Bigly words are hard.
Terms I don’t understand vex me, like crispy clothing tags. Since I can’t cut them out, I’ve the quaint habit of looking them up. I even use a an honest-to-God dictionary — a big heavy one, with densely-printed pages and cool index cut-outs, one that refuses to include trendy acronyms (WTF?) or fake verbs like “to parent.”
Reference books do it for me, baby.
Too much information, certainly. You don’t need to know what turns me on.
What turns me off is fair game. Take yesterday’s headline in the Denver Post – please! File it under “covfefe.”
I check online, first (I’ll admit that my 20-pound leather-bound dictionary is a pain in the butt to heave around. One day, I’ll have a library podium where I can keep it on display, like an ostentatious family bible open to Two Corinthians that no-one ever touches except the cleaning woman when she’s dusting).
Merriam Webster says that “agazed” is archaic. Its definition is only available if I subscribe to the unabridged online edition for a hefty fee.
Dictionary.com tells me the word is obscure, but originally meant “aghast.” Other sites mention King Jamesesque shock and awe, as in, “they were sore amazed.”
The Post was straining after cuteness.
Harsh words, those; they’ve been leveled against me, too. It’s a fair cop — I shamelessly mess around, playing language games for the sake of a sweet turn of phrase or a terrible pun or a joke that no-one but me appreciates.
At least my vices haven’t made the front page.
The Denver Post, with its eyes agazed! Where is the editorial board? In Nambia, cruising the Cyber? Those bad hombres should catch such things.
Fox & Friends is all you need, Missy. Just forget the papers.