Monday, September 23, 2013

Words and Other Interesting Things


86/eighty-six – as in “86 halibut”

The origin of this term has come up recently in two conversations I’ve had, so I figured, why not look it up? Unfortunately, the OED only has a rather brief word history:

eighty-six, n. in restaurants and bars, an expression indicating that the supply of an item is exhausted, or that a customer is not to be served; also, a customer to be refused service. Also transf.

1936 Amer. Speech 11 43/1   Eighty-six, item on the menu not on hand.
1941 J. Smiley Hash House Lingo 58, 86, sold out.
1944 G. Fowler Good Night, Sweet Prince iii. i. 227 There was a bar in the Belasco building,..but Barrymore was known in that cubby as an ‘eighty-six’. An ‘eighty-six’, in the patois of western dispensers, means: ‘Don't serve him.’
1971 P. Tamony Americanisms (typescript) No. 28. 16   Eighty-six. Bar and restaurant usage, ‘nix’, i.e., customer has had enough to drink or house is out of comestible ordered. Basically, simple rhyming slang but among habitues has as many [e]tymons as Homer had home-places, such probably being boozed up ex cathedra.
1977 Washington Post 17 May b1/5, 86 means you're all out of something or you cut some guy off.
1981 W. Safire in N.Y. Times Mag. 15 Mar. 10/2   Eighty-six on etymologies for “cocktail.”

eighty-six, v. trans., to eject or debar (a person) from premises; to reject or abandon.
1959 Observer 1 Nov. 7/6   ‘Eighty-sixed some square bankers from the temple’..eighty-sixed means evicted.
1963 J. Rechy City of Night ii. 186   I'll have you eighty-sixed out of this bar.
1968 N.Y. Times 31 July 29   On the evening of July 22, Mr. Mailer was filming a dream sequence at the house of Alfonso Ossorio in East Hampton, when Mr. Smith came into the house. ‘He told me, “You're 86'd”,’ Mr. Smith recalled yesterday. This is a barroom phrase that means ‘you're banned in here’.
1980 New Yorker 30 June 67   Most of the program was devoted to the lessons in campaign management that could be learned from Presidential races, real and fictional (A scene was shown from the movie ‘The Candidate’, in which the media adviser said to Robert Redford, ‘O.K., now, for starters, we got to cut your hair and eighty-six the sideburns’).

My own experience with this term is a little more syntactically flexible, and I don’t actually think I would ever use it as a noun. I have used it/heard it used as a verb, but not necessarily in that way, e.g., when chef tells me to 86 something it means I need to write 86 Halibut up on the server board, and it also means I need to inform everyone else on the floor that Halibut has been 86ed. I would also consider the sentence Halibut has been 86ed to be a well-formed statement.

It might also be used as an adjective/adverb, as in

Server 2: “Are we 86 anything?”
Server 1: “Yes, we are 86 halibut, chef is using fluke instead.”

Where it describes a state of being out of something. In the case above 86 stands in only for out of.

It is interesting that the OED treats this as a noun, because even when I consider what it stands in for ([we are] out of), it doesn’t seem to follow any of the noun rules. Morphologically, I wouldn’t say it takes on –ion, –er, or –ness; syntactically it does not seem to require a determiner, or act as a subject/object. I suppose this might be an archaic form, seeing as its last reported use was in 1981, but I’d be interested to hear what other people who know and use this word have to say. I’ve only ever heard it and used it in the restaurant industry.

This ‘word’ also brings back some of the issues we discussed about defining the parameters of a word. This word can be represented with letters or numbers, or a combination there of, complicating orthography in a way most definitions would not anticipate.


Disabuse, v. – as in “we need to disabuse him of that notion.”

For whatever reason, whenever I say this word out loud I feel like I might be saying it wrong, so I set out to determine what is the ‘right’ way to say it once and for all.

The OED pronunciation lists it as /dɪsəˈbjuːz/, which is exactly how I say it, so hopefully I will feel more confident now whenever I use it. Speaking of use…

1.     To free from abuse, error, or mistake; to relieve from fallacy or deception; to undeceive.

The first recorded use was in 1611, and though the last recorded use was in 1872, I still use this word though, so it must still be a word.

2.     As an intensive of abuse: To mar, spoil, misuse.

The first, and only recorded use (according to the OED) was in 1825. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard it used in this way, but it is not listed as obsolete.

The etymology is the prefix dis with the verb abuse, creating an oppositional concept. This, however, is also interesting, since I don’t think I would say that to abuse and to disabuse are exactly opposite concepts. They are related certainly, but direct opposites no. The quotation history does not really clarify how it was first used in context, and the 1653 quote offered is an example akin to common usage today.


Frequent, v. – as in “I frequent the local market place.”

For me this word is also about how it is said. I tend to place the emphasis on the second syllable (freQUENT) rather than the first (FREquent), which is what I would do if I were using it as an adverb, i.e., she comes her frequently. I used it in conversation the other day, and someone stopped me to ask, if that was really how it was said, I said yes, but I had never actually looked it up.

The OED’s pronunciation is stated thus: /frɪˈkwɛnt/, which I think conforms to my pronunciation, although the stress is not clarified. It comes from the Latin frequentāre, originally, but likely came to English through the French fréquenter.

The OED has several different definitions for it:

1.     To visit or make use of (a place) often, to resort habitually; to attend (a meeting, etc.). First recorded use 1555.
2.     To visit or associate with (a person); to be frequently with (a person) or in (his company). This definition is now somewhat rare, with the last recorded use in 1889.
3.     Obsolete definitions include:
a.     Of a disease; to attack often. This definition is archaic, no longer in use, with the last recorded use in 1632.
b.     To use habitually or repeatedly; to practice. This is another obsolete version of the verb, to frequent. 1485-1668.
c.     To celebrate (a sacrament, etc.); to honour with observances. Cf. French fréquenter. 1565-1581.
d.     refl. To busy oneself about something. 1562.
e.     To familiarize with. Last recorded use in 1588-1632.
f.      To resort to or unto (a person or place); to associate with (a person); to be often in or about (a place). Last recorded use 1577-1810.
g.     To crowd or pack closely; to supply abundantly. Last recorded use 1578-1682.
           
With the exception of f. these obsolete definitions all ‘died out’ between 75-130 years after the introduction of the first recorded use of the now popular definition. They also all seem to have emerged in use within 10-20 years of one another. This seems like it could be some sort of Survival of the Fittest: Word Version.


Some Other Interesting Things

1. #madisonwatersucks – as in “It's incredible how much better my coffee tastes when I use purified water #madisonwatersucks.”

This was my first ‘hashtag,’ as they are called. I posted it on as a part of a Facebook status on Tuesday, September 17, 2013, and it’s an interesting example of some of the issues with defining words that we’ve been talking about in class. I think it is probably fair to say that most people would parse this as 3 words, madison, water, and sucks, but when these three words are compounded together, in the context of a hashtag, they seem to take on a concept that is greater than the parts: the collective—sometimes affectionate—disgust of the resident population at the quality of Madison’s public water supply.

Wikipedia defines a hashtag as “a word or phrase prefixed with the symbole ‘#.’” (Side note: interesting choice to use the word prefix.) Hashtags in general are a phenomenon popularized by Twitter, where the hashtagged word or phrase links to the page for that topic. Hashtags have since also become a phenomenon used outside the context of just twitter, on Facebook, in texts, and in spoken conversation. As such, they seem to have expanded beyond the scope of a functional link, and become stylistic in nature.

2. Duct = Duck, Schwan = Swan

As I was walking to class the other day I saw this truck, which is presumably a duct cleaning service:


Notice that there is a picture of a duck as a part of this logo. Linguistically this points to the phonological similarity between /dʌks/ (ducks) and /dʌkts/ (ducts). Based on my own experience this may also be because when people say ducts it often sounds like ducks. In my case, I can remember thinking duct tape was duck tape, and wondering why ducks needed tape.

Another example of this is Schwan’s Food Company (pronounced /ʃwan/), which has in its logo a swan (/swan/):


3. A Reverse Mondegreen: “Some Beach” – Blake Shelton

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTT2LEyjdC4

On this topic, and that of unintentional mondegreens from last week, I was listening to my country playlist when “Some Beach,” by Blake Shelton came on. When I first heard this song—years ago, I thought he was really just trying to center himself by thinking of a nice beach somewhere far away, which would prevent him from negatively reacting to the instances he describes in the song. My dad was actually the one who pointed out to me that some beach (/sʌmbitʃ/) was a stand in for son-of-a-bitch (/sʌnʌvʌbɪtʃ/), which is an expletive often directed at the instigators of situations such as those described in the song. The difference between this situation and the ones people posted about under “My Mondegreen,” is that it is intentional on the part of the artist.

4. NYT Magazine Word of the Week.

Every Sunday the New York Times puts out the NYT Magazine with the paper and in the first couple of pages you come across the section entitled “One Page. The Magazine.” Among a number of witty and sarcastic columns is one called “That should be a word.” This is an example of the sort of top-down word change Professor Wanner was discussing in class on Tuesday, although it’s a much less serious version of the gender-neutral function word she used as an example. The words offered up are lexical in nature, adhere to the word formation rules, and embody a funny or ironic, but believable and/or relatable situation. I don’t think any of these actually take, as is typical with top-down cases, but it is an interesting study in word formation.










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