Suitcase Words -Portmanteaus

Anyone who knows the history of the Wicked Witch of West Texas is aware that during her Wickidity training she created some very obfuscative, or even confusing, portmanteaus. But, you may be wondering, "What the heck is a portmanteau, and why do we call it that?" Well, here's a little looksee at the term portmanteau and its origin. (In the future we will be posting an ongoing Wicktionary, or a Wicked dictionary, of the portmanteaus the WWWT created for her portmanteau primary.)

A Portmanteau is a suitcase, but it's also a kind of word. Lewis Carroll invented the concept of packing together more than one word (as if they were stuffed together into a suitcase) to combine their meanings into a new word. A commonly used example is "brunch," which is a meal served later than breakfast and earlier than lunch which comes with a slice of cantaloupe.

Here is a poem by Carroll called the Jaberwocky, for which you may want to consult this glossary to discover his meanings.

Jaberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Waitomo Glow Worm Caves

Waitomo, New Zealand's caves are home to a fabulous species of gnats, called Arachnocampa Luminosa, that, in their larval stage, create gorgeous displays that resemble a starry sky in the caves' interior.


Great Caves of the World

Fastest Binary Star

A binary star is a pair of twin stars that orbit one another in space around their shared center of mass. Recently astrophysicists, or star studiers, have discovered a binary system called HM Cancri has an orbit of just 5.4 minutes. This is the fastest known orbit of any star pair, which correlates to a speed of 310 miles per second. Much faster, and they would turn into an Ia supernova, which really just means a huge star explosion. No reports back, just yet, as to whether they have tacos that far out in space.

Clara Rockmore Plays "The Swan" On Theremin

Clara Rockmore, the greatest virtuouso of the Theremin, was an advocate for the instrument being taken seriously. She was born in Lithuania in 1911, and was admitted to the Imperial Conservatory in St. Petersburg at age five-- still the youngest person ever admitted. She studied violin but had to give it up due to a medical condition, but she then switched to Theremin, at the time a new instrument.

The theremin never really caught on, partly because of the incredible difficulty of playing the instrument with any accuracy. It relies on relative placement of the hands in thin air. The other factor was its association with horror movies, like in this clip:

Of course, those of us who must fight Wickidity find such musical interludes relaxing. Which only serves to remind us that she who fights Witches, must be ever on guard against becoming Wicked herself.

The theremin has enjoyed a bit of a geek-based revival in recent years, as a person can actually construct a basic one at home rather cheaply and easily. There are people, in fact, who will make virtually anything into a theremin, like these guys:

Theremin - An Electronic Odyssey

Poem for Saturday: Obsession

You forests, like cathedrals, are my dread:
You roar like organs. Our curst hearts, like cells
Where death forever rattles on the bed,
Echo your de Profundis as it swells.
My spirit hates you, Ocean! sees, and loathes
Its tumults in your own. Of men defeated
The bitter laugh, that's full of sobs and oaths,
Is in your own tremendously repeated.
How you would please me, Night! without your stars
Which speak a foreign dialect, that jars
On one who seeks the void, the black, the bare.
Yet even your darkest shade a canvas forms
Whereon my eye must multiply in swarms
Familiar looks of shapes no longer there.

by Charles Baudelaire, from Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil)
Les Fleurs Du Mal

The Jackalope Conspiracy

Wow. There's a whole blog devoted to the vast conspiracy to hide evidence of real jackalope existence from the public. It's called: the Jackalope Conspiracy. And some of you had probably bought into the "official" story that the Jackalope doesn't exist? Those of you who did, you know who you are, are going to feel pretty silly now. Check it out. History of the elusive jackalope can be had at SF Gate. The above image is by Albrecht Durer (21 May 1471 – 6 April 1528), which only proves how enduring the legend of the jackalope is...

Poem for Thursday: Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh ! that deep romantic chasm
 which slanted Down the green hill
 athwart a cedarn cover ! A savage place !
as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover ! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced : Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail : And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war !

The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves ; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !

A damsel with a dulcimer,

In a vision once I saw :

It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played, 
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Complete Poems (Penguin Classics)