Rack

Rack (pronounced rak)

(1) A framework of bars, wires, or pegs on which articles are arranged or deposited.

(2) A fixture containing several tiered shelves, often affixed to a wall.

(3) A vertical framework set on the sides of a wagon and able to be extended upward for carrying hay, straw, or the like in large loads.

(4) In certain cue sports (pool, snooker), a frame of triangular shape within which the balls are arranged before play; the balls so arranged.

(5) In butchery & cooking, the rib section of a fore-saddle of lamb, mutton, pork or veal (historically used also of the neck portion).

(6) In nephology (the branch of meteorology concerned with cloud formation, structure, classification, and dynamics), as “cloud rack”, a group of drifting clouds.

(7) In machinery, a bar, with teeth on one of its sides, adapted to engage with the teeth of a pinion rack and pinion or the like, as for converting circular into rectilinear motion or vice versa (nest known as the “rack & pinion” steering apparatus used in motor vehicles.

(8) An instrument of torture consisting of a framework on which a victim was tied, often spread-eagled, by the wrists and ankles, to be slowly stretched by spreading the parts of the framework; there were many variations.

(9) As “on the rack”, originally a reference to the torture in progress, later adopted figuratively to describe a state of intense mental or physical suffering, torment, or strain.

(10) In equestrian use, the fast pace of a horse in which the legs move in lateral pairs but not simultaneously (the “horse's rack”).

(11) In military use, a fixed (though sometimes with some scope for movement for purposes of aiming), a framework fixed to an aircraft, warship or vehicle and used as a mounting for carrying bombs, rockets, missiles etc.

(12) In zoology, a pair of antlers (more commonly used of wall mounted trophies (eight-point rack etc)).

(13) In slang, ruin or destruction (a state or rack).

(14) In slang, a woman's breasts (often with a modifier).

(15) In slang, a large amount of money (historically a four-figure sum).

(16) In military, prison and other institutional slang, a bed, cot, or bunk.

(17) In slang, to go to bed; go to sleep.

(18) In slang, to wreck (especially of vehicles).

(19) In slang, as “to rack up”, a sudden or dramatic increase in the price of goods or services.

(20) In slang, to tally, accumulate, or amass, as an achievement or score (often expressed as “racked up”).

(21) In vinification (wine-making), to draw off (wine, cider etc) from the lees (to “rack into” a clean barrel).

(22) To torture; acutely to distress or torment (often expressed as “racked with pain”).

(23) To strain in mental effort (often expressed as “racked her brain”).

(24) To strain by physical force or violence; to strain beyond what is normal or usual.

(25) To stretch the body of a victim in torture by the use of a rack.

(26) In nautical use, to seize two ropes together, side by side:

(27) In cue sports, as “rack 'em up”, to place the balls on the tales in the correct spot with the use of a rack.

1250–1300: From the Middle English noun rakke & rekke, from the Middle Dutch rac, rec & recke (framework) and related to the Old High German recchen (to stretch), the Old Norse rekja (to spread out), the Middle Low German reck and the German Reck.  The use to mean “wreck” dates from the late sixteenth century and was a phonetic variant of the earlier wrack, from the Middle English wrake, wrache & wreche, a merging of the Old English forms wracu & wræc (misery, suffering) and wrǣċ (vengeance, revenge).  Except as a literary or poetic device (used to impart the quality of “vengeance; revenge; persecution; punishment; consequence; trouble”) or in some dialects to mean “ruin, destruction; a wreck”), wrack is now archaic.  The equestrian use (the fast pace of a horse in which the legs move in lateral pairs but not simultaneously (the “horse's rack”)) dates from the 1570s and the origin is obscure but it may have been a variant of “rock” (ie the idea of a “rocking motion”).  Nephology (the branch of meteorology concerned with cloud formation, structure, classification, and dynamics) adopted “cloud rack” (a group of drifting clouds) from mid-fourteenth century use in Middle English where the original spellings were rak, recke & reck, from the Old English wrǣc (what is driven) and related to the Gothic wraks (persecutor) and the Swedish vrak.  The use in vinification (wine-making), describing the process of drawing off (wine, cider etc) from the lees (to “rack into” a clean barrel) dates from the mid fifteenth century and was from the Old Provençal arraca , from raca (dregs of grapes), ultimately from the by then obsolete Old French raqué (of wine pressed from the dregs of grapes).  The use in butchery & cooking (the rib section of a fore-saddle of lamb, mutton, pork or veal (historically used also of the neck portion)) dates from the mid sixteenth century and is of uncertain origin but was probably based upon either (1) the cuts being placed on some sort or rack for preparation or (2) having some sort or resemblance to “a rack”.  Rack is a noun & verb, racker is a noun, racking is a noun, verb & adjective, racked is a verb and rackingly is an adverb; the noun plural is racks.

Racking them up: Lindsay Lohan playing snooker.

In idiomatic use, the best known include “racking one’s brains” (thinking hard), “going to rack and ruin” (to decay, decline, or become destroyed”, “on the rack” (originally a reference to the torture in progress, later adopted figuratively to describe a state of intense mental or physical suffering, torment, or strain) and “racked with pain” (again an allusion to the consequences of being “racked” “on the rack”).  The “rack” as a description of a woman’s breasts is one in a long list of slang terms for that body part and dictionaries of slang are apparently divided on where it’s the breasts, genitals or buttocks which have provided the most inspiration for the creation of such forms.  The Australian slang “rack off” is an alternative to the many other forms popular in the country used to mean “please go away” including “sod off”, “piss off”, “fuck off”, “bugger off” etc; depending on context and tone of voice, these can range from affectionate to threatening.

Luggage rack & ski rack page in the 1968 Chrysler Parts Accessories Catalog (left) and promotional images for the 1968 Chrysler Town and Country (right).  Because the full-sized US station wagons could be fitted with a third seat in the back compartment (thus becoming eight-seaters), the roof-rack was sometime an essential fitting.

In transport, luggage racks were among the earliest “accessories” in that they were additions to hand & horse-drawn carts and carriages which enabled more stuff to be carried without reducing the passenger-carrying capacity.  There were “roof racks” and “trunk racks”, both there for the purpose of carrying trunks, secured usually with leather straps.  The most obvious carry-over to motorized vehicles was the roof-rack, still a popular fitting and still sometimes fitted as standard equipment to certain station wagons (estate cars).

1972 De Tomaso Pantera.

Although it wouldn’t have been something the designer considered, the mid-engined De Tomaso Pantera (1971-1992) had a rear section so suited to the provision of a luggage rack that Gran Turismo (a after-market accessories supplier) produced one which was as elegant as any ever made.  Because of the location directly behind the rear window, when loaded it obviously would have restricted rearward visibility so in certain jurisdictions doubtlessly it would have been declared unlawful but if one lives somewhere more permissive, it remains a practical apparatus.  Ironically, the Pantera had probably the most capacious frunk (a front mounted trunk (boot)) ever seen in a mid-engined sports car and one easily able to accommodate the luggage the car’s two occupants were likely to need for a weekend jaunt.  Even if superfluous however, in the collector market it’s an interesting period piece and well-designed; easily removed for cleaning, the four mounting brackets remain affixed to the deck lid.

1973 Chrysler Newport two-door hardtop (left) and 1973 Triumph Stag (right).

Larger cars of course carried more than two and if they travelled over distances, usually they carried luggage.  The full-sized US cars of the early 1970s were very big and had a lot of trunk space but many, with bench seats front and rear were configured as genuine six-seaters and that could mean a lot of luggage.  Accordingly, both the manufacturers and after-market suppliers in the era offered a range of luggage racks.  Upon debut, the lovely but flawed Triumph Stag (1970-1978) was a much-praised design which offered the pleasure of open-air motoring with the practicality of four seats (although those in the rear were best suited for children) but the sleek, low lines did mean trunk space was not generous and luggage racks were a popular fitting.

1959 Austin-Healey Sprite (left) and 1971 Chevrolet Corvette Convertible LS5 454/365 (right).

There have been cars (and not all of them were sports cars) with no trunk lid.  In the case of the Austin-Healey Sprite (1958-1971), the lack of the structure on the early versions (1958-1961) was a cost-saving measure (the same rationale that saw the planned retractable headlights replaced by the distinctive protuberances atop the hood (bonnet) which lent the cheerful little roadster its nickname (bugeye in North American and frogeye in the UK & most of the Commonwealth).  It had additional benefits including weight reduction and improved structural rigidity but the obvious drawback was inconvenience: to use the trunk one had to reach through the gap behind the seats.  It was easy to see why luggage racks proved a popular accessory, sales of which continued to be strong even when later versions of the Sprite (1961-1971) and the badge-engineered companion model (the MG Midget (1961-1980)) gained a trunk lid.  Curiously, between 1953-1962, the Chevrolet Corvette did have a trunk lid but when the second generation was released for the 1953 model year, it was removed from the specification and not until the fifth generation in 1998 did one again appear.  By then, the Corvette's luggage rack moment had passed but in the early 1970s they were still often fitted and in the modern collector market, it’s one of those accessories, the very sight of which seems to upset some.

Variations of the theme: ski rack (left), bike rack (centre) and surfboard rack (right).  The luggage rack had proved an adaptable platform and specialist versions are available for many purposes but in many cases the same basic structure can be used as a multi-purpose platform with “snap-on” fittings used to secure objects of different shapes.  The Porsche 911 was an early favorite on the ski fields because of the combination of and air-cooled engine and the rear-engine/rear wheel drive configuration which provided good traction in icy conditions.

Markers of the state of civilization: Gun rack in the back window of pickup truck (left) and silver plate toast rack by Daniel & Arter of Birmingham, circa 1925 (right).

The toast rack has been in use since at least the 1770s and, like the butter knife, is one of the markers of living a civilized life.  That aside, their functionality lies in the way they provide a gap between the slices, allowing water vapour to escape, preventing it condensing into adjacent slices and making them soggy while also maintaining a buffer of warm air between so the cooling process is slowed.  In the way of such things, there have over the years been design ranging from the starkly simple to the extravagant but some of the most admired are those from the art deco era of the inter-war years.

The gun rack in the back of a pickup truck is now a classic MAGA (Make America Great Again) look but the devices have been in use for decades and were always popular in rural areas with a tradition of hunting.  Whether such things are lawful depends on the jurisdiction.  In the US, some states have an “open carry” law which means one is free to carry certain firearms unconcealed and this includes gun racks which are similarly unrestricted; in states where an “open carry” permit is required, a separate permit is required for a gun rack to be used in a vehicle while in jurisdictions with no “open carry” legislation, gun racks are also banned except for those able to obtain a specific exemption.  So, it can be that travelling across state lines can involve some additional effort, even if one is authorized to carry a firearm in both placed.  Usually, this demands the weapon being unloaded and encased in an area inaccessible to both driver and passengers.

The rack as a marker of the state of civilization: Cuthbert Simpson, Tortured on the Rack in the Tower of London (1558), published in from Old England: A Pictorial Museum (1847) and reprinted in The National And Domestic History Of England by William Aubrey (circa 1890).

The most famous of the many apparatus of torture which proliferated during the Middle Ages (and beyond), the rack was an interrogation tool which remained in use until the eighteenth century.  Although the rack is most associated with the Spanish Inquisition, it was popular also in England as a device to extract confessions to various crimes, especially heresy.  The designers were imaginative and racks were produced in many forms including vertical devices and wheels but the classic version was a flat, bed-like structure, made with an open, rectangular wooden frame with rollers or bars at each end to which the wrists and ankles of the accused (or “the guilty” as often they were known) were secured.  The rollers moved in opposite directions by the use of levers, and the victim’s joints slowly and painfully were separated.

RACK is used as an acronym, one being “Random Act of Conditionless Kindness” which seems not substantively different from the better known “random act of kindness” although presumably it imparts some depth of emphasis, given “random acts of conditional kindness” may be a more commonly observed phenomenon.  In certain sub-sets of the BDSM (Bondage, Discipline (or Dominance) & Submission (or Sadomasochism) community, RACK means either “Risk-Aware Consensual Kink” or “Risk-Accepted Consensual Kink).  Both describe a permissive attitude towards conduct which is to some degree “risky”, undertaken on the basis of “a voluntary assumption of risk”.  In that it differs from the tastes of BDSM’s SSC (Safe, Sane & Consensual) sub-set which restricts it proclivities to things “not risky”.  The RACK practitioners acknowledge the difficulties inherent in their kinks and do not claim to make a distinction between “safe” & “unsafe” but rather between “safer” and “less safe” (ie degrees of danger).  What this means is that in extreme cases there are potential legal consequences because while the implication of RACK is that to some degree one can “contract out” of the statutory protections usually available in such interactions, in the case of serious injury or death, the usually legal principles would apply.

Comeback

Comeback (pronounced kuhm-bak)

(1) A return to a former higher rank, popularity, position, prosperity etc, typically after an extended period of obscurity, under-performance etc.

(2) In sporting competition, a team or individual overcoming a substantial disadvantage in points to win or draw.

(3) Of products, ideas, practices etc, to again become fashionable.

(4) To reply after a period of consideration (as in “to come back” to someone).

(5) A clever or effective retort; a rejoinder; a retort; a riposte (especially if recriminatory).

(6) In informal use, a basis or cause of complaint.

(7) To return (in the sense “come back”).

(8) Of something forgotten, to return to one's memory.

1815–1825: A noun use of verb phrase “come back”, the construct being come + back.  Come was from the Middle English comen & cumen, from the Old English cuman, from the Proto-West Germanic kweman, from the Proto-Germanic kwemaną (to come), from the primitive Indo-European gwémt (to step), from gwem- (to step).  Back was from the Middle English bak, from the Old English bæc, from the Middle Low German bak (back), from the Old Saxon bak, from the Proto-West Germanic bak, from the Proto-Germanic baką, possibly from the primitive Indo-European bheg- (to bend). The adverb represents an aphetic (in phonetics, linguistics & prosody, of, relating to, or formed by aphesis (the loss of the initial unstressed vowel of a word)) form of aback.  Similar forms included the West Frisian bekling (chair back), the Old High German bah and the Swedish and Norwegian bak.  The use of comeback (for long used also as “come-back”) in the sense of a verbal (usually oral) retort dates form 1889 and was an adaptation of the verbal phrase, the implication especially of a “quick or clever response”.  The familiar modern meaning “recovery, return to former position or condition after retirement or loss” was a creation of American English, documented since 1908.  Comeback is a noun (the use as a verb is a misspelling of “come back”; the noun plural is comebacks.

In idiomatic use a “comeback kid” is a person who on more than one occasion had demonstrated a propensity to overcome tragedy, reversal or failure and rebound to triumph and victory.  It has also been used of someone who has achieved such a thing only once but in an especially notable or dramatic way such as Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) who recovered from a mediocre performance in the 1992 Iowa Caucus but managed to secure an unexpected second place in the New Hampshire primary, despite (cynics would say “because”) reports of his extramarital affair with Gennifer Flowers (b 1950; “Gennifer with a ‘G’”).  Variations include “comeback king”, “comeback queen”, “comeback specialist” etc and those for whom comebacks seem to be a calling are said to stage “serial comebacks”.  When writing of comebacks (usually in sport, politics or entertainment), it not uncommon for them to be described as a “rebound”, “resurgence”, “return”, “revival”, “resurrection” or “resuscitation” (or a “redux” for those wanting something more literary).  In gambling, “comeback money” is that used by an agent of a bookie to place a large bet on a horse at large odds, thereby causing the odds on that horse to decline, reducing the bookie's potential losses in the event that the horse wins.

Thames Comeback Sauce.

Comeback sauce is a dipping sauce and salad dressing, most associated with central Mississippi and while there are variations, the classic recipes typically are based on mayonnaise and chili sauce.  A creamy & tangy Southern condiment, someback sauce is a Mississippi staple and has spread far beyond the city of Jackson, where it originated as an example of “fusion cuisine” (in this case Greek + Mississippi influences).  It’s thought the sauce's name is merely the idea “it tastes so good diners keep ‘coming back’ for more”.  It was first served in Greek-owned restaurants (some claim the Mayflower Cafe was first) in Mississippi in the mid-twentieth century and it has much evolved and in addition to the base of mayonnaise and chili sauce, other popular ingredients include ketchup, spices and Worcestershire hot sauce.

Noted comebacks in modern US politics

F Scott Fitzgerald’s (1896–1940) oft-quoted phrase “there are no second acts in American lives” appears as a fragment in his posthumously published, unfinished novel The Last Tycoon (1941) but he first published it in the early 1930s in the essay My Lost City, a kind of love letter to New York.  The quote is frequently misunderstood as an observation that for those Americans who suffer disgrace or destitution, there is no redemption, no comeback.  However, from politics to pop culture (there is still some slight distinction), there are many examples of temporarily disreputable Americans resurrecting their public lives from all but the most ignominious opprobrium.  Fitzgerald was a professional writer and his observation was an allusion to the structure used by playwrights in traditional three-act theater: (1) problem, (2) complication & (3) solution.  He thought the nature of the American mind was to prefer to skip the second act, going straight from a problem to finding a solution.  His point was well-made and it’s one of the themes of the narrative which underlies the discussions (which became arguments and sometimes squabbles) of military and political strategy between Washington and London during the World War II (1939-1945).

The concept of the comeback is well understood and the zeitgeisters at The Cut (an online publication of New York magazine) noted the phenomenon, in September 2024 posting a piece which looked at Lindsay Lohan’s latest comeback and reviewed those of the last ten-odd years.

That photograph.

What Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021; president elect since 5 Nov 2024) did in regaining the presidency in the 2024 presidential election was perhaps the most remarkable comeback in modern US political history and as notable as any that has happened anywhere.  When one considers the prelude to the 2024 triumph, (Trump (1) lost the popular vote in 2016, (2) lost the popular vote and the electoral college (and thus the presidency) in 2020 and (3) suffered between 2021-2024 a myriad of legal problems including civil judgements in which he was found liable for hundreds of millions in damages and even a felony conviction, a historic first for a US president), his comeback seems more remarkable still.  It’s something even the Trump haters (of which there seem to be a few) must acknowledge, even if it’s not a thing of which they dare speak.

The analysis of the voting patterns in 2024 have revealed some interesting findings but talk of a “political realignment” (such as the shift of the South from the Democrats to the Republicans in the wake of the civil rights legislation of the 1960s) may be premature because there seems still not to be an understanding of just how bizarrely unique a political figure Mr Trump is.  His effect on the political dynamic is undeniable but it may be that it’s something unique to his very existence and that when he departs (God forbid), the construct called MAGA Republicanism, while it may live on as a label, ceases to exert its pull.  These personal creations do seem to behave like that, Gaullism (from Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969) in France and Peronism (from Juan Perón (1895–1974; President of Argentina 1946-1955 & 1973-1974) in Argentina both surviving as labels but those who have in recent decades appropriated them haven’t always pursued policies of which the two men would have approved; nor have they always aligned with the definitions political scientists have constructed.

The 2024 election:  Conde Nast's Vanity Fair makes clear its editorial position.

It was a strange election campaign.  Trump actually talked much about specifics, there were a lot of policies and many specific details: what he was going to do and to whom.  Kamala Harris (b 1964; US vice president since 2021) however appeared to have only three items on the campaign clipboard: (1) I am not Donald Trump, (2) I am not Joe Biden and (3) abortion on demand.  Had the Trump brand been as toxic as her team seemed to believe the her tactic of basing every appearance around platitudes, slogans and clichés endlessly recited (obediently to be repeated by the crowd), that might have won the election (it’s been done before) but clearly, Trump had more appeal for enough of those in the demographics the Democrats had pencilled in as “ours”.  Quickly, the analysts “scoped down” on the voting patterns and discovered (1) there were women for whom abortion was not the central issue (although it is clear women also took advantage of differential voting where possible, voting to making abortion available in their state wheen the option was on the ballot while also voting for Trump), (2) a significant proportion of Latino voters appeared to be motivated by self-interest rather than ethnic solidarity (which the Democrats seemed to assume they’d made compulsory) and (3) the black male vote for the Democrats was lower that was achieved by Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) in 2008 & 2012.  That last statistic intrigued some who drew what may have been a long bow in speculating that while black men don’t like being told what to do by a white man, at least they’ve had several centuries to get used to it whereas the thought of being told what to do by a black woman is just unthinkable.  It was an opportunistic conclusion to draw from an electoral behaviour which happened only at the margins but it was that sort of election.

Interest now shifts to the second Trump administration and whether it will be Trump 1.1 (ie more of the same which was experienced in the first term) or Trump 2.0 (something different).  Many analysts are suggesting it will be combination of both and structurally, the possibilities available to Mr Trump if the Republicans hold working majorities in both chambers of congress are more inviting.  Mr Trump will have learned lessons from his first term and at least some mistakes (not a word he's believed often to have used of himself) presumably won't be repeated and it's no secret a whole industry of lobbyists, specialists and obsessives have been for four years at work crafting documents detailing how they think things should be done so he won't lack for advice.  There is much talk about the "shift to conservatism" in the US (and elsewhere) but a second Trump administration promises to be one of the more radical seen since the 1960s.    

Four dead white men, left to right: Barry Goldwater, Dwight Eisenhower, Richard Nixon and Thomas Dewey, meeting to discuss the Republican platform for the 1966 mid-term elections, Washington DC, 1 June 1965.  It was a meeting of some significance because this period was the high point of the Democratic Party's control of all branches of government.

Until Trump did what he did, the greatest political comeback in the US was probably that achieved in 1968 by Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974).  After two terms as VPOTUS (Vice President of the United States) to Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), Nixon lost the 1960 presidential election to John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963), the margin described at the time as “an electoral eyelash”.  Although it was made clear to Nixon JFK’s victory had probably been made possible by old Joe Kennedy (1888–1969 and JFK’s father) using his money to arrange some blatant vote rigging, Nixon declined to pursue his right to mount a legal challenge, arguing the institution of the office was too important to taint with scandal and telling aides: “Nobody steals the presidency of the United States”, a very different attitude that that taken in 2020 by Mr Trump  Politically, the loss in 1960 may not have been fatal but what did seem to write finis was his loss in 1962 in the Californian gubernatorial contest, an event which would now be forgotten had not Nixon, the day after, held what he called his “last press conference”.  California was then a solidly Republican state and Nixon’s loss was a surprise to most and a shock to some, most conspicuously the defeated candidate who, at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, delivered a quarter-hour tongue-lashing to the assembled press pack, accusing them, not without justification, of having hated him since first he came to prominence in 1948 and having since assiduously and unfairly worked against him.  He concluded: “I leave you gentlemen now.  And you will now write it.  You will interpret it.  That's your right.  But as I leave you, I want you to know—just think how much you're going to be missing.  You don't have Nixon to kick around anymore.  Because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference.”  Nixon sat out the 1964 presidential election, appearing at the Republican National Convention only as “a simple soldier in the ranks” to nominate Barry Goldwater (1909–1998) who he described as “Mr Conservative” and the 1964 convention was the only one between 1952-1972 from which Nixon didn’t emerge as the party’s nominee for POTUS (President of the United States) or VPOTUS.  Goldwater lost the 1964 election to Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) in one of the biggest landslides ever but Goldwater managed to engineer his own, somewhat abstract, comeback, later arguing the victory of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989) was really him winning, sixteen years on.  Barry invented the “proto-virtual comeback”.

Harry Truman, St. Louis Union Station, St. Louis, Missouri, 3 November 1948.  United States.  In Florida, 76 years later, Donald Trump would wear the same smile.

Harry Truman’s (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) comeback victory in the 1948 presidential election was one of those events remember for one photograph: that of a smirking Truman holding aloft the 3 November 1948 edition of the Chicago Daily Tribune, the front page’s banner headline reading: “DEWEY DEFEATS TRUMAN”.  Really, the Tribune was unlucky because for reasons both technical and related to labor relations, the Wednesday edition had “gone to bed” and been printed earlier that the historic practice, the staff relying on the early returns which they interpreted as guaranteeing a solid Republican victory, not only Thomas Dewey (1902–1971) taking the White House but also both houses of congress; as things turned out, the Democrats secured all three.  For Truman, the 1948 victory was a remarkable comeback because he’d inherited the presidency only because Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) had died on the eve of victory in World War II (1939-1945) and, compared with his illustrious predecessor, he seemed plain and uncharismatic, his reputation not helped as post-war economic struggles, labor strikes, and internal divisions within the Democratic Party soon took the gloss of the celebrations which had greeted the end of four years of war.  By 1948, almost universally he was expected to lose the 1948 election.

What Truman did was return to what seemed to most a kind of “pre-modern” campaign strategy in which he embarked on what came to be known as the “Whistle Stop Tour”, traveling around the nation by train, speaking in person to the voters rather than having them receive his words on the airways or in the newspapers.  Although now remembered more as part of the political lexicon, the term “whistle stop” was originally US railroad jargon and terminology and referred to small towns or rural stations where trains would only stop “on signal” and usually only if there was something or someone to pick-up or deliver (or if the conductor had, in advance, been notified).  Such stops often had little infrastructure (sometimes only the most rudimentary “platform”) and as the trains slowed down, the driver would blow the “whistle” to announce their arrival.  Although now rarely undertaken by train, the term “whistle-stop tour” remains widely used to describe campaigns that involve making multiple brief appearances in many locations.  Truman’s trip proved a great success, often delivering his speeches from the back of the railcar, his team having travelled ahead to ensure he always had an audience and in the pre internet age, he had the advantage also of being able to recycle the same text, often changing only the odd reference to “localize” the context.  His straightforward, relatable and fiery style was quite a change from the elegant, patrician FDR but it resonated with the voters who warmed to his populist message of fighting the “…do-nothing [Republican] Congress."  Against all expectations (possibly even his own), Truman enjoyed a comeback victory in what was a major upset, proving a persistent campaign with the right message can succeed even the most daunting odds.

Insipid & Sapid

Insipid (pronounced in-sip-id)

(1) Without distinctive, interesting, or stimulating qualities; vapid.

(2) Something or someone dull or uninteresting; lacking character or definition.

(3) Food or drink lacking sufficient taste to be pleasing; bland, unappetizingly flavorless.

1610–1620: From the sixteenth century French insipid (without taste or perceptible flavor), from the Late Latin insipidus (tasteless), the construct being in- (in the sense of negation) + -sipidus (savory; tasty), a form of sapidus (sapid) from sapere (have a taste (and used also to mean “be wise”)).  The figurative (ie not of food or drink) meaning (uninteresting, dull) emerged in English in the 1640s and it’s believed this was under the influence of Medieval Latin or the Romance languages, where it was a secondary sense.  The noun insipidity was in use by the early seventeenth century.  The choice of synonym can depend on whether what is being described is food & drink or something (or someone) else and the options include banal, bland, ho-hum, innocuous, trite, vapid, tasteless, bland, wearish, boring, vacuous, dull, bland, characterless & colourless.  In English, in some senses the use has been influenced by insipient (unwise, foolish, stupid; lacking wisdom).  Insipient was from the Middle English insipient & incipient, from the Old French insipient, ultimately from the Latin īnsipiēns.  For the fastidious, the comparative is “more insipient”, the superlative “most insipient”).  Insipid is an adjective, insipidity & insipidness are nouns and insipidly is an adverb.

Sapid (pronounced sap-id)

(1) Having taste or flavor (and used specifically to mean “savory”).

(2) Agreeable to the taste; palatable.

(3) Agreeable, as to the mind; to one's liking.

1625-1635: From the Latin sapidus (tasty), from sapere or sapiō (to taste).  The original meaning in English was “having the power of affecting the organs of taste (when used of food & drink or other substances)” while the figurative sense suggested something “gratifying to the mind or its tastes”.  The adjective sipid has the same meaning as sapid and was a mid-nineteenth century back-formation from insipid (on the model of “gruntled” from “disgruntled”) whereas sapid was a direct borrowing from Latin.  Both sapid & sipid can be used to mean “having a taste or flavor; savoury” but unlike insipid which remains in wide use (both in the original context of food & drink and figuratively), neither have ever attained much currency and it’s not unreasonable for both to be listed as obsolete.  Sapid is an adjective, sapidity & sapidness are nouns.

The infamously insipid Koryo Burger, the in-flight delicacy offered by Air Koryo, national carrier of Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK; North Korea).

In a sense, what words flourish (or at least endure) in English is because of the operation of something of a popularity contest.  While there are style guides, text books and grammar Nazis to tell us which words to use and in what manner, English has no body such as the French government’s Académie Française (council for matters pertaining to the French language) which publishes the a variety of documents which may be said collectively to define what is “official French”.  The Académie had an interesting political history, beginning as a private venture it received the imprimatur of both church & state when in 1635 it was granted a royal charter by Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642; chief minister (chancellor or prime-minister) to the King of France 1624-1642) during the reign of Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643) but was dissolved 1793 during the French Revolution (1789), partly because of the mob’s anti-royalist feelings but also because there was some resentment among the peasantry (an in the provinces generally) to the notion of a Parisian elite deciding whose dialect was “right” and whose was “wrong”.  That’s exactly the same dispute which now bubbles in US universities between (1) those who insist there is “correct” standard English while other forms are dialectal variations (ethnic, regional, class etc) and (2) those who argue for a cultural equivalency between all forms, most notably AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) and its many forks.  In 1795 the new regime in France created the Institut de France (Institute of France) as a kind of clearing house for all matters relating to what was “acceptable” French culture, absorbing some pre-existing scientific, literary and artistic bodies and it was to the institute that Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815) in 1803 restored the Académie Française as a division.

Portrait of Goethe, oil on paper by Italian artist Elia Bonetti (b 1983).

Spain’s Real Academia Española (Royal Academy of Spain) is a similar body but perhaps surprisingly (given all the stereotypes of the Prussians) there is in Germany no central authority defining the German language, several organizations and institutions working (cooperatively and not) together standardize and update things.  The most authoritative body for German orthography is the Rat für deutsche Rechtschreibung (Council for German Orthography), the membership of which includes representatives from other German-speaking countries (Austria, Switzerland et al) and its mandate extends to overseeing spelling and orthographic rules, something not without controversy, especially since the great spelling “reform” of 1996.  In the spirit of the post-1945 spirit of avoiding where possible the creation of all-powerful single institutions, it’s the Duden dictionary and Institut für Deutsche Sprache (Institute for the German Language) which exert great influence in in maintaining and documenting German vocabulary, grammar and usage, but both tend to be observational, recording changes in the language rather than seeking to enforce rules (ie they are descriptive rather than prescriptive).  German thus evolves through the combined influence of these institutions, public usage, and scholarly input, rather than through a single authoritative academy and internationally it’s probably the Goethe-Institut (Goethe Institute, named after the German author & philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)) which most promotes the study of German language & culture through its worldwide network of some 160 centres.

English is more democratic still, the survival of words and grammatical forms dependent on the users and even before the British Empire saw the tongue spread around the world the foreign influences were profound, the Latin, Greek, French & Germanic threads the most obvious and even to speak of the “Old English” is misleading to all but those in the field because to most, the “Old English” really isn’t recognizable as “English”.  Not only does modern English thus evolve but so do the other blends such as “Spanglish” (a hybrid of Spanish & English), Hinglish (Hindi & English) and its absurd to speak of “pure English”, even the way BBC announcers used to speak (in the so-called “RP” (received pronunciation) often including fragments picked up from the Raj and around the world.  While the Académie Française may try to keep French as pure as possible, English shamelessly is linguistically slutty.

Lindsay Lohan (with body-double) during filming of Irish Wish (Netflix, 2024) which the Daily Beast concluded wasn't exactly “insipid”.  The car is a Triumph TR4 (1961-1967), one of the early versions with a live rear axle, a detail probably of no significance in the plot-line.

In this democratic way, insipid has endured because it fills a niche that sapid & sipid never found, in both usage & meaning.  Vividly, insipid conveys the notion of something lacking flavor, excitement, or interest, whether literally (vapid food or drink) or figuratively (dull conversation or ideas).  This negative association has a broad and (regrettably) frequent application in everyday language, there so often being a need to decry things or people as uninteresting or failing to make an impact.  By contrast, although sapid & sipid both mean “food having flavour”, there’s less need because that’s expected and what’s usually sought is a way to say the quality is lacking and terms of emphasis came to be preferred: “flavoursome” “tasty” and such taking over although none were as precise as the practical & versatile “insipid” which proved the perfect one-word descriptor whether literally or figuratively.  Insipid is useful too because it’s nuanced in that it although used usually as negative, it’s also a “neutral word” in the sense of “bland”.  When the Daily Beast was searching for similes & metaphors in their review of Irish Wish (released in 2024 as the second edition of Lindsay Lohan’s three film Netflix deal), they opted also to “damn with faint praise” observing because the Netflix’s target audience “merely want to watch something that isn’t insipid and horribly made”, maybe the film (sort of) succeeded.  So insipid has survived because it fulfils needs while sapid & sipid are now little more than linguistic curiosities.

Insipid, sipid & sapid: The votes are in.

Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Apricate

Apricate (pronounced ap-roh-keyt)

(1) To sunbathe, to bask in the sun.

(2) To disinfect and freshen by exposing to the sun; to sun.

(3) Figuratively, to uncover secrets (based on the idea of “exposing them to the light”.

1620s: The construct was the Latin aprīc(us) (sunny; exposed to the sun; having lots of sunshine; warmed by the sun) +‎ -ate.  Aprīcus was from aperiō (to open; to uncover), from the primitive Indo-European hepo (off, from) & hwer- (to cover, shut) + -cus (the suffix forming relational adjectives from nouns).  The Latin verb was apricari (to bask in the sun; to warm oneself by sitting in the sunlight).  The suffix -ate was a word-forming element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as estate, primate & senate).  Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel.  It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate).  Again, often they were adopted in Middle English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee.  The forms were not cognate with “apricot”, although the latter was influenced by aprīcus.  The English verb apricate became rare in the twentieth century and use spiked only in the last decade but this is thought a statistical quirk because of the proliferation of instances on the internet explaining the rarity.  When actually used functionally, it’s mostly as a poetic or literary device, often to capture the simple pleasure and peacefulness of “sitting in the sun” although in politics and journalism there is the figurative sense of “to uncover secrets” (based on the idea of “exposing them to the light (of publicity)”.  Apricate, apricating & apricated are verbs and apricity & aprication are nouns; the noun plural is aprications.

The noun apricity (“the light or warmth of the Sun” and in its occasional use often use to impart the idea of “the warmth of the Sun in winter”) was from the Latin aprīcitās (the noun of quality from aprīcus) is said by more than one source to be the most commonly used variant (in the sense of “least rare”) but the numbers are distorted by the gathered data including the internet’s many lists of rare, obscure or weird words.  Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Snowbird: An apricating Lindsay Lohan on the Greek island of Mykonos in the Aegean, May. 2024.  Lindsay Lohan is a “snowbird” (in the sense of one who in winter travels to warmer, sunnier places).

Among those who long for apricity are the so-called “snowbirds” (those who avoid the cold by travelling to warmer climate).  Surprisingly perhaps, the use to describe those who flee the chill for the warmth of Florida or the Greek Islands, isn’t documented until the 1950s and for more than half a century before that, a “snowbird” was a cocaine dealer, the use extending by the 1970s to those with the habit of the odd line.  Only a few lexicographers acknowledge the (debatable) existence of “apricitie” (the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) including it though it doesn’t appear in the concise version (COED) and all appear to cite the entry in Henry Cockeram’s English Dictionarie or An Interpreter of Hard English Words (1623): “The warmenes of the Sunne in winter”.  Even among rare words, “apricitie” is a rarity but give the rhythmic possibilities and the obvious nostalgic value, it surprising it’s not more used as a literary device.  The lexicographers are probably sceptical because of the suggestion Mr Cockeram’s entry was either (1) a spelling mistake or (2) his own invention based on the better credentialed “apricity” (both not uncommon phenomenon in the early dictionaries).

Signature Claw Clip Petite in Dark Havana by Apricité Studios.

Maybe apricitie got tared with the brush of association with other obscure words because in his Letters to Squire Pedant (1856) Lorenzo Altisonant (Samuel Klinefelter Hoshour, (1803-1883 and described as “an emigrant to the West”) wrote: “These humicubations [the act or practice of lying on the ground], the nocturnal irrorations [a sprinkling or wetting with dew], and the dankishness [the quality of being dankish (dark, damp & humid)] of the atmosphere, generated by a want of apricity, were extremely febrifacients [tending to induce fever].  So maybe it got a bad name but apricate, apricite, apricity and the other forms are (1) easy to spell, (2) easy to pronounce and (3) can be used to describe something often described so it’s surprising there’s never been much of a revival; in English there is no discernible pattern about why some words are resuscitated and flourish and some remain moribund.  Actually, because the politics of climate change have made what used to be a “safe, go-to” topic of conversation now at least potentially dangerous, it may be there’s a revival of interest in ways to discuss the subject and not just the sunshine.  A “vacuum-cleaner” language, shamelessly English has for centuries adopted words for any number of tongues, retaining some (modified and not) while discarding others.  So it’s profligate in its forms and if one tires of describing the colder months as “chilly” or “wintery”, there’s “hibernal”, “brumal” or “hiemal”.  Then there’s snow and for that there’s “subnivean” (situated or occurring under the snow) or “niveous” (of or relating to snow; resembling snow (as in whiteness); snowy).  There are organisms (they’re probably not best described as “creatures”) which inhabit a niche in which things are subnivean and they are known as “psychrophilic” (thriving at a relatively low temperature), as opposed to “thermophiles” (which like it hot) and “mesophiles” (which insist on living in a “goldilocks zone”).  All of these can be used figuratively so women shivering in offices where men set the thermostat (more than one study has confirmed this really is a thing) can call their tormenters thermophiles.