Where is smithereens and where did the word originate? Is smithereens anywhere near kingdom-come and oblivion, or do all three live in separate houses?
I always assumed that smithereens = tiny little pieces almost too small to see, let alone ever put back together. Also kind of thought of them as sharp, like splinters or glass slivers.
Damn good rock band too.
Smithereens is not a place: it means small pieces, and apparently comes from a dialect worth “smithers” (at least in 2 dictionaries I consulted).
from the Online Etymology Dictionary
Nifty.
I believe from what I can tell of Smithereens - it’s not a real place - it’s a place that lives inside all of us, the blowed up place.
To echo what has already been provided, the 1829 cite was for the word spelled as smiddereens, which makes more sense with the Irish attribution. The spelling smithereens appears in 1841.
Rippingtons_fan, your Straight Dope friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, rippingtons_fan, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, rippingtons_fan, there is place called Smithereens.
It exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Smithereens! It would be as dreary as if there were no rippingtons_fans. There would be no place to which you can blow someone up. No place to which animated characters can land after being given a cake with dynamite birthday candles. No poetic land to which cliched hacks can send the exploded remains of their objects of hyperconcussive forces. If that were the case, we should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Smithereens! You might as well not believe in a gazillion samoleans! You might as well not believe in gizmos that can make fantabulous dohickeys!
No Smithereens? Thank God it exist and it exists forever. A thousand years from now, rippingtons_fan, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, it will continue to make glad the heart of all who like things blown up real good.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!
Behind the wall of sleep.
It’s not a place. It’s a team. The Fighting Smithereens broke into the top 300 in the coaches poll for the first time this season and just missed a bowl bid.
Mass: 25.375 smithereens equal 1 flinder
Volume: One shitload equals 25 bushels, the capacity of the John Deere’s MS 1102G; their smallest ground-driven manure spreader. One Hell of a shitload equals 660 bushels, the capacity of the MS 1260, their largest hydraulic-powered manure spreader
Area: Seventeen all over Hell’s Half Acres equals 1 way the fuck and beyond.
Time: 5 million waiting here with my thumb up my ass equals one Jump Jesus. 20 Jump Jesuses equal one Hell freezes over
Indeterminates: One couldn’t care less equals 1 could care less. 40 milliequvalents of could/couldn’t care lesses equals one better than a sharp stick in the eye.
Slithy Tove I have tears running down my face from laughing so hard. Fortunately, I had swallowed my beer before reading your post. Thank you for that truly informative post.
Vlad 
/Igor 
Ha! I’ve been waiting my whole life for that little tidbit of information.
Is a butt load less than a shit ton?
Where do the Mini-Micro-giveashits come in?
I’ve often told people my attitude could be measured in those units.
My grandfather (who I called Pepere, really pronounce “pep-PAY”) used to say “blown to High Hell”. “I’m gonna put some dynamite under that stump and blow it to High Hell.” Since I understood Heaven to be high, and Hell to be low, this was a source of much confusion. I’m sure “smithereens” would have furrowed my brow as well.
How many milligivashits are worth the powder to blow something to Hell? Are they more than you can shake a stick at? Would it take a month of Mondays if you tried? Would you be waiting 'til the cows came home before you finished? If I gave you two whole shits for them, would you exchange them for a rat’s ass? What’s the conversion to flying fucks? And finally, I’ve got a hill of beans coming to me; but will I have more than Carter’s got little liver pills?
Smithereens is in Funkytown. I just sent a package there last week.
Ever since I heard the song, I’ve been patiently waiting for someone to take me there…
This is wrong, wrong, wrong.
The correct units are a month of Sundays. (don’t argue with this–my grandmother knows these things.)
But is that a longer wait than the patience of a saint?
Now-- will someone please explain measuring units of difficulty:
How tough is a tittie?
No. Patience of a saint is approximately equal to a year of Sundays.
How hard are you chewing?
How loud is she screaming?