Etching

Etching (pronounced ech-ing)

(1) The art, act or process of making designs or pictures on a metal plate, glass etc, by the corrosive action of an acid instead of by a burin.

(2) An impression, as on paper, taken from an etched plate.

(3) The design so produced.

(4) A flat (usually metal) plate bearing such a design.

1625–1635: The construct was etch + -ing.  The verb etch was from the Dutch etsen (to engrave by eating away the surface of with acids), from the German ätzen (to etch), from the Old High German azzon (to cause to bite or feed), from the Proto-Germanic atjaną, causative of etaną (to eat), from the primitive Indo-European root ed- (to eat) (from these sources English gained “eat”).  The suffix –ing was from the Middle English -ing, from the Old English –ing & -ung (in the sense of the modern -ing, as a suffix forming nouns from verbs), from the Proto-West Germanic –ingu & -ungu, from the Proto-Germanic –ingō & -ungō. It was cognate with the Saterland Frisian -enge, the West Frisian –ing, the Dutch –ing, The Low German –ing & -ink, the German –ung, the Swedish -ing and the Icelandic –ing; All the cognate forms were used for the same purpose as the English -ing).  The “etching scribe” was a needle-sharp steel tool for incising into plates in etching and the production of dry points.  Etching is a noun & verb; the noun plural is etchings.

The noun was the present participle and gerund of etch (the verbal noun from the verb etch) and was used also in the sense of “the art of engraving”; by the 1760s, it was used also to mean “a print etc, made from an etched plate" and the plates themselves.  The term etching (to cut into a surface with an acid or other corrosive substance in order to make a pattern) is most associated with the creation of printing plates for the production of artistic works but the technique was used also as a way to render decorative patterns on metal.  In modern use, it’s also a term used in the making of circuit boards.  In idiomatic use (often as “etched in the memory”), it’s used of events, ideas etc which are especially memorable (for reasons good and ill) and as a slang word meaning “to sketch; quickly to draw”.  The Etch A Sketch drawing toy was introduced 1960 by Ohio Art Company; a kind of miniature plotter, it was a screen with two knobs which moved a stylus horizontally & vertically, displacing an aluminum powder to produce solid lines.  To delete the creation, the user physically shook the device which returned the powder to its original position, blanking the screen.

Rembrandt's Jan Asselyn, Painter (1646) (left) and Faust (circa 1652).  Rembrandt (Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606-1669)) wasn’t the most prolific etcher but remains among the most famous and his output provides an illustrative case-study in the evolution of his mastering of the technique, his early work really quite diffident compared with his later boldness.

What came to be known as etching gained the name from the Germanic family of words meaning “eat & “to eat”, the transferred sense an allusion to the acid which literally would “eat the metal”.   Etching is an intaglio (from the Italian intagliare (to engrave)) technique in printmaking, a term which includes methods such as hard and soft ground etching, engraving, dry-point, mezzotint and aquatint, all of which use an ink transferring process.  In this, a design is etched into a plate, the ink added over the whole surface plate before a scrim (historically starched cheesecloth) is used to force the ink into the etched areas and remove any excess.  Subsequently, the plate (along with dampened paper) is run through a press at high pressure, forcing the paper into etched areas containing the ink.  The earliest known signed and dated etching was created by Swiss Renaissance goldsmith Urs Graf (circa 1485-circa 1525) in 1513 and it’s from those who worked with gold that almost all forms of engraving are ultimately derived.

Lindsay Lohan, 1998, rendered in the style of etchings.

A phrase which was so beloved by comedy writers in the early-mid twentieth century that it became a cliché was “Want to come up and see my etchings?”, a euphemism for seduction.  Probably now a “stranded phrase”, the saying was based on some fragments of text in a novel by Horatio Alger Jr (1832–1899), a US author regarded as the first to formalize as genre fiction the “rags-to-riches” stories which had since the early days of the republic been the essence of the “American Dream” although it wasn’t until the twentieth century the term came into common use (often it’s now used ironically).

The practice of making etchings, woodcuts or engravings of famous paintings became popular, both artistically and commercially (which may for this purpose be much the same thing) in the late sixteenth century and developed over the next 250-odd years, an evolution tied closely to technological progress in printmaking and the materials available to artists.  The trend seems to have been accelerated by the spread in northern Europe (notably certain districts in Antwerp, Rome and Paris) of copperplate etching & engraving and while it may be dubious to draw conclusions from the works which have survived, the artists most re-produced clearly included Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, circa 1490-1576), Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) and Michelangelo (Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni; 1475–1564), the most prolific in the business of reproductive engraving including the Dutch specialist Cornelis Cort (circa 1533–circa 1578 and known in Italy where he spent his final years as Cornelio Fiammingo) and the Flemish Sadeler family, scions of which operated in many European cities.

Melencolia I (Melancholy I (1514)), etching by the German painter & printmaker Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528).

By the seventeenth century, the practice was well established and an entrenched part of the art market, fulfilling some of the functions which would later be absorbed by photography and Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), among others, employed in his studio engravers whose task was to reproduce his paintings for sale with those etchings available in a variety of sizes (and thus price-points so there’s little which is new in the structures of the modern art market).  Again, in the eighteenth century, technological determinism interplayed with public taste as techniques were refined to adapt the works to what wasn’t exactly a production line but certainly an arrangement which made possible larger and more rapid volumes with printing houses commissioning runs (which could be in the hundreds) of engravings following (faithfully and not) British and Continental paintings, advances in mezzotint meaning a greater tonal range had become possible, mimicking the light and shade of oil paintings.  In genteel homes, various institutions and even museums, it was entirely respectable to have hanging: “prints after the Old Masters”.

But as technology giveth, so can it taketh away and it was the late eighteenth century invention of lithography and, a few decades later photography, which triggered a decline in demand, the constantly improving quality of the new mediums gradually displacing reproductive etching in the marketplace although the tradition didn’t die as artists such as Francisco Goya (1746–1828), Eugène Delacroix (1798–1863) and Édouard Manet (1832–1883) maintained (or, in a sense, “revived”) etching as a creative rather than reproductive discipline and historians regards the early-mid nineteenth century as the era in which etching became a legitimate genre in art and not merely a means cheaply of distributing representations of existing works.

Self portrait: reflection (1996), etching by Lucian Freud (1922–2011).

Under modern copyright law, as a general principle, the selling of etchings of works still in copyright is not lawful without the permission from the holder of the rights and while details differ between jurisdictions, the basic rule of modern law (the Berne Convention, EU directives, national statutes) is that the sale (or even public display) of a reproduction or derivative work (the latter something which obviously follows without being an obvious duplicate of a copyrighted artwork) requires the consent of the copyright owner.  That protection tends in most jurisdictions to last 70 years after the death of the artist (the “life + 70” rule) and what matters is not that a reproduction is new (in the sense of the physical object) but that it is derivative because (1) to a high degree it emulates the composition, form(s), and expression of the original and (2) in appearance it to a high degree resembles a pre-existing, protected work.  Thus, if produced and offered for sale without permission, the object will infringe on the rights of whoever holds exclusive or delegated rights of reproduction or adaptation.  With exact or close replicas it’s not difficult for court to determine whether rights have been violated but at the margins, such as where works are “in the style of”, of “influenced by”, judgments are made on a case-by-case basis, the best publicized in recent years being those involving pop music.

The Lovers (circa 1528), etching by Parmigianino (Girolamo Francesco Maria Mazzola, 1503-1540) of the Italian Mannerist school.

All that means is one (usually) can sell reproductions of works by those dead for at least 70 years and even works “in their style” as long as there’s no attempt to misrepresent them as the product of their original artist’s hand.  There are in copyright exceptions such as “fair dealing” & “fair use” but their range is narrow and limited to fields such as criticism, review, education or satire and does not extend to normal commercial transactions.  Additionally, there’s a work-around in that if something is found to have been sufficiently “transformed”, it can be regarded as a new work but this exception tightly is policed and the threshold high.  Additionally, in recent years, as museums and galleries have put content on-line, what has emerged is the additional complication of such an institution hanging on its walls paintings long out of copyright yet asserting copyright on its commissioned photographs of those works.  That development must have delighted lawyers working in the lucrative field but the courts came to read-down the scope, most following the principles explained in an action before the US Federal District Court (Bridgeman Art Library v. Corel Corp., 36 F. Supp. 2d 191 (S.D.N.Y. 1999), which held (1) copyright in a photograph can in many cases exist but, (2) if a photograph is a “purely mechanical copy of a public-domain work” there usually no protection, even if the taking of the image required technical skill in lighting, angle selection and such.

Morphinomanes (Morphine Addicts, 1887), etching and and drypoint by French artist Albert Besnard (1849–1934).

There was still something for the lawyers because inherently there remained two separate layers of rights at play: (1) copyright (intellectual property) which belongs usually to the artist or their estate and (2) the property rights (ownership of the physical object) which are held by whomever may possess lawful title to the object (this may align with possession but not of necessity).  In other words a museum will likely own the paint & canvas yet not the copyright, something analogous with the discovery made by the few diligent souls who troubled themselves to read the small print they’d agreed to when installing software: in most cases one had lawful title to the physical media (diskette, CD, DVD etc) but often nothing more than a revocable licence to use a single instance of the software. It’s possible lawfully to produce and sell etchings of Goya (the artist having had the decency to drop dead more than 70 years ago) but one may not without permission reproduce or trace from a museum’s copyrighted photo of a Goya (and institutions sometimes maintain separate conditions of use for low and high-resolution images).  Even if one paints, draws or etches by hand, depending on this and that, a court can still hold there’s been a “substantial reproduction” of the composition, colour and such has been effected and thus there’s been an infringement of the underlying copyright.  So, the rules in this area are (1) proceed with caution if producing art not wholly original and (2) if a young lady is asked: “Want to come up and see my etchings?”, she should proceed with caution.

Nurdle

Nurdle (pronounced nhur-dl)

(1) In cricket, to work the ball away gently, especially to the leg side, gently nudging the delivery into vacant spaces on the field; such a shot played.

(2) In conversation, gently to waffle or muse on a subject about which once obviously knows little.

(3) In manufacturing, a pre-production micro-plastic pellet about the size of a pea, the raw material used in the manufacture of plastic products.

(4) In marine ecology as plastic resin pellet pollution (PRPP); marine debris.

(5) The depiction of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting on a toothbrush.

(6) That which is squeezed from tube to toothbrush.

(7) In the game of tiddlywinks (as nurdling), sending an opponent's wink too close to the pot to score easily. 

Circa 1968: In the context of cricket, it’s of unknown origin but presumably some sort of blend, influenced possibly by “nerd” & “nudge”, the meaning conveyed being a style of play that is cautious, unambitious and unexciting; the slow accumulation of a score; there’s been the suggestion of a link with “noodle” but it’s hard to see the connection and there's no documentary evidence.  The earliest known citation is a 1985 match report in The Times (London).  The small, cylindrical pellets, the raw material of the manufacturing processes of many plastic products, have been called nurdles since at least the 1970s, a reference from that time noted in the manuals supplied with an injection-molding machine.  The word is likely to have been coined either because of the physical similarity of the pellets to some types of noodle or as a variation of nodule (a small node or knot) and plastic nurdles have for decades been recorded as a significant proportion of marine pollution.  As used to describe the toothbrush-length squirt of toothpaste as it sits atop the bristles, the origin is murky but may be linked to nodule.  There have been suggestions the use by the ADA (American Dental Association) in the 1990s in a public-service advertising campaign about the correct technique for brushing may have been the coining but the word was used in toothpaste advertising as early as 1968 although the original spelling seems for some time to have been “nerdle”.  Nurdle is a noun & verb and nurdled & nurdling are verbs; the noun plural is nurdles.  The adjective nurdlesque is non-standard but has been used by at least one cricket commentator not impressed by a batsman's slot selection.

The Triple Action: The Great Nurdle Affair

Previously little discussed before courts, the nurdle received some brief attention when a trademark-infringement lawsuit (Colgate-Palmolive Co v. GlaxoSmithKline LLC, US District Court, Southern District of New York, No. 10-05728) was filed in July 2010 by GlaxoSmithKline (GSK), makers of Aquafresh “Triple Protection” toothpaste, against Procter & Gamble (P&G), owners of the Colgate “Triple Action” brand.  Almost immediately, P&G counter-sued in the same court with the retaliatory GlaxoSmithKline LLC v. Colgate-Palmolive, No. 10-05739.  One was seeking, inter alia, the exclusive right to depict a nurdle, the other claiming the image was so generic the right could be exercised by anyone.

Battle of the nurdles: P&G's Colgate Triple Action (top) and GSK's Aquafresh Triple Protection (bottom).

The disputes hinged on “triple” as a descriptor and “nurdle”, not as a word but as the image of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting atop the bristles on the head of a toothbrush.  GSK's core argument was that it held trademark registrations on both “triple protection” and a red, white & blue-striped nurdle.  P&G argued “triple protection” was weak and that a nurdle is inherently merely descriptive because it is but a literal image of the product.  What the court had to decide was whether a reasonable consumer, on seeing the nurdle and “triple action” text description on packages of Colgate toothpaste, could be sufficiently misled to believe what they were looking at was sourced, sponsored or endorsed by GSK which used both on their Aguafresh brand.

GSK’s nurdle.

In a filing of some eighty pages, P&G noted its recent release in the US of a toothpaste with packaging which superimposes the words “Triple Action” (the implication being (1) cavity protection, (2) fresh breath & (3), whiter teeth) atop a blue, white and green nurdle.  In response, GSK, which used the “Triple Protection” phrase on its Aquafresh products, filed a trademark application for the "nurdle design" regardless of color; this induced P&G to sue to enforce its rights to use the nurdle.  P&G further noted GSK did not file their application until after they had already complained about P&G’s nurdle design and suggested GSK was using the process to stifle competition by asserting an excessively broad scope for trademark rights.

P&G’s nurdles, registered by Colgate as trademarks. 

GSK’s filing was only half the length and accused P&G of adopting various nurdle designs and the “Triple Action” mark in an effort to “trade off the commercial magnetism” of GSK own packaging which had since 1987 included a distinctive red, white and blue nurdle, an argument which implied elements of both usurpation and ambush marketing.  P&G asked the court to declare its “Triple Action” phrase and interpretation of the nurdle not confusingly similar to GSK’s own “Triple Protection” phrase and nurdle which used distinctively different colors.  It sought also have the court (1) cancel GSK’s “Triple Protection” and nurdle trademark registrations and (2), deny such injunctive relief that would have prevented P&G from using any nurdle design and a phrase containing “triple”.  Damages were sought on several grounds including punitive damages.  It was a case of some commercial significance given GSK had deployed the nurdle as a cartoon character in a marketing campaign aimed at children, the idea being that if children pestered their parents enough to buy Aquafresh for them, it was likely they’d gain the whole family as a conquest (a lesson well learned by countless manufacturers).  The nurdle campaign ran on Nurdle World in the US and The Nurdle Shmurdle in the UK.

Post settlement: Colgate Triple Action with a visually different nurdle.

Late in 2011, the parties announced a notice of settlement had been filed in the court; a confidential settlement had been negotiated.  The details have never been made public but a review of supermarket shelves suggests (1) the red, white & blue GSK nurdle is acknowledged to be propriety, (2) a nurdle nevertheless remains generic and can be depicted as long as it is sufficiently distinguished from GSK’s 1987 original and (3) things claiming to be of or pertaining to happening in threes may be described as “triple” whatever but, in the context of toothpaste, “triple protection” is a GSK trademark.  P&G could thus display a nurdle, just not GSK’s nurdle.  So, as a private settlement, there’s no change to established law but those inhabiting that gray area between ambush marketing and actual deceptive and misleading conduct no doubt took note.  A judge might anyway find the outcome in accordance with the operation of trademark law: a trademarked image as specific as the GSK nurdle is entitled to protection but, as a general principle, a word as notoriously common as “triple” is the property of the commons available to all.

Doramad Radioactive Toothpaste.

In Germany, between the 1920s and the end of World War II (1939-1945), nurdles could be radio-active, toothpaste there sold with trace amounts for thorium obtained from monazite sands, the promotional material of which read: “Increases the defenses of teeth and gums” & “Gently polishes the dental enamel, so it turns white and shiny”.  Although known since at least the mid-1920s, it was only in the aftermath of the A-bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945) that the adverse effects of ionizing radiation in high or sustained does became widely recognized, rendering radio-active toothpaste an undesirable product in the minds of mothers everywhere.  Although radio-active toothpaste sounds evil, the Nazis can't be blamed for it being on the shelves, its debut dating from the Weimar Republic (1918-1933).  

Save Paste structural concept for toothpaste packaging.

From the days when folk made their own toothpaste by mixing water, salt and the soot from chimneys, toothpaste has become one of the sometimes unacknowledged markers of civilized life.  The packaging though has been little changed since 1889 when J&J (Johnson & Johnson) introduced their range in collapsible metal tubes.  The switch from metal to plastic happened over decades, necessitated initially by wartime shortages but by the 1990s, tubes were almost universally plastic.  Despite that, the fundamental design remained unchanged and was often inherently inefficient, supplied in a cardboard box, much of the internal capacity of which was unused because of the shape of the tube.  The design added cost and induced adverse environmental outcomes because (1) the box was unnecessary and immediately discarded and (2), the surplus volume added to the costs of storage and transportation.  One interesting suggestion has been the trapezoidal package.

By using a single cardboard container as both collapsible container and display packaging, it eliminates the need for a separate box.  Also, if designed with the correct geometry, multiple trapezoidal containers can more efficiently be packed for transportation and storage, thereby reducing the energy expended.  This simple trick of packaging. if extended to all products sold in tubes should result in a significant reduction in energy consumption (road, rail and air transport) and therefore in greenhouse emissions.  Additionally, the carboard is more easily recycled than plastic. 

One thing toothpaste manufacturers seem never anxious to discuss is the opinion of many experts that GSK’s classic nurdle, extending the length of the brush-head, is way too much and adults should instead use a nurdle no bigger than a pea.  Restraint when squeezing out a nurdle for children should be even more severe because of the risk when young of swallowing too much toothpaste containing fluoride: it increases the risk dental fluorosis, a cosmetic condition that affects the appearance of the teeth, ranging from brown and light discoloration to darker strains and even pitting.  On a very young child’s brush, rather than a plump nurdle, the toothpaste should just be a smear although they can use an adult's pea-sized nurdle after the age of three.  The BDA (British Dental Association) summarize best practice by recommending: (1) the correct amount of toothpaste for most people to use is a pea size, (2) brush at least twice daily, with a fluoridated toothpaste, brush last thing at night and at least on one other occasion; if possible brush after every meal, (3) use a fluoridated toothpaste (1,350–1,500 ppm fluoride) and (4), spit out after brushing and do not rinse (this maintains the fluoride concentration level).

Have nurdle, will brush: Lindsay Lohan on the set of HBO's Eastbound & Down (2013), brushing teeth while smoking.

It's an unusual combination but might work OK if one smokes a menthol cigarette and uses a nurdle of mint toothpaste; other combinations might clash.  That said, those adventurous enough to experiment and with the patience to shop internationally for toothpaste can try alternative flavours of nurdle and work out which best combines with their tobacco of choice.  Telford Dentistry undertook a survey and discovered manufacturers have used various recipes to concoct an extraordinary range of choices beyond the familiar mint.  The offerings in the EU (European Union) appear to be regionally specific with sweetness increasing as one heads south but licorice, salt, eucalyptus and ratanhia root may all available on-line.  The UK seems to be less adventurous with plain or mint variants almost universal although there are brands offering eucalyptus and it’s tempting to believe dour highland Scots still prefer the traditional mix of soot & salt.  In the US, there’s definitely a national sweet tooth because cinnamon, vanilla, bubblegum and a range of “novelty flavours” (birthday cake, bacon cucumber-dil and Pickle!) are advertised, often targeted at children (or, more accurately, their parents), encouraging them to brush by making the nurdles taste like candy.  East of Suez there’s much variety.  In Japan, there’s matcha, yuzu, wasabi and charcoal while Indian retailers offer neem, clove, miswak, and tulsi and in South East Asia and beyond there’s probably the most delicious sounding variety including Mango, Coconut, Clove Oil, & Betel Leaf.

Jail

Jail (pronounced jeyl)

(1) A prison (in some places used generally of institutions of incarceration, in others tending to be applied to structures used for the detention of those awaiting trial or convicted of minor offenses).

(2) To take into or hold in lawful custody; to imprison; to incarcerate.

(3) In horse racing, the condition created by the requirement that a horse claimed in a claiming race not be run at another track for some period of time (usually 30 days).

(4) In dodgeball (and related games), the area where players who have been struck by the ball are confined.

(5) In computing, as used by certain variants of Linux, an implementation of a sandbox in which can be run an instance of another OS (operating system).

1225–1275: From the Middle English gayole, gaylle, gaille, gayle, gaile, gaiole, jaiole & jaile, from the Old North French gaiole, gayolle & gaole and the Old French jaiole (cage), from the Medieval Latin gabiola, from the Vulgar Latin gaviola, a variant of the Late Latin caveola (small cage, cell), diminutive of the Classical Latin cavea (cavity, coop, cage).  Regionalism in language was one more common (especially in eras when population movement (particularly in rural areas)) was more limited and the two spellings in the Old French variants reflect the independent linguistic evolutions, the spelling “gaole” indicative of a pronunciation in use until the seventeenth century.  It fully displaced the native Middle English quartern (prison, jail, cell), from the Old English cweartern (jail, prison) and partially displaced the native Middle English lok, from the Old English loc (enclosure, pen; jail, prison) (from which English gained “lock”) and the Middle English carcern, from the Old English carcern, from the Latin carcer (prison, jail).  In the Old English, there were many words meaning jail (regionalism also a factor here) including heaþor & heolstorloca (the latter meaning also “jail cell”), clūstorloc, dung (the latter meaning also also “dungeon”), hlinræced, nirwþ, nīedcleofa, hearmloca and nearu.  Jail & jailing are nouns & verbs; enjail, rejail, jailor (or jailer) & jailoress (or jaileress) are nouns, jailed & enjailed are verbs, jailless, jailish, jailable, nonjailable & jaillike are adjectives; the noun plural is jails.

In English, there are seeming anomalies which must baffle those learning the tongue and make them wonder how such a messy and sometimes inconsistent language became something of the world’s lingua franca.  Were it possible to have a committee edit the lexicon and eliminate the pointlessly troublesome, not only might something be done about homophones like “razed” (demolished) and “raised” (built) but the “gaol” (still used in parts of the English-speaking world to mean “jail”) would be retired and “jail” would become universal.  Jail as a noun dates from the thirteenth century and the persistence of “gaol” as the preferred form in the UK is attributed to the continued use in statutes and other official documents although there may also have been some reluctance to adopt “jail” because this had come to be regarded as an Americanism.

Some idiomatic and slang uses

Things to find on the web.

A “jailbreak” literally is “an escape from jail” but it was adopted in the ecosystem created by the computer industry to refer to modification to the hardware or firmware of an electronic device (mobile phones, tablets, gaming consoles etc) to allow the installation and use of software not officially supported or explicitly excluded by the manufacturer.  With the coming of AI (artificial intelligence) LLMs (large language models), jailbreak also became the term for a prompt which in some way bypasses any ethical restrictions imposed by the vendor.  In ice hockey, the jailbreak is a rule applied in some leagues under which a penalty is ended if the short-handed team scores; the goal scored in such circumstances is a jailbreak.  Any prisoner who emerges from jail (whether by a jailbreak or by more regular means) is said to be a “jailbird” and there are more than a dozen formal & informal terms for “jail” including slammer, hoosegow, jailhouse, big house, Uncle Sam’s hotel etc.

2022 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Redeye Widebody Jailbreak in Go Mango with satin black accents over black Laguna leather and Alcantara upholstery.  Because of the design of the front splitter, this model was supplied ex-factory with the one-piece yellow "underwire". 

Unexpectedly, during the 2010s, "underwire" entered the lexicon of automotive slang when it was used to describe a plastic part fitted temporarily as a protective piece.  The yellow plastic fitting (pictured above on the leading edge of the Challenger's splitter) was called a "splitter guard" which was unimaginative but the factory didn't envisage them as consumer items and the term was merely explanatory for the information of those preparing cars for sale.  Installed to prevent damage during shipping, it was part of dealer preparation instructions to remove the pieces but leaving them attached became a cult and some cars were even retro-fitted.  An element in that was the "end of an era" vibe and large number of the vehicles in Dodge's "Last Call" runs (of which there were many) were purchased as investments to be stored away for the day when V8s are no longer produced and collectors will be anxious to pay much for the way things used to be done.  How well that will work out remains to be seen but with the "Last Call" runs typically in batches of more than 3000, most of them weren't, in collectable terms, especially rare.  

2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170 Jailbreak in Panther Pink with satin black accents over black Alcantara and Laguna leather.

In the Demon 170 Jailbreak program, there were 40 exclusive paint colors and this is the sole example in Panther Pink.  The model was rated at 1025 HP and, with a different design of front splitter, was fitted with a two-piece underwire.  The first Supermarine Spitfires and Hawker Hurricanes which in 1940 fought the Messerschmitt Bf 109s & Bf 110s in English skies during the Battle of Britain were rated at 1030 HP and while the power characteristics of car and aeroplane were very different, the numbers are indicative of 80-odd years of progress. 

Dealers cautioned against the trend, noting the pieces weren't specifically molded to ensure a perfect fit so dirt and moisture were prone to being trapped in the gaps and this could scuff the paint.  They were known also as "damage guards" and "scuff guards" but more imaginative souls dubbed them the "underwire" while serious students of such things suggested a better simile might have been "pastie", while acknowledging Chrysler followed the lead of the underwear manufacturers in having available both single and two-piece "underwires" although this was coincidental and deterministic, dictated by the splitter design.  Women have been known to remove from bras especially intrusive underwires (a "comfort thing") but whether on splitters they were kept or discarded might have seemed an improbable subject for dispute but with cars, men always find a reason to argue about something.  Although probably it would have preferred to discuss horsepower, superchargers and such, Chrysler noted the cultural phenomenon and, while obviously reluctant to upset either faction, did issue a statement to a magazine which had requested comment:

"The splitter guards on Dodge Charger and Challenger have taken on a life of their own. They originally made their debut in the 2015 model year to protect the performance fascias on SRT models during shipment from the manufacturing facility to the dealer, and, yes, they are designed to be removed before delivery.  But today, they have their own Facebook page, and many of our performance enthusiasts have active debates on whether to keep or remove them. Some owners say they are even selling them in the aftermarket.  Obviously, they weren't part of the original design, so we started with yellow guards and shifted to pink, but they are still so popular that we may shift them yet again to black. Wherever we land, this is another example of how our customers are passionate about every part of their Dodge muscle cars."

1970 Dodge Challenger hardtop 440 Six Pack in Panther Pink High Impact (code FM3) over black vinyl (code X9) with houndstooth cloth inserts (code 5).  On the Challenger, Panther Pink (FM3) was offered only in the spring of 1970.

By the twenty-first century, long done were the days in the early 1950s when Chrysler Corporation was run by men with an ethos that cars should be designed so “a gentleman can drive one while wearing his hat” and if that dictated stodgy looking vehicles, so be it.  That changed with the release of the 1955 range and from then on, for better or worse it was all about style but by the early 2000s, the company reached the same conclusion as GM (General Motors) and Ford: automotive aesthetics attained their peak in the late 1960s and what’s been done since hasn’t been as good.  Accordingly, for the release of the third generation (although many don’t count the second because it was a badge-engineered Japanese import) Challenger (2008-2023), Dodge produced a most accomplished re-imagining of the first (1970-1974), a vehicle which was a costly commercial failure although that was due more to external conditions than the thing’s dynamic qualities.  Between 2008-2023 the Challenger was produced in a bewildering number of variants, many with some of the longer multi-part model names and it’s doubtful if any but the most devoted fan-boys could either recall or deconstruct the configuration of them all.

Designer colors and more: Publicity shot for the Porsche Sonderwunsch programme; note the rubber laid down on the concrete.

On intriguing piece of nomenclature was “Jailbreak” which Chrysler’s marketing types picked up from the use in various sub-cultures to circumvent manufacturers’ restrictions on devices like smartphones although this was a case of Dodge “hacking itself” (using “hack” loosely) because the Jailbreak “customization program” was explained as a way in which buyers could bypass the previous limitations on what could be ordered with which, enabling them to “mix ’n’ match”.  The concept is of course familiar in the fiscally rarefied air breathed in placed like the Porsche Sonderwunsch (special request) office but it wasn’t new to Detroit, Cadillac in the happy days of the 1960s, despite in a typical year offering literally over a hundred combinations of interior & exterior combinations also offered buyers the chance to make “special requests”.  There's no record of Cadillac attempting to act as the "good taste police" and presumably if some buyer did ask for an aesthetically dubious combination, duly it was built although the factory did refuse to use light colors on dashboard pads or package shelves because of the risk of reflections in the glass.  The deviations from the production line rationalization which was designed for optimal efficiency of course came at a cost and took additional time but everything was priced at a level to ensure the profitability to which Cadillac had become accustomed.

The jailbreak programme was also available on the Charger.

For Dodge the Jailbreak programme was run on similar lines and while not quite an “anything goes” approach, it was more permissive and for the Challenger’s final two seasons (2022-2023), buyers of SRT Hellcat or SRT Hellcat Redeye models could “fine-tune” things like paint, interior trim, wheels, stripes, badges and other items in a way the factory had not previously permitted.  As icing on the jailbreak cake, the SRT Hellcat Redeye Jailbreak cars received a more potent engine, rated at 807 horsepower, a number which would have seemed a fantasy in the era of the second generation Challenger when the most powerful engine offered probably generated (in comparable terms) around 435-445 HP.

The Royal Navy's Battle Cruisers opening fire in the opening stages of the Battle of Jutland, 31 May 1916, (1919), oil on canvas by Lionel Wyllie (1851–1931).

Fought in 1916 between the UK’s Royal Navy and the Navy of the German Empire (the so-called “Second Reich”), the battle of Jutland in 1916 was the closest the world got to the clash on the high seas of fleets of dreadnoughts, an event the navalists and theorists had for a generation be expecting or hankering.  For a variety of reasons it proved anti-climatic (though at a cost of over 8,000 lives) but while a tactical victory for the Germans (in terms of ships sunk or damaged and causalities), strategically the British succeeded in ensuring for the rest of of World War I (1914-1918) their opponents were confined to a pocket of the Baltic, denied access to the North Sea and thus the Atlantic; this enabled the Royal Navy’s blockade of Germany to be maintained.  Summing up, the New York Times concluded: “The prisoner gave his jailor a bloody nose but at the end of the day was back behind bars in his jail cell.”  Barely noticed except in the halls of the admiralties (where it made a great impression) was the vulnerability of the battlecruiser, a class of ship of which much had been expected although at Jutland they were used in a way the theorists who suggested the configuration had neither intended nor recommended.

The concept of a “black jail” is ancient; it’s a jail where people can, for whatever reason, be imprisoned by some agency of state, often in secret and with no recourse to legal remedies or other procedures.  It can be thought of as a particular example of “being disappeared” and the use of such institutions was the origin of the judicial writ of habeas corpus (from the Latin habeas corpus ad subjiciendum (“You (shall) have the body to be subjected to (examination)”) which in the common law tradition can be translated as “bring them before the court so the lawfulness of their detention may be assessed”.  First seen in England in the twelfth century, the writ to this day remains (in Western nations) one of the core protections afforded to citizens.  In 2002, shortly after it invaded the place as an administrative convenience, the US established such a jail in Afghanistan and apparently it was controlled by the Department of Defence’s (now again the Department of War) intelligence office and staff from Army Special Operations although other agencies were known to have provided “specialized services”.  Existing always on a “neither confirm nor deny” basis, the US Black Jail was an example of the way things get done when it’s required to process irregular combatants in extreme conditions.

It illustrated too the use of language: Among nations party to the relevant conventions, whereas prisoners of war (ie those combatants who meet the definition) are held in “PoW (prisoner of war) Camps” and never lose their military status; others can end up in “jails”.  Of course, it can’t be certain organs of the state in some Western countries aren’t still in secret maintaining “black jails”, possibly without the knowledge of elected governments.  The system of concentration camps created during the Third Reich (1933-1945) began as a way for the state to regularize what had unexpectedly “sprung-up” as a number of “black jails” created informally by party members to imprison their many opponents and enemies.  It was a classic example of the essentially criminal, gangster nature of the Nazi state and while the authorities didn’t object to most of those in the black jails being incarcerated, they wanted it done on an organized, professional basis.  Structurally, the operation of the concentration camps was also a microcosm of the whole Nazi project: Those who could send victims to the camps or have them released had no say of what happened within the camps while those running the places could order neither an individual’s jailing nor their release.

Jail juice comes pre-packaged.

In 2011, the Salt Lake Tribune reported a case of botulism in jail juice fermented in a cell in the Utah State Prison, the source traced to a “bad” potato.  The prisoner responsible for the brew (containing powdered juice mix and several types of fresh and canned fruit) told medical staff he added the “two-week old baked potato” because he thought it would “accelerate fermentation”.

Jail juice is prison slang (originally a US form but now widely used, even beyond the English-speaking world) for the various forms of improvised alcoholic beverages (typically fermented) brewed in correctional facilities.  There are other slang forms of the concoctions including “prison hooch”, “swish”, “prison wine”, “toilet wine” & “loaf brew” (some forms of white bread said to be a good additive in the process once crumbed) but most descriptive was “pruno”.  Dating from the late 1930s, the name was derived from the use of prunes, then in ample supply in many US prison kitchens.  The term pruno became generic, later applied regardless of the fruit used in the fermentation.  A “phone jail” is a place (usually in schools) in which the mobile phones of students are locked away for certain durations (which can be short or the whole school day).  “Jailbait” describes someone (almost always female) who is (1) obviously sexually mature yet (2) was (or appeared to be) under the legal age of consent and was (3) considered attractive or seductive.  The term references the legal concept of statutory rape under which an adult engaging in consensual sexual relations with someone under whatever is the relevant age in that jurisdiction can convicted and jailed.

Lindsay Lohan “Mug Shots” coffee mugs.

In November, 2011, in a hearing held at Los Angeles Superior Court Airport branch, Lindsay Lohan was sentenced to 30 days in jail at Lynwood's Century Regional Detention Facility.  The penalty was imposed after she admitted violating the terms of her probation from a 2007 DUI (driving under the influence) case; she had failed to attend community service appointments at a Los Angeles women's shelter.  However, just 4½ hours into the 30-day sentence, she was handed a “get out of jail free card”, released because of chronic over-crowding in California's jail system.  Sometimes, you get lucky.

At least one “Get out of jail free” card has been included in every version of the Monopoly board game since first it was released in 1935 although most editions have featured two, one from the “Chance” stack, the other from “Community Chest”.  What possession of the card confers is the ability (as the name implies) for a player to move on from the jail square without having to throw three doubles (of the dice) in a role or pay a fine although, in certain circumstances, it can be adventitious for a player not to use the card and “remain in jail”, something which sometimes happens IRL (in real life).  From the board game comes the idiomatic use of “a get-out-of-jail-free card” to refer to “a certain privilege or advantage providing relief from an undesirable situation or immunity from punishment or consequences”.  Historically, states have sometimes offered similar devices although they’ve never been available for those accused of serious offences.

Macy’s department store, Herald Square, Manhattan, New York City.

In George Orwell’s (1903-1950) novel Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), the Ministry of Love was responsible for the dispensation of fear and suffering and its most dreaded institution was Room 101, located in the basement of their headquarters.  Room 101 was a torture chamber in which the ruling party subjected prisoners to their individual worst nightmares and greatest fears, the purpose being finally to destroy any residual resistance.  Less threatening though equally specific is Room 140 at Macy’s department store Herald Square flagship store in Manhattan, New York City.  One of a few private “jails” in New York, those accused of shoplifting are escorted by security guards to Room 140’s cells where they can be held for hours, the stories told suggesting the detained are asked to sign an admission of guilt and pay sometimes hundreds of dollars in “fines”, sometimes without any conclusive proof of an offence.  That may sound medieval but a majority of US states do have on the books legislation which offer retailers often a wide latitude forcefully to hold and subsequently fine suspects, even if, technically, nothing has been stolen or criminal charges have been dropped.  The US industry’s problem is real because as much as US$15 billion is each year lost to shoplifting and the purpose of the laws is both a tacit admission the state would prefer not to be involved in “low dollar value” matters and a way to enable stores to recoup some losses.  Under New York's long-standing law, retailers may collect a penalty of five times the cost of the stolen merchandise (up to US$500 per item), plus as much as US$1,500 if the “recovered” merchandise isn't in a condition to be sold.  A conviction is not a pre-condition to bring a civil claim.

If ever Macy's comes under new management, hopefully the new operators will have a better sense of the sardonic and rename "Room 140" to "Room 101".

In operation, application has been controversial with claims retailers abuse the law by engaging in “racial profiling”, targeting minorities and holding customers for hours as a form of duress; Macy’s has in the past paid a settlement to the state to settle a number of claims.  Macy’s maintain their corporate policies prohibit coercion when recovering fines, recently issuing a statement: “Our policy of exercising our right to pursue a civil recovery payment is consistent with common practice in the retail industry and within the parameters of the law.”  Many retailers detain suspected shoplifters although few have their own jail cells and Macy’s is unusual in requesting the on-the-spot payment of fines.

Deodand

Deodand (pronounced dee-uh-dand)

(1) In English law (prior to 1846), an animal or a personal chattel (the scope later extended) that, having been the immediate, accidental cause of the death of a human being, was forfeited to the Crown to be sold with the money gained applied originally to pious uses.

(2) In English law (prior to 1846), A fine paid to the Crown, equal to the value of a deodand, paid by the owner of the object and subsequently applied originally to pious uses.

1520–1530: From the late thirteenth century Anglo-French deodande, from the Medieval Latin deōdandum (a thing) to be given to God, the construct being the Classical Latin deō (to God (dative singular of deus (god)) + dand(um) to be given (neuter gerund of “dare to give”) from the primitive Indo-European root do- (to give).  Deus was from the primitive Indo-European root dyeu- (to shine and (in derivatives” “sky, heaven, god”).  Deodand is a noun; the noun plural is deodands.

That the doctrine of deodand was a medieval legal relic (the earliest recorded instances of use in England dating from the eleventh century) is not that remarkable because in that it was one of a number; what’s remarkable is it remained part of the common law until the mid-1800s.  The concept was first well documented in thirteenth century legal texts and historians have concluded this “semi-codification” reflected the earlier religious tradition which held an object which caused a death was “tainted” and should be removed from profane use.  In that, it inherited older notion from Roman civil law of noxae deditio (literally “surrender for the wrongdoing” and in English law written usually as “noxal surrender”), the construct being noxae (harm, injury, wrongdoing) + deditio (surrender, giving up).  Noxae deditio was a legal mechanism (in response to what would now be called a writ) with which the owner of an animal or slave (The Romans really did make a distinction) could avoid liability for delicts (wrongs) committed by them by surrendering the animal or slave to the injured party as an alternative to paying damages.  Intriguingly, at certain times, the doctrine was extended to sons (though apparently not daughters) in circumstances where an action was brought against a paterfamilias (the head of a household), on the basis he was held to be responsible for the son’s acts.  Literally, the son could be “handed over”, either until they attained statutory adulthood or for a specified period, depending on the damages assessed.  A similar idea was the Old English wergeld, from the Proto-West Germanic werageld, the construct being wer (man) +‎ ġield (payment).  It was a form of compensation paid by a transgressor to a victim, or (as “blood money) to the victim's family if the victim were dead (the quantum decided by social rank).  The concept is familiar in many societies and is sometimes formalized in Islamic systems using the Sharia Law where the victim’s family can be involved in determining not only how much blood money should be paid but also whether there should be a payment as an alternative to a death sentence.

What evolved in English common law was the rule under which, if a person was killed by an animal, vehicle, tool or other inanimate object, that object was declared a “deodand” to be forfeited to the Crown.  Reflecting the theological basis for this, notionally the surrender was “to God”, but quickly the standard practice became to appraise the value of the beast or object and levy a fine in that sum.  Although the documentary evidence is patchy, it appears originally the forfeited property (or cash from the fine) was devoted to pious uses such as alms (ie charity for the poor) or (as was the usual trend when a revenue stream was identified) ecclesiastical purposes such as building churches or stained glass windows.  Later (another trend being squabbles between church & state), deodans became a source of consolidated royal revenue.  The rationale was partly religious (atonement), partly superstitious (removing the dangerous object), and partly fiscal (Crown revenue).

The school bus scene: In Mean Girls (2004), had Regina George (Rachel McAdams (b 1978)) been killed by the school bus, the vehicle would have been declared a deodand and forfeited to the state although the usual practice was for its value to be assessed and an order for a payment in that sum to be served on the owner.

It was a simple concept but because there was much variation in the circumstances in which a deodand could be declared, the case law reveals inconsistencies in the verdicts.  Were someone to be killed by being run over by a horse-drawn cart, depending on this and that, the deodand might be found to be the cart and horse, the cart or horse alone or even just the particular wheel which crushed the unfortunate deceased.  One of the reasons for the variance is that in many instances the matter was determined not by a judge or magistrate working from precedent but (at coroners’ inquests) by juries which would both define the deodand and assess its value.  Given that, on what appear to be similar facts (a sailor who drowned after being struck by a mast), the deodand might be found to be the whole vessel or merely the mast.  In such cases, the issue was which object (or part of an object) should be held to be the “guilty instrument” and that was a process not simple to define, things made more difficult still by the opinions of jury members being so diverse and prone to be influenced by the identity of both the victim(s) and the owner of the object(s).

Aftermath of the explosion of a locomotive’s steam boiler.  If reduced to scrap by the event in which someone died, the jury could assess the value of the object in its "pre-event" condition.

By the eighteenth century, deodands had become largely devices of reference in that actual confiscation of objects was rare with an assessment of their monetary value to set the fine to be paid the standard practice.  Lawyers, politicians and (especially) those in commerce were critical of the system as irrational and even then there were traces of what would evolve as the modern notions of negligence and responsibility; critiques of deodand came both from what would now be described as “the right” and “the left”.  Those who owned the objects which became lethal instruments argued it was unfair they be punished so severely for what were, however tragic, “mere accidents”, pointing out the system discouraged industrial enterprise while those advocating for victims pointed out it was the state which gained the proceeds of the fines while victims’ families (many of which had lost their sole breadwinner) gained nothing.  What finally brought about the end of deodand was it being overtaken by the industrial age in which deaths came routinely to occur in clusters.  It was the multiple fatalities in marine and train accidents (infamously the Hull Tragedy (1838) and the Sonning Cutting Disaster (1840)) which attracted press coverage and public debate; in each case a “certificate of deodand” was attached to the machinery and, given the cavalier attitude of railway operators towards safety, it was hardly surprising coroners’ juries had little hesitation in declaring a locomotive and its rolling-stock a deodand.  That was obviously an expensive threat to capitalism and the lobbying by these vested interest resulted in parliament abolishing deodands by the Deodands Act 1846 (9 & 10 Vict. c.62).

Tallahassee Democrat, 13 October 1991.

The Daytona Yellow 1969 Chevrolet Corvette ZL1 coupé is the rarest and most valuable C3 Corvette (1968-1982) made, the “other ZL1” a Monaco Orange Roadster having a less pure pedigree (although at auction in January 2023 it realized US$3.14 million.  The yellow ZL1 last changed hands in October 1991 when it was sold in a government forfeiture auction for US$300,000 (then a lot of money) after being seized by the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency).

The Act however was part of a reform process and the early initiatives included the statutes which would by the mid twentieth century evolve into modern negligence and compensation law, the most significant of the early steps being the Fatal Accidents Act 1846 (Lord Campbell’s Act) which for the first time codified the idea of the “wrongful death claim” and permitted families to sue on this basis.  Although now largely forgotten, the 1846 act was a significant marker of the transition of English law from a medieval, semi-religious system of atonement to a modern, rationalized law of tort, product liability and compensation.

Echoes do however remain in certain legal doctrines of forfeiture (such as state seizures of the proceeds of crime) and the US practice of civil asset forfeiture does, at least in a philosophical sense, sometimes treat property as “guilty”.  The US law provides for property (cars, boats, money etc) connected with the commission of a crime to be seized by the state even if the owner, personally, wasn’t “guilty”; it’s a modern interpretation of the medieval view the object itself bore responsibility.  What this means is the legal rationale is structurally similar to what once was the religious justification: What once was “given to God” as expiation as atonement for sin translates now into deterrence as an expression of public policy (removing dangerous tools or preventing criminals from profiting).  As a kind of “legal fiction”, under both regimes the object is treated as if it possesses some kind of independent agency.  Intriguingly, as an administrative convenience, that idea survived in Admiralty Law under which vessels can in suits be “personified”, thus cases like “The SS <ship name> v. Cargo”, the model for civil asset forfeiture procedures in which the object is the defendant (such as “United States v. One 1969 Chevrolet Corvette”).

Building from Biblical tradition, the idea of independent agency had a curious history in the legal systems of Christendom and in Europe from the Middle Ages through the early modern period, animals could be put on trial (in both secular courts and ecclesiastical courts) for murder.  These trials followed legal procedures similar to those in which a human was the accused although, obviously, cross-examination was somewhat truncated.  The most commonly tried animals were pigs, simply because it wasn’t uncommon for them freely to roam in urban areas and attacks on babies and infants were frequent.  In Normandy in 1386, a sow was dressed in human clothing and publicly executed for killing a child while at Châlons in 1499, a sow and her six piglets were tried; the sow was executed for killing a man, while the piglets were acquitted due to “lack of evidence.”  Nor were the defendants exclusively porcine, bulls and horses occasionally executed for killing people and in ecclesiastical courts there are many records of rodents and insects being charged with damaging crops.  Presumably because every day of the week rodents and insects were killed just for “being guilty of being rodents and insects”, ceremonial executions wouldn’t have had much symbolic value so the usual result handed down was excommunication(!) or a demand (from God, as it were) the creatures vacate the fields in which they were consuming the crops.

Perpetually hungry weevils enjoying lunch in a granary.

Sometimes the ecclesiastical courts could be imaginative.  In the Italian region of Tyrol in 1713, the priests ordered the hungry weevils to leave the vineyards where they were such a plague but in compensation granted their occupation of a barren piece of land as an alternative habitat.  The reaction of the insects to the ruling would have been rather as King Cnut (better known as Canute, circa 990–1035; King of England 1016-1035) would have predicted but despite that, there’s no record of the weevils being held in contempt of court.  Regrettably, there's no generally accepted collective noun for weevils but weevilage (a portmanteau word, the blend being weevil + (vill)age) seems more compelling than Adelognatha (the scientific term referring to a group of Curculionidae (a family of weevils) characterized by a specific anatomical feature).  There was at least some theological basis for the ecclesiastical courts claiming entomological jurisdiction because in scripture it was written beasts are God’s creatures like all others and over them God granted dominion to man (Genesis 1:26-28 (King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611)):

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.

28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

Bovine trial in progress, rendered as a line drawing by Vovsoft.

The principle was animals could be held accountable for causing harm and this was taken especially seriously when the harm caused was something like that of a crime a human might commit (like murder) and in the secular courts, if the victim was someone of some importance, the proceedings could involve defense lawyers, witnesses, and formal sentencing.  In the ecclesiastical courts, it was more symbolic or ritualistic: insects and rodents might be “summoned” but of course they never turned up so excommunication or other curses were invoked.  By the eighteenth century, the thinkers of the Enlightenment had prevailed and the idea of animals as moral agents was so ridiculed the practice of charging them was almost wholly abandoned although in certain circumstances an owner could be held liable for the damage they caused.  There was though the odd, rural holdout.  In Normandy in 1845 a sow was executed for killing a child (in the legal archives listed as the last “classic pig trial” (the last in the US held in New Hampshire in 1819)) and in Switzerland in 1906 a dog was sentenced to death for a similar offence (this believed to be Europe’s last “animal trial”).