Tuesday, April 2, 2013

B is for Bunting and Bellows

I love making new words. I take two words, or three or four, and then I take a little bit of each and put them together to make my own new word. Like bunting. Bunny + Hunting = bunting. To go hunting for bunnies is to go bunting. Actually, bunting is a type of cloth, but I couldn't think up any other good interesting word for the title. Creepy + Haunting = Craunting. Smelly + Clean = Smlean (rhymes with spleen) Tired + Happy = Tappy. Pretty + Stupid = Ditzy. The art of creating new words is called neologism. The prefix implies that it has something to do with nerves, but if you think about it, everything we do has to do with nerves, because, in retrospect, the nerves are the brain. But how they made the connection between nerves and new words? Beyond me. Or maybe it's because they both start with n. Nerves. New words. They match!

 I also love when a word is broken into two parts and a swear word is entered in the middle. Now, I shall not tarnish my reputation and give you an example, because, one, I do not swear or use vile language, and two, you probably know exactly what I mean. I read a book some time ago, in which an 11 year old with a mouth of a fifty year old explained that swear words are just words, simply a mix of letters, and it's only because everybody associates these words with bad things are they swear words. and because she couldn't swear, she made up her own swear word. Flower. Example: You can't flowering be serious! Example of what I talked about earlier: Un-flowering-beleivable. Haha, that was fun. 

And since we're talking about wordplay, the book Punished by David Lubar, a book my brother bought from a school book sale when he was in third grade, and one of the few childhood books I learned something from. And from when i read that book, I was in love with oxymorons, palindromes, and anagrams. Malapropism is more towards the super fun but totally useless part of wordplay - though all wordplay is somewhat useless and extremely fun. It's when a word is confused with another one close in pronunciation, resulting in a semi-hilarious, albeit cheesy, sentences. Enjoy:
  • He had to use a fire distinguisher.
  • Dad says the monster is just a pigment of my imagination.
  • Isn't that an expensive pendulum round that man's neck?
  • Good punctuation means not to be late.
  • He's a wolf in cheap clothing.
  • Michelangelo painted the Sixteenth Chapel.
  • My sister has extra-century perception.
  • "Don't" is a contraption.
And I learned something amazing this week.  I love riddles, and I solve them surprisingly fast, and a few months ago, I came across the following riddle: " I'm a fire's friend, my body swells with wind. With my nose I blow, how the embers glow!" Almost immediately, I knew the answer. I just didn't know what it was called. So I went around asking everybody what the name of that 'thing' was. My description went along the lines of "You know that thing in Tom and Jerry, that has two wooden handles, and something resembling a bag in the middle, and then Tom opens the two handles, and so that pulls Jerry to the mouth of the thing, and then Tom closes the handles, and all the air throws Jerry in the air? Yeah, what's it called?" Because, see, the only place I'd ever seen that contraption is in Tom and Jerry. I think half the people I asked didn't even understand what I was talking about. The other half didn't know what it was called. But it's kind of hard to explain a 'thing' to somebody when you don't know the name. At least when you know the name you can search it up in Google and go around showing the picture, but my Tom and Jerry explanation yielded no Google results. In case you still don't know what I'm talking about, here's a visual


And if you've never seen something like that, you need a serous case of Tom and Jerry, buddy. An then, reading whatever book it was that I was reading, I came across the word bellows. Being used as a noun. And so I immediately looked it up (side benefit of a kindle), and then I started doing the happy hokey-pokey dance. Because it was the word. The word I'd searched so long and hard for that I'd almost given up. Bellows. Whoever wrote that book must have been extremely smart with an extremely extensive vocabulary. Oh, and the singular form is bellows with an s. As is the plural form, obviously. And you're welcome.