October is synonymous with Halloween, haunted houses, harvest festivals and more-sexy-than-scary costume balls. Whether you plan on being a slutty nurse, a moody John Snow, your basic zombie or Dracula, the Tristate offers more than enough events for you to get your freaky on all haunting season.BAR EVENTS
It's the weekend, y'all.
And as it approaches 5 p.m. on a Friday, you're probably thinking to yourself, "What should I do this weekend?" Why not try one of these …
- Sauerkraut Pizza. Made by the Order of the Eastern Star Masons, the handmade pizzas come in whole pies or slices and are topped with tomato sauce, cheese, green peppers, onions and sauerkraut.
- Cabbage Rolls. For more than 30 years, St. Augustine's Church has cooked cabbage rolls for the festival — recently, more than 10,000 per weekend. Cooked cabbage leaves are filled with ground beef, rice and spices and covered in tomato sauce.
- Sauerkraut desserts. The Waynesville Chamber of Commerce will be serving up sauerkraut pie, sauerkraut fudge, sauerkraut brownies and sauerkraut cookies.
- Sauerkraut Balls. A classic: breaded and fried sauerkraut and bacon, served by the Waynesville fire department.
- German Sundae. This is a pile of potatoes, topped with kraut, sour cream, cheese, bacon and green olive. (Recipe below.)
going back to the land of Muncie, Indiana, where we don’t have cool stuff like
altweeklies or rideshare competition, which you can read about in this week’s cover
story. We have to like, walk home from a night out like the plebeian college
students Nick ran into, because who can pay someone $24 to drive them home?
That’s more money than I’m going to lose if I get jumped while walking.
Anyway, I wish the future copy of CityBeat the best of luck until there’s a new copy editor and from now on, you’ll have to rely on context clues to decipher CityBeat writers' language.
Acrimonious: caustic, stinging or bitter, adj.
If something is acrimonious, I bet it sounds like a really bad song. It’s like harmonious, but acidic. Except, not at all.
In the issue: “Hurricane Katrina forced a lengthy stay in Austin, Texas in 2005 and the following year saw the acrimonious departure of Huston,” in Brian Baker’s Sound Advice on The Iguanas. Maybe Huston just wished they had stayed in Houston instead of Austin and that’s why he left. Sounds sad. Looks like the rest of the band is still doing alright without him, playing shows and selling albums and whatnot.
Mandala: a schematized representation of the cosmos in Oriental art, n.
In my head I pictured this as a mandolin, a menorah and gondola all combined, but that’s just me. This is the first word in today’s blog under the category of Nouns You May Not Have Known and Will Never Use.
In the issue “The first and last paintings in Elvis Suite are more like multi-bordered mandalas or horoscopic charts,” in Steven Rosen’s Art Shook Up (what a clever title) about the Elvis Presley portrait exhibit currently at the Carl Solway gallery. Yes, if you haven’t read the article yet, that’s right. There’s a series of calendar art focusing on Elvis of which the first and last pieces are schematized representations of the cosmos because that has so much to do with Elvis.
Morass: a troublesome situation difficult to get out of, n.; and "maelstrom": a disordered state of affairs, n.
These words go great together. Next time you’re really upset just run around and be like “This is a maelstrom and a morass!”
In the issue: “Maybe, in all the morass and maelstrom of confusion, violence and power play …” in Kathy Y. Wilson’s column, "Elevators," where she talked about domestic violence and briefly mentioned that elevators serve as a catalyst for it before talking about more serious things than elevators.
Tulpa: a being that is created in the imagination through visualization techniques such as in Tibetan mysticism, n.This is the second and final word of the day under Nouns You May Not Have Known and Will Never Use.
In the Issue: Again in "Art Shook Up," Laffoley, the artist, said he wants to “take calendar art and turn it into a meditation series in which the fans attempt to recreate Elvis’ existence as a tulpa.” You read that right. That went from calendar art to mysticism real fast.
take back what I said earlier. You may use this word again. You may in fact use
it if you take Laffoley’s advice and see these images of Elvis, he will become a
choose-your-own-tulpa-Elvis: Will you pick the Christmas Album Elvis or the Aloha
From Hawaii Elvis?
Strangely enough, all of the regular content eye-catching words start with the letter “P.”
paucity: smallness of quantity, n.
reporters note that rockets fired from Gaza are aimed at Israeli civilians,
although they note the comparative paucity of Israeli victims,” in Ben L.
Kaufman’s Curmudgeon Notes. Yet again, another week of worthy comments on the
shortcomings of journalistic coverage. His comments on the reporting of the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict are important albeit hard to understand.
portend: to foreshadow, v. (used with an object)
“What does this all portend for the live presence of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah?” in Brian Baker’s Sound Advice for the CYHSY show. Actually, that’s a great question, considering the band used to have four members and at least three of them have left the group since 2011. I’m curious how this resolves itself on Fountain Square this Friday night.
prescient: to have knowledge of something before it exists, adj.
example of how prescient the Alvins believe Broonzy to have been …” in Steven
Rosen’s Bond of Brothers, describing the relationship two really old guys have
with a record done by an even older guy that they listened to in their
Worst Politicians Vocabulary
apprised: to inform or tell someone, v.
“Dayton explained he had been credibly, confidently apprised that the Capitol itself would be shortly laid waste by terrorists,” in Neal Karlen’s description of Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton. Who apprised him of that?
Also, who knew that someone who gave his own tenure in the Senate an “F” could be elected governor on a pity vote? I didn’t know it was so easy but then again, I don’t have $4 million to finance my own campaign.
moribund: in a dying state, near death, adj.
“A defrocked demagogue, she still pretends her Tea Party is a reactionary revolution, not a moribund refuge for the Republicans’ traditional bloc of bat-shit crazy far-right-wingers,” in Karlen’s bit on Minnesota U.S. Representative Michele Bachmann.
I hope Karlen’s use of moribund in relation to the Tea Party is accurate, but considering Bachmann’s talk of another presidential run in 2016, it may be wishful thinking. Karlen (if you ever read this), brace yourself because I’m sure you’ll have to cover that.
Shout-out to Karlen, by the way, for using one of my personal favorite phrases, “bat-shit crazy.” I keep trying to convince my mother it’s a thing because obviously, it’s a thing.
opprobrium: harsh criticism or censure, n.
“… Jan Brewer affixed her signature to the infamous, immigrant-bashing Senate Bill 1070 and rode a wave of xenophobia to electoral triumph… and liberal opprobrium,” in Stephen Lemons description of Arizona Governor Jan Brewer. It wasn’t just “liberal opprobrium,” considering the U.S. Supreme Court threw out a lot of the law as unconstitutional. Take that, Jan Brewer.
When I was learning how to insert the photos, our design editor specifically said, “Use the photo where she’s laughing like the devil.”
troglodyte: a prehistoric cave-dweller, a person of degraded character or a person unacquainted with affairs of the world, n.
“DeMint backed Todd ‘Legitimate Rape’ Akin, Richard ‘God Wants Rape Babies’ Mourdock and a host of other troglodyte true-believers,” in Chris Haire’s bit on South Carolina former U.S. Senator Jim DeMint. Troglodyte is the word of the week, hands down. Pick whatever definition you want, they all apply. Props to Haire for his ability to find the perfect word for such people. DeMint was one of my personal favorites on the list, for his views that gays and unwed heterosexual women having sex shouldn’t be allowed to teach in public schools. I’d love to hear his plans for unwed heterosexual men and how he would like to enforce these ideas.
state schools in Indiana (or at least Ball State) start school really early
(like August 18) so I’m heading back to Muncie and you lovely people only have
one more week until you probably won’t notice the fabulous words in CityBeat
anymore. Please return next week for my going away Fiesta Edition. I just made
Maybe the summer heat is stifling the writers’ vocab, (or they were out having too much fun this weekend at Bunbury) but there weren’t very many vocab words this week. That being said, that’s no excuse to let your vocabulary get stagnant, we’ll go with what we have …
requisite: a thing necessary for the achievement of a specific end, n.
My college education hasn’t thus far outright taught me this word, but now I see I knew it all along. I know perfectly well “prerequisite” means “course you need to take before you take you’re smart enough to take the one you really want.” So a requisite is also something that is necessary. It seems that requisite and prerequisite are synonyms (so Google tells me), why are they both needed?
In the issue: “Don’t forget the requisite potato pancake on the side,” referring to Rascals’ NY Deli in the Doggie Day in Amberley Village picnic option. I agree, potato products are a requisite for happiness — a good picnic, I mean. Is it lunchtime yet?
sycophantic: using flattery to win favor from those with influence, adj.
Without reading the definition, finish this sentence: If a journalist can be described as sycophantic, that journalist is also … ? Got nothing? Me either. Let’s get straight to the context clues.
In the paper: “Part of the problem, Sullivan said, is the failure of sycophantic Times writers and editors to ‘challenge and vet the views of these government sources,’ ” in this week’s edition of Ben L. Kaufman’s Curmudgeon Notes. In the past three weeks, we’ve heard about mislabeled sources, shield laws and jingoistic editorials — anybody else miss Worst Week Ever?
Bonus Round: The bonus round is just as long as the regular round, folks.
nascent: a process or organization coming into existence and displaying signs of future potential, adj. Like when you read blog the first week you thought, “the nascent copy editing blog.” Scavenger Hunt! Maybe I’m crazy but I can’t seem to find this word in the issue …
Exclusive cultural lesson for the week!
So there’s a movie out now called And So It Goes, with Michael Douglas and Diane Keaton. TT-stern-enzi (in a preview that was cut for space) described Keaton’s role in the film world right now as the woman that gets the lothario male character to settle down a la As Good As It Gets with Jack Nicholson. I’m not a movie previewer but maybe the preview will get posted online today (I don’t know, I’m not the web editor or anything).
So Lothario is the name of the male character in The Impertinent Curiosity, a metastory in Don Quixote. Lothario is a seducer of woman, giving his name use as a noun meaning, “a man who behaves selfishly and irresponsibly in his sexual relationships with women.”
one’s a two-for-one — two new, funky-sounding words that combine into one phrase. If you have any
knowledge of Spanish desserts, you probably inferred that dulcet meant sweet, as
dulce describes something as sweet en Español. No phonetic/origin hints I'm aware of for warble, though.
In the paper: Brian Baker describes Buckle Up performer Ashley Monroe as, “It wasn’t difficult to hear Dolly Parton in Monroe’s dulcet warble.” In her dulcet warble? What’s a dulcet warble? Do I have one? Unfortunately upon reading the definition I realized I do not have a dulcet warble, probably one of the reasons I’m not performing in the Buckle Up festival.
purveyor: a supplier of goods
and provisions, n.
This stood out because it sounds antiquated. Who counts as a purveyor in 2014? Rachel Podnar, purveyor of vocabulary…
In the paper: Baker’s Top Ten Buckle Up Acts gets two nods for vocab with “Arlo McKinley and the band of Country purveyors he’s dubbed the Lonesome Sound.” If only Bunbury’s Alternative Pop/Rock/Country inspired the same illustrious vocabulary as Buckle Up’s Country does, then then the vocab distribution in the two articles would be even (but who's counting?).
Quis custodiet ipsos custodies: Latin, who shall keep watch over the guardian? Phrase.
Here’s a phrase I’ve never heard before and I’m sure I’ll never say in conversation.
In the paper: OK, maybe when you read this in Ben L. Kaufman’s column “Who Guards the Guardians?” questioning the Obama administration's seemingly limited understanding of how a free press works. The phrase just popped up out of nowhere, but it was followed by “Who guards the guardians? Obama? Holder?” and you probably thought, ‘Gee, I bet that Latin means who guards the guardians.’ I personally didn’t put that together but now I know better.
visceral: either characterized by instinct rather than intellect or characterized by coarse or base emotions, adj.
Visceral is the kind of word you’re familiar with but not familiar enough to use it in conversation so now that you’re clear on the definition, get out there and start describing all the visceral things in your life.
In the paper: Brian Baker used it in his Sound Advice describing “Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires,” (aka one of the most confusing band names for a copy editor) when he said “visceral Garage Rock sugar helps the medicine of re-examining sins and scars of Southern suppression go down.” What a sentence. I think visceral Garage Rock might make remembering suppression worse but that’s just me.
summarily: in a prompt or direct manner, or without notice adv.
Summarily isn’t a “big word” but it doesn’t mean what you think it would mean. Given its similarity to “summary” I thought “summarily” meant an adverb form of “a short description of all of its parts,” but I can’t think of how that could function as an adverb and I’m sure no one else could either so they threw a new definition at it.
In the paper: Summarily is the weekly word from Kathy Y. Wilson, this time in her strongly-worded argument against Obama’s My Brother’s Keeper program, which “summarily dismisses that while black and Latino boys are suffering, black and Latino women are suffering more than anyone else.” Looks like Obama caught some flack from both of our columnists this week.
sure to check out the issue (and subsequently this blog) before the Fourth of
July food coma and drunken stupor sets in. That doesn't give you much time so you'd better get started ...
Autodidactic: like a self-taught person, adj.
could have figured this out without wordreference.com if I would have just
thought about it a little bit — auto,
meaning self and dictact, meaning
teaching. It makes sense; it’s just that people use this word even less than
they learn things for themselves.
In the paper: “I just wanted to write because, autodidactic as I am, I had the sense to know that writers write,” in Kathy Y. Wilson’s “No. 104.” Can I make a joke about Kathy’s autodidactic deduction? Yes, writers write, but as opposed to what, exactly?
Cogent: appealing to the mind or reason, adj.
can’t think of a cogent reason why I like this word, but I do. FYI, it’s
In the paper: Looks like Kathy Y. Wilson pulled a double-vocab-hitter this week, “He [Danny Cross] said cogent things to me about my voice, my skill set and my value to this city” in “No. 104,” describing how our editor got her to start writing this column two years ago. I can’t really imagine Danny saying anything cogent (jokes, jokes) but whatever he said must have worked if she’s been back for 104 weeks of columns (much more impressive than my short tenure as copy editor/blogger).
Epocha: the beginning of a distinctive period in the history of anything, n.
turn to Epoch in your dictionary, because even the 1913 Webster’s Dictionary
said so. Epocha is the Latin version of epoch because John Adams just had to be
In the paper: Although it appeared in Isaac Thorn’s “The Fourth of July and Me” sidebar, the credit for this one goes to John Adams. Apparently he screwed up pretty big time when he thought what we celebrate as the Fourth of July was supposed to the Second of July. “The Second Day of July 1776 will be the most memorable Epocha in the History of American,” Adams said.
Je ne sais quoi: French phrase, meaning a quality that cannot be described or expressed, n.
borrowed from other languages that we are supposed to understand when used in
an English sentence are hard. I know what déjà
vu and pièce de résistance mean,
but come on, isn't this the Fourth of July issue?
the paper: Shout out to “Beygency Officer” Jac Kern aka Arts and Culture Editor
for mixing in some French with her English this week. Also for changing the
masthead to say “Beygency Officer,” I’m guessing because she had the privilege
of attending Beyoncé and Jay Z’s On the Run show this past weekend. I
personally have never seen the ‘90s lifetime movie The Face on the Milk Carton so I can’t give you a hint as to what Jac meant when she wrote "[The new MTV series Finding Carter] could be watchable, but will surely lack that '90's lifetime movie je ne sais quoi," in her TV roundup. I did, however, try and read the eponymous book
when I was in fifth grade, but I was 11 years old and I distinctly remember
being uncomfortable with the teenage sexual tension between the main character
and her neighbor.
I give Jac *Pick of the Week* this week because the Beygency Officer thing was so funny and I haven’t thought about The Face on the Milk Carton since 2005 and she taught us all some French.
Pilsner: a tall slender footed glass for beer, n.
I read this in the paper, I thought "Wow I wonder what a pilsner is," and I was
extremely disappointed when Google Images just showed what I would describe as
a “beer glass but not a stein.” Maybe you all knew what a pilsner was (it is
also a type of beer) and I’m just showing my age (20) or lack of class.
In the paper: “These boys know how to have fun and get a laugh, whether it’s drinking wine out of a pilsner glass…” in Nick Grever’s “Kings of Power” about the comically named Martin Luther and the Kings band. Now that I now what a pilsner glass is, I can appreciate the quantities of wine they drink during rehearsal.
Bonus round: This is more grammar than vocab, but which is correct, upward or upwards? It’s always upward, regardless of what you may say in conversation. Upward as in “The car cost upward of $30,000,” according to my handy dandy 2012 Associated Press Stylebook.
Aegis: used in the idiom “under the aegis of,” meaning sponsored or supported by, n.
I’m sure we’ve all read this word, using context clues for the correct definition, but I wonder how often it gets thrown around in conversation. Does anyone know how to pronounce aegis? I’m thinking AGEis, aGIS. After hitting up Merriam-Webster for a robot audio pronunciation, it’s Egis. Your next challenge is finding a way to casually incorporate it in conversation, pronouncing it correctly.
In the paper: “under LCT’s aegis” in Rick Pender’s "Curtain Call" column for the week on the League of Cincinnati Theatres Award.
Ephemera: a class of collectable items not originally intended to last more than a short time, n.
*Pick of the Week* I like this because it’s a niche word. It can only be used to describe stuff like trading cards and tickets, which is awesome. I wonder which was used first, the adjective ephemeral, which can be used to describe anything fleeting, or the more selective noun?
paper: “there is little fortune in ephemera like the card,” shout-out to Maria
Seda-Reeder for using ephemera correctly, describing the 1940s business card of
a creepy, self-appointed “dealer of love” in “Another Man’s Treasure.” Also, if
I may say, I smiled at the title because I thought "No, not one man’s trash — that’s
another man’s come-up." Come-up, if you don’t know, means
something like “cool stuff found in a thrift store” and Macklemore's “Thrift Shop” brought it into colloquial use.
Irascible: irritable, adj.
This is one of those words where I can feel what it’s supposed to bring to the sentence just by the way it looks and is pronounced, but I couldn’t come up with a single synonym because I really have no idea and the “feel” of a word is something I just made up.
In the paper: “a portrait of irascible President Lyndon Johnson.” Rick Pender pulled a double vocab hitter in “Curtain Call,” as you know he also gave us this week’s “aegis.” Should he get “Vocab Master” of the week? Fun fact, I learned from Ben L. Kaufman’s “On Second Thought” that theater-writer Pender is a former CityBeat arts editor. Maybe you already were aware. Perhaps some of the current editors will follow Pender’s lead and include some more daring vocabulary in their issue contributions.
Incursion: hostile invasion of territory, n.
This is basically just a fancy version of “invasion,” which I’m guessing is more widely understood. I’d like to note incursion is the opposite of excursion, which we all know is an outing.
In the paper: “The Avengers repelled an alien incursion of planet Earth,” in tt stern-enzi’s cover story on summer movies. He used “incursion” because “invasion” was just too mundane.
Relegate: to send something to a lower ranking, v.
Relegate is extremely obvious from context clues and this probably isn’t a new vocab word for anyone. But as a copy editor, I had to ask ‘Why didn’t she just use “delegate” instead? Technically, delegate would work because it also means to elect something to represent something else, but Kathy Y. Wilson was trying to convey a demotion of sort, hence relegate was the precise verb for the job. Bravo.
paper: “pitbulls have been relegated to outcast status,” in Kathy Y. Wilson’s
“Wagging the Dog.”
Rachel Podnar writes "From the
Copy Desk" weekly from her desk as CityBeat's intern copy editor.
Her job is to find and correct everybody else's mistakes, occasionally
referencing a dictionary to check one of our more
writers' choices of words. She rounds up and recaps the best ones here.