Shindig

Shindig is a word I associate with a 1960s American TV show that featured rock bands and dancers. Did it have earlier origins?

The Wikipedia entry I read today didn't have an origin story (I may have to correct that), so I had to dig into etymology dictionaries.

The word shindig originated in the United States during the mid-19th century (first recorded around the 1840s to 1850s) as a colloquial term for a lively, rowdy party or dance.  Etymologists trace its history through several earlier versions. Shindig is most likely an alteration of the slightly older American slang word shindy, which popped up around the 1820s to mean a row, a disturbance, or a merrymaking.  And shindy is believed to derive from shinny (or shinty), an informal, rough-and-tumble street game akin to hockey that was brought over by Scottish immigrants (rooted in the Scottish Gaelic shinty). 

Because a game of shinny involved swinging sticks and smacking shins, shindy originally described a chaotic fight or ruckus before shifting to mean a boisterous party.  

A traditional shindig usually featured a lot of dancing, so people assumed the word combined "shin" and "dig" — as in kicking up your shins on the dance floor. While this is likely a folk etymology rather than the true historical root, it captures the high-energy spirit that made it a fitting title for a 1960s music and dance program like Shindig!

Shindig! (the ! is part of the title) was an American musical variety series which aired on ABC from September 16, 1964 to January 8, 1966. The show was hosted by Jimmy O'Neill, a disc jockey in Los Angeles. It was conceived as a short-notice replacement for Hootenanny, a series which specialized in folk revival music. The folk revival had slipped in popularity in 1964 as a result of the British Invasion, and so Hootenanny was cancelled.

Shindig! focused on a wider variety of popular music. It first aired for a half-hour every Wednesday evening, but was expanded to an hour in January 1965. In the fall of 1965, the show split into two half-hour telecasts, on Thursday and Saturday nights.

The premiere episode featured Sam Cooke, The Everly Brothers, and The Righteous Brothers. Later shows also featured performances taped in Britain, and the first UK episode had The Beatles as the guests. The series later featured other "British Invasion" bands and performers, including The Yardbirds, The Dave Clark Five, The Who, The Rolling Stones, and Cilla Black. The Who performed a unique early version of "My Generation" live, two months before the single version was recorded. Many other popular performers of the day played on the show, including Tina Turner, Lesley Gore, Bo Diddley, Sonny and Cher, The Beach Boys, James Brown, Jackie Wilson, The Supremes, and The Ronettes.

In January 1966, Shindig! was cancelled and replaced in its Thursday time slot by Batman.

LOL

Yes, I know you think LOL means "laughing out loud," and you're correct; it does mean that. But it meant something else originally.

LOL was popularized by San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen in the 1960s. Caen loved using his own shorthand, and LOL was his go-to for “little old lady.” 

 His 1960 book Only in San Francisco contained a description of an outfit that included a tricorn hat topped with an “evil-looking bird of prey” that he said was the “regalia of the authentic LOL.” That usage lasted for a few decades.

In 1964, Jan and Dean had a hit with “The Little Old Lady From Pasadena”:
"And everybody’s sayin’ that there’s nobody meaner
than the little old lady from Pasadena.
She drives real fast, and she drives real hard.
She’s the terror of Colorado Boulevard."

As we move into the early 1980s, if you logged into a pre-internet chat system called Viewline, you might have witnessed history. One of its regulars, Wayne Pearson of Calgary, was chatting when someone said something so funny he was embarrassed to be laughing alone in his house. As he told the Calgary Herald years later: “You used to just type ‘hahaha’ really fast so that you would let them know that was very funny in a timely manner, but whatever he had said, it had me bursting out laughing almost to the embarrassment of doing so in a house by myself sitting at a computer.” So he didn’t type hahaha. He typed LOL. Then he had to explain what he meant. 

Viewline is also reportedly where “ROFL” — rolling on the floor laughing — was coined, though there’s no digital archive to prove it. Online shorthand became a thing and continues today.

The first verified instance we have in print came in 1989, in the newsletter for FidoNet, the bulletin-board network that, amazingly, still exists. There it appeared alongside two other classics we still use today: BRB (be right back) and BTW (by the way). 

In 2011, "LOL” was added to the Oxford English Dictionary. Four years later, in 2015, the OED named 😂 — the Face With Tears of Joy emoji — its Word of the Year. We had officially moved from typing our laughter to just sending a face. 

Boycott

I thought "boycott" was an odd word to mean a collective refusal to buy, use, or deal with a person, organization, or country. When that kind of oddity occurs, the word is sometimes an eponym named for a person rather than a thing. Such is the case with boycott.

In the late 19th century, rural Ireland was simmering. Between 1879 and 1882, tenant farmers—already battered by years of economic hardship—found themselves locked in conflict with wealthy, often absentee English landlords. This struggle became known as the Land War, a mass movement demanding fair rents, security of tenure, and the right to own the land they worked.

Into this tense landscape stepped Charles Boycott, a former English army officer serving as a land agent in County Mayo. His job was to enforce rent collection and evict tenants who fell behind. In a region already on edge, this made him the perfect symbol of everything locals resented.

Rather than resort to violence, the local tenant community chose something passive but in the end more effective: total social and economic isolation.

They refused to speak to Boycott. They refused to sell to him. They refused to work for him. They pressured his employees to quit.

Parish priest John O’Malley described this strategy with a new term: “boycotting.” 

When Mr. Boycott’s plight reached London’s The Times, the news prompted about 50 volunteers from Ulster to travel south and help him harvest his crops. Their arrival required a full escort from the Royal Irish Constabulary, whose two‑week stay on Boycott’s property reportedly involved trampled grounds and poached livestock. The harvest succeeded, technically—but at a staggering cost: £10,000 spent to save £350 worth of crops. It was a logistical farce that only amplified the symbolic power of the tenants’ strategy.

By late November 1880, Boycott abandoned his farm entirely. The tenants had won—and the English language had gained a brand‑new verb and noun.

Within months, newspapers across Britain and America were using boycott to describe any organized refusal to engage. Within years, it became a standard political tool. Today, it’s a global term for collective pressure, economic protest, and moral refusal.

Cardigan

The "cardigan" of the cardigan sweater is not quite an eponym, though it is based on a name. The usage comes from James Thomas Brudenell, 7th Earl of Cardigan.

He was a British army officer who commanded the Light Brigade during the Crimean War — most famously at the Charge of the Light Brigade. 

That battle was a catastrophic assault brought on by muddled orders and poor communication. The charge, launched at the Battle of Balaklava in October 1854, sent British cavalry straight into heavy Russian artillery fire. The results (heavy losses, but also the destruction of a Russian battery) became a symbol of both extraordinary bravery and military blunder. The event was immortalized in Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s famous poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” 

Cardigan himself emerged physically unscathed and, somewhat improbably, became a national celebrity. That celebrity helped turn his preferred knitwear into a fashion trend. According to contemporary accounts, the earl was frequently seen wearing a collarless, button-front wool jacket, which was practical for the bitter Crimean cold. 

It’s often said he either popularized or helped develop the garment for his troops, and when Cardigan returned to Britain, the public’s fascination with the “hero” of Balaklava extended to his clothing.  The snug sweater became known as a “cardigan,” cementing the earl’s name in everyday language — even as his reputation as a commander remained deeply controversial.  

Interestingly, the word “cardigan” has military (but not clothing) connections that go even farther back. “Cardigan” is a place name in Wales, an Anglicization of the Welsh “Ceredigion,” which literally means “Ceredig’s land.” Ceredig was a legendary chieftain of North Britain who is said to have pushed back an Irish invasion of Wales in the fifth century CE and received the aforementioned land as a reward. 

Keep Your Fingers Crossed

Crossing your fingers for luck is a familiar gesture in the English-speaking world and in emojis.But why did looping our middle finger over our index finger become a symbol of good luck and hopefulness?

Historically, it was a social ritual. One widely cited origin theory traces the custom to pre-Christian Europe, where the shape of a cross was believed to possess special power. According to this interpretation, the point where two lines intersected was seen as a place where beneficial spirits gathered. A wish made upon a cross could become anchored at that intersection until it came true.

That meant that originally making the gesture of a cross required two people. One person would make a wish while another crossed their index finger over the wish-maker’s finger, forming a small cross. The second participant effectively lent support to the wish, helping guide it toward fulfillment.

The modern solitary gesture may be the descendant of this much older cooperative custom.

Another version connects it to the rise of Christianity. For early Christians, the cross carried obvious religious significance, but the cross symbol had existed in various forms long before Christianity. Making the sign of the cross was believed to offer protection, ward off evil, and invoke divine favor and some folklorists have suggested that crossing one’s fingers may have developed as a smaller, more discreet version of this protective gesture. It may have even been a way for persecuted Christians to identify fellow believers using this as a subtle hand signal.

Whatever its exact origins, finger-crossing gradually moved from the realm of ritual into everyday life. Many customs that began as serious religious or supernatural practices eventually became casual habits. Few people who knock on wood today are consciously invoking ancient beliefs about spirits dwelling in trees, and most people who cross their fingers are not thinking about pagan wishes or Christian symbols of protection.

This post first appeared on my Substack Weekends site

Wanderworts and Other Borrowed Words

Wanderwort is a new word for me. Wanderwort (German for "wandering word" is a word that has spread as a loanword among numerous languages and cultures—often across completely different language families—typically because of trade, travel, or the exchange of new technologies and goods.

Many loanwords come from prepared food, drink, fruits, vegetables, and more from languages around the world. In particular, many come from French cuisine (crêpe, crème brûlée), Italian (pasta, linguine, pizza, espresso), and Chinese (dim sum, chow mein, wonton).

Most of the technical vocabulary of classical music (such as concerto, allegro, tempo, aria, opera, and soprano) is borrowed from Italian.

The vocabulary of ballet comes from French, as does the terminology of the sport of fencing.

Unlike regular loanwords that travel directly from one language to another (like the English "garage" coming from French), a wanderwort "wanders" so extensively along ancient trade routes that its exact point of origin is often incredibly difficult, or even impossible, for linguists to pinpoint. They are linguistic footprints of global commerce.

Virtually every language in the world gets its word for "tea" from one of two variants originating in different Chinese dialects, perfectly mapping out how the beverage was historically traded. From the sea route, the Min Nan dialect spoken in coastal Fujian used the word tê. Coastal traders (like the Dutch) brought this version by sea to Europe, giving us the English tea, French thé, German tee, and Spanish té. Via the land route, the Mandarin dialect used chá. This variant traveled overland across the Silk Road, turning into chay or chai in Persian, Turkish, Russian, Arabic, Hindi, and Swahili. In America, chai is used to mean a type of tea preparation - though saying "chai tea" is like saying "tea tea."

Similarly, sugar traveled a path across thousands of years alongside the physical cultivation and refining of sugarcane. It began in ancient India as the Sanskrit word śarkarā, which meant "ground or candied sugar" (originally "grit/gravel"). As trade expanded westward, it became śakkar in Persian, which the Arabs adopted as as-sukkar. Medieval European traders interacting with the Arab world brought it into European languages: it morphed into the Italian zucchero, Spanish azúcar, Old French çucre, and eventually the English sugar.

Baby Names from TV and Film: 1980s - 2010s

Continuing our baby names timeline, we find that many baby names between the 1980s and 2010 saw major spikes specifically because of TV characters, actors, and film/pop‑culture phenomena.  

1980s: Soap operas, sitcoms & the rise of surname‑style names.

Ashley — Huge spike; reinforced by The Young and the Restless soap opera and rerelease of Gone With the Wind nostalgia.

Taylor was also boosted by soap characters and the surname‑as‑first‑name trend.

Madison — Splash (1984) is the direct cause of this name’s rise; it barely existed before the film.

Jordan rose due to sports culture (Michael Jordan) and TV usage.

Jennifer continued its dominance from 1970s pop culture and TV.

Jessica got some reinforcement from the sexy Who Framed Roger Rabbit Jessica Rabbit and TV characters.

Brandon Walsh (Jason Priestley) Dylan McKay (Luke Perry)

The 1990s name spikes came from teen dramas, Disney, sitcoms & multicultural influence. Influencers included Friends, Beverly Hills 90210, Full House, Disney films, and rising pop stars.

Two names from Beverly Hills 90210 were Brandon and Dylan.

Ashley stayed popular and was reinforced by Fresh Prince of Bel‑Air (Ashley Banks).

Samantha was popular in the 1960s from Bewitched but was boosted by Sex and the City (1998).

Chandler came directly from Friends as the name barely existed before the show. Phoebe also saw a rise with Friends.

Ariel spiked after The Little Mermaid (1989) and another Disney-inspired name was Jasmine which saw a huge jump after Aladdin (1992).

Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner)

In the first part of the 2000s, we saw names from blockbuster films, fantasy franchises such as Harry Potter, Twilight, The OC, Lost, and the explosion of reality TV.

Isabella/Bella shot up because of Twilight (Bella Swan) and Jacob, which is an old Biblical name and popular in Jewish culture for centuries, became the top boy name of the decade, boosted by the  Jacob Black character in the film.

Aiden was a trendy name reinforced by Sex and the City.

Another old-fashioned name, Emma, saw a upick due to actresses (Emma Watson) and pop culture visibility.

Madison continued its post‑Splash dominance.

Logan made the charts, aided by Wolverine/Logan in X‑Men films.

Sawyer from Lost (2004) appeared as a first name. 

Keira jumped into usage because of actor Keira Knightley’s fame.

The 2010s were shaped by Game of Thrones, The Hunger Games, Frozen, Star Wars, and the Marvel universe.

Khaleesi  (Emilia Clarke)  Arya Stark (Maisie Williams)

Arya is one of the biggest pop‑culture name spikes ever, from Game of Thrones. Add to that the very unusual Khaleesi. Invented by Game of Thrones author George R. R. Martin, they became real life baby names.

Elsa took a leap after Frozen (2013).

Rey was added after Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015).

Luna got attention by Luna Lovegood’s popularity in the harry Potter films.

Harley comes from Harley Quinn’s film resurgence.

Olivia was more popular because of the actresses (Olivia Wilde, Olivia Munn) and TV characters.

Sweating Like a Pig and Pig Iron

 

Pigs have given English several porcine-related phrases based on their perceived behaviors. Some make sense, such as “pigging out” or “happy as a pig in mud.” 

Pigs also have a reputation for excessive perspiration, given the popularity of the phrase “I’m sweating like a pig!” However, this seems to be just bad press. While swine do have some sweat glands, as all mammals do, they have relatively few for their size. As such, they have to roll in the mud or do another similar activity to cool their bodies on a hot day. So, where did “sweating like a pig” come from? 

The idiom actually has to do not with the animal but with the process of iron smelting. More specifically, it comes from the term “pig iron.” 

“Pig iron,” going back to 1665, refers to the “crude iron that is the direct product of the blast furnace.” It’s known as “pig iron” because of the way iron used to be cast. Hot iron was poured into sand molds in a way that visually resembled tiny piglets suckling at their mother’s teat. When the ingots cooled and were broken off, they were sometimes referred to as “pigs,” hence the term “pig iron.” 

As for the “sweating” element of the phrase, it has to do with the cooling process. As iron cools, the surrounding air begins to hit its dew point. In turn, this causes moisture to form on the iron, which looks like little droplets of sweat beading down the ingots (the pigs), and this is where we get “sweat like a pig.”

Baby Names from Television Shows: 1950s 1960s and 1970s

In the 1950s, television was still new, but as the decade progressed, a few popular shows had an impact on naming babies. Both the names of TV characters and TV actors saw an increase.

Ricky was popularized by Ricky Nelson on Ozzie and Harriet and by I Love Lucy's Ricky Ricardo and little Ricky. And Lucille Ball’s fame helped keep the name prominent, more often as Lucy (or Lucie after Lucille Ball named her daughter that).

Donna got a boost from The Donna Reed Show (1958).

Annette rose in popularity due to Annette Funicello on The Mickey Mouse Club (1955). Her career in recording albums and Disney and beach party films kept that name going.

Beaver was not widely used as a legal name, but Leave It to Beaver (1957) was a top show and the brothers Theodore and Wally saw bumps in popularity.

The 1960s saw the first major measurable spikes in baby names - particularly for girls - tied directly to TV characters. Search results confirm that celebrity‑influenced names surged most strongly in the 1960s. 

Samantha skyrocketed after Bewitched (1964). Also, the TV baby, Tabitha, from that program started to appear.

Ginger was a popular and glamorous character on Gilligan’s Island (1964).

Maryann, Gilligan, Ginger

Mary and Maryann were already common, but were probably reinforced by Maryann on that same island, and Mary Tyler Moore in The Dick Van Dyke Show, which also gave a boost to her character's name, Laura.

Who wouldn't want the dreamy name Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie (1965)?

Julia was given attention from Diahann Carroll’s groundbreaking show Julia (1968).

Sean is listed as a boy's name that increased in popularity and is credited to Sean Connery, though he was more of a film star.

Hart as Sabrina

The 1970s were “trendy and TV‑inspired.” This is the decade when TV characters directly shaped the top baby names.

Jennifer was the #1 girl name of the decade, boosted by multiple TV characters, including in the Love Story film, book, and TV adaptations.

Marcia and Cindy from The Brady Bunch (1969) saw increases.

TV characters named Sabrina consistently caused spikes. Sabrina Spellman appeared in the 1960s–1970s as the animated Sabrina the Teenage Witch in early Archie comics and cartoons, and from 1996–2003 in the sitcom Sabrina, as portrayed by Melissa Joan Hart. The character and name moved into the next century with a 1999–2004 animated series with Sabrina as a younger teen.

Cheryl was a popular name, and so was actor Cheryl Ladd (Charlie's Angels) and supermodel Cheryl Tiegs. Later, Riverdale had one of the most recognizable modern “Cheryl” characters.

The old-fashioned 1950s name Laverne even got a little boost from Laverne & Shirley (1976) as did Shirley by the same show.

Rhoda was a character on The Mary Tyler Moore Show and then her own show, Rhoda.

Again, girls' names were more likely to come from TV. Like "Beaver," no one was really naming their little boy "Hawkeye," but Benjamin and Pierce saw bumps due to M*A*S*H (1972).

Clue

In mythology, Theseus built the labyrinth to trap the Minotaur. He built it so cleverly that he was afraid he would be lost in the maze. But Ariadne, a princess who had fallen in love with him, gave him a ball of string and told him to unwind it as he walked into the labyrinth and then follow it back out.  

That simple gift allowed Theseus to enter, slay the Minotaur, and find his way out.  

This hero myth became so well known that Ariadne's ball of yarn—called a "clew" in Old English—became synonymous with anything that helped to solve a problem. Over time, the spelling of the word changed to "clue."

 
A poem from Writing the Day | A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

The convent labyrinth is covered with snow,
but some person and two small deer
have been walking Daedalus' circle without walls.
I follow the unseen path and pray
for a clue to lead me out.

Litha

Modern celebrants of Litha

As the Summer Solstice approaches this week, you may hear the name Litha mentioned.

Litha, also known as Midsummer, is a festival celebrating the Summer Solstice. It is one of the eight "Sabbats" in the Wheel of the Year, observed by Wiccans, Neo-Pagans, and various European folk traditions.

The name Litha is derived from the Old English word for June and June/July, specifically appearing in the writings of the 8th-century monk Bede in his work De Temporum Ratione (The Reckoning of Time). According to Bede, the Anglo-Saxons referred to this time of year as Līða, which essentially translates to "gentle" or "navigable." This name reflected the calm summer weather that made it safe and easy to travel by sea.

In the 20th century, the name was popularized as a designation for the Summer Solstice by Aidan Kelly, an influential figure in modern Paganism. He sought historical-sounding names for the "Lesser Sabbats" on the Wheel of the Year, and Litha was chosen to represent the solstice, distinguishing it from the Christianized "Midsummer" or "St. John's Eve."

Today, it serves as a bridge to ancestral traditions, honoring the time when the sun is at its most potent and the earth is in full bloom.

Utopia (band)

Utopia, 1977 L–R: Roger Powell, Willie Wilcox, Todd Rundgren, Kasim Sulton

Todd Rundgren's solo work (1972 onward) is a study in genre‑hopping with songs that feel like soul, pop, psychedelia, electronica, and even a cappella. 

With the pseudo-band Runt, he made two albums of experimentation, transitioning away from the style of his first band, Nazz.

He was writing more deeply personal lyrics. He was doing a lot of studio experimentation. He was playing nearly all the instruments and doing the vocals himself. The signature albums of that early solo period include Something/Anything?, A Wizard/A True Star, Hermit of Mink Hollow, and Healing.

On his 1973 album A Wizard, a True Star, Rundgren had sung the line "Wait another year, Utopia is here." That lyric predates the band’s formation and suggests Rundgren already envisioned “Utopia” as a concept — a kind of musical ideal or creative destination he wanted to reach. In other words, Utopia wasn’t just a band name, but a kind of mission statement for that time. 

One of those genre-hops came with forming the band Utopia. That was 1973, and they performed and recorded through 1986 with occasional reunions since.

During its first three years, the group was a progressive rock band with a somewhat fluid membership known as Todd Rundgren's Utopia. Most of the members in this early incarnation also played on Rundgren's solo albums of the period up to 1975. For a short period of time (1973–74), Todd Rundgren's Utopia consisted of Rundgren and included Hunt Sales and Tony Fox Sales who had been in his former band, Runt. 

By 1976, the group was known simply as Utopia and featured a stable quartet of Rundgren, Kasim Sulton, Roger Powell, and John "Willie" Wilcox. This version of the group gradually abandoned progressive rock for more straightforward synth‑pop and a touch of new wave. 

This is the one band where it seems that Todd is a bandleader, not just a songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist.

The band played long, complex compositions early on with long instrumental passages. The band evolved later into doing tight, hooky, electronic pop closer to Todd's solo work. 

In 1980, they had a top 40 hit with "Set Me Free". Though often thought of as a Rundgren solo project, all four members of Utopia wrote, sang, produced, and performed on their albums; "Set Me Free", for example, was sung by Sulton.

Utopia (the word, book and place)

 

The word utopia was invented in 1516 by Sir Thomas More. Thomas More was a 16th‑century English humanist, lawyer, statesman, and author best known for Utopia (1516). He served as Lord Chancellor under Henry VIII but refused to accept the king as head of the Church of England. More’s steadfast commitment to conscience and Catholic doctrine led to his execution in 1535. He was later canonized as a martyr. 

The word's etymology is a deliberate linguistic pun built from Greek roots.  It literally means “no place,” but it also sounds like it could mean “good place.”  Built from ou-topos (no place), More coined the term for the title of his 1516 book describing a fictional island society. The "noplace" was More's way of indicating that such a perfect society does not exist. 

16th-century readers noticed that utopia sounds almost identical to eutopia - a good place. The sense was reinforced when the contrasting term dystopia (“bad place”) was coined in the 19th century.

More's Utopia is presented as a traveler’s account of a perfect island society in the New World. But the book is satire, not travel, and a critique of European politics, religion, and inequality. The book’s narrator, Raphael Hythloday, has a name meaning “speaker of nonsense,” reinforcing the satire.

The island’s map and alphabet were also fabricated to deepen the illusion. The word utopia quickly entered English (by 1551) to mean any imagined perfect society, and by the 1610s it was used metaphorically for unrealistic idealism. 

Phillumeny

via  flickr user Jim Chambers CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Phillumeny is the hobby of collecting items related to matches—most notably matchbox labels, but also matchbooks, matchboxes, and even the tiny printed wrappers from safety matches. Collecting matchbox labels gives us examples of mid-century commercial graphic design.

The free Matchbox Posters Archive via the Internet Archive is a philatelist's dream. This collection houses nearly 6,500 matchbox posters from as early as the 1920’s.  

People who collected matchboxes were once simply called "matchbox collectors." That changed in 1943 thanks to a British collector named Marjorie S. Evans. She wanted a more distinct, sophisticated name for the hobby, similar to philately (stamp collecting) or numismatics (coin collecting). She combined two linguistic roots: phil- (from the Greek philos, meaning "loving" or "fond of") and lumen (from the Latin lumen, meaning "light"). Purists occasionally point out that combining Greek and Latin roots into a single word is a bit of a linguistic "hybrid" faux pas, but the name stuck beautifully.

And why were matches once known in the UK as "lucifers?"

Two Lucifers

 

 
The Fall of Lucifer, engraved by Gustave Doré
for Milton's 'Paradise Lost' (1876)

The association of Lucifer with the devil is the result of some historical chain reactions.Strictly speaking, the word Lucifer never appears in the original Hebrew Bible as a name for Satan, though the stoy begins with the Old Testament, specifically in the Book of Isaiah (Chapter 14).

Isaiah was writing a scathing condemnation, but not of a fallen angel. He was writing a taunt-song directed at a very human tyrant: the King of Babylon (likely Nebuchadnezzar II or Nabonidus), who had conquered Jerusalem and oppressed the Jewish people.

The king was notoriously arrogant, fancying himself a god on earth. Isaiah mocked this pride by comparing the king's inevitable political downfall to a star that thinks it owns the night sky, only to vanish when the sun comes up.In the original Hebrew text, Isaiah called the king Helel ben Shachar, which translates to "Shining One, Son of the Dawn." That is a reference to the Morning Star (Venus).

The word comes from two Latin roots: Lux (meaning "light") and Ferre (meaning "to bring" or "to carry"). In ancient Rome, Lucifer was simply the Latin name for the Morning Star (which is the planet Venus), because its bright appearance in the early dawn signaled the arrival of daylight. It literally translates to "the bringer of light."

In the late 4th century AD, a scholar named Jerome translated the Bible from its original Hebrew and Greek into Latin. This version became known as the Latin Vulgate. When Jerome reached Isaiah 14:12, he had to translate Helel ben Shachar ("Shining One, Son of the Dawn"). Because the Romans called the morning star lucifer (the light-bringer), Jerome translated the phrase literally into lower-case Latin prose:

"Quomodo cecidisti de caelo, lucifer, qui mane oriebaris?" (How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, who rose in the morning!)

At that point in history, lucifer was still just a common noun describing a planet, not a proper noun naming a demon. In fact, early Christians even used the word lucifer as a title for Jesus Christ (e.g., in Revelation 22:16, where Jesus calls himself "the bright morning star").

As the centuries rolled on, early Christian theologians—most notably Origen and St. Augustine—began reading the Old Testament through an allegorical lens. They looked at Isaiah's poetic description of someone "falling from heaven" because of supreme arrogance and decided it was too grandiose to describe a mere human king of Babylon. They argued that Isaiah was weaving a double meaning into the text: a description of a historical king on the surface, but a cosmic backstory for the origin of Satan underneath.

Slowly, readers stopped treating lucifer as a descriptive Latin adjective and began capitalizing it as a proper name: Lucifer, the archangel who rebelled against God out of pride and was cast out of heaven.

By the time the Bible was translated into English (most famously the King James Version in 1611), the translators chose not to translate the Latin word back into "Morning Star." Instead, they left the Latin word intact, printing it as a proper name:

"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!"

The final, definitive lock on the name in the English-speaking world didn't come from theology, but from literature. In 1667, John Milton published his epic poem Paradise Lost. Milton took these scattered biblical verses and wove a massive, dramatic narrative detailing Lucifer’s pride, his rebellion, his fall, and his subsequent transformation into Satan.

Milton's brilliant characterization was so incredibly influential that it shaped the modern Western imagination. For most people today, the distinction between the historical Latin translation and the literary character has completely blurred—making "Lucifer" permanently synonymous with the Devil.

Using lucifer to describe a match sounds rather dark and sinister. Matches being called "lucifers" actually comes from the literal Latin and some 19th-century branding. No Devil or Biblical connections. 

When inventors in the early 1800s finally figured out how to create portable, self-igniting fire on the tip of a wooden stick, "light-bringer" was an incredibly fitting description. 

In 1826, an English chemist named John Walker invented the first friction match. They were a massive scientific breakthrough, but Walker never patented them. Seeing an opening in the market, a clever London businessman named Samuel Jones copied Walker's design, tweaked the chemical formula slightly, and began commercially manufacturing them in 1829.

Jones needed a striking name for his new product. Leaning into that literal Latin meaning of bringing light to the darkness, he patented them as "Jones's Lucifers."

The product was an absolute sensation. Because they were among the first widely available commercial matches in Britain, the brand name "Lucifer" quickly became a generic term for any friction match, much like how we use "Kleenex" for tissues or "Band-Aid" for bandages today.

While Samuel Jones chose the name for its poetic "light-bringing" definition, everyday citizens couldn't help but notice some irony. These early friction matches were made using a harsh chemical mixture of potassium chlorate and antimony sulfide. When you struck them against sandpaper, they didn't light smoothly—they ignited with a violent, energetic pop, showered dangerous sparks, and released a suffocating, foul-smelling cloud of sulfurous smoke. To the Victorian public, striking one of these matches literally felt like conjuring a tiny, smelly burst of hellfire right in your living room. The double meaning was too perfect to ignore, and the nickname stuck around for generations.

Todd Rundgren and Runt

Todd Rundgren is a prolific rock musician, songwriter, and producer who continues to defy classification or genre. The vast majority of his albums are released as solo efforts, but he did have three bands along the way.

I wrote about his first band, Nazz, in an earlier post. They had 3 albums and several hits, including "Open My Eyes" and "Hello, It's Me." They broke up in 1969, and Todd was almost ready to go solo, but he formed Runt. 

The first Runt album was basically a solo album. Todd played nearly all the instruments, wrote all the songs, and produced the record. The other members were really supporting players. The official lineup was: Tony Sales on bass and his brother Hunt Sales on drums. They weren't really a permanent band, but were hired for the sessions. 

Titling the album "Runt" on the cover but showing only Todd certainly made it look like a solo album. The name “Runt” was self‑deprecating humor, and Todd has said he felt like the odd one out in the music scene at the time.

He was trying to reinvent himself after Nazz. The name Runt also reflected the minimal, makeshift nature of the group. Todd was breaking away from the psychedelic pop of Nazz and leaning into a more ballad-oriented style. 

He has made it clear that hearing Laura Nyro's album Eli and the Thirteenth Confession "blew his mind, and you can feel her stylistic influence especially in the 1969-1972 years. 

The “second Runt album” is Runt: The Ballad of Todd Rundgren (1971), which once again includes the band and Todd's name up front. It is a lush, emotionally intimate, piano‑driven record that marks Todd’s first major leap toward the songwriting sophistication he later perfected on Something/Anything?. Again, it's not a “band” album at all, as it’s essentially Todd alone. These ballads have orchestral touches, soul influences, and a confessional tone.

Pseudonyms: Sports

Some athletes have chosen to use pseudonyms. These are not to be confused with nicknames. For example, Cal Ripken, Jr., who played in 2,632 consecutive games over 16 seasons without a game off, earned the nickname “Iron Man.” 

A pseudonym is a more formal, permanent, and oftentimes a legal name change. 

Some sports pseudonyms include:

Joe Louis (formerly Joseph Louis Barrow)
Chi Chi Rodriguez (Juan Antonio Rodriguez)
Chipper Jones (Larry Wayne Jones, Jr.)
Whitey Ford (Edward Charles Ford)
Babe Ruth (George Herman Ruth, Jr.)
Casey Stengel (Charles Dillon Stengel; originally named after the initials of his hometown of Kansas City, Missouri, or "K.C.")
Chad Ochocinco (Chad Javon Johnson)
Cristiano Ronaldo (Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro)

A few interesting name change stories:

Yogi Berra ( born Lawrence Peter Berra) grew up in St. Louis, and while playing in American Legion baseball, he received the nickname "Yogi" from his friend Jack Maguire. After seeing a newsreel about India, Jack said that Larry resembled a Hindu yogi whenever he sat around with arms and legs crossed while waiting to bat or when he looked sad after a losing game.

Here is a rather complicated - and confusing - sports name change. Abdul-Karim al-Jabbar, a former football running back played in the National Football League (NFL) from 1996 to 2000 with the Miami Dolphins, Cleveland Browns, and Indianapolis Colts. He was previously known as Karim Abdul-Jabbar and was born Sharmon Shah. In 1995, Sharmon Shah, a Muslim, was given the name "Karim Abdul-Jabbar" by his Imam. In his NFL debut, some viewers and even some commentators mistakenly believed that he was the son of former basketball great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Both had attended UCLA. 

Basketball player Kareem Abdul-Jabbar had played at UCLA under the name (Ferdinand) Lew(is) Alcindor. In 1968, Alcindor converted to Sunni Islam, but he did not begin publicly using his Arabic name until 1971.

Cloud Cult

Feel Good Ghosts Tea-Partying Through Tornadoes

Cloud Cult is an experimental indie rock band originally from Duluth and later based in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Led by singer-songwriter Craig Minowa, the group's name was inspired by ancient prophecies of indigenous North Americans.  

Minowa, who has identified as having 1/16th Native American ancestry, has noted that the band's name and early philosophy were heavily influenced by indigenous spiritualities and a deep ecological respect for the land.  

Their early albums, such as Who Killed Puck, incorporated these philosophies into the music’s spiritual themes. The band is also well-known for its strict environmental practices, reflecting an indigenous-inspired respect for the natural world.  

The band is unique for including visual artists on stage who create paintings during live performances, which are then auctioned off to support charities or environmental causes. Much of their work also deals with themes of grief and purpose following the tragic loss of Minowa's young son in 2002. 

Their website is cloudcult.com

On stage 2017 By Jonathunder - Own work, GFDL 1.2, Link

Blah Blah Blah and Yada Yada

Saying "blah blah blah" (it seems to be said in threes) or "yada yada" (in twos and threes) sounds like total nonsense, but here we want to know more.

If you’re telling a long-winded story or giving confusing directions, someone might say "blah blah blah.”  “Blah” functions as a nothing word. “Blah” as a noun is defined as “silly or pretentious nonsense.” As an adjective, it means “dull and unattractive," as in "What a blah day."

It’s a 20th-century word, and its earliest written accounts in the Oxford English Dictionary come from a 1918 diary. It may have come from the French word blasé, which has been carried over into English, meaning “apathetic to pleasure or life, especially as a result of excessive indulgence or enjoyment.” If you’re feeling blah or blasé about something in your life, it may be because it’s boring or repetitive. 

You might hear someone say that they "have the blahs,” which is a colloquial phrase for mild depression. Punk rocker Iggy Pop released an album called “Blah-Blah-Blah,”and the title track “Blah-Blah-Blah” spoke to disaffection with the world.

I have also heard people use this phrase as a sentence ending, meaning a kind boring et cetera. "We wanted to go to dinner, couldn't decide on a place, stayed home and blah, blah, blah."

That last usage makes me think of "yada yada," which is most closely associated with an episode of the TV series Seinfeld. George's new girlfriend Marcy, likes to say "yada yada yada" to shorten her stories. Marcy tells him that her ex-boyfriend had visited her the night before, "and yada yada yada, I'm really tired today." That leaves the tadas up to interpretation. Did March have sex with her ex?

While Seinfeld popularized the phrase in the 1997 episode "The Yada Yada," it definitely did not invent it. Its linguistic roots are generally agreed to be that "yada yada" is an onomatopoeic evolution of the British word "yatter," which means to talk pointlessly or at length. This likely stems from the older word "chatter." By the 1940s and 50s, variations like "yatter-yatter" or "yaddega-yaddega" were appearing in American slang and comedy routines to mimic the sound of someone droning on.

1940s and 0s Vaudeville comedians often used "yadda yadda" or "yatata yatata" as a "button" for a joke—a way to signal that a character was talking too much without the comedian having to write actual dialogue for them.

It was used in a 1980 commercial for Federal Express, and it appeared in the 1989 film Parenthood, where a character says, "Then it's yada yada yada, and you're out the door."

There is often a misconception that "yada yada" is a Yiddish phrase. While it sounds phonetically similar to many Yiddish expressions and was frequently used by Jewish comedians in the Borscht Belt circuit, it is not actually a Yiddish word. Its popularity in New York-centric comedy helped create that association. The Seinfeld writers reportedly picked up the phrase because it was a common "filler" used by people in the industry when they were pitching scripts and didn't want to explain every minor plot point.

Pulling Out All the Stops

Though someone saying that they are “Pulling Out All the Stops” today probably means they will be making a huge effort, the real meaning is much more musical.

In the late 19th century, organists used stops to change volume on a pipe organ when they played. 

Organ stops are mechanisms—drawknobs, levers, or tablets—that allow an organist to select specific sets of pipes (ranks) to play, enabling a massive variety of timbres and volumes. Each set, or "stop," has a unique sound, typically classified into principal, flute, string, or reed families. They are designated by pitch (e.g., 8ft, 4ft)

So, pulling out all the stops is the loudest an organ can play. Go for it!

Really want to dig deep into that organ part? Watch here.