“Barbarian” comes to us from Latin via the same Greek root (Barbaros, meaning “foreign, strange, ignorant”) as the name “Barbara.”    Well, the stem of the Greek Barbaros is “barbar.”   “Barbar” echoed the perceived sound of foreign languages.  The Greeks thought everything the foreign, uncultured people (barbarians) said sounded like “barbarbarbarbarbarbarbar.” 

The foreigners sound more like alcoholics to me.  Bar bar bar bar

Or maybe they sound like Pokemon(s) who keep repeating their names.

Also, I keep thinking of Babar the Elephant.  But I shouldn’t be.

The name “Barbara” comes from the Latin feminine form of Barbarus (strange, foreign, barbarous), which comes from the similarly defined Greek word Barbaros.  The concept of “alien” was viewed as exotic for women, leading to Barbara becoming a popular name.

Nothing says exotic like someone named Barbara.

More on this tomorrow.

They idiom, “to take it with a grain of salt,” comes from Pliny’s Naturalis Historia in 77 AD.  He gives a description of an antidote for a certain poison.  Here’s the quote translated from Latin:

“After the defeat of that mighty monarch, Mithridates, Gnaeus Pompeius found in his private cabinet a recipe for an antidote in his own handwriting; it was to the following effect: Take two dried walnuts, two figs, and twenty leaves of rue; pound them all together, with the addition of a grain of salt; if a person takes this mixture fasting, he will be proof against all poisons for that day.”

It suggests that the bad effects can be tempered by taking a grain of salt.

I wish we would say, “take it with twenty leaves of rue,” instead.

The prescription symbol R_x   originated in medieval manuscripts as an abbreviation of the Late Latin verb recipe, which was the command form of recipere (“to take”).  

There are also some nutty theories about the symbol being connected to Egyptian mythology and symbology, specifically the Eye of Horus.  We should take these theories with a grain of salt, as we can infer that these theorists spend a lot of time around prescription pills.

The word “scapegoat” is rooted in mistranslations.  Originally, Greek writers mistranslated the Hebrew word ‘azazel (likely the proper name of a demon in Hebrew mythology, perhaps related to Canaanite deity Aziz).  Instead, the Greek translators read it as ‘ezozel (“the goat that departs”).  This was then translated into Latin as basically “emissary goat” and eventually “(e)scape goat.”

I blame the Greeks.  We should all blame the Greeks for messing up the word scapegoat.

The Michelin Man’s offical name is Bibendum, stemming from the Latin slogan Nunc est bibendum (roughly, “Now, let’s drink”).

Wow.  He must really feel safe about his tires if he’s ready to get hammered.

The uvula (the punching bag at the back of your mouth) comes from the Latin uvola, meaning “small bunch of grapes.”  It’s the diminutive form of uva (grape).  It does kind of look like a small bunch of grapes.  Or one grape.   Apparently, uvula piercings are starting to become a thing.  But the uvula is hard to pierce because of the gag reflex.

I think people should listen to their bodies.  When you gag, it’s your body saying:  

You freaking idiot.  Do not stick that needle into that uvula.  You are a stupid piece of trash.

…my body’s extremely cantankerous.

Although most translations of Genesis only refer to a “fruit,” generally people envision the downfall of humanity to be an apple (thanks a lot, Adam and Eve).  This association likely comes from a Latin play on words.  In Latin, malum is the word of “apple” and “evil.”  One source notes that the fruit probably wasn’t an apple because it is too hot in the Middle East (thus, the Garden of Eden) for apples to thrive. 

This source is probably looking too far into things…   Eve was just created from a rib.  A snake just talked.  I don’t think an apple growing in an atypical climate should really be that shocking.

Etymologically, “debit” comes from the Latin debitum, meaning “something owed.”  “Credit” comes from creditum, meaning “something entrusted” (from credere “to trust, to believe”).

Well, that was pretty straightforward.

P.S. Saying “PIN number” is redundant (personal identification number number).  I hope the guy I always see at Quiktrip reads this.  I should probably translate this post into Urdu.

The word “derive” derives from the Latin de rivus, meaning “from a stream.” 

Yes, I am running out of words.

The word “muscle” comes from the the Latin mus (mouse) and cul (a diminutive suffix).  So a muscle was the little mouse that crawls beneath your skin when you flex.  Those old Romans must have been weak.  A mouse?  Really?  I call my guns the “caniscles,” from the Latin canis (dog).  Yeah, that’s right.  When I flex, a little dog runs up my arms under my skin…

Your salary may come in the mail, but originally it comes from the Latin adjective salarius, meaning pertaining to salt.  Roman soldiers used to receive a handful of salt everyday.  Eventually the salt was replaced with money, and the soldiers could go buy as much salt as they wanted.  Money is a good thing, especially with my high blood pressure.  If I just got handfuls of salt all the time, I probably would just quit working.  Especially considering the fact that I have big hands.  I would be getting way too much salt.

The German title “Kaiser,” meaning emperor, along with the Russian Czar, derives from the Latin Emperors’ title of Caesar, from Gaius Julius Caesar.  As for Caesar, I found this little tidbit kind of funny:  In elementary school-style attempts to humiliate and degrade Caesar, his political opponents publicly questioned his sexuality, often claiming he had a homosexual affair with Nicodemes IV of Bithynia.  Sometimes he was even referred to as the Queen of Bithynia.  That’s hilarious for so many reasons.  First, it’s hilarious to hear people slinging mud at arguably one of history’s most influential leaders  Second, it’s funny how nothing ever changes. Politicians will always have homosexual affairs.

I always see this mistake made in text books— the incorrect usage of either i.e. or e.g., when explaining things.  You should use i.e. when restating the idea.  You should use e.g. when giving an example.  In Latin, i.e. stands for id est which means “that is.”  E.g. is Latin for exempli gratia, basically “for example.”  I don’t want to misuse these words in any of my writings; e.g., essays, posts, forged doctors’ notes.  It can get confusing when combining other abbreviations and acronyms; e.g., i.e., E.T., B.E.T, etc., etc. This is confusing; i.e., none of this seems to make sense.