Planter

Planter (pronounced plahn-tah (U) or plan-ter (non-U))

(1) A person who plants (usually seedlings, shrubs etc).

(2) An implement or machine for planting seeds, seedlings etc in the soil.

(3) The owner or manager of a plantation.

(4) In historical use, during the era of European colonialism, a colonist or new settler.

(5) In historical use, any of the early English or Scottish settlers, given the lands of the dispossessed Irish populace during the reign of Elizabeth I (1533–1603; Queen of England & Ireland 1558-1603).

(6) A decorative container, in a variety of sizes and shapes, used usually for growing flowers or ornamental plants.

(7) In the slang of law enforcement and the criminal class, an individual (from either group) who “plants” incriminating evidence for various purposes.

1350–1400: From the late fourteenth century Middle English plaunter (one who sows seeds), an agent noun from the verb plant, the construct being plant + -er.  Plant was from the Middle English plante, from the Old English plante (young tree or shrub, herb newly planted), from the Latin planta (sprout, shoot, cutting) while the broader sense of “any vegetable life, vegetation generally” was from the Old French plante.  The verb was from the Middle English planten, from the Old English plantian (to plant), from the Latin plantāre, later influenced by Old French planter.  Similar European forms meaning “to plant” included the Dutch planten, the German pflanzen, the Swedish plantera and the Icelandic planta.  The use of “plant” to describe heavy machinery and equipment emerged in the mid-nineteenth century, based on the ideas of something being “planted” in place and immovable (like a planted tree).  As technology evolved, use extended to non-static equipment such as heavy earth moving vehicles but the exact definition now differs between jurisdictions, based variously on purchase price, function etc although the aspect of most practical significance is often the threshold to qualify for certain taxation advantages such as accelerated depreciation.  The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought most likely to have been borrowed from the Latin –ārius where, as a suffix, it was used to form adjectives from nouns or numerals.  In English, the –er suffix, when added to a verb, created an agent noun: the person or thing that doing the action indicated by the root verb.   The use in English was reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant -our), from the Latin -ātor & -tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  When appended to a noun, it created the noun denoting an occupation or describing the person whose occupation is the noun.  Planter is a noun; the noun plural is planters.

Planters (with plants) at the main entryway to Lindsay Lohan's house, Venice, Los Angeles, California, 2013.

The figurative sense of “one who introduces, establishes, or sets up” dates from the 1630s, picked up a decade later to refer to “one who owns a plantation, the proprietor of a cultivated estate in West Indies or southern colonies of North America” although in the latter case it was literally the “planting of seeds” for cropping rather than the idea of planting the “seeds of civilization”, a notion which for centuries appealed to the defenders of European colonialism and echoes of this attitude are heard still today.  The mechanical sense of a “tool or machine for planting seeds” is by 1850 dates from the 1850s.  The “planter’s punch” was a cocktail mixed with Jamaican rum, lime juice and sugar cane juice; first mentioned in the late nineteenth century it fulfilled a similar role to the gin & tonic (G&T) under the Raj.  The now familiar use to describe a “pot for growing plants” is a surprisingly late creation, apparently named only in 1959 although such devices obviously had been in use for centuries, such as the “window box” attached to the sills outside windows in which folk grew either something decorative (flowers) or useful (herbs or miniature vegetables).  The form “window box planter” is now used in commerce; something which seems a needless addition.  A church planter (also as churchplanter) describes a missionary, preacher or organization which travels to establish a church in a place where no congregations of the relevant denomination exist.  The tactic is most associated with Evangelical Christianity.  In Cebuano (an Austronesian language spoken in the southern Philippines), as a back-formation from planteran, planter is used as a noun to mean “a frame-up; a false incrimination of an innocent person”.  The Cebuano verb planteran was also from the English plant and was used to mean “to arrange fraudulent evidence to falsely implicate someone in the commission of a crime”.  An often un-mentioned aspect in the career of Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime-minister 1937-1940) was his early career as a planter.  Dispatched by his father Joseph Chamberlain (1836–1914) to establish a sisal plantation on Andros Island in the Bahamas, the younger Neville proved a tough imperial pioneer, toiling for some six years in the Caribbean but the climate was uncooperative and the soil proved no more receptive to Neville's attempts at appeasement than would Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) two generations later.  The sisal project ended in failure with the family fortune suffering a loss equivalent (in 2024 values) to some US$8-9 million.

Bollards, raw and disguised.

Dealing with terrorism is of necessity a reactive business and in Western cities, bollards appeared sometimes within hours of news of the use of motor vehicles somewhere as an instrument of murder, either as a delivery system for explosives or brute-force device to run down pedestrians.  Because of the haste with which the things were deemed needed, it wasn’t uncommon for bollards initially to be nothing but re-purposed concrete blocks (left), often not even painted, the stark functionality of purpose limited to preventing vehicular access which permitting those on foot to pass with minimal disruption.  They’ve since become a fixture in the built environment, often is stylized shapes (centre & right) and urban designers have been inventive, many objects which function as bollards not recognizably bollardesque, being integrated into structures such as city furniture or bus shelters.

Bollards disguised as planters.

Urban planners have however responded and the large-scale planter box, which had for some time been a familiar sight in cityscapes, has proved adaptable, able to be shaped and placed in a way which obviates the need for conventionally shaped bollards.  Where the space is available, even small green spaces can be installed and, with integrated drip-feed irrigation systems, maintenance is low, an additional benefit being the lowering of temperature in the immediate environment, the foliage reducing radiated heat.  One popular feature of the big planter boxes in many cities is that they include built-in benches on which people can sit, something seen in squares, malls and plazas.  Not all support this however.  Retailers think people should be in such places only to shop and giving them somewhere to sit makes them for the time they spend unproductively inert not able to go to shops and spend money.  There’s also the view such things attract an anti-social element who loiter with nefarious intent and there is still a view by some in authority (based apparently on some English case-law from the 1960s) that in public spaces, while people have the right to walk up and down, there’s no right to stay in the one place, sitting or standing.  So, planters with seating presumably are provided on a case-by-case basis: in nice respectable suburbs which are well-policed, planters have comfortable seats in the shade while in low income areas where the police appear only to respond to murders, serious assaults, armed robbery etc, the built environment is designed in such as way that to sit anywhere is either uncomfortable or impossible.

Planters with an integrated bench on which people can sit are a feature of the street architecture in Canberra, Australia.  Pictured here are several on Lonsdale Street, Braddon.

However, even when planters offer a comfortable spot on which to rest, dangers lurk, especially if one is at the time tired and emotional or at least a bit squiffy.  Shortly before midnight on 8 February 2024, the honourable Barnaby Joyce MP (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) was observed sprawled on the sidewalk mumbling obscenities into his phone, having fallen from the planter where he’d paused to gather his thoughts.  The planter sits on Lonsdale Street in the Canberra suburb of Braddon, a short distance from a bar popular with politicians.  The Daily Mail published footage of the remarkable scene, the highlight in some ways being the conversation the former deputy prime-minister was having with his wife, the lucky soul who captured the scene reporting the uttering of “dead fucking cunt” (the phrase a not infrequently ejaculated part of idiomatic Australian English).

Vikki Campion (b 1985) and Barnaby Joyce (b 1967) on their wedding day, 11 November 2023.  In a nice touch, the couple's two children were able to witness the ceremony.

In answer to enquiries from the Daily Mail (past masters at identifying those “tired and emotional”), Mr Joyce’s wife confirmed she was the interlocutor and her husband was referring not to her as a “dead fucking cunt” but was “…calling himself one.”  “He likes to self flagellate” she added.  She further observed it was disappointing that rather than offering assistance to someone sprawled on the ground in the dead of night, someone would instead film the scene but the witness confirmed Mr Joyce seemed “relaxed & happy”, in no obvious distress and conducting his phone call calmly, using the wide vocabulary which has helped make him a politician of such renown.  Responding later to an enquiry from the Daily Mail, Mr Joyce admitted the incident was “very embarrassing” and that had he known “…someone was there with a camera, I would have got up quicker.”  Explaining the event, he told the newspaper: “I was walking back to my accommodation after parliament rose at 10 pm.  While on the phone I sat on the edge of a planter box, fell over, kept talking on the phone, and very animatedly was referring to myself for having fallen over.  I got up and walked home.”  Commendably, Mr Joyce seems to have made no attempt to blame the planter box for what happened but a Murdoch outlet did report that "...privately he was telling friends he was taking medication you cannot drink alcohol with and that was the cause of the incident".  Left unexplored by Sky News was whether that implied (1) knowing that, he hadn't taken any alcohol that day and the episode was induced by a reaction to the medicine or (2) he had taken a quantity of alcohol and the episode was induced by the combination of strong drink and the pharmaceuticals.  He later clarified things, confirming the latter, after which he announced he was "giving up alcohol for Lent".

The honourable Barnaby Joyce MP, Lonsdale Street, Canberra ACT, February 2024.

The morning after the night before, the planter box's 15 minutes of fame was marked in an appropriately ephemeral way, a chalk outline added where the recumbent Mr Joyce continued his phone call.

Mr Joyce should be given the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps recalling Lyndon Johnson’s (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) observation of Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977) as someone “so dumb he can’t fart and walk at the same time” (sanitized by the press for publication as “chew gum and walk at the same time”), Mr Joyce may have thought it wise to sit on the planter while making his call.  Unfortunately, when one is tired and emotional, the challenge of using one’s phone, even if one sits a planter, can be too much and one topples to the ground, a salutatory lesson for all phone users.  

Dr Rudd sitting in a pew during the ecumenical church service marking the start of the parliamentary year, Canberra, February, 2008.

Among serious & cynical observers of politics (the adjectival tautology acknowledged), the consensus seems to be this latest incident in Mr Joyce's eventful life will prove beneficial and he'll likely increase his majority at the next election, the rationale for that being politicians tend to benefit from being seen as “authentic” and few things seem more authentically Australian than going to a bar, spending a few hours giving it a nudge, then falling off a planter box on the way home.  People can identify with that in a way something like the essay discussing "faith in politics" and the example set by anti-Nazi preacher Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) which Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013) published in The Monthly (October 2006), just doesn't "cut through".  The essay was politely received as “earnest”, “thoughtful” and “worthy”, few apparently prepared to risk retribution by pointing out it was also derivative, taking 5000-odd words to say what had many times over the years already been said (which, in fairness, can be said of many works).  Still, it was shorter than might have been expected so there was that.  The sanctimony in the text would have surprised nobody but it was only after he was defenestrated by his colleagues that some, musing on the the policies his government implemented, decided to point out the hypocrisy of him asserting Christianity “must always take the side of the marginalised, the vulnerable and the oppressed” and that politicians should uphold “the values of decency, fairness and compassion that are still etched deep into our national soul”.  Mr Joyce's many and varied sins are (mostly) well documented and “ordinary Australians” (as politicians like to call us) seem still willing to extend to him the Christian virtue of forgiveness.  Of Dr Rudd, they probably prefer to try to forget.

Blip

Blip (pronounced blip)

(1) A spot of light on a radar screen indicating the position of a plane, submarine, or other object (also as pip); any similar use on other electronic equipment such as an oscilloscope.

(2) By adoption from the use in radar (and applied very loosely), any small spot of light on a display screen.

(3) In any tracked metric (typically revenue, sales etc), a brief and usually unexpected.

(4) In general use, an aberration, something unexpected and (usually) fleeting (often in the expression “blip on the radar”).

(5) In electronic transmissions (audible signals), a pip or bleep (also both onomatopoeic of short, single-pitch sounds).

(6) By extension, any low level, repetitive sound (rare).

(7) In the slang of software developers, a minor bug or glitch (retrospectively dubbed blips if promptly fixed (or re-labeled as “a feature”)).

(8) A specific data object (individual message or document) in the now defunct Google Wave software framework.

(9) In informal use, to move or proceed in short, irregular movements.

(10) In automotive use, briefly to apply the throttle when downshifting, to permit smoother gear-changing (the origin in the days of pre-synchromesh gearboxes, especially when straight-cut gears were used) and still used in competition to optimize performance but most instances by drivers of road cars are mere affectations (used as noun & verb).

(11) In informal use, abruptly to change a state (light to dark; on to off etc), sometimes implying motion.

(12) In broadcast media (and sometimes used on-line), to replace offensive or controversial words with a tone which renders them inaudible (a synonym of “bleep”, both words used in this contexts as nouns (a bleep) and verbs (to bleep out).  In live radio & TV, a junior producer or assistant was usually the designated “blipper” or “bleeper”.

1894: An onomatopoeic creation of sound symbolism, the speculation being it may have been based on the notion of “blink” (suggesting brevity) with the -p added to bli- as symbolic of an abrupt end, the original idea to capture the experience of a “popping sound”.  The use describing the sight and sound generated by radar equipment was first documented in 1945 but may have been in use earlier, the public dissemination of information about the technology restricted until the end of World War II (1939-1945).  The verbs (blipped & blipping) came into use in 1924 & 1925 respectively while the first documented use of the noun blipper dates from 1966 although “bleeper” appeared some fifteen year earlier and the role was acknowledge as early as the 1930s.  Blip is a noun & verb, blipped & blipping are verbs and blippy, blippier & blippiest are adjectives; the noun plural is blips.

The blipster

One unrelated modern portmanteau noun was blipster, the construct a blend of b(lack) + (h)ipster, used to refer to African-Americans (and presumably certain other peoples of color (PoC)) who have adopted the visual clues of hipster culture.  Whether the numbers of blipsters represent the sort of critical mass usually associated with the recognition of sub-cultures isn’t clear but as in medicine where a novel condition does not need to be widely distributed (something suffered even by a single patient can be defined and named as a syndrome), the coining of blipster could have been inspired by seeing just one individual who conformed to being (1) African American and (2) appearing in some ways to conform to the accepted parameters of hipsterism.  Labeling theory contains reservations about this approach but for etymologists it’s fine although there is always the risk of a gaboso (generalized observation based on single observation).  Predictably, there is debate about what constitutes authentic blipsterism because there are objections by some activists to PoCs either emulating sub-cultures identified as “white” or taking self-defining interest in aspects of that culture (such as those associated with hipsterism).  What seems to be acceptable is a stylistic fusion as long as the fashions are uniquely identifiable as linkable with traditional (ie modern, urban) African-American culture and the cultural content includes only black poets, hip-hop artists etc.

The Blipvert

The construct of blipvert (also historically blip-vert) was blip + vert.  Vert in this context was a clipping of advertisement (from the Middle French advertissement (statement calling attention)), the construct being advertise +‎ -ment.  The -ment suffix was from the Middle English -ment, from the Late Latin -amentum, from -mentum which came via Old French -ment.  It was used to form nouns from verbs, the nouns having the sense of "the action or result of what is denoted by the verb".  The suffix is most often attached to the stem without change, except when the stem ends in -dge, where the -e is sometimes dropped (abridgment, acknowledgment, judgment, lodgment et al), with the forms without -e preferred in American English.  The most widely known example of the spelling variation is probably judgment vs judgement.  In modern use, judgement is said to be a "free variation" word where either spelling is considered acceptable as long as use is consistent.  Like enquiry vs inquiry, this can be a handy where a convention of use can be structured to impart great clarity: judgment used when referring to judicial rulings and judgement for all other purposes although the approach is not without disadvantage given one might write of the judgement a judge exercised before delivering their judgment.  To those not aware of the convention, it could look just like a typo.

As both word and abbreviation “vert” has a number of historic meanings.  One form was from the Middle English vert, from Old French vert, from Vulgar Latin virdis (green; young, fresh, lively, youthful) (syncopated from Classical Latin viridis)  In now archaic use it meant (1) green undergrowth or other vegetation growing in a forest, as a potential cover for deer and (2) in feudal law a right granted to fell trees or cut shrubs in a forest.  The surviving use is in heraldry where it describes a shade of green, represented in engraving by diagonal parallel lines 45 degrees counter-clockwise.  As an abbreviation, it's used of vertebrate, vertex & vertical and as a clipping of convertible, used almost exclusively by members of the Chevrolet Corvette cult in the alliterative phrase "Vette vert", a double clipping from (Cor)vette (con)vert(ible).

Vette vert: 1967 Chevrolet Corvette L88 convertible which sold at auction in 2013 at Mecum Dallas for US$3,424,000, a bit short of the L88 coupé which the next year realized US$3,850,000 at Barrett-Jackson Scottsdale; that remains the record price paid for a Corvette at auction.  The L88 used a 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 with a single four barrel carburetor, tuned to produce between 540-560 (gross) horsepower although for official purposes it was rated at 430, slightly less than the advertised output of the L71 427 which, with three two barrel carburettors was the most powerful version recommended for “street” use.  The L88 was essentially a race-ready power-plant, civilized only to the extent cars which used it could be registered for road use but, demanding high-octane fuel available only in a limited number of locations and not offered with creature comforts like air-conditioning, it really was meant only for race tracks or drag strips.  For technical reasons, L71 buyers couldn’t order air-conditioning either but were at least allowed to have a radio, something the noise generated by the L88 would anyway have rendered mostly redundant.

When humans emulated CGI: Max Headroom, 1986, background by Amiga 1000.

A blipvert is a very brief advertisement (a duration of one second or less now the accepted definition although originally they could three times as long).  The concept first attracted widespread attention in the 1980s when it was an element in the popular television show Max Headroom, a production interesting for a number of reasons as well as introducing “blipvert” to a wide audience.  In Max Headroom, blipverts were understood as high-intensity television commercials which differed from the familiar form in that instead of being 20, 30 or 60 seconds long, they lasted but three, the line being they were a cynical device to discourage viewers from switching channels (“channel surfing” not then a term in general use).  The character Max Headroom (actually an actor made up to emulate something rendered with CGI (computer generated imagery)) was said to be pure software which had attained (or retained from the downloaded “copy” of the mind taken from a man killed after running into a “Max Headroom” warning sign in a car park) some form of consciousness and had decided to remain active within the television station’s computer network.  In this, the TV show followed a popular trope from science fiction, one which now underpins many of the warnings (not all by conspiracy theorists) about the implications of AI (artificial intelligence).  Although a creation of prosthetics rather than anything digital, the technique was made convincing by using a background generated on an Amiga 1000 (1985), a modest machine by today’s standards but a revelation at the time because not only was the graphics handling much better than on many more expensive workstations but even by 1990, despite what IBM and Microsoft were telling us, running multi-tasking software was a better experience on any Amiga than trying it on a PS/2 running OS/2.

On television, the stand-alone blipvert never became a mainstream advertising form because (1) it was difficult, (2) as devices to stimulate demand in most cases they appeared not to work and (3) the networks anyway discouraged it but the idea was immensely influential as an element in longer advertisements and found another home in the emerging genre of the music video, the technique perfected by the early 1990s; it was these uses which saw the accepted duration reduced from three seconds to one.  To the MTV generation (and their descendents on YouTube and TikTok), three seconds became a long time and prolonged exposure to the technique presumably improved the ability of those viewers to interpret such messages although that may have been as the cost of reducing the attention span.  Both those propositions are substantially unproven although it does seem clear the “video content generations” do have a greater ability to decode and interpret imagery which is separate for any explanatory text.  That is of course stating the obvious; someone who reads much tends to become better at interpreting words than those who read little.  Still, the blipvert has survived, the advertising industry finding them especially effective if used as a “trigger” to reference a memory created by something earlier presented in some form and those who find them distasteful because they’re so often loud and brash just don’t get it; that’s the best way they’re effective.

Alex (Malcolm McDowell (b 1943)) being re-sensitised (blipvert by blipvert) in Stanley Kubrick's (1928-1999) file adaptation of A Clockwork Orange (1971).

The concept of the blipvert is sometimes attributed to US science fiction (SF) writer Joe Haldeman (b 1943) who described something close to the technique in his novel Mindbridge (1976) and it’s clearly (albeit in longer form) used in the deprogramming sessions in Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange (1962) but use predates both books.  In 1948, encouraged by their success in countering the Partito Comunista d'Italia (PCd'I; the Communist Party of Italy) in elections in the new Italian republic (the success achieved with a mix of bribery, propaganda, disinformation and some of the other tricks of electoral interference to which US politicians now so object when aimed at US polls), the newly formed US Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) turned their attentions to France where the perception of threat was even greater because the infiltration of the press, trade unions, universities, the military and many other organs of state was rife.  The US was well-placed to run effective propaganda campaigns because, uniquely in devastated, impoverished Europe, it could distribute the cubic money required to buy advertising space & airtime, employ cooperative journalists, trade union leaders & professors and even supply scarce commodities like newsprint and ink.  To try to avoid accusations of anything nefarious (and such suggestions were loud, frequent and often not without foundation) much of the activity was conducted as part of Marshall Plan Aid, the post-war recovery scheme with which the US revived post-war European economies with an injection of (what would in 2024 US$ terms) be something like US$182 billion.  As well as extensively publicizing the benefits of non-communist life compared with the lot of those behind the iron curtain, the CIA published books and other pieces by defectors from the Soviet Union.  One novelty of what quickly became an Anglo-American psychological operation (the British Political Warfare Executive (PWE) having honed successful techniques during wartime) was the use of 2-3 second blipverts spliced into film material supplied under the Marshall Plan.  The British were well aware the French were especially protective of what appeared in cinemas and would react unfavourably to blatant propaganda while they might treat something similar in print with little more than a superior, cynical smile.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

The blipvert is sometimes grouped with subliminal advertising and that’s convenient but they’re different both in practice and definitionally and the rule of thumb can be expressed as (1) if it can (briefly) be seen it’s a blipvert and (2) if it can’t be seen it’s subliminal.  No doubt media studies academics (of which there seem now to be many) could punch holes in that and cite a dozen or more exceptions but as a definition it at least hints in the right direction.  What subliminal advertising involves is the presentation of understandable information (which can be images, sound or text) at a level below the conscious awareness of the viewer, the idea being (unlike the confrontational blipvert) to bypass conscious perception.  The extent to which subliminal messaging is an effective way to influence consumer behaviour is debated (as is the notion of whether it’s manipulative and unethical) but the continued use of the technique in political campaigns does suggest that in that specialized field of consumer behaviour, there must be many convinced of the efficacy.  Certainly it appears to work although the less subtle forms are quickly deconstructed and critiqued, such as the sudden adoption in sports, almost as soon as tobacco advertising was banned, of color schemes triggering memories of cigarette packets.

A Marlboro Man lights up.  The "Marlboro 100s" in the gold & white pack were so-named because each stick was 100 mm (4 inch) long.

After some years of prevarication, in 2005 the European Union (EU) banned tobacco advertising “in the print media, on radio and over the internet” at the same prohibiting “tobacco sponsorship of cross-border cultural and sporting events”.  Making unlawful the promotion of a known carcinogen responsible over a lifetime of use for shortening lifespan (on average) by just under a decade sounds now uncontroversial but at the time it had been bitterly contested by industry.  Of interest to some was that despite the introduction of the laws being known for some two years, only couple of months earlier, Ferrari had signed a fifteen year, billion dollar sponsorship deal with Philip Morris, best known for their Marlboro cigarette and “Marlboro Man” advertising campaign which featured a variety of men photographed in outdoor settings, five of whom ultimately died of smoking-related diseases.

Variations on a theme of red & white.  Ferrari Formula One cars: F2007 (2007) in Marlboro livery (left), F10 (2010) with "bar code" (centre) and F14 (2014) in post bar-code scheme.

Ferrari’s lawyers took their fine-toothed legal combs to the problem and came up with a way to outsmart the eurocrats.  The Formula One (F1) cars Scuderia Ferrari ran began to appear in what had become the traditional red & white livery (the same combination used on Marlboro’s signature packets) but in the space where once had been displayed the Marlboro logo, there was instead a stylized “bar code”.  In response to a number of accusations (including many by those in the medical community) that the team was guilty of “backdoor advertising” of cigarettes, in 2008 a statement on the company website said it was “baffled”:

"Today and in recent weeks, articles have been published relating to the partnership contract between Scuderia Ferrari and Philip Morris International, questioning its legality.  These reports are based on two suppositions: that part of the graphics featured on the Formula 1 cars are reminiscent of the Marlboro logo and even that the red colour which is a traditional feature of our cars is a form of tobacco publicity.  Neither of these arguments have any scientific basis, as they rely on some alleged studies which have never been published in academic journals. But more importantly, they do not correspond to the truth.  "The so-called barcode is an integral part of the livery of the car and of all images coordinated by the Scuderia, as can be seen from the fact it is modified every year and, occasionally even during the season. Furthermore, if it was a case of advertising branding, Philip Morris would have to own a legal copyright on it.  "The partnership between Ferrari and Philip Morris is now only exploited in certain initiatives, such as factory visits, meetings with the drivers, merchandising products, all carried out fully within the laws of the various countries where these activities take place. There has been no logo or branding on the race cars since 2007, even in countries where local laws would still have permitted it.  The premise that simply looking at a red Ferrari can be a more effective means of publicity than a cigarette advertisement seems incredible: how should one assess the choice made by other Formula 1 teams to race a car with a predominantly red livery or to link the image of a driver to a sports car of the same colour? Maybe these companies also want to advertise smoking!  It should be pointed out that red has been the recognised colour for Italian racing cars since the very beginning of motor sport, at the start of the twentieth century: if there is an immediate association to be made, it is with our company rather than with our partner.”

When red & white was just the way Scuderia Ferrari painted their race cars: The lovely, delicate lines of the 1961 Ferrari Typo 156 (“sharknose”), built for Formula One's “voiturette” (1.5 litre) era (1961-1965), Richie Ginther (1930–1989), XXIII Grosser Preis von Deutschland (German Grand Prix), Nürburgring Nordschleife, August 1961.

The suggestion was of course that this was subliminal marketing (actually unlawful in the EU since the late 1950s) the mechanics being that Ferrari knew this would attract controversy and the story was that at speed, when the bar code was blurred, it resembled the Marlboro logo; racing cars do go fast but no evidence was ever produced to demonstrate the phenomenon happened in real world conditions, either when viewed at the tracks or in televised coverage.  It was possible using software to create a blurred version of the shape and there was a vague resemblance to the logo but that wasn’t the point, as a piece of subliminal marketing it worked because viewers had been told the bar code would in certain circumstances transform into a logo and even though it never did, the job was done because Marlboro was on the mind of many and doubtlessly more often than ever during the years when the logo actually appeared.  So, job done and done well, midway in the 2010 season, Ferrari dropped the “bar code”, issuing a press release: “By this we want to put an end to this ridiculous story and concentrate on more important things than on such groundless allegations.”

Plutonium & Uranium

Plutonium (pronounced ploo-toh-nee-uhm)

A radioactive chemical element that is artificially derived from uranium, plutonium is a highly toxic metallic transuranic element.  It occurs in trace amounts in uranium ores and is produced in a nuclear reactor by neutron bombardment of uranium-238. The most stable and important isotope, plutonium-239, readily undergoes fission and is used as a reactor fuel in nuclear power stations and in nuclear weapons. Symbol: Pu; atomic no: 94; half-life (plutonium 239): 24,360 years; valency: 3, 4, 5, or 6; relative density (alpha modification): 19.84; melting point: 1184°F (640°C); boiling point: 5846°F (3230°C); specific gravity 19.84.  Its longest-lived isotope is Plutonium 244 with a half-life of 77 million years.

1941: The construct was Pluto (the (now dwarf-) planet), +–ium (the element ending suffix from the Latin -um (neuter singular morphological suffix) and based on Latin terms for metals such as ferrum (iron).  The –ium suffix (used most often to form adjectives) was applied as (1) a nominal suffix (2) a substantivisation of its neuter forms and (3) as an adjectival suffix.  It was associated with the formation of abstract nouns, sometimes denoting offices and groups, a linguistic practice which has long fallen from fashion.  In the New Latin, as the neuter singular morphological suffix, it was the standard suffix to append when forming names for chemical elements.  Plutonium was discovered at the University of California, Berkeley and so named because it follows the recently discovered neptunium in the periodic table and, at the time, Pluto followed Neptune in the Solar System.  The name plutonium earlier had been proposed for barium and was used sometimes in this sense early in the nineteenth century.

Pluto was from the Latin Plūtō, from the Ancient Greek Πλούτων (Ploútōn) (god of the underworld”).  In Greek mythology & Roman mythology, Pluto is remembered as the Greco-Roman god of the underworld but the ultimate origin was the Greek Ploutōn (god of wealth), from ploutos (wealth, riches (thought probably used originally in the sense of “overflowing”), from the primitive Indo-European root pleu- (to flow); the alternative Greek name Hades is also related to wealth because it is from beneath the earth that lie valuable metals & precious gems.  Although some have expressed doubt, the accepted history is it was then eleven year old Ms Venetia Burney (1918–2009) who suggested the name Pluto for the newly discovered (then) planet, aware of the procedure apparently because her uncle had earlier nominated Phobos and Deimos as names for the moons of Mars.  In 2006, the humorless International Astronomical Union (IAU) made its scandalous decision to declare, on highly technical grounds, that Pluto was not a planet but a mere dwarf and this inspired the American Dialect Society to coin the verb "to pluto" meaning "to demote or devalue something".

Uranium (pronounced yoo-rey-nee-uhm)

A white, lustrous, radioactive, metallic element, it has compounds used in photography and in coloring glass, the 235 isotope used in atomic and hydrogen bombs and as nuclear fuel in fission reactors.  A radioactive silvery-white metallic element of the actinide series, it occurs in several minerals including pitchblende, carnotite, and autunite.  Symbol: U; atomic no: 92; atomic wt: 238.0289; half-life of most stable isotope (uranium 238): 451 × 10⁹ years; valency: 2-6; relative density: 18.95 (approx.); melting point: 2075°F (1135°C); boiling point: 7473°F (4134°C); specific gravity 18.95.

1789: The construct was Uranus + (the planet) the –ium.  The element was named (using the conventions of Modern Latin) because the discovery of the planet had recently been announced.  Uranus was from the Latin Ūranus, from the Ancient Greek Οὐρανός (Ouranós), from οὐρανός (ouranós) (sky, heaven).

Uranus Fudge Factory, 14400 State Hwy Z, St Robert, Missouri 65584, USA.

Nuclear Weapons

Of the first three atomic bombs built in 1945, two used plutonium as fissile material while one used uranium.  Two of the many problems faced in the project were (1) production of uranium of the required purity was slow but a bomb of this type was (relatively) simple to produce and (2) plutonium was more abundant but the engineering to create such a bomb was intricate, the results uncertain.  Two designs were thus concurrently developed: a (relatively) simple trigger-type device and a more complex implosion-type.  Trinity, code-name for the world’s first detonation of a nuclear device (New Mexico, July 1945), was one of the latter, an implosion-type plutonium bomb.  It was chosen because this was a genuine test, there being no certainty it would work whereas the trigger-type uranium device, ultimately dropped on Hiroshima a month later, was never tested because the scientists and engineers had such confidence in its design.  After the war, it was assumed the somewhat inefficient trigger mechanism wouldn’t again be used but technical problems saw production temporarily resumed, these stop-gap A-Bombs remaining in service until 1951.

Models of short and medium-range ballistic missiles at DPRK Annual Flower Show, Pyongyang, April 2013.

Lindsay Lohan in mushroom cloud T-shirt.

It’s no longer certain the uranium-based bomb used again Hiroshima in August 1945 remains a genuine one-off.  It’s certain that in the sixty-odd years since Trinity, every nuclear weapon except the Hiroshima device was plutonium-based but, beginning in 2006, the DPRK (the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (North Korea)) conducted six nuclear tests and, despite advances in monitoring and detection techniques, it’s not clear what material was used although the consensus is all were fission (A-Bombs) and not fusion (H-Bombs) devices.  The tests, by historic standards, were low-yield, suggesting uranium, but this could be misleading because even a failed test of can produce a nuclear blast called a fizzle (when a detonation fails grossly to meet its expected yield).  The DPRK's programme will have had the odd fizzle but then so has every nation at some stage of the process but by historic standards it must be judged a success.  It was hampered by sanctions and international opposition (Beijing and Moscow as unwilling as Western powers to help the hermit kingdom join the nuclear club) but achieved the  necessary technology transfer by swapping ballistic missile blueprints with Pakistan which had detonated it's first fission device in 1998 but lacked a robust delivery system to counter the "nuclear threat" from India which had tested as early as 1974.  That transaction was illustrative of one of the two concerns the West harbours about the DPRK bomb (1) some sort of accident (and that covers everything from an unplanned detonation in some unfortunate place to a missile launch which malfunctions and hits a populated area) and (2) nuclear proliferation which happens because the technology is used by Pyongyang in the barter economy as a trade for something desirable but not available because of sanctions or other trade restrictions.

Dirigible

Dirigible (pronounced dir-i-juh-buhl or dih-rij-uh-buhl)

(1) An airship.

(2) A machine designed for or capable of being directed, controlled, or steered.

1583:  From the Latin dīrigere (to set straight), present active infinitive of dīrigō (steer, to direct) where it existed as an adjective with the meaning in the literal sense.  The use to describe airships dates from 1885, a direct borrowing from the French balloon dirigeable (steerable balloon), from the adjective dirigeable (capable of being directed or guided), a practice English would repeat with words like aileron and fuselage, reflecting the early French lead in aviation.  Dirigible is a noun & adjective, indirigibility & dirigibility are nouns and indirigible is an adjective; the noun plural is dirigibles. 

The Hindenburg, 1937

Frontal schematic of Hindenburg (LZ 129).

Built in the mid-1930s, Nazi Germany’s two Hindenburg-class dirigibles were hydrogen-filled, passenger-carrying rigid airships, the family named after Generalfeldmarschall Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934; Reichspräsident (1925-1934) of the German Weimar Republic 1918-1933). They were the last of their type and the largest ever to fly, longer than three of the original Boeing 747s and only slightly shorter than RMS Titanic.  The first commissioned was Hindenburg (LZ 129) which undertook its maiden flight in March 1936 and powered by four Daimler-Benz DB602 V16 diesel engines rated at 890 kW (1190 horsepower), under neutral atmospheric conditions it typically cruised at 130 km/h (80 mph).  That made for leisurely transatlantic crossings (albeit much faster than ocean liners) but it could carry 72 passengers in some comfort as well as several tonnes for freight over a maximum range of 14,000 km (8700 miles).  By contrast, the Junkers Ju 52 (a contemporary airliner), although able to cruise faster at 210 km/h (130 mph) rarely carried more than 18 passengers with range restricted to a hardly intercontinental 1000 km (625 miles).  With a Berlin-New York ticket priced at the equivalent of around US$8000 in 2024 values, the big dirigible was the Concorde of its era and although obviously not supersonic, it was more luxurious and unlike the noisy, vibrating Ju 52, passengers enjoyed the comfort of small cabins, washrooms, a bar, a dining room and several lounges.  Although it may seem surprising given the craft's fiery demise, located within the body of the craft (surrounded by all that combustible hydrogen) was a smoking room.  To enter or leave the smoking room, passengers had to pass through an air-lock designed to ensure the flammable gas never came into contact with a naked flame, the barman's most important duty to check each of his customers as they went to leave, ensuring no forgetful smokers left with cigarettes still lit.

Hindenburg's interior was decorated in the then fashionable art deco "ocean liner" style: dining room (left), bar with a waiting bottle of Benedictine liqueur (centre) and lounge with world map annotated showing symbols illustrating the routes flown by the dirigible (right).

The safety record of the big dirigibles in the previous two decades had been patchy with a half-dozen crashes involving French, US and British craft with a death toll of some 250 souls.  Despite this, the Hindenburg operated a regular and profitable transatlantic passenger service for over a year, flying to both South and North America.  However, the designers were forced to use highly flammable hydrogen rather than inert helium because the US, the only country able to supply the necessary volume of the latter, refused on grounds of national security.  On 6 May 1937, while attempting to dock at Lakehurst Naval Air Station, New Jersey, the Hindenburg was destroyed by fire with the loss of 36 lives and although a variety of hypotheses have been suggested, the cause of ignition remains unknown.  The disaster shattered public confidence and marked an abrupt end of the passenger airship era, the Hindenburg’s sister-ship, the Graf Zeppelin never operated on a regular passenger service and scrapped in 1940.  Hitler's last word on the matter of the accident was "it was an act of God".  The combination of the Hindenburg disaster and the rapid improvement in the range and capacity of post-war airliners meant there was no return of the big passenger dirigibles, even among those manufacturers with access to ample supplies of helium.  Despite that, the things never went away and for decades there has been interest by both the military and commercial concerns in using them for a variety of purposes including as camera platforms, carriers of scientific instruments and survey vehicles for mining exploration and oceanographic research.  Dirigible the word however endured less well.  Preferred use now is the generic airship or, sometimes inaccurately given it’s technically different from the rigid or semi-rigid dirigible, the pleasing blimp.

Last moments of the Hindenburg, Lakehurst Naval Air Station, New Jersey, 6 May 1937.

One novel (although an adaptation of a concept in use for almost a century) use which remains at the proof of concept stage is as a lift vehicle for the LOHAN (Low Orbit Helium Assisted Navigator) and although there was no direct connection to Lindsay Lohan (not noted for her interest in aerospace matters), the project team cheerfully did admit the acronym was constructed as a publicity tool, blatantly trading on her notoriety (the name dating from 2012).  The idea is that because the cost of delivering a rocket-powered spaceplane into the stratosphere is so significant, if the travel from the ground to the critical altitude at which the rocket engine will ignite can be handled instead by a helium-filled dirigible, the economics of such devices become more compelling.  The concept is for the dirigible to carry a large number of rockets to an altitude of 65,000 feet (20,000 m) at which point they’re released, allowing their journey to continue to the planned altitude of some 80,000 feet (25,000 m), the dirigible returning to ground to be re-used for subsequent launches.  The initial testing plan was to use a large helium balloon to carry as small scale (3D-printed) rocket but despite years of negotiation, the developers were never able to secure a launch licence from US aviation authorities.

The LOHAN spaceplane.

Interestingly, the substantially amateur team found the greatest engineering challenge was not the lift device or the design of the spaceplane but ensuring the rocket reliably would fire as required, the thin atmosphere at 20,000 m containing only some 5% of the oxygen typically found as sea level, the solution being an exotic igniter-mix, a kind of super spark-plug which works when 12 miles (20 km) high.  Without the prototype able to be tested, it’s not clear if things are in abeyance.