I’m quoting from a Sally Jenkins article in the Atlantic.
The first mention of an athletic contest in colonial America comes from the separatist Pilgrim leader William Bradford who journal notes that in 1621 … he disciplined a group of young men for evading work on Christmas to instead engage in games such as “pitching the bar,” a contest to see who could throw a heavy rod the farthest.
George Washington won a contest of bar pitching at Valley Forge.
May I recommend Shakespeare’s Bawdy by Eric Partridge?
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I’ve heard of the term “erg” referring to the Sahara (from the Magic: The Gathering card “Erg Raiders”). Is “reg” an alternate form of that?
There could be some sort of correlation. AIUI, a lot of Arabic words are formed based on consonant patterns: the ‘rg’ pattern here would seem to suggest that – except, the original consonant from what is rendered a “reg” is q, which is pronounced differently than g or k (kind of like an enunciated glottal stop).
And, of course, “erg” is a dune, while “reg” is a hardpan field of gravel, so they are different things.
What the OED says about the relationship between the two words is not entirely clear to me.
For “erg”, it gives the etymology
French (E. Fromentin Un été dans le Sahara (1857)) < N. African Arabic ‘irj, of Berber origin.
For “reg”, it says
< a colloquial (Maghribi) pronunciation (see below) of Arabic riqq, variant of ruqq, raqq, in same sense. Compare French reg (1923; < Arabic). Compare earlier erg.
In colloquial Maghribi Arabic, the three short vowels i, u, and a of literary Arabic merged into schwa. The pronunciation of the literary Arabic voiceless uvular plosive /q/ as /ɡ/ is characteristic of Bedouin dialects.
So it might be saying that “erg” and “reg” derive from the same Arabic word via different dialects, but I’m not entirely sure. The “compare” note in “reg” suggests there is some relationship.
Here’s a source closer to home.
One that wasn’t mentioned in that thread is that “nothing” (as in Much Ado about Nothing) was slang for female genitalia.
There’s a cake called Napoleon, named after the well-known general/dictator. There’s another cake called Kutuzov, named after the Russian general who was largely responsible for Napoleon’s defeat in Russia.
This reminds me that I just realized a few weeks ago that Berber and Bedouin are distinct things.
It’s not that I had two words in my head, but thought they referred to the same thing.
It’s that, on a subconscious but strong level, I thought it was one word. The two words occupied a single bundle of neurons in my head, both semantically and aurally/visually.
And I’m a card-carrying human geographer! Weird.
Something I learned on my recent vacation to Seattle. The sport of pickleball was invented on Bainbridge Island WA (across Puget Sound from Seattle) in 1965. It is the official state sport of Washington.
This has generated lots of discussion online. The rabbit hole boiled down: Nothing can be divided into no thing, i.e. a woman has no penis. Nothing also can be a pun on O-thing, with O being a vagina. So it can be read both positively and negatively, doubly so because the presence or absence of Hero’s hymen - whether she is still a virgin - is a major point. On a different level, when pronounced in Shakespeare’s time nothing was heard as noting, a word used for spying and gossip, of which much ado is being made in the play, although noting also denotes music, another heavily used motif.
Depending on your viewpoint, either generations of academics with too much time on their hands invented all these layers the way people do to statements on message boards - not mentioning any names - or Shakespeare was a transcendent genius playing 5-D chess with words.
Probably the latter. Look at the entendres he compressed into this minute of speech ending in nothing.
Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
Ophelia: No, my lord.
Hamlet: I mean, my head upon your lap?
Ophelia: Ay, my lord.
Hamlet: Did you think I meant country matters?
Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord.
Hamlet: That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.
Ophelia: What is, my lord?
Hamlet: Nothing.
If you can actually recall hearing elevator music, it’s not doing its job.
No bridges, but you can drive from Missouri to Kentucky.
There are two places where there’s a sliver of Kentucky west of the Mississippi. One of them is an island, surrounded by a body of water apparently called “Chute #3”. The other used to be an island. Wolf Island is now a peninsula, having had the north bit filled in by river meanderings. There is a road onto the peninsula from Missouri. It doesn’t really go anywhere except what appears to be a random farm building, but technically it is possible to do.
Similarly, you can drive from Chile to France. Or, if you have a vehicle sufficiently off-road to handle the Darien Gap, even from Missouri to France.
I remember being in an elevator and talking with a buddy and we both said that the music was terrible. But not the particular tune.
I think this drive is a titch easier:
Ok, I didn’t explicitly say “you can drive from Missouri to Kentucky without passing through another state.” Mea culpa.
Unless you’re me. Part of my business was installing background music systems. Fortunately I can “turn off” that particular talent as needed.
Three US states, Pennsylvania, Ohio and Wisconsin, have borders with Canada with no legal means of crossing that does not involve going through another state (one could, theoretically, get to Canada from Illinois or Indiana without crossing land in other states, but not without crossing other state-owned waters). Pennsylvania has the shortest border with Canada, at around 40 miles, which is quite a bit shorter than New Hampshire’s nearly 60 mile border that has a crossing road.
Technically true. But those borders are in the middle of Lake Erie and Lake Superior. There are no border crossings across the middle of Lake Ontario either. It just happens that New York has places where land touches land to require them.