Orphan

Orphan (pronounced awr-fuhn)

(1) A person who has lost one or both parents through death (now usually used only if both parents have died); term is used only with children or older minors and in informal use is sometimes extended to an abandoned child.

(2) A young animal left motherless by death or desertion.

(3) Figuratively, a person or thing without protective affiliation, sponsorship, etc.

(4) In typography (applied especially in word processing) the first line of a paragraph when it appears alone at the bottom of a page.

(5) Figuratively, something not (or no longer) authorized, supported, or funded; not part of a system; isolated; abandoned.

(6) In computing, any unreferenced object or a process, the parent of which has terminated.

(7) In medicine, as orphan disease (a rare disease) or orphan drug (something developed under the US Orphan Drug Act (1983) for orphan diseases.

(8) In biochemistry, as orphan receptor, apparent receptor that has a similar structure to other identified receptors but whose endogenous ligand has not yet been identified.

(9) In nuclear physics, as orphan source, a self-contained radioactive source that is no longer under proper regulatory control.

(10) In the automotive industry, cars still in use built by a manufacturer which has entirely ceased operations (applied informally also to vehicles produced to defunct divisions of parent corporations (eg Imperial, Pontiac).

(11) In the matter of technology, literature and other copyrighted material, something abandoned by its owner or where the copyright holder is untraceable; in reference to software the slang term is “abandonware”.

1425–1475: The noun was from the late Middle English, from the Late Latin orphanus (destitute, without parents), from orbus (bereaved), from the Ancient Greek ὀρφανός (orphanós) (without parents, fatherless; bereaved (literally “deprived”)), from orphos (bereft), from the primitive Indo-European orbho (bereft of father (also "deprived of free status”), from the root orbh- (to change allegiance, to pass from one status to another), source also of the Hittite harb- (change allegiance), the Sanskrit arbhah (weak, child), the Armenian orb (orphan), the Old Irish orbe (heir), the Old Church Slavonic rabu (slave), the rabota (servitude ( and related to the modern robot), the Gothic arbja, the German erbe, the Old English ierfa (heir), the Old High German arabeit, the German Arbeit (work), the Old Frisian arbed and the Old English earfoð (hardship, suffering, trouble")..  It was cognate with the Sanskrit अर्भ (árbha), the Latin orbus, (bereaved), the Old High German erbi, & arbi (hence the German Erbe (heir)) and the Old English ierfa (heir).  The Late Latin orphanós was the source also of the Old French orfeno & orphenin and the Italian orfano.  The extinct alternative spelling was orphane and the plural is orphans.

The verb use (to reduce to the state of being an orphan) dates from circa 1814.  It was used as an adjective from the late fifteenth century, the figurative use emerging at the same time.  The syndicated newspaper cartoon strip Little Orphan Annie (1924-2010) created by Harold Gray (1894-1968) was originally titled Little Orphant Annie after the title of James Whitcomb Riley's (1849-1916) 1885 poem Little Orphant Allie (though it was originally titled The Elf Child, the name was changed by Riley for the third printing; it was a typesetting error which substituted “orphan” for “orphant”. Orphant was an old, corrupt form of orphan, attested from the seventeenth century.

The noun orphanage dates from the 1570s and originally meant “the condition of being an orphan", the more familiar modern meaning "a home for orphans" not used until 1850.  Other words for "the condition of being an orphan" have included orphanhood (1670s), orphancy (1580s), orphanism (1590s) & orphanship (1670s) and in Middle English there was the mid-fifteenth century orphanite (desolation, wretchedness).  The early forms to describe the building in which orphans were housed were orphan house (1711), orphan-asylum (1796) & orphanry (1872).  Orphanage prevailed over the others for no good etymological reason (some critics noting homes for girls weren’t called “girlages”) but despite there being a risk of confusion with the sixteenth century sense of “the condition of being an orphan", it was preferred and orphanhood came to be the standard form of description for the state despite the objection of pedants who insisted the English “-hood” should never be affixed to a Greek or Roman root; a long-lost battle even then.  The purists had more success in fighting off "Orphanotrophy" although the less objectionable "Orphanry" (as in “aviary”), although achieving the tick of approval from the lexicographers, seems never to have caught on, people presumably not attracted by the alignment of places for children being linguistically aligned with zoos.

In antiquity, an orphan was one who had lost both parents but in English use, by the seventeenth century, the status of orphanhood was afforded to a child who had lost either.  That lead to constructions which defined the differential state (half-orphan, double orphan, maternal orphan & paternal orphan and all the classifications were applied in a variety of ways, on both sides of the Atlantic, matters applying to children administered usually by local authorities so regional differences were common, some insisting the status of an orphan was created only upon the death of one or both parents while in other places desertion was sometimes sufficient.  The age at which one could, whatever the nature of the loss, cease to be regarded as an orphan was also inconsistent until the modern state evolved but the idea always was it ceased with adulthood but this tended sometimes to be a functional judgment based on prevailing social and economic conditions; it could be as young as fourteen at a time when workforce participation (male and female) was common.

The modern practice has long been an orphan is a minor who has lost both parents but UNICEF (the United Nations Children's Fund (originally the United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund but the name was changed in 1953, UNICEF retained as the name though no longer technically an acronym), UNAIDS (the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV and AIDS) and some NGOs (non-governmental organizations) label as an orphan any child who has lost one parent.  This is a practical approach which acknowledges the often severe consequences which follow from the loss of one parent.

The verse in the New Testament which imposes on all a duty to care for orphans is often quoted:

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…" (James 1:27 (KJV 1611)).

Less often cited are the passages from the Old Testament in which it’s threatened the wrath of God will make orphans of the children of he who mistreats an orphan:

22 Ye shall not afflict any widow, or fatherless child.

23 If thou afflict them in any wise, and they cry at all unto me, I will surely hear their cry;

24 And my wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill you with the sword; and your wives shall be widows, and your children fatherless. (Exodus 22:22-24 (KJV 1611)).

The holy Qu'ran has a number of passages which make clear the duty of all to care for orphans and not take from them:

Give orphans their property, and do not substitute bad things for good. Do not assimilate their property into your own. Doing that is a serious crime.  (The Women: 2).

Keep a close check on orphans until they reach a marriageable age, then if you perceive that they have sound judgement hand over their property to them... (The Women: 6).

1932 Studebaker Dictator.  Studebaker used Dictator as a model name between 1927-1937 and there was not political connotation, the word in 1927 not having the associations it would later gain.  By 1937 things had changed and the name was dropped.

Studebaker had a long and storied history, its origin in a German blacksmithing business (1736-1750), the family moving to the US and beginning the production of carriages and carts in 1852, its first automobiles actually electric cars offered in 1902 before the sale of petrol-powered models in 1904.  The powered-range grew quickly and by 1919, Studebaker ceased production of horse-drawn carriages, a decision vindicated by its success in the 1920s.  Like many other concerns however, the Great Depression of the early 1930s mauled its business and Studebaker was forced to enter bankruptcy although a reorganization and a financial re-structuring arranged by the venerable Lehman Brothers permitted it soon to resume operating, the improving economic conditions of the mid-1930s ensuring ongoing profitability.

Studebaker US6 truck in Red Army use, configured as mobile Katyusha rocket launcher, circa 1943.

Like many US corporations, some of its golden years came during World War II when industrial capacity was given over to government contracts fulfilling military production.  A variety of materiel was produced but Studebaker’s most notable contribution to the war effort was the versatile US6 (G630 in the government purchasing system) 2½ (short) ton 6x6 trucks, over a hundred and fifty thousand of which were supplied to the Soviet Union under the Lend-Lease programme.  Built in many configurations, the most memorable adaptation by the Red Army was as a mobile platform for the BM-31-12 (nickname: Andryusha) Katyusha rocket launcher, known to the enemy as “Stalin’s organs” because of the the distinctive sound of the rockets; the Russian army is still using the concept in their invasion of Ukraine.  The US6 proved popular with the army which found it much superior to the locally-made ZIS-5 & GAZ-AA and better even than the captured German trucks with Maybach engines which (belying the German reputation for “good beer, good engines, good sausages"), were prone to overheating under extreme loads, unlike the Studebakers which never boiled.  The tale may be apocryphal but it’s claimed Comrade Stalin (1878–1953; leader of the USSR, 1922-1953) even wrote a letter of appreciation to Studebaker, mentioning how important the US6 had been to the Red Army.

1964 Studebaker Avanti R2.

Studebaker had ups and downs after the war but the long-term trend was down.  By the early 1960s the writing was on the wall but there was one last roll of the dice, a gamble that would be either the savior of the corporation or the final nail in the coffin.  Released in 1962, the Avanti straddled a spectrum of the market, seen mostly as what would come to be called a personal coupe, it was also the company’s halo car and, most unexpectedly, something of a pony car and muscle car before either segment really existed.  Offered in three versions: (1) the R1 with a 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) V8 rated at 240 horsepower, (2) the with R2 with a Paxton supercharger with gained 50 horsepower and, (3) the exotic 304 cubic inch (5.0 litre) R3 with 335 horsepower (only nine of which were built).  Performance was good, the Avanti at least competitive with the competition and to prove the slipperiness of the fibreglass body, styled by French-born, US-based designer Raymond Loewy (1893-1986), the company took an R3 to to the Bonneville Salt Flats, where it set 29 production car records, posting a top speed of almost 170 mph (273 km/h).

The Avanti’s appearance at the time was quite startling and the reception it received after being shown in New York in 1962 was generally positive but almost immediately the project encountered problems.  Because the car was expected to sell in relatively low volumes of around twenty-thousand a year and the body was rendered with complex curves, production in steel or aluminum was never considered, the panels instead molded in fibreglass, then still a more respectable material than it would later become.  Each Avanti however needed over one-hundred fiberglass components and the contractor experienced some difficulty in mass-producing them with the necessary tolerances, the ensuing delay meaning that in its first full year on sale, barely 1,200 reached customers, a disappointing debut for a car expected to rescue the corporation from impending bankruptcy.  Studebaker’s parlous finances were by now public knowledge and although things improved in 1963, buyers were scarce and fewer than 4,000 Avantis were sold, well below the volume at which it was economically viable.  The next year, the factory booked orders for fewer than a 1000 and, bowing to the inevitable, Studebaker announced the end of the Avanti and it turned out to be a harbinger, all their production ceasing in 1966, the corporation dissolved shortly afterwards.

At that point the Avanti should, like literally thousands of others, simply have died but unusually, it become an orphan, a model cast adrift by the death of the parent corporation.  The Avanti, which should have been Studebaker’s swansong, turned out to be a phoenix, the model attracting no fewer than five subsequent owners who, between 1965 and 2006, produced 3840 Avantis using a variety of drive-train combinations from the Detroit parts bin, some with convertible coachwork and even a handful of four-door sedans.  Even more a niche model than it had been under Studebaker’s parentage, in its best year as an orphan a mere 289 left the factory but for four decades (profitably and sometimes not) it was sustained by a small but devoted clientele and even today the survivors have an enthusiastic following, the most desirable of the early cars typically attracting over US$40,000 at auction.

The orphan Avanti production numbers, 1966-2006.

Pantechnicon

Pantechnicon (pronounced pan-tek-ni-kon or pan-tek-ni-kuhn)

(1) A building or place housing shops or stalls where all sorts of (especially exotic) manufactured articles are collected for sale; most associated with the Pantechnicon, a large warehouse where goods (delivered by Pantechnicon's vans) were stored.

(2) A large van, especially one designed for moving or furniture and other household goods; originally "pantechnicon van".

1820-1830: A creation of modern English using the Ancient Greek, the construct being pan-, from the Ancient Greek πᾰν- (pan-), a neuter form of πᾶς (pâs) (all, every) + τεχνικόν (tekhnikón) (artistic, skillful), neuter singular of τεχνικός (tekhnikós, “technical”), from tekhnē (art), from the primitive Indo-European tetḱ- (to create, produce).  The clippings pantech (UK) & pantech van (Australia) are now less common.  Pantechnicon is a noun; the noun plural is pantechnicons.

The Pantechnicon building, Motcomb Street, Belgrave Square, London.  It was built in what was then called the “Greek Revival” style, featuring a neo-classical facade using Doric columns.  It’s described now as a “contemporary fashion emporium” and includes the inevitable café, restaurant & bar.

A Pantechnicon van (almost always called a pantechnicon and, in certain places. “pantech” endures) was originally horse-drawn and used to transport furniture to and from The Pantechnicon, a bazaar in central London where objects were stored as well as sold.  The Pantechnicon building was built in the early 1830s, the name coined from the Ancient Greek to convey the idea of an institution which traded in all aspects of the arts.  That commercial use continued but the building and the eponymous vans became famous in the twentieth century after the premises were converted into furniture storage warehouse. The warehouse was burnt out in 1876 and suffered another severe blaze in 1939, the latter unfortunate timing as many people had stored there the household effects of grand London houses which were being shuttered for the duration of the war.

Although originally used exclusively to service clients of The Pantechnicon, the design of the vans, being functionally deterministic, was optimized for the task and soon adopted by all removalists, the name to describe the vans quickly becoming generic.  The design persisted when the vans were motorized; now built on truck chassis, they were now even more obviously slab-sided cuboids and the new technology permitted them to become very large.  In a city like London with some narrow lanes and tight corners, some of which dated from the Roman occupation, that presented problems of its own and some small, horse-drawn pantechnicons continued to ply their trade even after the Second World War.

1947 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith "Pantechnicon" by Hooper.

Being functional work-horses designed for the maximization of internal space and the ease of loading, few commented on the aesthetics but when the same style was adopted in 1947 for a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith commissioned by an exceedingly rich oil trader called Nubar Gulbenkian (1896-1972), many were aghast and the thing was soon nick-named the Pantechnicon.  Built by the coachbuilder Hooper, it didn’t start a trend for the design although, over the next decade, some details would appear in the cars of many manufacturers because of the contribution to aerodynamic efficiency.  Time has perhaps been kinder to Mr Gulbenkian’s pantechnicon than critics at the time, compared with some of what would be produced in the years that followed, Hooper’s lines had coherence and even a simplicity which, until their bankruptcy, would elude some coachbuilders and certainly, there are more hints of the future in the pantechnicon than most of the Silver Wraiths (1946-1958) which were usually pastiches of pre-war mofifs.

1956 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith by Hooper.

Unmoved by the staid critics, Mr Gulbenkian continued to favor both the Wraith and Hooper though not their standard range.  While he didn’t again request anything pantechnicon-like, his tastes nevertheless remained eccentric, purchases including a four-door cabriolet (a rarity even then) and a sedanca de ville (a body style thought almost extinct), the latter fully-trimmed in sage-green lizard-skin.  Probably the most dramatic of Gulbenkian’s Hooper-bodied Rolls-Royces was a left-hand drive example built for use on the Côte d’Azur where he kept a house (and reputedly several mistresses); it had conventional four-door saloon coachwork but its novelty lay in its transparent Perspex roof, complete with an electrically-operated fabric inner blind to keep the occupants cool despite the Mediterranean sun.  Eschewing the usual acres of burl walnut which had been a Rolls-Royce signature since the earliest days, the interior was trimmed entirely in leather, a hallmark of all the Gulbenkian cars as was the speedometer fitted in the rear passenger compartment.  So distinctive was the appearance that after it was sold, it was used in the 1964 film Les Félins (released in English-language markets as The Love Cage) which starred Alain Delon (b 1935) and a young Jane Fonda (b 1937).

1966 Mercedes-Benz 600 SWB by Chapron.

Mr Gulbenkian must have been quite taken with the Perspex roof because in 1965, impressed by Mercedes-Benz’s extraordinary new 600 (W100; 1963-1981), he approached them and requested they build him one with such a roof.  Stuttgart declined.  Undeterred, in 1966 Mr Gulbenkian purchased one from the French distributer and had it delivered directly to Henri Chapron’s (1886-1978) coachbuilding studio in Paris to which he provided a specification sheet and what is said to have been a quite professional-looking sketch.  The build took almost a year because, better to enjoy the view through the transparent roof, Mr Gulbenkian fancied the idea of gazing at the stars at night so the rear seats were configured to recline into a bed.  The door panels were equipped with handheld mirrors and glass deflectors designed to minimalize the air turbulence in the cabin. Special tobacco pipe holders were fitted, as well as a minibar.  One piece of German engineering Chapron didn’t try to emulate was to extend the hydraulic control system to operate the roof blinds.  The 600 was unique in that it didn’t use electric motors for things like the windows, these along with the doors, seats, sunroof and trunk (boot) lid instead silently run by a hydraulic system, which ran at an extraordinary 2176 psi (150 bar), something which absorbed about a sixth of the power generated by the 386 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 although what remained was sufficient still to propel what was a big, heavy and not obviously aerodynamic car to almost 130 mph (210 km/h).  The 600 was anyway expensive but Chapron's work more than doubled the price.  Mr Gulbenkian who then owned some 5% of BP, didn't quibble.

419 Venice Way, Venice Beach, Los Angeles, 31 January 2012.

This is the pantechnicon Lindsay Lohan hired when moving from where she lived during 2011-2012 in a semi-mirrored construction (a style of architecture sometimes called “pigeon pair”) next door to former special friend Samantha Ronson who inhabited Number 417.  She moved out after being disturbed by "a Freemason stalker".  In North America, this pantechnicon would usually be called a "semi", a clipping of "semi-articulated trailer" and even in the UK the term "pantechnicon" is now less common, as is the Australian clipping "pantech van". 

Teflon

Teflon (pronounced tef-lon)

(1) The trademark for a fluorocarbon polymer with slippery, non-sticking properties; the (chemically correct) synonym is polytetrafluoroethylene.

(2) In casual use, facetiously to denote an ability to evade blame, applied usually to certain politicians, those characterized by imperviousness to criticism, often as “teflon president etc”.

1945: The proprietary name registered in the US by the du Pont corporation, from the chemical name (poly)te(tra)fl(uoroethylene) + the –on.  The use of the -on suffix in science is often described by etymologists as “arbitrary” and in the narrow technical sense the point is well made but there is history.  In physics it was applied on the model of the “on” element in electron, something lent linguistic respectability by the Ancient Greek -ον (-on), used to end neuter nouns and adjectives.  In chemistry, it followed the “on” in carbon, applied to form names of noble gases and certain non-metal elements (creating first boron and then silicon).  In physics, mathematics and biology, it was appended to form nouns denoting subatomic particles (proton), quanta (photon), molecular units (codon), or substances (interferon).  In biology and genetics, it was used to form names of things considered as basic or fundamental units (such as codon or recon).  The derived forms teflonish, tefleony etc are late twentieth century creations from critical political discourse.

Teflon was a serendipitous discovery which was delivered by research on refrigeration gases being undertaken by the Du Pont Company in 1938.  Some of the experiments being performed involved an analysis of the behavior of various compounds of Freon in cylinders and, observations indicated that while the gas appeared to disappear from the cylinders, weight measurements suggested it remained present and, upon inspection, what was found in the cylinders was a white, waxy substance of no use in the process of refrigeration.  The substance did however have remarkable properties, being friction-free (described as being like rubbing wet ice against wet ice) and impervious both almost all solvents and temperature variations between -273–250^o c (-169–121^o f).  Chemically the substance was a form of polytetrafluoroethylene, thankfully shortened to "Teflon" ((poly)te(tra)fl(uoroethylene)).  The significance of Teflon wasn’t initially understood and Du Pont’s major product release that year was anyway nylon, finally available as a commercial substance after thirteen years of development.

Teflon did however soon have an impact in one of the century’s most significant scientific and engineering projects, those attached to the Manhattan Project developing the atom bomb finding it the only coating which worked as seals for the canisters housing the most volatile elements.  However, because of the secrecy which enveloped the Manhattan Project, some aspects of which would not for many decades be declassified, Teflon didn’t enter the public consciousness until the late 1950s, the timing ensuring it came to be associated with the nascent space programme rather than the A-bomb, a perception the military-industrial complex did little to discourage.  Because of the state of the analytical tools then available, it had taken a long time fully to understand the stuff and it transpired the slipperiness came from a unique molecular structure, the core of carbon atoms being surrounded by fluorine atoms, creating a bond so strong that any other interaction was repelled, the chemical mix also accounting for the high degree of invulnerability to solvents and extremes in temperature.

The first extensive use was in electronics industry, first as insulation and corrosion protection for the copper wires and cables which carried the data for telephony and later computer networks but, as an example of the novel products it enabled, shatter-proof, Teflon-coated light bulbs went on sale but most far-reaching, revolutionary actually, was that it was Teflon which was used to hold the new and tiny semiconductor chips.  All those uses played a part in transforming the world but it was the simultaneous (and well-publicized) use in the Apollo Moon programme and the commercial release of the Teflon fry-pans which so cemented the association in public consciousness.  For some years, mystery shrouded how Du Pont managed to get the Teflon to stick to the aluminum or stainless steel with which fry-pans are made but, after the patents expired, it was revealed the classic trick was to sandblast the metal surfaces which left tiny indentations with irregular edges which worked like the clasps jewelers use to secure stones.  Once these tiny impressions were filled with Teflon, the final layer had something to which to adhere; Teflon attracting itself and repelling all else.  That was an wholly mechanical process but chemical processes were also developed to induce attachment to metal.

While some half a billion Teflon fry-pans were being sold, the slippery substance went on extensively to be used in architecture where its qualities of flame resistance and translucence were much appreciated and it proved uniquely suited to solving a problem which had for decades plagued engineers, the need for an insulator to prevent the corrosion endemic between the steel framework and copper skin of the Statue of Liberty.  Living structures also benefited, Teflon of great utility in the medical device industry because of its compatibility with living tissue, proving an ideal substance with which to construct artificial veins and arteries, heart patches and replacement ligaments although most inventive was probably the Teflon powder injections used to restore the function of vocal-cords.  Early in the twenty-first century, concerns were raised after the chemical perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), used in the production of Teflon, was found to be potentially carcinogenic.  The research didn’t produce direct evidence that it's harmful to humans but it was anyway replaced with a substitute, the wonderfully named GenX but this too has attracted concerns.

Teflon resistant: Although described by Representative Pam Schroeder (Democrat, Colorado) as “Teflonish”, one object did stick to Bill Clinton no matter what (and there was much "what").

The word Teflon is used also to refer to that small class of politicians to whom no blame, however well-deserved, seems to attach; whatever mud is slung, none of it ever sticks.  It seems first to have been used by Pat Schroeder (b 1940; Democrat Representative for Colorado in the House 1973-1997) who in a speech on the floor of the House in 1983 denouncing President Ronald Reagan (1911–2004; US president 1981-1989) said “He has been perfecting the Teflon-coated presidency: He sees to it that nothing sticks to him.”  Schroeder later said that the expression came to her while frying eggs in a Teflon fry-pan.  In a display of feminist bi-partisanship, she would in a later interview with CNN note that President Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) was very “Teflonish” and the phrase has come to be used to describe the political phenomenon of the willingness in voters to excuse in some the shortcomings they wouldn’t accept in most.  The linguistic adaptation didn’t please Du Pont which greatly valued their trademark, issuing a press release insisting that when used in print, the media should always put the trademark symbol next to the word and that ”It is not, alas, a verb or an adjective, not even when applied to the President of the United States!”  Their demands were ignored and English proceeds along its inventive ways.  There is nothing to suggest Teflon sales ever suffered by association.

Lindsay Lohan in a yacht's galley, cooking with non-stick frypan, Cannes, May 2017.

Teflon is produced from a mix of certain chemicals which are part of a large family of substances called perfluoroalkyl & polyfluoroakyl (PFAS) and research has linked human exposure to a number of conditions including some cancers, reproductive issues, and elevated cholesterol levels.  Given that, on the basis of the experience of litigation and legislative response to other once common materials found to be at least potentially dangerous, it might be expected an intensive research effort has at least quantified the extent of the problem.  However, it transpired it’s effectively impossible to measure the risks of the use of PFAS in non-stick, simply because for decades the chemicals have been so ubiquitous in domestic environments because of their role providing water & stain-resistance in everything from raincoats, carpets and car upholstery.  That means PFAS chemicals have long since become part of the environment, detected everywhere from the seabed to mountain tops.  For the human and animal population, the presence in the water supply is of significance and in the US, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in 2020 published guidelines for the acceptable level of certain PFAS in drinking water, a document which attracted great interest because it appears about the same time as a study which indicated a correlation between exposure and a disturbing “millions of deaths”.  Among the general population, it’s the cookware which came quickly to attract the most concern, not because there’s any evidence to suggest the stuff is a more productive vector of transfer than carpet, curtains or any other source but because of the intimacy of contact; it’s from those non-stick frypans we eat.  It’s also in dental floss but the psychological threshold of swallowing is real.

Lindsay Lohan using non-stick frypan.  Note the metal fork; Ms Lohan is a risk-taker.

Not all PFAS are identical in the critical areas assessed although they all share the characteristic of being stable, something which has seen then dubbed the “forever chemicals”, something potentially useful for science although it’s the implication that once released, the stuff will persist in the environment for millions of years which disturbs.  Some have been identified as especially dangerous and two (PFOS & PFOA) have already been phased out of industrial use, notably because of a risk posed to the human immune system and encouragingly, testing revealed that after FOS use ceased in 2000, levels in human blood declined significantly.  Those who ensure they use only soft kitchen utensils when using the non-stick products shouldn’t be too assured because injecting a big chunk of the stuff historically hasn’t been the issue; it’s the micro-sized bits entering the body and while manufacturers claim any coating swallowed is inert, the concerns remain.  In the absence of relevant data, there are nuanced positions on non-stick pans. The US Food & Drug Administration (FDA) continues to permit the use in cookware while the EPA maintains exposure can lead to “adverse health effects” and in 2022 proposed a labeling protocol which would require certain PFAS to be listed as “hazardous substances”.  Another branch of the administration, the Center for Disease Control (CDC) maintains the health effects of low exposure remain “uncertain.”

Cash

Cash (pronounced kash)

(1) Money in the form of coins or banknotes, historically that issued by a government or a bank or other financial institution operating with the approval of a government.

(2) Money or an equivalent paid at the time of making a purchase.

(3) Immediate payment, in full or part, for goods or services, even if not paid in physical cash (ie as distinct from the various forms of time (delayed) payment).

(4) To give or obtain cash for a check, money order, bill of exchange etc.

(5) In some games of cards, (1) to win (a trick) by leading an assured winner or (2) to lead (an assured winner) in order to win a trick.

(6) Any of several low-denomination coins of China, Vietnam, India, and the Dutch East Indies (modern-day Indonesia), especially the Chinese copper coin.

1590–1600: From the Portuguese caixa, from the Tamil காசு (kācu) (a copper coin), from the Sanskrit karṣa (a weight (of precious metal such as silver or gold)).  There was also the sixteenth century Old Italian cassa (money box) from the Latin capsa (case).  Variation of cash appear in many languages including the Japanese: キャッシュ (kyasshu), the Serbo-Croatian (kȅš & ке̏ш) the Romanian cash and the Swedish cash.

Cashable is an adjective, cashability & cashableness are nouns.  The noun plural is cash (except for the proper noun; the surname’s plural being Cashes).  The homophone of cash is cache, often mispronounced as kaache although cache’s adoption as a technical term in computing has led some to suggest kaache should be the use in the industry with kash for all other purposes and there’s much support for the view which does make sense, even if, given the specificity of the context, confusion is unlikely.  The verb cashier (and the related cashiering & cashiered) is (1) the simple past tense and past participle of cashier and (2) the apparently curious term for the dismissal of a military officer, cashiered in this context from the Dutch casseren & kasseren, from the Old French casser (to break (up)).  During a ceremonial cashiering, the break of his link with the military was sometimes symbolized dramatically by literally breaking the officer’s sword (which had in advance been partly sawn through).   

The surname appears to be an American variant of Case, the records indicating it was first adopted by in the US by German immigrants named Kirch and Kirsch, an example of the Anglicization of names once a common of those migrating to the English-speaking world.  In rare cases it has been used a male given name, often as a second name reflecting the mother’s maiden name.  A cashier (person in charge of money), dates from the 1590s, from the French caissier (treasurer), from caisse (money box), the immediate source of the English word perhaps the Middle Dutch kassier.

Lindsay Lohan themed cash.  Unfortunately, these Lohanic notes are not issued by the US Federal Reserve and thus neither legal tender nor readily convertible (at least at face-value) to other currencies.  However, Lindsay Lohan is dabbling in the embroynic world of the NFT (non fungible token) which may evolve to have some influence on the development of how cash is stored and exchanged (if not valued).   

In idiomatic use, cashing-in one’s chips means literally to take one’s winnings and leave the casino but is also used to mean “to die” whereas cashing-up is a technical term from business referring to the end-of-day audit & balancing procedures.  A moneybags (ie bags full of cash) is someone (usually conspicuously) rich.  A cash-cow is a product or service which dependably provides the owner or operator a lucrative profit.  A cash-crop (agricultural product grown to sell for profit) is attested from 1831 and was distinct from one with some other primary purpose (such as for self-sustenance or stock-feed).  A cash-back is a trick in advertising and a form of discount.  The phrase cold, hard cash is another way of emphasizing the primacy of money.  A cash-book (which historically were physical ledgers but most are now electronic) was a transactional register.  To cash was “to convert (a cheque (the US check) or other bill of exchange) to cash", known since 1811 as a variation of the noun and the now-extinct encash from 1865 was also used as a piece of specialized jargon meaning exactly the same thing; it was replaced as required by cashed & cashing.  The cash-box (also called money-box), dating from the 1590s, was (and remains) a box for the safe-keeping physical cash and was from the sixteenth century French caisse (money box), from the Provençal caissa or the Italian cassa, from the Anglo-Norman & Old French casse (money box), from the Latin capsa (box, case) ultimately from capiō (I take, I seize, I receive), from the primitive Indo-European kehp- (to grasp) (which also led to the Spanish caja (box); the original sense was literally the wooden or metal box by the eighteenth century, the secondary sense of the money began to run is parallel before, for most purposes, becoming the sole meaning.  To cash in is to profit from something, applying it one's advantage.  A cash-register, dating from 1875, was historically a mechanical device used to record transactions and issue receipts, such machines now mostly electronic and increasingly linked to centralized (even international) databases; in Jewish humorous use, a cash-register was “a Jewish piano”.  Cash-flow (which surprisingly seems to date only from 1954) refers to a specific characteristic of business and means the periodic accumulation of disposable revenue to permit the operations always to meet its obligations and continue trading; it’s not directly related to long-term profitability in that something with a good cash-flow can continue indefinitely while only breaking even while a profitable concern with a poorly managed cash-flow can flounder.  In commerce, use is common such as cash-and-carry, cash account, cash-only, discount for cash etc although transaction handling costs have affected the last: where once it was common for businesses to offer a discount to customers paying with physical cash (sometimes because it offered the possibility of a hidden (ie un-taxed) transaction, it’s now not uncommon for a fee to be imposed, reflecting the difference in processing costs for weightless (electronic) payments compared with the physical (notes & coins).  In criminal slang, "cash" is said to be a euphemism for “to do away with, to kill” the word "disband" also carrying this meaning and both “cash” and “disband” are reputed to be used on the dark web as code by those offering contract killing although such things are hard to verify and may be an internet myth. Cash on delivery (COD) dates from 1859 and was an invention of American commerce designed to encourage sales from businesses previously unknown to the individual consumer.  Cashless (often as cashless-society or cashless transaction) refers usually to the elimination of physical money (ie notes and coins), something sought by many bureaucrats for various reasons although of concern to civil libertarians.

According to anthropologists, the word cash (money and all that) is really derived from the word kash, a beer brewed in Ancient Egypt which was used to pay workers (including the builders of the Great Pyramids).  Stone cutters, slaves, architects, and even public officials were often paid (at least in part) with beer, two containers of kash often set as the minimum wage for an Egyptian laborer’s day of work.  At the time, there was quite a brewing industry, the Egyptians known to be distributing at least six varieties of beer by 3,000 BC and there is evidence it played a part in the social conventions of the age: in some circumstances if a man offered a lady a sip of his beer, they could be held to be betrothed so dating could be minefield for those who’d drunk too much.

The traditions associated with kash spread.  In Mesopotamia, tavern owners found guilty of overcharging patrons for beer could be sentenced to death by drowning in the Tigris or Euphrates rivers (depending on where the establishment was located) although most punishments were apparently commuted to fines.  The Ancient Babylonians, serious about beer making, to regulate quality decreed that any commercial beer maker who sold unfit beer was to be drowned in that very impure libation although no records exist which confirm how many were actually suck in their own dodgy brew.  The most attractive Babylonian tale (although not one all historians accept) is that more happily, a bride’s father would supply all the “honey" kash (a form of kash to which honey and sweet herbs were added) the groom could drink for one month after the wedding.  Because the calendar was lunar based, this month was referred to as the “honey moon”.

Press

Press (pronounced pres)

(1) To act upon with steadily applied weight or force.

(2) To move by weight or force in a certain direction or into a certain position.

(3) To compress or squeeze, as to alter in shape or size.

(4) To hold closely, as in an embrace; clasp.

(5) To flatten or make smooth, especially by ironing.

(6) To extract juice, sugar, etc from by pressure.

(7) To manufacture (phonograph records, videodiscs, or the like), especially by stamping from a mold or matrix.

(8) To exert weight, force, or pressure.

(9) In weightlifting, to raise or lift, especially a specified amount of weight, in a press.

(10) To iron clothing, curtains, etc.

(11) To bear heavily, as upon the mind.

(12) To compel in another, haste, a change of opinion etc.

(13) Printed publications, especially newspapers and periodicals.  Collectively, all the media and agencies that print, broadcast, or gather and transmit news, including newspapers, newsmagazines, radio and television news bureaus, and wire services.

(14) The editorial employees, taken collectively, of these media and agencies.

(15) To force into military service.

1175-1225: From the Middle English press & presse (throng, trouble, machine for pressing) from the Old French, from presser (to press) from the Latin pressāre, frequentative of premere (past participle pressus).  In Medieval Latin it became pressa (noun use of the feminine of pressus).  The noun press (a crowd, throng, company; crowding and jostling of a throng; a massing together) emerged in the late twelfth century and was from the eleventh century Old French presse (a throng, a crush, a crowd; wine or cheese press), from the Latin pressare.  Although in the Late Old English press existed in the sense of "clothes press", etymologists believe the Middle English word is probably from French.  The general sense of an "instrument or machine by which anything is subjected to pressure" dates from the late fourteenth century and was first used to describe a "device for pressing cloth" before being extended to "devices which squeeze juice from grapes, oil from olives, cider from apples etc".  The sense of "urgency, urgent demands of affairs" emerged in the 1640s.  It subsequently proved adaptable as a technical term in sports, adopted by weightlifting in 1908 while the so-called (full-court press) defense in basketball was first recorded in 1959.  Press is a noun & verb, pressingness is a noun, pressing is a noun, verb & adjective, pressed is a verb & adjective and pressingly is an adverb; the noun plural is presses.  The now archaic verb prest was a simple past and past participle of press.

The specific sense "machine for printing" was from the 1530s, extended by the 1570s to publishing houses and to publishing generally (in phrases like freedom of the press) from circa 1680 although meaning gradually shifted in early 1800s to "periodical publishing, journalism".  Newspapers collectively cam to be spoken of as "the press" simply because they were printed on printing presses and the use to mean "journalists collectively" is attested from 1921 but this has faded from use with the decline in print and the preferred reference has long been “the news media”.  The first gathering called a press conference is attested from 1931, though the thing itself had been around for centuries (and in some sense formalized during World War I (1914-1918) although a politician appears first to have appointed a “press secretary” as late as 1940; prior to that there was some reluctance among politicians to admit they had people on the payroll to "manage the press" but the role long pre-dates 1940.  The term “press release” (an official statement offered to a newspaper and authorized for publication) is from 1918.  The sense "force into military (especially naval) service" emerged (most famously in the “press-gang” (a detachment under command of an officer empowered to press men into public service)) in the 1570s, an alteration (by association with the verb press) of the mid-fourteenth century prest (engage by loan, pay in advance (especially in reference to money paid to a soldier or sailor on enlisting), from the Latin praestare (to stand out, stand before; fulfill, perform, provide), the construct being prae- (before) + stare (to stand), from the primitive Indo-European root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  The verb was related to praesto (ready, available).

Most meanings related to pushing and exerting pressure had formed by the mid-fourteenth century and this had been extended to mean "to urge or argue for" by the 1590s.  The early fourteenth century pressen (to clasp, hold in embrace) extended in meaning by the mid century also to mean "to squeeze out" & "to cluster, gather in a crowd" and by the late 1300s, "to exert weight or force against, exert pressure" (and also "assault, assail" & "forge ahead, push one's way, move forward", again from the thirteenth century Old French presser (squeeze, press upon; torture)", from the Latin pressare (to press (the frequentative formation from pressus, past participle of premere (to press, hold fast, cover, crowd, compress), from the primitive Indo-European root per- (to strike)).  The sense of "to reduce to a particular shape or form by pressure" dates from the early fifteenth century while the figurative (“to attack”) use was recorded some decades earlier.  The meaning "to urge; beseech, argue for" dates from the 1590s.

The letter-press referred to matter printed from relief surfaces and was a term first used in the 1840s (the earlier (1771) description had been "text," as opposed to copper-plate illustration).  The noun pressman has occasionally been used to refer to newspaper journalists but in the 1590s it described "one who operates or has charge of a printing press" and was adopted after the 1610s to refer to "one employed in a wine-press".  A similar sharing of meaning attached to the pressroom which in the 1680s meant "a room where printing presses are worked" and by 1902 it was also a "room (in a courthouse, etc.) reserved for the use of reporters".  To press the flesh (shake hands) came into use in 1926 and a neglected use of “pressing” is as a form of torture.  Under a wide variety of names, pressing was a popular method of torture or execution for over four-thousand years; mostly using rocks and stones but elephants tended to be preferred in south and south-east Asia.  It’s a medieval myth that Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England 1509-1547) invented pressing but he certainly adopted it as a method of torture with his usual enthusiasm for such things.  Across the channel, under the French civil code, Peine forte et dure (forceful and hard punishment) defined pressing.  Used when a defendant refused to plead, the victim would be subjected to having heavier and heavier stones placed upon his or her chest until a plea was entered, or as the weight of the stones on the chest became too great for the subject to breathe, fatal suffocation would occur.

Pressed for time: Giles Corey's Punishment and Awful Death (1692), a drawing held by the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington DC.  Watched by a presumably approving crowd, the technique was to place stones upon the board covering the unfortunate soul: The “straw which broke the camel’s back” principle.

Remembered as a method use for torture and to extract confessions, the technique of pressing was known often as “crushing” if used in executions or the unfortunate victim of a pressing were to die.  Giles Corey was a farmer of 81 who lived in south-west Salem village, Massachusetts who had been accused of witchcraft, then a fashionable charge in Salem.  He chose not to enter a plea and simply remained mute in court, prompting the judges to order the coercive measure peine forte et dure, an ancient legal device dating from thirteenth century Anglo-Norman law and which translated literally as “a long and hard punishment”; it was used to persuade those who refused to engage in process to change their mind (ie forcing an accused to enter a plea).  In the First Statute of Westminster (3 Edward I. c. 12; 1275) it stated (in Sir Edward Coke’s (1552–1634) later translation):  “That notorious Felons, which openly be of evil name, and will not put themselves in Enquests of Felonies that Men shall charge them with before the Justices at the King’s suit, shall have strong and hard Imprisonment (prisone forte et dure), as they which refuse to stand to the common Law of the Land.”  Prisone forte et dure came into use because of the principle in English law that a court required the accused voluntarily to seek its jurisdiction over a matter before it could hear the case, the accused held to have expressed this request by entering a plea.  Should an accused refuse to enter a plea, the court could not hear the case which, constructively, was an obvious abuse of process in the administration of justice so the work-around was to impose a “coercive means”.  The Statute of Westminster however refers to prisone forte et dure (a strong and hard imprisonment) and it does seem the original intent was to subject the recalcitrant to imprisonment under especially harsh conditions (bread & water and worse) but at some point in the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries there seems to have been mission creep and the authorities were interpreting things to permit pressing.  The earliest known document confirming a death is dated 1406 but it’s clear that by then pressing was not novel with the court acknowledging that if the coercive effect was not achieved, the accused certainly would die.

Pressed Duck

Caneton à la presse, Aus$190 (US$122) at Philippe Restaurant (Melbourne).

Pressed duck (In the French the dish described variously as canard à la presse, caneton à la presse, canard à la rouennaise, caneton à la rouennaise or canard au sang) is one of the set-pieces of traditional French cuisine and the rarity with which it's now served is accounted for not by its complexity but the time-consuming and labor-intensive steps in its preparation.  Regarded as a specialty of Rouen, the creation was attributed to an innkeeper from the city of Duclair.  Expensive and now really more of a set-piece event than a meal, pressed duck is now rarely appears on menus and is often subject to conditions such as being ordered as much as 48 hours in advance or pre-payment of at least a deposit.  Inevitably too there will be limits on the number available because a restaurant will have only so many physical duck presses and if that’s just one, then it’s one pressed duck per sitting and, given what’s involved, that means one per evening.  Some high-end a la carte restaurants do still have it on the menu including La Tour d'Argent in Paris, Philippe Restaurant in Melbourne, Ottos in London, À L'aise in Oslo, The Charles in Sydney (a version with dry-aged Maremma duck) and Pasjoli in Los Angeles lists caneton à la presse as its signature dish.

The sequence of pressing a duck: The duck press (left), pressing the duck (centre) & pressed duck (right).

Instructions

(1) Select a young, plump duck.

(2) Wringing the neck, quickly asphyxiate duck, ensuring all blood is retained.

(3) Partially roast duck.

(4) Remove liver; grind and season liver.

(5) Remove breast and legs.

(6) Take remaining carcass (including other meat, bones, and skin) and place in duck-press.

(7) Apply pressure in press to extract and collect blood and other juices from carcass.

(8) Take extracted blood, thicken and flavor with the duck's liver, butter, and Cognac.  Combine with the breast to finish cooking.  Other ingredients that may be added to the sauce include foie gras, port wine, Madeira wine, and lemon.

(9) Slice the breast and serve with sauce as a first serving; the legs are broiled and served as the next course.

Silverplate Duck Press (Item# 31-9128) offered at M.S. Rau Antiques (1912) in New Orleans at US$16,850.

According to culinary legend, the mechanism of the screw-type appliance was perfected in the late nineteenth century by chefs at the Tour d'Argent restaurant in Paris, the dish then called canard au sang (literally “duck in its blood”), a description which was accurate but presumably “pressed duck” was thought to have a wider appeal.  The example pictured is untypically ornate with exquisite foliate scrollwork and delicate honeycomb embossing on the base.  Although associated with the famous dish, outside of the serving period, chefs used duck presses for other purposes where pressing was required including the preparation of stocks or confits (various foods that have been immersed in a substance for both flavor and preservation).

Pressed duck got a mention in a gushing puff-piece extolling the virtues of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) which, in the pre-war years, was a remarkably fertile field of journalistic endeavour on both sides of the Atlantic.  William George Fitz-Gerald (circa 1970-1942) was a prolific Irish journalist who wrote under the pseudonym Ignatius Phayre and the English periodical Country Life published his account of a visit to the Berchtesgaden retreat on the invitation of his “personal friend” Adolf Hitler.  That claim was plausible because although when younger Fitz-Gerald’s writings had shown some liberal instincts, by the “difficult decade” of the 1930s, experience seems to have persuaded him the world's problems were caused by democracy and the solution was an authoritarian system, headed by what he called “the long looked for leader.”  Clearly taken by his contributor’s stance, in introducing the story, Country Life’s editor called Hitler “one of the most extraordinary geniuses of the century” and noted “the Führer is fond of painting in water-colours and is a devotee of Mozart.”

Country Life, March 1936 (both Hermann Göring (1893–1946) and Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946) were then generals and not field marshals).  Hermann Göring wearing the traditional southern German Lederhosen (leather breeches) must have been a sight worth seeing.

Substantially, the piece in Country Life also appeared in the journal Current History with the title: Holiday with Hitler: A Personal Friend Tells of a Personal Visit with Der Führer — with a Minimum of Personal Bias”.  In hindsight it may seem a challenge for a journalist, two years on from the regime’s well-publicized murders of a least dozens of political opponents (and some unfortunate bystanders who would now be classed as “collateral damage”) in the pre-emptive strike against the so-called “Röhm putsch”, to keep bias about the Nazis to a minimum although many in his profession did exactly that, some notoriously.  It’s doubtful Fitz-Gerald visited the Obersalzberg when or claimed or that he ever met Hitler because his story is littered with minor technical errors and absurdities such as Der Führer personally welcoming him upon touching down at Berchtesgaden’s (non-existent) aerodrome or the loveliness of the cherry orchid (not a species to survive in alpine regions).  Historians have concluded the piece was assembled with a mix of plagiarism and imagination, a combination increasingly familiar since the internet encouraged its proliferation.  Still, with the author assuring his readers Hitler was really more like the English country gentlemen with which they were familiar than the frightening and ranting “messianic” figure he was so often portrayed, it’s doubtful the Germans ever considered complaining about the odd deviation from the facts and just welcomed the favourable publicity.

As a working journalist used to editing details so he could sell essentially the same piece to several different publications, he inserted and deleted as required, Current History’s subscribers spared the lengthy descriptions of the Berghof’s carpets, curtains and furniture enjoyed by Country Life’s readers who were also able to learn of the food served at der Tabellenführer, the Truite saumonée à la Monseigneur Selle (salmon trout Monseigneur style) and caneton à la presse (pressed duck) both praised although in all the many accounts of life of the court circle’s life on the Obersalzberg, there no mention of the vegetarian Hitler ever having such things on the menu.

The tabloid press: On 29 November 2006, News Corp's New York Post ran its front page with a paparazzi photo of Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, the snap taken just prior to dawn in outside a Los Angeles nightclub.  Remembered for the headline Bimbo Summit, the car was Ms Hilton's Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren (C199 (2003-2009)).

The term "tabloid press" refers to down-market style of journalism designed to enjoy wide appeal through an emphasis on scandals, sensation and sport, featuring as many celebrities as possible.  The word tabloid was originally a trademark for a medicine which had been compressed into a small tablet, the construct being tab(let) + -oid (the suffix from the Ancient Greek -ειδής (-eidḗs) & -οειδής (-oeidḗs) (the ο being the last vowel of the stem to which the suffix is attached), from εἶδος (eîdos) (form, likeness)).  From the idea of the pill being the small version of something bigger, tabloid came to be used to refer to miniaturized iterations of a variety of stuff, newspapers being the best known use.  A tabloid is a newspaper with a compact page size smaller than broadsheet but despite the name, there is no standardized size for the format but it's generally about half the size of a broadsheet.  In recent decades, economic reality has intruded on the newspaper business and there are now a number of tabloid-sized newspapers which don't descend to the level of tabloid journalism (although there has been a general lowering of standards).