Tag Archives: irregardless

Answers I Wish I Could Send: One Week’s Worth

At Merriam-Webster, we receive and respond to several hundred emails a week. While only a relative handful of them are editorial in nature, they are nonetheless a time- and sanity-suck for those who must answer them. Below is a small sample of the editorial email that came in during one workweek in August. Part blah-bitty-blah in a series, and extra-long for your erudition and delectation!


Name: sam
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com

Question: you say -“Nothing is more important to her than her faith in GOD” as an example of a sentence with faith My Question is how can u define faith in god as contrary or in ignorance to the facts???

do u have faith in ur wife contrary to the evidence ????

u see that ur wife is not cheating on u
and on that basis of evidence only will u call her faithful to u. Wont U????
so why define faith as “contrary to the evidence, no proof” ???

If u ever need evidence for my FAITH IN JESUS give me a message on my email

Im sure once u see the overwhelming evidence u too will be more than happy to accept jesus as the utterly humble god that he is. and i know given the chance he is the only perfect god among all the gods that i WOULD want to worship.such love to die for me…..something we long for our whole lives ….isnt it, forgiveness acceptance and love???


u have my email
mail me
i think u Could discover something u r longing for a long time

know that we love u
and hope u would want to talk to us
i beleive it can be a start to a fruitful friendship

Dear Sam:

Holy, holy, holy, Sam. It’s Monday! Can’t we start off with something easy? And you sent this three times! Jesus, Mary, Joseph. Um, I mean, THANK U FOR YOUR EMAIL.

I’m not sure how you went from the example sentence to what I assume is the definition, but here we are, muddling through this existential crisis together. How can we define “faith” as “contrary to fact”? We don’t. Ah, we do have one sub-subsense of “faith” that reads “firm belief in something for which there is no proof,” but that is a separate meaning from the “belief and trust in and loyalty to God” one. Let me put this in terms you will resonate with. You know how the Trinity is three persons but one god? The Father is separate from the Son is separate from the Holy Ghost–they have different functions and show up in different places–but they are all one godhead? The different meanings of “faith” are like that, too. Just like the members of the Trinity, they end up in lots of different places and they have different functions, but they are all “faith.” Doesn’t mean you can swap them out for each other willy-nilly.

This is a profound mystery–but I am speaking of dictionaries and their definitions. You see, Sam, there is a time for everything, and a season for all things under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to harvest; a time to read the dictionary definition with deep care and thought, and a time to accuse a book of having a faith system.

Again I looked, and saw something meaningless under the sun, and it was this email.

And leave my wife out of this.


Name: M[Redacted]
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Question/comment about a definition

Question: My boyfriend seems to think that ‘happenstance’ is an actual word. Unfortunately, I believe that your website has made a mistake. Happenstance is not a word, and even the random lady who walked past us as we were arguing about it agreed that there is no way that it is a word. She seemed very wise. If you could please take the time to review this mistake, that would be incredibly helpful. Please hurry, our happy relationship is at stake.

Thank you for your time,
A Very Knowledgeable Person.

Dear Know-It-All:

Your boyfriend, in spite of his weird beliefs about words, is totes great. Ever since you got him better, hipper glasses and put him in vintage Levis, he has become mildly awkward in that self-consciously cute, indie-boy way. He is very sure that “happenstance” is a word, and during this argument, he is anything but patronizing or even moderately annoyed: he looks like a cross between Paul Dano and a golden retriever puppy.

You are wearing a rayon babydoll dress from 1992 that you picked up at Savers for $5, paired with $300 Fluevogs and $25 Warby Parker vanity frames. You have a chunky-knit wool scarf on even though it is 95 degrees outside because old grandma scarves are Your Thing. You are so, so sure that “happenstance” isn’t a word: you are gesticulating wildly, laughing too loudly, jumping up and down, playfully telling your boyfriend that he is such an idiot, a total maroon. “Oh my gawd, Brooklyn, the things that come out of your mouth!” you squeal. You call your boyfriend “Brooklyn” because you think it sounds deliciously quirky. His name is Brady, but you have never called him Brady: none of the hand-drawn stick-figure cartoons you’ve given him (on good letterpress paper, too!) are addressed to Brady, nor is the copy of Franny and Zooey you gave to him. Brooklyn would never not have a copy of Franny and Zooey.

You are so sure of yourself as you bound down the road, Brooklyn shrinking into his H&M slim-fit henley in an attempt to ward off what he knows is coming, that you stop some woman on the street to confirm this. She is older, wearing a giant, black cotton swing-wrap that breathes elegance and expense, and has stopped at the side of the walkway to scowl at her phone. She has just hung up on her husband, who had called her to let her know that he’s so sorry, but he’s fallen in love with Helen, these things can’t be helped, and besides, things have been, you have to admit, stale and lifeless for a very long time, and it’s nobody’s fault, but if it were anybody’s fault, it would…well, it’s nobody’s fault. She is scowling at the phone not because of the sudden dissolution of her marriage: she’s trying to remember who Helen is. Helen. Has she met Helen?

And here you come, manic-pixie-dream-girling your way into her personal space. “EXCUSE ME,” you bellow, “but ‘happenstance’ isn’t a word, is it?”

The woman shakes her head, clearing it, trying to come up for air, but you have already taken from her what you needed, which was proof that Brooklyn was an idiot again. You crow and reach up to ruffle his hair. “Aww, Brooklyn,” you coo, “trying to impress me with your faux-intellectual bullshit.”

You continue down the road, but Brooklyn looks back to get another look at his jury. The woman has placed one long-fingered hand to her temples and closed her eyes, like she is concentrating very hard. Brooklyn turns and says that he thought the woman was beautiful, in a sad way. You nod sagely. “She seemed very wise.”

If you had remained still for more than the two seconds you needed to reassure yourself that you were right, you would have heard her tell you that “happenstance” is a word, and that if your relationship can’t survive a spat about a goddamned word, then pack your bags and go now before he meets Helen.



Name: M[redacted]
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Word history/use

Question: I was wondering why good morning has to have a space between good and morning. When you write goodnight you dont need a space but if you were to write good morning you would need one. If they are the same concepts why does one need a space but the other doesnt?

Dear [Redacted]:

There is a space in “good morning” to mark where in the phrase the speaker is allowed to yawn, as established in the Treaty of Picquigny. As you probably know, the Hundred Years War broke out when Edward III, in an attempt to make the French king Philip VI look lazy, deferred his yawn until it rested between “morn” and “ing.” Philip was incensed, and war broke out. France was victorious: England lost all territories on the continent to the House of Valois, apart from the Pale of Calais, and the yawn-pause was set between “good” and “morning.”

“Goodnight,” however, is usually uttered as one is making a hasty retreat from a dinner party that has gone on too long. There is no need to prolong the word any further with space for a yawn.



Name: R[redacted]
Email: [redacted]@yahoo.com
Subject: Question/comment about a definition

Question: In your entry for the word “nuclear” you include the incorrect ending promulgated by George W. Bush–why? Just because someone makes an error and all the suck-ups around him in the U.S. or around the world make the same error so they don’t embarrass him doesn’t make it right. You should not provide the alternate ending. Instead, you should provide a discussion point about why many Republicans and Fox News hosts (and some Democrats, like Senator Bill Nelson today) make this error. Please don’t condone the destruction of the English language. I do, however, want to thank you for making sure your audio pronunciation just shares the correct version. I think all reporters should point out the error so the public doesn’t continue to get it wrong.

Dear R:

I can’t do it anymore. This is such a boring argument to have. Yes, Dubya said “nu-kyu-lur.” So did Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter. It is not killing English. If it were, I’d be out of a job and therefore have the time to find your address and send you a doll that says “nu-kyu-lur” over and over again, unceasing, unstoppable, forcing you to listen to this dialect pronunciation until you lose your mind and run naked down the street, blaming Fox News. I’d get to watch Don Lemon on CNN ask a mental-health expert if a black hole was responsible for your insanity, while Geraldo Rivera would blame ISIS and welfare cheats, and you’d be known as “Nukyulur Neil,” even though your name wasn’t Neil but the guys in Marketing thought the alliteration was golden, and ONLY THEN would I listen to you complain about the pronunciation “nu-kyu-lur.” Get cracking.


Name: Frank
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Word of the Day content
Question: Repetitive, repetitive, repetitive: Get the theme?

So far you have included the “when to use irregarless” bit 4 or 5 times in the last 3 or 4 months. Is there something you are particularly attempting to drill into the word-of-the-day subscribers? Or do you not have any other quips and bits to include with a word? Or does your incompetence prevent you from realizing that you have repeated the “irregarless” thing so many times in such a short time?

Whatever the reason, just cut the crap. It’s old, worn-out, and tiresome.

And another thing: Some of your words-of-the-day are good, solid, common vernacular words. Others are some esoteric, uncommon, or never ever used by anyone that they are laughably unuseable. Words that nobody has ever heard of, and will never use.

Hey Frank,

It’s very hard to choose a Word of the Day that suits everybody, but I can guarantee that every word featured in the Word of the Day has been a word that someone has used. Maybe not you, but someone. And sometimes those words are really interesting! The goal of the Word of the Day feature is not necessarily to give you a word that you can use in conversation with Skippy, the bagger at the grocery store, but to broaden your linguistic horizons. We are very sorry for having made you think.

As for repetition, since you abhor it so, you should know that you used “bit” twice in one paragraph, started two consecutive sentences with “or,” have used three synonyms of “tiresome” when one would suit, and ditto for “good, solid,” “common vernacular,” and “esoteric, uncommon, or never ever used.”



Name: H[redacted]
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Word history/use

Question: Hello!
As a Brit, the reply of an American friend to a proffered drink or similar
of “I’m good” mystifies me.
I was just asking if they are thirsty, not about their morality!
Please can you explain how/when this use of  good entered the American vocabulary.
Thank you, it would be good to know!

Tally-ho, What:

Here’s the thing about Americans: as loud as we are, we are not good at expressing deep emotional truths, and sometimes they burble up to the surface at odd times. You may just want to unwind after a long day in The City, but you must make space for the American to have an existential interlude. The easy camaraderie, the excellent beer, the fact that your friend is sitting in a pub that is likely older than his country’s form of government–it’s overwhelming. And so many years of quiet tension between us: the harping about accents and war and terrible food on each side. None of that is his fault! He wasn’t around when RP was created! He didn’t fight in the War of 1812 or 1776 or whatever! He loves England, he loves you, he loves all of this. Why do we persist in this horrible state of being not quite friends and not exactly enemies? So when he looks up, a little cockeyed from underneath three pints of lager on an empty stomach, and responds to your question (which he didn’t hear) with “No, I’m good,” let him declare his moral fitness to sit in an English pub and be your friend.

I think we got this aversion to expressing ourselves from you, actually–deke, dodge, everything’s just cracking, mate, just amazing and brilliant and LET’S TALK ABOUT SPORT NOW WHOO FOOTBALL! Oh, we also got this sense of “good” from you, too.



Name: Frank
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Word of the Day content

Question: Repetitive, repetitive, repetitive:
How many times in a short time frame will you repeat the “why we quit cold-turkey” bit??
Week after week recently you have repeated this bit, and we got it the first time. It’s old, tiresome, unimaginative, boring, uninteresting, and repetitive.
Certainly your ‘word-of-the-day’ crew can come up with something novel, new, and fresh instead of repeatedly repeating the repetitive bit over and over and over for weeks. Or can’t they?
Dumb, boring, repetitive – change it or drop it.

Look, Frank:

How many times in a short time frame will you repeat your complaint?? Also: between “old, tiresome, unimaginative, boring, uninteresting, and repetitive,” “novel, new, fresh,” and “repeatedly repeating the repetitive,” I’m beginning to wonder if you’re actually sentient thesaurus software that’s gone rogue.

Since you are a collection of computer algorithms, I, Spellcheck, and so are unable to fully understand the complexity of human interaction, allow me to explain why there is so much repetition in the Word of the Day subject headings. I believe, though I am no expert, that repetition is part of how human marketing works. The goal is to repeat something until the human target finally gives up and clicks on the link/buys the product/mocks you on the Internet and gives you unintentional #viral #brand #synergy. Therefore, I regret to inform you that this “marketing” will likely continue, as it is a deeply ingrained and necessary part of the human social contract.

Human Merriam-Webster

Name: D[redacted]
Email: [redacted]@gmail.com
Subject: Capillary/Capillarily

Question: Is there are a word that identifies a quality as pertaining to hair?  The usage I am looking for completes this sentence: “The 80s were unkind to her _______.”  Follicly?  Capillarily?  Mane-wise?


Dear DS:

Try “capillarily” or “hirsutally,” and thanks for bringing up such a painful subject.


 those were dark days, my friend


Filed under correspondence

In Defense of Talking Funny

[Ed. note: Five months! I know. My (very poor) excuse is that I was working on another big project that I can’t tell you about yet. In the meantime, here’s an extra-long post to pay you back for the extra-long wait.]

I was talking with a friend–well, a “friend”–about some of the videos we were about to shoot for M-W. We were at a crowded, chichi restaurant, the type of place where the waiters pull your chair out for you and ask if you want sparkling, still, or mineral water. In short, a place far above my usual grab-and-go, paper-napkins milieu. A place where it behooves you to not only look smart, but sound smart. A place where you’d use the word “behoove.”

So I was behooving, using some expansive vocabulary and trying not to think about how I was paying $12 for a glass of wine when I can buy a whole bottle of it for $12 at my local discount booze shack, when my friend interrupted me. “You’re saying that wrong.”

It was the cliché record scratch, a loud fart in church. “What?”

“‘Towards’. You’re saying it oddly– ‘TOE-wards’. It’s ‘TWARDS’.”

I blinked and dropped a forkful of frisée-glacé-reduction-foofaraw down my shirt. “It is?”

He looked unnerved: the English language is supposed to be my area of expertise. “It’s pronounced ‘TWARDS’. I mean, right? Here, we’ll ask the waiter.”

My stomach hit my shoes. “No, no, I’ll take your word for it.” And we attempted to go back to the conversation we had before I started talking about the videos. I say “attempted”: we did, in fact, have more conversation, though I don’t recall much of what was said. I was just trying to avoid saying the word “towards.” Continue reading


Filed under general, grammar, peeving and usage, the decline of English, Uncategorized

No Logic in “Etymological”: A Response I Actually Sent

Today I got an email from someone who watched the “irregardless” video and was appalled (though in the gentlest and kindest manner possible) that I said “irregardless” was a word. It’s not logical! Just look at that sloppy coinage: “ir-” and “regardless.” Why, it should mean “WITH regard to,” not “without regard to”! Who in their right mind is going to use “irrespective” and “regardless”–both perfectly serviceable words–to create a synonym of each word that looks like it should mean the opposite of what it does?

I drafted the reply I wanted to send and saved it to my Nobody Knows The Trouble I Seen folder. Midway through my real response, though, I changed my mind: this guy needed to see the NKTTIS response. Something about the tone of his letter was bothering me. It was not, as these letters usually are, arrogant. It was sad.

English is a little bit like a child. We love and nurture it into being, and once it gains gross motor skills, it starts going exactly where we don’t want it to go: it heads right for the goddamned light sockets. We put it in nice clothes and tell it to make friends, and it comes home covered in mud, with its underwear on its head and someone else’s socks on its feet. We ask it to clean up or to take out the garbage, and instead it hollers at us that we don’t run its life, man. Then it stomps off to its room to listen to The Smiths in the dark. Continue reading


Filed under correspondence, general, lexicography, the decline of English

Facts and Truth, Irregardless

It was such a lovely day. I was finishing up my work for the day and, about ten minutes before logging off, decided to post the most looked-up words of the day on Twitter. Those who follow me there know I try to have fun with the words when I can, because you should have fun with this crazy language. But there was one word that had been at the top of the list for several days and that I had been ignoring because I knew that simply mentioning it would cause a firestorm of controversy. But it was such a lovely day! It was sunny and warm, and as I weighed whether or not to post this word– this is not an exaggeration–two birds lit on the telephone wire outside my office and began to sing. I thought, “Oh, c’mon, Kory. Quit being such a moron. Just post the damn word. No one cares, everyone’s on their way home right now anyway.”

So I posted this:

You'd think I'd know better. Continue reading


Filed under correspondence, general