aspectabund
adj. having an expressive face
metoposcopy
n. the art of judging character by the features
murgeon
n. a grimace
No matter how grouchy you’re feeling,
You’ll find the smile more or less healing.
It grows in a wreath
All around the front teeth,
Thus preserving the face from congealing.
— Anthony Euwer
aurigation
v. the act or art of driving a chariot or coach
Banker James M. Fail repeatedly donated money to his alma mater, the University of Alabama, which he credited for his success in the business world. But he declined opportunities to give his name to an Alabama facility. “After all,” he said, “who would want anything with the name ‘Fail’ on it?”
In 2008 he found a way to support the school and accept credit — he put his name on the visitors’ locker room.
calvity
n. baldness
One wonders if there’s a personal story behind this “method of concealing partial baldness,” patented by Donald and Frank Smith in 1977. The hair is grown to a length of 3 or 4 inches, divided into equal portions, and brushed over the bald area, using hair spray to hold it in place. “By lightly sweeping the hair into the desired style as the hair spray dries, an appearance of a full head of hair is given.”
Expressions banned from use in New Zealand parliamentary debate:
1933
Blowfly-minded
1943
Retardate worm
1946
Clown of the House
Idle vapourings of a mind diseased
I would cut the honourable gentleman’s throat if I had the chance
1949
His brains could revolve inside a peanut shell for a thousand years without touching the sides
1957
Kind of animal that gnaws holes
1959
Member not fit to lick the shoes of the Prime Minister
1963
Energy of a tired snail returning home from a funeral
1966
Shut up yourself, you great ape
Snotty-nosed little boy
You are a cheap little twerp
Ridiculous mouse
1974
Could go down the Mount Eden sewer and come up cleaner than he went in
Dreamed the bill up in the bath
Frustrated warlord
The full list is here. In brighter news, saying that a fellow member “scuttles for his political funk hole” was deemed allowable in 1974.
euphuistic
adj. using high-flown and affected language
When pianist Paul Wittgenstein lost his right arm in World War I, he commissioned a “concerto for the left hand” from Maurice Ravel.
When his friend Dick Mohr had a cerebral episode in the early 1960s that impaired the use of his left hand, William Zinsser remembered Ravel and composed a “fantasia for the left hand” that Smolens could type as a recovery exercise:
crazed zebras craved egress
at a garage
scared bats vacated
watered carafe
begat a gaffe
at a cafe
a wet sweater starts a stagger
devastates a swagger
vexed rex
deferred sex
rested testes
ragtag beggars
degraded a revered settee
a reader dazed a referee
drab cad dabbed at a cravat
bad dad
treed a deaf cat
a fezzed Arab
razzed a verger
at Qatar
retarded gaffer basted a stag
braggart ate a garbage bag
crass bastard
cadged faxes
at a data base
saber castrated
sex exerted Exeter cadets
sad tads
saxes reverberate
cabbages vegetate
taxes wax
aged drag star
segregated a sextet
exaggerated breeze
ravaged trees
wafted bees
afar
“Dick Mohr never fully recovered,” Zinsser wrote in his 2012 book The Writer Who Stayed. “But my verses helped to keep us connected and amused a little longer.”
noctuary
n. an account of what happens during a particular night
Two or three of them got round me and begged me for the twentieth time to tell them the name of my country. Then, as they could not pronounce it satisfactorily, they insisted that I was deceiving them, and that it was a name of my own invention. One funny old man, who bore a ludicrous resemblance to a friend of mine at home, was almost indignant. ‘Ung-lung!’ said he, ‘who ever heard of such a name? — ang-lang — anger-lang — that can’t be the name of your country; you are playing with us.’ Then he tried to give a convincing illustration. ‘My country is Wanumbai — anybody can say Wanumbai. I’m an ‘orang-Wanumbai; but, N-glung! who ever heard of such a name? Do tell us the real name of your country, and then when you are gone we shall know how to talk about you.’
— Alfred Russel Wallace, “The Aru Islands,” The Malay Archipelago, 1869
In the old times these isles lay there as they do now, with the wild sea round them. The men who had their homes there knew naught of the rest of the world and none knew of them. The storms of years beat on the high white cliffs, and the wild beasts had their lairs in the woods, and the birds built in trees or reeds with no one to fright them. A large part of the land was in woods and swamps. There were no roads, no streets, not a bridge or a house to be seen. The homes of these wild tribes were mere huts with roofs of straw. They hid them in thick woods, and made a ditch round them and a low wall of mud or the trunks of trees. They ate the flesh of their flocks for food, for they did not know how to raise corn or wheat. They knew how to weave the reeds that grew in their swamps, and they could make a coarse kind of cloth, and a rude sort of ware out of the clay of the earth. From their rush work they made boats, and put the skins of beasts on them to make them tight and strong. They had swords made from tin and a red ore. But these swords were of a queer shape and so soft that they could be bent with a hard blow.
— Helen W. Pierson, History of England in Words of One Syllable, 1884