Have you ever heard of the word “dord”? It’s a fascinating story about a mistake that slipped into the dictionary. “Dord” was mistakenly included as a synonym for “density” in the 1930s. It all started when an editor wrote “d or d” to indicate that density could be abbreviated with either an uppercase or lowercase “D.” However, during the editing process, someone misread it as “dord,” and it ended up in the 1934 edition of Webster’s New International Dictionary. It wasn’t until 1947 that “dord” was finally removed after being identified as a ghost word—a word that doesn’t actually exist.
While “dord” was in the dictionary for 13 years, another ghost word, “abacot,” lingered for centuries. It originated in the late 16th century when an editor changed “abacok” to “abacot” in a historical text. This error persisted in dictionaries for over 200 years until it was discovered that “abacot” was a misspelling of “by coket,” a term for a type of hat. This mistake highlights how errors can persist over time, even among scholars.
Shakespeare’s plays also contain interesting language quirks. In “Cymbeline,” the character Imogen might have originally been named “Inogen,” based on historical texts Shakespeare used. The name “Imogen” has become popular, but it might have started as a simple typo.
Language mistakes aren’t limited to historical texts. They happen all the time in everyday speech. For example, some people say “free reign” instead of “free rein.” The correct phrase is “free rein,” which refers to letting a horse run freely. However, “free reign” sounds logical too, as if a monarch has control over everything. Over time, both phrases might become acceptable.
Another common mix-up is “damp squid” instead of “damp squib.” A “squib” is a type of firework, and a “damp squib” is one that fails to ignite. “Damp squid” doesn’t make much sense, but it’s a mistake people often make.
Some words in English seem redundant, like “irregardless.” It’s a combination of “irrespective” and “regardless,” but it means the same as “regardless.” Despite being considered incorrect by some, “irregardless” is in many dictionaries because people use it.
Similarly, “unthaw” is another word that confuses people. It means the same as “thaw,” even though “un-” usually means the opposite. Language can be tricky like that!
Pronunciation can also cause confusion. For instance, should you say “I couldn’t care less” or “I could care less”? The former makes more sense, but both are commonly used. Another debate is whether to pronounce “gif” with a hard “g” (like “gift”) or a soft “g” (like “jif”). The creator of the format says it’s “jif,” but many people prefer “gif.”
Even the word “forte” has pronunciation variations. When referring to a strength, it can be pronounced as “fort” or “forte.” Both are correct, but opinions vary.
Printing errors have had significant consequences in history. In 1631, a Bible was printed with the commandment “Thou shalt commit adultery” due to a missing “not.” This mistake led to severe penalties for the printers. Such errors remind us of the importance of careful editing.
Language is full of quirks and mistakes, but that’s what makes it interesting. Whether it’s a ghost word, a mispronunciation, or a redundant phrase, these quirks show how language evolves and adapts over time. So next time you encounter a language mistake, remember that it’s all part of the fascinating world of English!
Imagine you’re a dictionary editor in the 1930s. Your task is to create a new ghost word by combining parts of existing words. Write a short story about how your ghost word accidentally made it into the dictionary and its journey until it was discovered. Share your story with the class and discuss how language evolves over time.
In groups, choose a common language mix-up from the article, such as “free reign” vs. “free rein” or “damp squid” vs. “damp squib.” Create a short skit that humorously demonstrates the confusion these mix-ups can cause. Perform your skit for the class and explain the correct usage of the phrases.
Pick a word from the article with pronunciation variations, like “gif” or “forte.” Research the origins and arguments for each pronunciation. Hold a class debate where you defend your chosen pronunciation. After the debate, vote on which pronunciation the class prefers and discuss why language can have multiple correct pronunciations.
Create a poster that illustrates redundant words or phrases like “irregardless” or “unthaw.” Include the correct usage and explain why these words are considered redundant. Display your poster in the classroom and present your findings to the class, highlighting how language can sometimes be contradictory.
Research a historical printing error, similar to the 1631 Bible mistake mentioned in the article. Write a report on the error, its consequences, and how it was eventually corrected. Present your findings to the class and discuss the importance of careful editing in publishing.
Here’s a sanitized version of the provided YouTube transcript:
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Did you know that “dord” is a synonym for “density”? Probably not, because it isn’t. “Dord” is a ghost word—a non-existent word that slipped into the dictionary. In the case of “dord,” it stayed there for about 13 years. This particular error occurred in the early 1930s when an editor typed an entry that read “d or d,” meaning that density can be abbreviated with an uppercase “D” or a lowercase “d.” During the editorial process, all dictionary entries were supposed to have a space between each letter so that any pronunciation marks could be added later. The next editor simply thought a space was missing between “o” and “r,” and the word “dord” ended up being included in the 1934 second edition of Webster’s New International Dictionary. In 1939, a Merriam-Webster editor spotted “dord” and noted it as a ghost word, asking for its removal. Somehow, it managed to stay in the dictionary for another eight years until a different editor submitted another note pointing out the error. In 1947, “dord” was finally deleted.
Hi, I’m Erin McCarthy, editor-in-chief of Mental Floss, and welcome to the List Show from my living room. From memorable misprints like “dord” to phrases you might be mispronouncing, this episode is all about English language mistakes. Let’s get started!
“Dord’s” 13 years in print is nothing compared to the three centuries that “abacot” spent haunting reference materials. It all started in the late 16th century when Abraham Fleming was editing Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles of British History. At one point, Holinshed mentions King Henry’s high cap of estate called “garnished with two rich crowns.” For some reason, Fleming changed “abacok” to “abacot” in his 1587 version of Holinshed’s Chronicles, and the ghost word landed in Henry Spellman’s Glossarium in 1664. For the next 200 years, dictionaries listed “abacot” as a double-crowned cap of state worn by English kings, just as Holinshed had described it. It wasn’t until the 1880s that the erroneous origins of “abacot” were finally exposed. Oxford English Dictionary editor James Murray traced “abacot” back through a comedy of misspellings that started with “by coket,” an actual word for a peaked cap. From there, it became “by cockett,” then “bow it,” and then someone accidentally printed “a bow cockett” as one word. “Cockett” dropped the “t,” and Fleming added his own inexplicable flair. To Murray, the absurdity of the situation wasn’t just about “abacot” being a fake word; it was also laughable that centuries’ worth of scholars thought it was specifically used to describe dual-crowned headgear fit only for kings. The real term “by coket” describes something less grandiose—it’s the type of hat Robin Hood is often portrayed as wearing.
Murray noted that the sense which the dictionaries give to “abacot” is as ludicrously wide of the mark as the form itself. Holinshed’s Chronicles were well known during the Renaissance era; Shakespeare used them as a source for some of his plays. One of them is “Cymbeline,” about an ancient British king and his daughter, Imogen. However, the name Imogen was uncommon, potentially even bordering on non-existent at the time. While it’s definitely believable that the master wordsmith might have made it up, some scholars think he originally wrote “Inogen.” The name “Inogen” was mentioned in another part of Holinshed’s Chronicles, and we know Shakespeare was well acquainted with the text. “Cymbeline” wouldn’t even have been the first time the bard used the name. In a 1600 quarto of “Much Ado About Nothing,” “Inogen” is mentioned as Leonardo’s wife. In “Cymbeline,” Imogen marries a character named Posthumous Leonidas.
In 1611, an astrologer named Simon Forman saw the earliest known performance of “Cymbeline” and wrote about it in his diary. By his account, the princess was named “Inogen,” not “Imogen.” However, when the whole play was first published in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s death, the editors listed the character as “Imogen.” Fast forward 400 years, and “Imogen” is still a common name in the UK; it even topped Nameberry.com’s list of most popular baby names for a brief time in 2014. Sadly, I can’t say the same for “Inogen.”
Verbal mix-ups aren’t specific to character names in Shakespearean plays; they slip into our language often. It can sometimes seem like the wrong word or phrase makes just as much sense as the right one. This is called an “eggcorn,” a term that linguist Geoffrey Pullum coined in response to a story of a woman who thought acorns were called “egg corns.” You can kind of see how “egg corn” seemed like a suitable description for a small egg-shaped nut. Egg corns are about as bountiful in the English language as acorns are in autumn.
Take, for example, “free rein” and “free reign.” The correct version is “rein,” as in you’re a horse and your rider is holding the reins so loosely that you can do whatever you want. In fact, horseback riders used it when talking about actual horses and reins. That said, “reign” seems logical too if you’re a monarch who reigns over a whole kingdom. Right now, we know that “free rein” is technically the correct phrase, and “free reign” is the eggcorn, but it’s possible that in another hundred years or so, people will have lost track of which is which, and they’ll be equally acceptable.
But don’t worry; we’ve already reached that point with plenty of other everyday expressions. For all intents and purposes, civilization marches on. Just making sure you were paying attention. Say you finally make dinner reservations at a hip restaurant that your friends have been raving about for months. When you get there, the air conditioning is broken, you’re seated next to a loud crowd, and your fried calamari is soggy and cold. Not only have you experienced a damp squib, but also a damp squid—something highly anticipated that ends up being a total letdown. A squib is a type of firework, so a damp squib is one that’s too wet to produce the delightful display you expect. However, “squib” is an obsolete word these days, and people often say “damp squid” by mistake. Though “damp squid” doesn’t make quite as much sense as the original expression, it does evoke a certain image of a sad, droopy invertebrate floating around in cloudy waters.
I know what you might be thinking: Aren’t squids already damp? Isn’t “damp squid” redundant? The answer is yes. This could explain why it hasn’t earned a spot in the dictionary, but that’s not to say that it won’t. Dictionaries have their fair share of redundant terms. Let’s talk about “irregardless.” Since time immemorial, or at least as long as Twitter has existed, pedants have taken pleasure in pointing out that “irregardless” is a redundant form of the word “regardless.” The suffix “less” already means “without,” so adding the prefix “ir,” which basically means the same thing, creates a lexical abomination that essentially means “without without regard.” Defining “irregardless” as “not without regard” would make a bit more sense, but that’s not how people use it. They just use it as a synonym for “regardless.” If “regardless” is your own personal form of fingernails on a chalkboard, I’m sorry to inform you that it’s in most major dictionaries, and it’s been there for some time. Merriam-Webster added the word to its unabridged edition way back in 1934, and its current editors recently published a blog post justifying its long-standing inclusion. They wrote, “The fact that it is unnecessary, as there is already a word in English with the same meaning, ‘regardless,’ is not terribly important. It is not a dictionary’s job to assess whether a word is necessary before defining it. The fact that the word is generally viewed as non-standard or as illustrative of poor education is likewise not important. Dictionaries define the breadth of the language and not simply the elegant parts at the top.”
Merriam-Webster is, in some ways, laying out a descriptivist understanding of what a dictionary is meant to do—to describe how language is actually used. Other sources would argue for a prescriptivist understanding of language and usage, where an authority prescribes how words ought to be used. “Irregardless”—it physically hurt me to say that.
I think you’re ready to learn that “unthaw” has an entry in Merriam-Webster’s dictionary too. Its definition is a single word: “thaw.” Since we’re on the subject of words that seem like opposites but mean the same thing, let’s toss a phrase into the mix. When you’re completely unbothered by something, do you say “I couldn’t care less” or “I could care less”? According to Merriam-Webster, the version with “not” has been around since at least the mid-19th century, whereas the version without “not” gained ground in the 1950s, perhaps even later. “I couldn’t care less” isn’t just older; it also seems to make more sense when you think about it. If you couldn’t care less about something, you don’t care about it at all. If you could care less about something, you’re basically admitting that you care about it at least a little. That said, “I could care less” has become such a common colloquialism that Merriam-Webster deems both phrases correct. Does that bother you, or could you care less? Annoying your most fastidious friends is probably the only consequence that will come from dropping the negative adverb from “I couldn’t care less.”
For two 17th-century royal printers in Britain, though, omitting one measly “not” cost them a lot more. In 1631, Robert Barker and Martin Lucas printed a thousand copies of the King James Bible with the commandment “Thou shalt commit adultery.” When King Charles I found out a year later, he furiously ordered officials to track down the Bibles and burn every last one. They were also fined 300 pounds, a penalty that was later converted into a directive to buy and print Greek works as a sort of service-based retribution. That one immoral directive wasn’t the only error in the book. In the fifth chapter of Deuteronomy, the 24th verse is supposed to mention God’s glory and greatness, but court records say there was another mistake rendering the passage, “And ye said, Behold, the Lord our God hath showed us his glory and his great ass.” Though biblical scholars cautioned that the apparent snafu would likely have been understood as a reference to a donkey and not a buttocks, the mistake was so egregious that some scholars have theorized that a fellow printer actually sabotaged the book to discredit Barker and usurp his position. We might never know the truth. According to historian Gordon Campbell, the “great ass” misprint isn’t known to have survived beyond a couple of potential pages that have been blotted out with ink. You can still see the omission in around a dozen Bibles, though, which escaped the book-burning blaze and are housed in museums and private collections around the world.
While Barker and Lucas probably would have kept their jobs had they just been a little more meticulous during the printing process, you can hardly blame them for making a couple of mistakes. Even the most detail-oriented grammar enthusiasts sometimes get things wrong, especially when it comes to homophones or words that sound the same but have different spellings and/or definitions. If you’re referring to the highest point of a mountain or of anything else, that’s “peak.” If you’re talking about a quick glance, that’s “peek.” Here’s a helpful way to remember that: eyes have two “e’s,” and so does “peak.” If you’re writing “sneak peek,” don’t let “sneaks” “e’s” sneak into the second word. And if this distinction piqued your interest, remember that’s “p-i-q-u-e-d.” That “peak” comes from a French word literally meaning “to prick.”
“Flack” is another tough one—forgetting or giving criticism. That’s “f-l-a-c-k.” Since “quack,” “snack,” “blackjack,” and a ton of other words end in “ack,” people tend to spell “flack” that way too, but it’s actually a truncated version of a German word that I’m not even going to try to pronounce, which is the type of gun used to target aircraft. That said, “f-l-a-c-k” in this context has become so common that Merriam-Webster lists it as a less common spelling, so you’re free to use it if you want. You just might catch some flack for it.
If you catch flack for calling your strong suit a “fort” instead of a “forte,” however, go ahead and tell your critics they’re wrong. “Forte” in this context is derived from “fort,” the French word for strong, which we then decided to spell as if we were using the feminine form of the French word. The masculine “fort” would be pronounced more like “four,” but the feminine “f-o-r-t-e” would be more like “fort,” which is why it’s considered a correct pronunciation in English alongside “forte.” A pronunciation, by the way, which has its own detractors in this context. As Merriam-Webster’s online usage guide advises, “Take your choice, knowing that someone somewhere will dislike whichever variant you choose.”
Unfortunately, so many people believe “fort” should be “forte” that you might be better off choosing a different word altogether. And by the way, “f-o-r-t-e,” when used to describe a piece of music, comes from the Italian word for loud, and you should definitely pronounce that “forte.”
Possibly the most heated pronunciation debate in the English language concerns a pesky little file format called a “gif” or “jif.” Since it stands for “graphics interchange format,” it seems like you’d pronounce the “g” just like in “graphics,” so “gif.” However, ever since Steve Wilhite invented it in 1987, he’s maintained that it’s supposed to be “jif.” In 2013, he told The New York Times, “The Oxford English Dictionary accepts both pronunciations. They are wrong; it is a soft ‘g’ pronounced ‘jif.’ End of story.” But if this video has taught you anything, it’s probably that there never really is an end of story when it comes to language.
In 2015, Université de Montréal linguistics professor Michael Dow mined the English lexicon project for all the words containing “gi.” Of those, 105 words—nearly twice as many—were pronounced with the soft “g,” think “gin,” and “magic,” than a hard “g,” as in “gift.” The “gi” words said with hard “g’s,” however, were used more than twice as often as the soft “g” ones. So beyond Wilhite’s own wishes, there’s not really a linguistic precedent to tell us whether “gif” or “jif” should be used, and even if there were, people wouldn’t necessarily follow it. So you can choose your preference on this one.
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This version maintains the content while removing any inappropriate or sensitive language.
Language – A system of communication used by a particular community or country. – In literature, the language of a novel can greatly influence its tone and mood.
Mistakes – Errors or faults resulting from poor judgment, deficient knowledge, or carelessness. – The author corrected several mistakes in the manuscript before it was published.
Dictionary – A reference book containing words, their definitions, and information about their pronunciation and usage. – When writing essays, students often consult a dictionary to ensure they use words correctly.
Ghost – A spirit or apparition, often used in literature to symbolize unresolved issues or the past haunting the present. – In Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” the ghost of King Hamlet plays a crucial role in the unfolding drama.
Word – A single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing. – The poet carefully chose each word to convey deep emotions in her sonnet.
Pronunciation – The way in which a word is spoken, often varying by region or dialect. – The teacher emphasized the correct pronunciation of complex vocabulary in the literature class.
Errors – Mistakes or inaccuracies, particularly in writing or speech. – The editor’s job is to identify and correct errors in the text before publication.
Redundant – Unnecessarily repetitive or superfluous, especially in writing. – The student’s essay was marked down for being redundant, as it repeated the same points multiple times.
Historical – Relating to past events or the study of history, often used in literature to provide context or depth. – The novel’s historical setting added authenticity to the characters’ experiences.
Editing – The process of reviewing and revising text to improve clarity, coherence, and overall quality. – Editing is a crucial step in the writing process to ensure the final draft is polished and error-free.
