Tongue in cheek is difficult to ascertain when all I have to go on are words and no facial expressions. But no malevolence, nor harm, was intended. No offence taken, I hope.
Absolutely none. I tend to deliver tongue in cheek remarks in conjunction with a deadpan expression. Reactions are so much more entertaining that way.
My Latin is pretty well limited to legalese and science, but I looked this up and now I get the joke. I like it. I shall add it to my collection of irrelevant knowledge that may come in handy someday, because one never knows what is going to be relevant.
I think that it happens unconsciously because people want to express the feeling of indifference but want to express it actively, not negatively. With could, it becomes active indifference — not logically, of course, but logic isn't the forte of people who mangle basic idioms. Their sense of it is more active indifference, compared to couldn't care less.
Maybe because I am, well, mature, in situations where I am expected to say something like that, my usual response either "so" or "and..." Shorter and have little patience for time-wasting.
Pedantic-but-Fun Hairsplitting 'R Us. It matters, of course, but as long as the expression is understandable, I couldn't give a toss, to be frank. And by the way, why does the expression say "To be frank"? Why not "To be john" or "To be adam"? What's Frank done that's so impressive?
The word "truck" has two meanings - the vehicle, and to trade or have dealings with. The latter meaning comes from the French word "troquer", meaning to trade or to barter, and came into the English language around the 14th century. Thus, "to truck goods" meant to trade them. The meaning survives in the expression "to have no truck with". The vehicle, however, comes from the Greek "trochos", meaning wheel, and originally referred to a small wheeled vehicle. Warehouse handcarts are still often called trucks (at least here in the UK).
That sent me down a rabbit hole looking for the origin of the term "truck farm," meaning a farm devoted to the production of vegetables for the market. One site states, "... in late eighteenth century America, the word took on the sense market produce, such as that produced on a small farm." https://www.wordorigins.org/big-list-entries/truck-truck-farm I've wondered about that since the first Trixie Belden book I read (about 1963) mentioned a truck farm. It wasn't a term used where I lived, but it stuck in my head. I assumed it was so-called because produce was transferred from field to market via trucks. Nope. Now I know. Thanks, Naomasa, for sending me off to finally find out.
The origin of “Santa Claus" can be traced back to the fourth-century Greek Bishop, St. Nicholas, who became known as the patron saint of children. When the Dutch Protestants came to the colonies, they brought with them the gift-giving Sint Nicolaas, whose name was shortened to Sinterklaas. English speakers amoung them heard something like ‘Santa Claus” – which was first mentioned as an alternative to Saint Nicholas in a newspaper in 1773. Where does Santa come from?
Saint Nicholas was from Anatolia, which is also where donner kebab comes from. And that's why one of the reindeer is called Donner, because that's what happens to it after Christmas. (I know it's Donder, but we often used to mis-say it as Donner - Donder und Blitzen is just very, very frightening)
There are many stories about Saint Nicholas, including a well-known one about him returning from the pub one night and hearing three sisters weeping that, within the next three nights, they would be sold into slavery and prostitution because their poor father could not afford a decent dowry. So, over the course of three nights, St Nicholas secretly whisked a bar of gold through the open window (by which he heard the girls weep). This was the girls' dowry, and the secret way in which he did it was to keep his identity secret and not to embarrass his father (whom he received the gold from). It's a fun story, but it raises questions. For instance: what did St Nicholas's father say when he found out that his son gave away his own inheritance like that? But never mind.
I'm glancing through The Slang Dictionary (published in the 19th century) for a story, and came across this word, what my mother used to call jeans. Dungaree, low, common, coarse, vulgar.—Anglo-Indian. Dungaree is the name of a disreputable suburb of Bombay, and also of a coarse blue cloth worn by sailors. “As smart a young fellow as ever you’d see, In jacket and trousers of blue Dungaree.”
OK. I know about denim from "Clothe de Nimes" and "dungarees" from India, and "Levis" from Levi Strauss (who didn't invent "Levis" but marketed them in his name). But "jeans..." where did that come from?
When I'm curious about etymology, I look at Dictionary.com. Here is their entry for "jeans": https://www.dictionary.com/e/denim-jeans/ I am not sure if this is correct, but it sounds plausible.
Well, that dictionary.com entry described Strauss as the "inventor" of the pants, but the credit actually goes to another person. The Wikipedia article states: So Davis gets the nod as the inventor, although he and Strauss shared the patent (and presumably the profits).
What's up, handsome? If that's you. Way to screw me up by changing your avatar, haha. You had the cat for, what, ever?
Yeah, I've had the cat picture "forever" but I figured that you've all earned the right by now to know what I look like. The bottle I'm holding up is indeed labeled "Cheap Red Wine" but, alas, it's no longer available. I wish I'd saved the bottle. I don't know if I look like Bill Bailey, but my friend Peter is convinced that I'm really George R. R. Martin. His argument goes: I look like him My VW bus is named "George" There are no photographs anywhere with both me and Mr. Martin in it. I've never met Mr. Martin, but I once asked Bjo Trimble, a mutual friend (of me and George, not Peter), if I resembled him. She studied me and said, "Well, yes, you do, actually." So she was no help. But if I ever meet Mr. Martin, I'm going to insist on a selfie with him in it, so I can send it to Peter. He will, of course, scoff and say it was Photoshopped. But hey, I tried.
If the Slang Dictionary is any indication, the word "cut" was well-used in 19th century slang. (I will add to it with "cut and paste") CUT, to run away, move off quickly; to cease doing anything; CUT AND RUN, to quit work, or occupation, and start off at once; to CUT DIDOES, synonymous with to CUT CAPERS; CUT A DASH, make a show; CUT A CAPER, to dance or show off in a strange manner; CUT A FIGURE, to make either a good or bad appearance; CUT OUT, to excel, thus in affairs of gallantry one Adonis is said to “cut the other out” in the affections of the wished for lady; CUT THAT! be quiet, or stop; CUT OUT OF, done out of; CUT OF ONE’S GIB, the expression or cast of his countenance [see GIB]; TO CUT ONE’S COMB, to take down a conceited person, from the practice of cutting the combs of capons [see COMB-CUT]; CUT AND COME AGAIN, plenty, if one cut does not suffice, plenty remains to “come again;” CUT UP, mortified, to criticise severely, or expose; CUT UP SHINES, to play tricks; CUT ONE’S STICK, to be off quickly, i.e., be in readiness for a journey, further elaborated into AMPUTATE YOUR MAHOGANY [see STICK]; CUT IT FAT, to exaggerate or show off in an extensive manner; to CUT UP FAT, to die, leaving a large property; CUT UNDER, to undersell; CUT YOUR LUCKY, to run off; CUT ONE’S CART, to expose their tricks; CUT AN ACQUAINTANCE, to cease friendly intercourse with them—Cambridge. Old; CUTTE, to say.
I guess you can also add "Cut a rug" (do some fancy dancing" and "fish or cut bait" (a request to be useful to a project even in a small way). BTW, I just finished re-reading a fascinating book by Kory Stamper called Word by Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries. She's a lexicographer for Merriam-Webster and tells everything you need to know about crafting definitions for words. And it's funny, too. And I'm halfway through a book she recommended on the making of the revolutionary Webster's third edition of their unabridged dictionary, which marked the turning point from "prescripted" to "descripted" definitions and introduced thousands of words in common but informal use to the edition. It's called The story of ain't : America, its language, and the most controversial dictionary ever published and it's by David Skinner.d I recommend both books heartily.
