queer old dean” instead of “to our dear old queen.” A caller shares some favorite spoonerisms.
Boil up some pig neck bones, add some liver sausage and buckwheat, mold it in a loaf, then slice, fry, and serve with syrup. Some folks call that scrapple, but a Milwaukee woman’s family calls it pannas.
A listener asks: “Does the phrase ‘snap, crackle, and pop’ need a cereal comma?”
Quiz Guy John Chaneski has a puzzle about anagrams.
What did Shakespeare‘s plays sound like in his day? An acting teacher with an interest in dialects wants to know how researchers reconstruct Elizabethan speech.
A Pennsylvania college student remembers playing a game called “Whisper Down the Lane.” She’s surprised to learn that her fellow students call the same game “Telephone.”
What’s the difference between further and farther?
Martha shares more clever collective plant names, including a “mommy of poppies.”
Pity the poor typeface designer, always seeing anachronisms in movies and television. Imagine how painful it must be watching a World War II movie only to see a document printed in Snell Roundhand Bold, a font invented in 1972.
Here’s typeface expert Mark Simonson’s analysis of the lettering on “Mad Men.”
More about the life of font designers in the new book Just My Type by Simon Garfield.
Some speakers of American English use the word whenever to refer to a single event, as in “whenever Abraham Lincoln” died. This locution is a vestige of Scots-Irish speech.
A professional musician maintains that many people use the word crescendo incorrectly.
A father of two small children says his Indiana family referred to a child’s runny nose as a “lamb’s legs,” as in “We need to wipe the lamb’s legs off.”
Without fail, my father would utter this spoonerism, always in the form of a question, whenever a can of Campbell’s was opened up: “Soul o’ boup, peachy pie?” He had a catalog of expressions like this, many of his own invention.
There’s a certain song by the Temptations that everyone in my family sings as Pooger Shy, Bunny Hunch.
Similarly, a particular chain of family restaurants is always “Crunchy Kitten” (not strictly a spoonerism, but closely related).
Hello, my name is “natatorium” and I’m a Font Hypersensitive. It ruins my day to see font abuse. I and thousands of others suffering from the irritating effects of Comic Sans, Papyrus, and Sand are increasingly victimized by the explosion of desktop publishing by amatuer “designers” with computers.
A couple of the worst offenders for the last ten, twenty years have been The Simpons and South Park. For a long time, every bit of type or signage on The Simpsons, from theater marquees and newspaper headlines to wedding invitations and watch engravings, was Helveitca Bold, usually all caps. And it was almost always stretched or compressed horizontally to fill a space, distorting the width of the vertical elements to thin or fat while leaving the horizontals unchanged. This looks like hell.
South Park, not too surprisingly, is where all sensitivity to design is forsaken. In keeping with Eric Cartman’s beyond crudely drawn double chin, the typography in South Park is rudimentary and wrong. The best example is the font used for the sign on the front of the store Tom’s Rhinoplasty. A blunt insult to Font Hypersensiitves who enjoy the Futura font for its clean modernity, this bastardization completely rounds out the the upper loop of the R and P — from clean and classy to cheap and tacky in the time it takes to select “Futuryist Plain” from the drop down menu.
Off the top of my head, how about these offerings?
A buddy of holly
A martin of rowan
A compass of roses
A Denver of mint
An eclipse of sunflowers
A driving of daisies
A vox of populus
A Frost of birches.
A bubble of sweetgum
A pack of dogwood (or of lupine)
A sunrise of morning glories
A bluing of indigo
A nose of cedars
An etui of pine
And I can’t resist:
An aisle of yew.
CheddarMelt said:
Welcome. Of the many delights, aisle of yew will be a keeper.
A salicetum of willows? Going for the obscure rather than the punny…
Regarding spoonerisms, you have to hear the last track on (I believe) every release by the Capitol Steps, the politics-n-pop culture-skewering song parodists from Washington, DC. For example, the 2008 CD, Obama Mia!, which includes such hits as “Ebony and Ovaries” and “Little Plumber Boy,” ends with the extended spoonerism monologue “Lirty Dies:2008 – the Load to the Erection.” (Yes, the double entendres do figure into the humor quite heavily.) More info at http://www.capsteps.com
Regarding whenever:
I have no connection with the Smoky Mountains or Appalachia, but it sounds as if I might inhabit a midway point in the when versus whenever usage spectrum.
I would use when in describing most specific events in the past, as in the example of the surprise party given on the show. I would also use whenever for repeated events as described on the show.
To me the word whenever is not so much conditioned by the repetition of an event, but by the uncertainty of the timing of the event. In many of these cases, the word when could be used instead, but the result would lack the nuance of uncertainty. In these sentences, the word whenever might be paraphrased as “when x, whenever that will be (or was)”
So, I would use when for a predictable event, even if it is repeated and ongoing. I would generally not use whenever in this context.
The train arrives every day at 6:15 and, when the train arrives, I’m there to greet it.
I would use whenever for a repeated, but unpredictable event.
Whenever it snows, I do a barefoot dance on the lawn.
I would use when for a single event in general. But I would use whenever for any single future event when the timing was uncertain.
I’ll mow the lawn when it stops raining, whenever that will be.
Whenever it stops raining, I’ll mow the lawn.
I’m going to take some needed vacation when they hire a new person, whenever that will be.
Whenever they hire a new person to the group, I’m going to take some needed vacation.
I may also use whenever for a single past event if I really want to emphasize that the timing is uncertain, or unknown, and possibly also a little irrelevant, a little like whatever.
Latin was a required language when George went to high school, whenever that was.
Whenever George went to high school, Latin was a required language.
It was a dark day for the nation when that law was passed, whenever that was.
Whenever that law was passed, it was a dark day for the nation.
The dinosaurs became extinct when the giant meteor struck the Earth, whenever that was.
Some argue over the century, and even the millennium, but all agree that the dinosaurs became extinct whenever the giant meteor struck the Earth.
So for me, it is not accurate to say that whenever expresses a notion of repetition (I often use when for predictably repeated events, anyway), but, rather, uncertainty of timing.
Anonymous said:
With all due respect (and admiration) I’m still stuck on the fake ones.
A chase of daphne.
A pensive of wisteria.
A gross of yucca.
A coy of wallflowers.
An outbreak of sycamore.
A rubble of walnuts.
A transit of rush.
An encampment of wandering jew.
And, for all the wordies out there …
a conjugation of verbena.
Spoonerisms were a plot device in the Muppet version of “The Frog Prince,” in which the Princess Melora is under a curse that causes here to say everything “wackbirds”.
A mummy of pawpaw (or of poppy)
A wisdom of sage
A bottle of thyme
A joint of grass
A conscription of mango
A wallet of cabbage
A labyrinth of maize
An Ann of Rice
A diamond of carrots
A hive of nettles
A drift of snowberry
A council of elders (or alders)
A coven of witch hazel
A riptide of currants
A flock of gooseberry
A sheep of phlox
A sorrow of rue
A hostility of anemone
A herd of cowslip
A league of ivy
a coastline of beeches
A litigation of sumac
An udder of milkweed
A cacophony of bluebells
A school of trout lily or basswood
A cleansing of spruce
A coat of fir
A throne of chrysanthemum.
A laundry of bachelor buttons.
A dock of chicory.
A swish of pansies.
An…er, uh, something of forget-me-nots.
Ron Draney said:
A whatever of forget-me-nots?
Favorite: a laundry …
Trees!
A cremation of ashes.
A hodad of beeches.
A caravan of camellia.
A Heimlich of chokecherries.
A Nicosia of cypresses.
A council of elderberries.
An ‘ull of ‘elm.
A burka of eucalyptus.
A rune of hawthorns.
A stitch of hemlock.
A dance of maples.
A Popeye of olives.
A chirognomist of palms.
A urinal of pecans.
These provided by my 10-yr-old brother:
An Ernie of birch
A Lebanon of cedars
A military of serviceberries
Can’t do much with most of the trees we have around here. Palo verde? Cholla? Ocotillo?
No, wait. The tree closest to my front door offers a possibility:
A William of Orange.
Ahem. Change of subject to another part of the episode.
I can understand well why a musician would rankle at someone using “crescendo” to mean “maximum volume or intensity” instead of “increasing volume or intensity”. It’s much the way I feel when someone speaks of working to reach “the very plateau” in some accomplishment.
Abuses of technical terms that bother me as a mathematician:
Trees:
A plague of locusts
A tonic of sassafras
Smaller plant:
A seminary of Jack-in-the-Pulpits
A closet of Lady Slippers
On a part of the show that hasn’t been revisited in this thread: did anyone notice the resemblance of the word “pannas” for the scrapple-like meat “loaf” to the Latin “panis” (bread)? I wondered when the question was asked if there was any connection.
How about:
– A thanatopsis of death cap mushrooms
– A quiver of Cupid’s Darts
– A temptation of venus flytraps
I also feel compelled, even in the midst of my envy, to recognize the brilliance of “an aisle of yew”
While I’m at it, I’ll also give an honorable mention to “a sheep of phlox” and all of the ones provided by Anon.’s 10-year-old brother!
Lee said:
In Brooklyn it’s “an aisle of yews” without the slightest hint of promiscuity.
Promiscuity? As in “yews and yews and yews”?
So long, farewell…
Your radio show is delightful… and I never would have known about it if you hadn’t posted a link to my blog post about collective nouns for plants (A Wreck of Hesperus).
On your show, it wasn’t clear if these collective nouns were real or made-up. They are entirely, as PG Wodehouse might have described them, “phonus-balonus.” My wife and I started making them up on a road trip and — as is obvious from the comments here — other like-minded people also find the process irresistibly addictive.
The blog post is just the tip of the iceberg lettuce, so to speak. We have hundreds more in the book we’re writing (that’s why the original blog post was copyrighted).
Similar to “a pack of dogwood” could be:
a pod of orchids.
Emmett
As with animal groups, of which there can be different collective names, depending upon certain particulars (e.g. flock / gaggle of geese), I think we are free to come up with multiples for our herbs, flowers, trees, and other vegetation.
In that spirit I would like to add “a stitch of thyme.”
Juan Twotrees said:
I want to second Juan’s endorsement of CapSteps. They mostly do songs, but most of their albums have a lengthy story told almost entirely with Spoonerisms that are just hilarious. My favorite line was from one during the Lewinsky scandal that went something like this: Lonica Mewinsky is going to bite a wrook, and that rook is going to make her bich. What with be the jitle on the tacket? It’s from Darles Chickens: A Sale of Two Tities.
Faux Frenchie said:
I’ve got to repeat the recommendation for the Capital Steps. If you get a chance, listen to this story (text and audio) about Haris Pilton. Don’t listen while driving. It could result in a crad bash.
For all the spoonerism fans, I have a great performer for you. Terry Foy, As “Zilch, The Torysteller”, is a renaissance festival performer from Minnesota. You can see many of his bits on youtube. He’s also on facebook and has a website.
Streat Guff!
Apropos of pannas, scrapple, and other such peasant food designed to use everything in the pig including the oink …
I lived in Cincinnati for a time, and there was a food substance called Goetta. It was so common it was available in the chain grocery stores there, and all the little meat specialty shops had their version. The spelling is via the common deconstruction of the original German word, which was without the ‘e’ and with the ‘o’ umlauted.
The usual grain used with the meat is steelcut oats. The meat stock is typically pork, with up to 50% beef seen occasionally. And dressed up with some very nice spices.
A nice little FAQ about goetta:
Ron Draney said:
I agree, largely, with Ron’s complaint … but can’t agree about “learning curve.” I’ve always taken “steep learning curve” to be a graph of understanding/effort rather than understanding/time.
It was mentioned that the plant collective names were “made up” but weren’t the animal collective names made up too?
Of course, ALL language (not to mention every other cultural artifact) is “made up.” However the animal collective names (terms of venery) have historical usage — they were all terms of the hunt, going back to the Middle Ages, and possibly earlier.
Our list of plant groups (what we’re calling “terms of vegery”) have neither historical precedent nor practical usage; they were invented — by my wife and me, and by all the people who have have since added to the list — out of sheer whimsey, with no purpose other than amusement.
ggurman said:
Sanscravat said:
Okay, fair enough. I didn’t realize there was an actual historical usage for the animal words. Thanks for the correction.
Conflagration of fireweed
Loop de lupine
A late entry (just catching up on my podcasts): the show included a collective noun for rhubarb. May I suggest instead, “A razz of rhubarb”?
Oftentimes it is quite unambiguous from the context:
Whenever it will snow, I will do a barefoot dance on the lawn. (uncertainty of timing)
Whenever it snowed, I would do a barefoot dance on the lawn. (repetition by habit)
Whenever that law was passed, it was a dark day for the nation. (uncertainty of timing)
Whenever a bad law was passed, it was a dark day for the nation. (repetition with many bad laws)
Whenever they hire a new person to the group, I’m going to take some needed vacation. (uncertainty of timing)
Whenever they hired a new person to the group, I would feel a little more justified to take vacation. (repetition)
Thanks. These are great examples for my category of “a repeated, but unpredictable event.”