The English

Everything is ours
Flavours, colours, honours
Our hegemony knows no bounds
The sun never sets on us
Even when we’re burning French virgins




Alphabets of Europe

Someone do this for Asia.  That’ll be hilarious.



Alphabets of Europe

Someone do this for Asia.  That’ll be hilarious.

(Source: mapsontheweb, via fairlangage)


I wonder if some of you guys would be interested in a little German accent meme? I’ve seen something like that some time ago on awesomefrench and I found it cool to see all the differences in pronunciation.

I’d choose a little paragraph, participants would have to record themselves reading it…

Ja, natürlich!


A delightful piece on the surprisingly complex history of defining colours using words, from the blog of Kory Stamper, an editor at Merriam-Webster. Excerpt: 

While I was slogging my way through a B batch, I was delighted to run across this:

I very carefully laid my palms flat on my desk to keep myself from clapping and merely mouthed the words “average coral (sense 3b)” four times. It was, as far as I could tell, an accurate definition–but it was so evocative and full of personality that I began to wonder if it had been slipped in after Gove shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the editorial floor invisible.

So began a deep-pink goose chase through the Third, as I looked for “fiesta,” then “sweet william,” and then “average coral.” I eventually ended up at “coral,” where sense 3c yielded up the fresh wonder, “a strong pink that is yellower and stronger than carnation rose, bluer, stronger, and slightly lighter than rose d’Althaea, and lighter, stronger, and slightly yellower than sea pink.”

Carnation rose was clearly the color of the pinkish flower on the tin of Carnation Evaporated Milk, and Rose d’Althaea was clearly Scarlett O’Hara’s flouncy cousin, but it was the last color that captivated me. “Sea pink,” I murmured, and incurred the harumphing wrath of my neighbor. As he stalked off to find a quieter corner, I wanted to stand up and shout, “I grew up 1500 miles from an ocean! I didn’t know the sea was pink!”

The Third’s color definitions became my break from defining or proofreading. After staring into the middle distance for a few seconds, I’d think of a color and look it up in the Third, invariably ending my chromatic excursions with a fool grin on my face. 

Vermillion: “a variable color averaging a vivid reddish orange that is redder, darker, and slightly stronger than chrome orange, redder and darker than golden poppy, and redder and lighter than international orange.” 

Lapis lazuli blue: “a moderate blue that is redder and duller than average copen and redder and deeper than azurite blue, dresden blue, or pompadour.” 

Cadet: “a grayish blue that is redder and paler than electric, redder and duller than copenhagen, and less strong and very slightly redder than Gobelin.”

Electric! Copen! International orange! Prior to “begonia,” the Third was a middle-aged management man with a Brylcreemed combover, in well-pressed shirt-sleeves and pants that were a bit too tight at the waist, full of busy self-importance. Now, he was the same middle-aged manager, but unbeknownst to the rest of the office, he danced flamenco on the weekends.

How did this all this flamenco dancing slip past Gove, the authoritarian curmudgeon who oversaw the creation of Third?

Read the rest at Harmless Drudge — it’s quite long but highly entertaining. Actually, the whole blog is pretty great. I’m adding it to my “cool lexicographer” files, along with Erin McKean


Farsi is like Arabic’s hotter, younger sister.

Also a less bitchy half-sister. ‘Cause Farsi ain’t got none of them mega bitchy bitchy inflections



I love how potato in French is pomme de terre, which pretty much means “earth apple.”

like what stupid frenchman saw this:


and said “zis petite légume looks like a, how you say, APPLE! hmmm… but it grows in ze earth… HON HON HON! MAIS OUI! C’EST UNE…

(Source: cizayox, via cynicalcymbal)


So I just realized that my cousin uses /w/ as an allophone of /l/, e.g. he pronounces “plane” as “pwane”. He’s about six years old and had an issue with speech development, and yeah I know that this is a somewhat standard feature of “baby-talk” (little v. widdle, train v. twain,…

Tags: baby tawk