Fo Shizzle My Chizzle: Our Favorite -izzle Words

Snoop Dogg made a whole language out of it — adding –izzle to just about anything. Of course there are “real” –izzle words, like sizzle, swizzle, and grizzle, but what about those you may not have heard of? Here we take a look at six of our favorites.

a walk in to the woods

mizzle

Today’s word of the day means to drizzle or “rain in very fine drops,” as well as to succumb, become tipsy, confuse, and to disappear suddenly. The rain meaning is the oldest, from the 15th century, says the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), and may come from the Middle Dutch misel, “drizzling rain.”

The meaning “to confuse” is from the 16th century and may come from mizmaze, a labyrinth or maze. Mizzle gained its “disappear suddenly” meaning in the 1770s. The OED says it might come from misli, a word from Shelta meaning “to go,” or that misli might come from mizzle. In other words, we don’t know.

By the way, to mizzle one’s dick is a nautical phrase that means “to miss one’s passage.”

pizzle

A pizzle refers to “the penis of an animal, especially a bull” or “a whip made from a bull’s penis.” This is a 15th century word that is now chiefly used in Australia and New Zealand, according to the OED, and ultimately comes from the Old Dutch pisa, “sinew, string, fibre.”

In the early 1900s, the word also became slang for a man’s penis.

rumswizzle

This awesome word is “a cloth made in Ireland from pure wool undyed, and valuable because of its power of repelling moisture.”

Unfortunately its origin is unknown. It may come from the cant meaning of rum, “good or fine,” and swizzle could be a play on frieze, “a thick and warm woolen cloth used for rough outer garments since the fourteenth century,” although that could be a stretch.

Predictably the word has been appropriated as the name of a drink.

Bacon

frizzle

The earliest meaning of frizzle is “to curl or crisp, as hair,” from which comes the newer and more common frizz. Frizzle also refers to “a ribbed steel plate forming part of a gunlock, to receive the blow of the hammer,” and “to fry (something) [like bacon] until crisp and curled.”

The word could be a blend of fry and sizzle, and may be related to Old Frisian frisle, “head of the hair, lock of hair.”

crizzle

Crizzle means “to become wrinkled or rough on the surface, as glass, the skin, etc.,” as well as “a roughness on the surface of glass which clouds its transparency.” The origin isn’t certain but the OED says it may be a diminutive of craze. The French crisser means to crunch or scrunch.

twizzle

To twizzle means to roll and twist, and may be a blend of twist and twistle. In case you were wondering, the word came first, then the candy: the OED’s earliest citation of twizzle is from 1825 while Twizzlers candy came out in 1845.

Want more -izzle? Gizoogle that shizzle.

[Photo: “a walk in to the woods,” CC BY 2.0 by Vinoth Chandar]
[Photo: “Bacon,” CC BY 2.0 by cookbookman17]

Language Blog Roundup: Seamus Heaney, language peevers, when frogs grow hair

Hoyt's German Cologne perfumed with fragrant & lasting [front]

Welcome to this week’s Language Blog Roundup, in which we bring you the highlights from our favorite language blogs and the latest in word news and culture.

We were saddened by the recent passing of Nobel prize-winning poet Seamus Heaney. Former U.S. Poet Laureate Robert Pinsky fondly recalled a memory of Heaney, as did Meghan O’Rourke at The Atlantic. We learned about Heaney’s last words, and the famous last words of 20 other cultural icons.

In case you didn’t hear, the word twerk was added to Oxford Dictionaries Online. Some people hated this, but our own Erin McKean asserted that since the word has been around for 20 years, of course it belongs in the dictionary, and that “dictionaries merely report the language.”

Meanwhile, John McIntyre explained the problems of the language peever fallacy, Kory Stamper told us how to be a reasonable prescriptivist, and Matthew X.J. Malady told language bullies to step off.

A U.S. diplomat got schooled on proper language use in Hong Kong. We learned about the dangers of increasingly bizarre drug names. Slate launched a new language blog to accompany their podcast, Lexicon Valley, and RapGenius unveiled (ahem) WeddingCrunchers.com, “a searchable database of nearly 60,000 NYT wedding announcements from 1981 through 2013.”

At Lingua Franca, Lucy Ferriss discussed Chelsea Manning, names, and preferred address; Geoffrey Pullum considered ever thus and Dick Swiveller; and Allan Metcalf okayed OK as a magic word and explored bad words turned good.

The Economist explained what makes learning a language difficult. Stan Carey delighted us with Scottish words for snow. Arika Okrent gave us 14 Swedish words that are at odds with their associated Ikea products (rocking squirrel anyone?) and 22 songs that write themselves from a songwriter’s dictionary.

Neal Whitman dissected the affect/effect problem, and James Harbeck defended the semicolon. NPR’s Code Switch recounted the history behind the phrase, don’t be an Indian giver.

Idibon analyzed Burning Man camp names against names of corporations. Fritinancy delved into the Y for I naming trend as well as the sweet deal between Google and KitKat.

Word Spy spotted eye broccoli, “an unattractive person,” as opposed to eye candy; binge thinking, “thinking obsessively and intensely over a short period”; and chatterboxing, “watching a TV show while talking to other people about that program online.”

We love these innovative libraries and that Shanghai metro created a library for subway commuters. We want to hang this midcentury map of American folklore on our wall. We learned how to say how about never – is never good for you in different languages; the origins of American censorship; and how the Milky Way got its name.

Finally, we love the ridiculous tech gadgets in this Sears catalog from the 1980s. Of course our favorite part is the computer glossary.

That’s it for this week!

[Photo: CC BY 2.0 by Boston Public Library]

English Words with Welsh Origins

welsh rarebit

Happy National Welsh Rarebit Day!

In case you don’t know, rarebit, a corruption of the word rabbit, isn’t rabbit at all but “cheese melted with ale or beer served over toast.” If bunnies have nothing to do with this dish, how did it get its name?

The word Welsh was “used disparagingly of inferior or substitute things,” says the Online Etymology Dictionary. So cheese and bread is presumably a poor substitution for rabbit meat. Welsh was also used disparagingly to mean to swindle or cheat someone, and is now considered offensive.

Thinking about Welsh words inspired us to find some common English words with origins in Wales.

balderdash

“May only virgins wear white at their wedding? Baldridge says ‘Balderdash!’ ‘When it’s a first wedding, a bride has the right to pull out all the stops – even if she’s been living with her man for years and just left his bed that morning.'”

Maureen Early, “Times Change – From Doggie Bags to Living in Sin,” Ottawa Citizen, December 28, 1978

There are a few theories behind the origin of the word balderdash, meaning nonsense, one of which is that it comes from the Welsh baldordd, “idle noisy talk, chatter.”

What’s more certain is that the original definition was “a jumbled mixture of frothy liquors,” thought to refer to “the froth and foam made by barbers in dashing their balls backward and forward in hot water,” as per the Oxford English Dictionary (OED).

We honestly don’t know if balls here mean testicles or some olden day barber paraphernalia. If anyone knows, please enlighten us in the comments.

cardigan

“An army of 200 knitters from Cardigan have created a giant cardigan to mark the town’s 900th anniversary.”

Cardigan’s close-knit community celebrates 900 years,” BBC, November 25, 2010

The cardigan sweater was named for the Seventh Earl of Cardigan, James Thomas Brudenell. The Earl,  says the Online Etymology Dictionary, “set the style, in one account supposedly wearing such a jacket while leading the Charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava.”

Cardigan is an anglicization of the Welsh Ceredigion, “Ceredig’s land.” Ceredig was an ancient Welsh king.

Outside Corgi

corgi

“Poppy, Anna, Alice, Oliver and Megan — five corgis who appeared alongside Helen Mirren in the film about Queen Elizabeth II — were named best historical hounds during a ceremony at London’s South Bank arts center Sunday.”

Corgi stars from Queen take top Fido honor,” Houston Chronicle, November 2, 2007

It’s not surprising that the corgi, also known as the Welsh corgi, is Welsh in origin. The original Welsh, corci, translates as “dwarf dog.”

Another English word related to the Welsh cor is coracle, “a small rounded boat made of hides stretched over a wicker frame.” It comes from the Welsh corwgl, which may be translated as “small boat.”

flannel

“The new Administration is conservative. It’s buttondown, grey flannel, boardroom and locker-room. It’s businesslike – and dull.”

Anne Woodham, “A City of Grey Flannel Suits, Beaded Dresses,” The Sydney Morning Herald, January 26, 1969

The word flannel may come from the Welsh gwlanen, “woolen cloth.” This may be why Shakespeare used the word to ludicrously “designate a Welshman,” says the OED, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel.”

Other lesser known definitions of flannel include “a warming drink; hot gin and beer seasoned with nutmeg, sugar, etc.”; “a person of homely or uncouth dress, exterior, or manners”; nonsense or hot air; or insincere flattery or praise. A flannelmouth is an empty talker, a braggart or flatterer.

flummery

“Approaching Sylvia’s position and outlook from this level then, I thrust my way through what I impatiently dismissed as the ‘flummery‘; by which I meant the poetry, the picturesqueness, the sacrosanct glamour surrounding his Reverence and St. Jude’s.”

Alec John Dawson, The Message, 1907

The earliest meaning of flummery was “a sweet gelatinous pudding made by straining boiled oatmeal or flour,” and later also referred to “any of several soft, sweet, bland foods, such as custard,” says the OED. Its figurative meanings, deceptive language or humbug, and “trifles, useless trappings or ornaments,” came about in 1749 and 1879, respectively.

The word comes from the Welsh llymru, “soft jelly from sour oatmeal.”

pendragon

“The treacherous massacre alluded to is said to have been concerted by Gurtheryn (Vortigern), the British pendragon, (leader) who wished to obtain absolute power.”

“Ancient Dagger Found at Stonehenge,” The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, 1833

A pendragon is “a chief leader or a king; a head; a dictator; — a title assumed by the ancient British chiefs when called to lead other chiefs.” The word is now mainly known in the “Arthurian Uther Pendragon,” says the Online Etymology Dictionary. Uther Pendragon is the father of King Arthur and mentioned in Old Welsh poems.

The word pendragon is only half-Welsh. While pen comes from the Welsh word for “head,” dragon comes from the Latin draco, “large serpent.”

Penguins

penguin

Penguin pairs are known for their elaborate collaboration in raising chicks under harsh Antarctic conditions. But it turns out penguins will take teamwork only so far.”

Hadley Leggett, “Penguin Parents Won’t Chip in to Help Handicapped Spouse,” Wired, July 2, 2009

Penguin is our favorite word with a possibly Welsh origin. Like pendragon, it froms the Welsh pen, “head,” while –guin comes from the Welsh word for  “white,” gwyn.

But wait, you might be saying, penguins don’t have white heads. According to World Wide Words, the word might have “first applied to the Great Auk, a flightless seabird now extinct which, like the penguin, used its wings to swim underwater.” It also kind of looks like a penguin. But the Great Auk apparently didn’t have a white head either. However, “it did have a white patch between the bill and the eye and this must have made it very visible.”

[Photo: “welsh rarebit,” CC BY 2.0 by Tristan Kenney]
[Photo: “Outside Corgi,” CC BY 2.0 by Austin White]
[Photo: “Penguins,” CC BY 2.0 by axinar]

Language Blog Roundup: Elmore Leonard, literally, fatberg

Welcome to this week’s Language Blog Roundup, in which we bring you the highlights from our favorite language blogs and the latest in word news and culture.

We were saddened by the passing of writer Elmore Leonard, whose best-known works include Get Shorty, Out of Sight, and Rum Punch. The television show Justified is based on his short story, “Fire in the Hole.”

The latest linguistic hubbub has been over literally, the “wrong” definition of which someone happened to notice in the Google definition, and which, as Ben Zimmer pointed out in Language Log, has been in the Oxford English Dictionary since 1903 with citations going as far back as to 1769: “He is a fortunate man to be introduced to such a party of fine women at his arrival; it is literally to feed among the lilies.” So, no, like Tom Chivers in The Guardian said, we’re not “literally” killing the English language.

In other language news, fewer and fewer young people are speaking Welsh; Manchester, England was found to be the most linguistically diverse city in western Europe; and due to “computerized quantitative analysis and digital databases that enable searching of thousands of texts at once,” it’s been discovered that many words thought to be coined Shakespeare were not.

This week we learned how like autocorrect, our brains often correct incorrectly and that autogrammar might be joining autocorrect on our smartphones. In other grammar news, Grammar Girl has launched a new iPad word game.

Robert Lane Greene discussed borrowed English words in German and the weirdness of learning English. James Harbeck told us how prescription drugs get such crazy generic names and then recited the names like magical incantations. Arika Okrent gave us three facts about adorable suffixes and Ben Zimmer gave the straight dope on the term doping.

At Language Log, Mark Liberman took on the supposed “sexy baby voice virus,” Victor Mair delved into the “Mandarin is weirder than Cantonese” claim, and Ben Zimmer considered pronouns and Bradley Manning. At Macmillan Dictionary blog, Stan Carey wondered if you couldn’t care less about could care less, and on his own blog looked at the political implications of Ms., Miss, and Mrs.

The Atlantic traced the rise and fall of Katharine Hepburn’s fake accent. At Lingua Franca Allan Metcalf examined the Louisville accent; Anne Curzan discussed the problems with penalizing students for grammar “mistakes”; and Ben Yagoda talked about the most. Tiresome. Trope. Ever and offered a language mindset list for the class of 2017.

Fritinancy contemplated the changing definition of hybrid, and for a word of the week picked fatberg (ew). Word Spy spotted digital hangover, “feelings of shame and regret caused by social network photos and other online evidence of one’s embarrassing behavior”; rescandal, “a scandal that is the same as or similar to an earlier scandal, committed by the same person or group”; shampaign, “a fake, insincere, or misleading campaign”; and guerrilla proofreading, “marking up a public sign to correct or point out a grammatical error or typo.”

World Wide Words debunked another origin myth, this time of the word shit. Jonathan Green, aka Mr. Slang, revealed an impressive timeline of genital nicknames, of which Arika Okrent highlighted a classy 35.

Jon Canter at The Guardian discussed writing the follow-up to Douglas Adams’s comic dictionary, After Liff. We found out the most recent updates to the NSA dictionary and how to edit a dictionary.

In Apostrophe Day celebrations, Grammar Girl had fun with apostrophes in science fiction and fantasy names, and Word Spy offered apostrofly, “an errant or misplaced apostrophe, particularly one that seems to have been added randomly to the text.”

In Seattle, librarians on bicycles are bringing books to the masses; in New York there’s a secret museum in a freight elevator; and people are speaking a variety of languages all over the United States.

This week we also learned about the rise of Game of Thrones baby names, hat tipping in the 21st century, and how to talk in beggars’ cant. We found out some tricks of the trade of various occupations, including the secret language of butchers and how proofreading override the brain’s “autocorrect.”

We’re enjoying this year of Jane Austen glamour, would love to wear our favorite books, and would be willing to try almost any of these food mashups.

That’s (literally) it for this week!

[Photo: Elmore Leonard, via Washington Post]