Daily Archives: August 25, 2009

stoic

The first place I recall seeing this word was in a look at Marlon Brando’s career (which was not over at the time); the phrase was “stoic in On the Waterfront.” Somehow I understood the right pronunciation the first time, though there’s good reason not to; one might on looking at it imagine it sounds like most of the name of that most he-dude of skaters, karate-kicker on ice, the one who managed to hold it together in an Olympic performance in spite of having seriously pulled a muscle, only letting on with a wince when he stopped. But, no, Stojko is not in this one, even if this one has been in him. Who is in it? Zeno. Does that seem paradoxical? Well, let us draw near – to Zeno’s porch, where he sat and lectured. In classical Greek, “porch” is stoa, and so his group of ethically austere philosophers are known as the Stoics. In the simplest sense, the stoic line is: if you feel an emotion, stow it – Vulcanize yourself and be hardened. And, in common usage, it is not as likely that you will be or become stoic as that you will remain stoic, as though stoicism were the natural state. More particularly, your face will remain stoic. Well, there it is: keep that stiff upper lip. If the world says I cost, if you are in India and are beset by marauding dacoits, or if you seek coitus but find it does not involve u, then what is left but to be stoic?

whiffle

Now, here’s a word that communicates by sound. You can hear the the little whiffs of air blowing through leaves or perhaps puffing a piece of paper along. It’s fortuitous that the le suffix, a frequentative, turns the single action and single sound of whiff into the multiple action and multiple-sounding whiffle. It also gives it the air of whistle, which no doubt works well with Wiffle, as in the perforated projectiles. You can see the effect of the puffs of air on the ff as though through tufts of foxtail, and that dot on the i might be a holey ball on the way from h to l. Any word ending in ffle, be it sniffle or kerfuffle, of course carries a feeling of paper men wrestling in corduroys, or of similar frantic, furtive, or simply frequent puffs, buffeting, or susurrus, but this one does so more wilfully than most. One horsey person of my acquaintance has advocated the application of this word to that raspberry sound horses often make. The standard term for this act is blow, but that’s not really very good, is it? Nothing like nicker, for instance. Consider this the inception of a campaign for adoption of this usage. When you see a horse, simply say, “You do know how to whiffle, don’t you? You just put your lips together… and blow.”