Blurb

Blurb (pronounced blurb)

(1) A brief promotional piece, almost always laudatory, used historically for books, latterly for about any product.

(2) To advertise or praise in the manner of a blurb.

1907: Coined by US graphic artist and humorist Gelett Burgess (1866–1951).  Blurbs are a specific type of advertisement, similar exercises in other contexts known also as “puff pieces”, “commendations” or “recommendations”.  Generally, they contain elements designed to tempt a buyer which may include a précis (something less than a detailed summary), a mention of the style and a recommendation.  The term was originally invoked to mock the excessive praise printed on book jackets and was often parodied in a derisively imitative manner and is still sometimes critically used thus but it’s also now a neutral descriptor and an accepted part of the publishing industry.  Blurb is a noun & verb, blurbing & blurbed are verbs, blurbist is a noun and blurbish is an adjective; the noun plural is blurbs.

The blurb has apparently existed for some two-thousand–odd years but the word became well-known only after a publishing trade association dinner in 1907, Gelett Burgess displaying a dust jacket printed with the words “YES, this is a “BLURB”!”, featuring the (fictitious) Miss Belinda Blurb who was said to have been photographed “...in the act of blurbing”, Burgess adding that to blurb was “… to make a sound like a publisher…” and was “…a check drawn on fame, and it is seldom honoured”.  There are sources claiming the word was coined by US academic and literary critic Brander Matthews (1852–1929) in his essay American Character (1906) but Professor Matthews acknowledged the source genuinely was Burgess, writing in the New York Times (24 September 1922): “Now and again, in these columns I have had the occasion to employ the word “blurb”, a colourful and illuminating neologism which we owe to the verbal inventiveness of Mr Gelett Burgess”.

Burgess had released Are You a Bromide? in 1906 and while sales were encouraging, he suggested to his publishers (BW Huebsch) that each of the attendees and the upcoming industry dinner should receive a copy with a “special edition” dust cover.  For this, Burgess used the picture of a young lady who had appeared in an advertisement for dental services, snapped in the act of shouting.  It was at the time common for publishers to use pictures of attractive young ladies for book covers, even if the image was entirely unrelated to the tome’s content, the object being to attract a male readership.  Burgess dubbed his purloined model “Miss Belinda Blurb” and claimed she had been photographed “in the act of blurbing”; mid-blurb as it were.

Are you a Bromide (Publisher's special edition, 1907).

The dust cover was headed with the words “YES, this is a “BLURB”! All the Other Publishers commit them. Why Shouldn’t We?” and knowing a blurb should not in moderation do what can be done in excess, went on to gush about the literary excellence of his book in rather the manner a used car salesman might extol the virtues of some clapped-out car in the corner of the yard.  His blurb concluded “This book is the Proud Purple Penultimate!”  The industry must have been inspired because the blurb has become entrenched, common in fiction and non-fiction alike and the use of the concept can be seen in film, television, social media and just about anywhere there’s a desire to temp a viewer.  Indeed, the whole idea of “clickbait” (something which tells enough to tantalize but not enough to satisfy without delving deeper) is a functional application of a blurb.  Depending on the source, the inspiration for the word came from either (1) the sound made by a book as it falls to the floor, (2) the sound of a bird chirping or (3) an amalgam of “burp” & “blather”.  The author left no clue.

In his book, Burgess innovated further, re-purposing the word "bromide".  In inorganic chemistry, a bromide is a binary compound of bromine and some other element or radical, the construct being brom- (an alternative form of bromo- (used preceding a vowel) which described a substance containing bromine (from the French brome, from the Ancient Greek βρῶμος (brômos) (stink)) + ide (the suffix used in chemistry to describe substances comprising two or more related compounds.  However, early in the twentieth century, Bromide was a trade name for a widely available medicine, taken as a sedative and in some cases prescribed to diminish “an excessive sexual appetite”.  It was the sedating aspect which Burgess picked up to describe someone tiresome and given to trite remarks, explaining “a bromide” was one “…who does his thinking by syndicate and goes with the crowd” and was thus boring and banal.  A bromine’s antonym was, he helpfully advised, a “sulphite”.  Unfortunately, while blurb flourished, bromide & sulphites as binary descriptors of the human condition have vanished from the vernacular.

Lindsay Lohan with body double during shooting for Irish Wish (Netflix, due for release in 2023).  The car is a Triumph TR4.

Nteflix's blurb for Irish Wish: Always a bridesmaid, never a bride — unless, of course, your best friend gets engaged to the love of your life, you make a spontaneous wish for true love, and then magically wake up as the bride-to-be.  That’s the supernatural, romantic pickle Lindsay Lohan (Mean Girls, The Parent Trap) finds herself in upcoming romantic comedy, Irish Wish.  Set in the rolling green moors of Ireland, the movie sees Lohan's Maddie learn her dreams for true love might not be what she imagined and that her soulmate may well be a different person than she originally expected. Apparently magic wishes are quite insightful.

Blurb Your Enthusiasm (2023, distributed by Simon & Schuster).

Louise Willder has for a quarter century been a copywriter for Penguin, in that time composing some 5000 blurbs, each a two-hundred-odd word piece which aims both to inform and tempt a purchase.  Her non-fiction debut Blurb Your Enthusiasm is not only a review of the classic blurbs (the good, the bad and the seriously demented) but also an analysis of the trends in the structure of blurbs and the subtle shifts in their emphasis although, over the centuries, the purpose seems not to have changed.  Ms Willder also documents the nuances of the blurb, the English tendency to understatement, the hyperbolic nature of Americans and the distaste the French evidently have of having to say anything which might disclose the blurb’s vulgar commercial purpose and she traces, over time, how changing attitudes and societal mores mean what’s written of a nineteenth century classic is very different now to when first it was published.  Inevitably too, there are the sexual politics of authorship and publishing and blurbs can reveal as much by the odd hint or what’s left unsaid than what actually appears on a dust cover.  Academics and reviewers have perhaps neglected the blurb because it has traditionally been dismissed as mere advertising but, unless the author’s name or the subject matter is enough of a draw, even more than a cover illustration or title, it’s the blurb which can close the sale and collectively, they’re doubtlessly more widely read than reviews.  Blurb Your Enthusiasm is highly recommended.

Simonize

Simonize (pronounced sahy-muh-nahyz)

(1) To polish the exposed surfaces of an automobile (specifically using Simoniz brand products; later used generically).

(2) To shine or polish something to a high sheen, especially with wax.

Circa 1921: A creation of US English meaning "polish by the application of Simoniz wax”, from Simoniz, the registered trademark for a brand of car polish invented by George Simons who in association with Elmer Rich of the Great Northern Railway, in 1910 formed the Simons Manufacturing Company (Chicago) to produce and sell the products.  The construct was Simoniz + “e”, the addition an emulation of the –ize prefix  Said to have been in oral use since circa 1921, lexicographers began to add simonize (as a verb with the noted meaning) to dictionaries in 1935.   In the English-speaking world, the word often appeared (outside North America) as simonise.  Simonize, simonizes, simonized & simonizing are verbs.

The –ize suffix was from the Middle English -isen, from the Middle French -iser, from the Medieval Latin -izō, from the Ancient Greek -ίζω (-ízō), from the primitive Indo-European verbal suffix -idyé-.  It was cognate with other verbal suffixes including the Gothic -itjan, the Old High German –izzen and the Old English -ettan (verbal suffix).  It was used to form verbs from nouns or adjectives which (1) make what is denoted by the noun or adjective & (2) do what is denoted by the noun or adjective.  The alternative form is –ise.  Historically, the –ize suffix was used on words originating from Greek while –ise was preferred (most prevalently as -vise, -tise, -cise and –prise) on words derived from various roots, many of which entered English via French.  In the nineteenth century, under the influence of French literature, in the UK and other parts of the British Empire, -ise often replaced –ize even when there was a long tradition of the latter’s use.  The authoritative Oxford English Dictionary (OED) never changed its spellings which meant that throughout the Empire (and later the Commonwealth), both forms appeared and before the advent of spell-checkers (which ensured that at least within a given document there was consistency) use was mixed although, under the Raj and beyond, India tended to stick to –ise.  The –ize has always been the preferred form in North America.

Spa day service station, Connecticut Avenue. Washington DC, September 1940.

Although simonize had by then entered the language as verb meaning “to shine or polish something to a high sheen, especially with wax”, one of the early conditions imposed to permit the advertising of “Simonizing” as a service was the exclusive use of genuine Simoniz brand products.

One reason companies registered trademarks used to be a wish to control the use of the name, businesses wishing to prevent their exclusive brand becoming so popular it came to be used to describe, and to some extent even define, all similar products.  The process was called genericide by the experts in business and marketing, the idea being that in becoming a generic term, some of the value invested in the product and its name was transferred to competitors.  The classic example was the vacuum cleaner made by Hoover, the word catching on to the extent that within years, just about all vacuuming came to be called “hoovering”, regardless of the manufacturer of the device doing the sucking.  The problem was that while trademark holders could restrict their use by corporations, what the public did was beyond their control and language just evolved by popular use.

The early Xerox photocopiers were always advertised as devices to be used by women.

The literature often cites Xerox as an example of the problem of the public perception of a corporation being defined in their imagination by its best known product.  The phrase “xerox it” had by the late 1960s become the default expression meaning “photocopy it” and was of concern to the corporation because they feared their differentiation in the market place would be lost.  Time however change and now, Microsoft would doubtless be delighted if “bing it” became as much a term of everyday speech as “google it”.  That is of course a little different because “Bing” is one of Microsoft’s many trademarks rather than the corporate name but the modern view now generally is that the public “verbing-up” a trademark is a very good thing and an easy way to extend the prized “brand awareness”.

The perfect secretary did much "xeroxing" but according to Xerox, would never say "xerox it".

Twitter’s case is a variation on the theme and a case study on how such matters must be managed.  The verb form “to tweet” became a verb through popular use which induced Twitter to trademark the term in 2009.  From there, the company announced they would not seek to restrict its use by third parties using “tweet” for Twitter-related services and apps but warned they would seek both injunctive relief and damages were there evidence of a “confusing or damaging project” to “to protect both our users our brand."  What Twitter wanted to do was ensure “tweet” was used in a way beneficial and not detrimental to them.

The Great Crash of 2005

Crashed and towed, Los Angeles, 2005.

In 2005, Lindsay Lohan went for a drive in her Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG roadster.  It didn’t end well.  Based on the R230 (2001-2011) platform, the SL 65 AMG was produced between 2004-2012, all versions rated in excess of 600 horsepower, something perhaps not a wise choice for someone with no background handling such machinery though it could have been worse, the factory building 350 of the even more powerful SL 65 Black Series, the third occasion an SL was offered without a soft-top and the second time one had been configured with a fixed-roof.

Fixed and simonized, Texas, 2007.

By 2007, the car (still with California registration plates (5LZF057) attached) had been repaired, detailed & simonized and was being offered for sale in Texas, the odometer said to read 6207 miles (9989 km).  Bidding was said to be “healthy” so it was thought all's well that ends well but once the vehicle's provenance was brought to the attention of the repair shop, it was realized the celebrity connection might increase its value so it was advertised on eBay with more detail, including the inevitable click-bait of LiLo photographs.  However, either eBay doesn't approve of commerce profiting from the vicissitudes suffered by Hollywood starlets or they'd received a C&D (cease & desist) letter from someone's lawyers and the auction ended prematurely.  It proved a brief respite, the SL 65 soon back on eBay Motors but with the offending part of the blurb limited to "previously owned by high profile celebrity", leaving it to prospective buyers to join the dots.

Colophon

Colophon (pronounced kol-uh-fon or kol-uh-fuhn)

(1) A publisher's or printer's distinctive emblem (or imprint, label, logo, mark, symbol trademark etc), used as an identifying device on its books and other works, appearing variously within the covers and at the base of the spine (replicated in the same place on a dust jacket).

(2) An inscription (historically at the end of a book or manuscript but of late frequently printed towards the beginning), widely used since the fifteenth century (although the practice pre-dates the invention of printing) and providing the title or subject of the work, selected details about the author(s), the name of the printer or publisher, the date and place of publication and (less commonly), technical details such as typefaces, bibliophilic information or the paper and method of binding used.

(3) By extension, in internet use, a page on a website identifying the details of its creation, such as the author's name, the technologies used (including copyright attribution) and many other details, some or all of which may replicate the metadata associated with objects in other digital contexts.

(3) In entomology, a genus of beetles in the stag beetle family Lucanidae.

(4) In art, music, poetry etc, a finishing stroke or crowning touch (archaic except as an artistic affectation).

(5) An city in Ancient Greece (in Lydia, Asia Minor); one of the twelve Ionian cities banded together in the eighth century BC and substantially depopulated in 286 BC (always initial capital).  It was romanized as Kolophṓn.

1615-1625: From the Late Latin colophōn, from the Ancient Greek κολοφών (kolophṓn) (peak, summit; finishing touch; a finishing stroke), from the primitive Indo-European root kel (to be prominent; hill).  A colophon should not be confused with colophonite (in mineralogy a coarsely granular variety of garnet) or technical words from medicine words like coloplasty (surgery on the colon (especially partial resection or an instance of such surgery)).  The adjective Colophonian is applied to (1) an inhabitant of the Lydian city of Colophon or (2) matters of or pertaining to that city.  The term colophony (for the type of rosin) is from colophonia resina (from the Ancient Greek Κολοφωνία ῥητίνη (Kolophōnia rhētinē)) which describes the hardened resin from the pine trees of Colophon, a substance valued by the craftsmen who made stringed musical instruments because its properties were uniquely helpful in increasing the friction of bow hairs (and now used in pharmaceutical preparations & soldering fluxes though it’s still prized by those who play the violin, viola, cello etc).  Colophon is a noun and colophonic is an adjective; the noun plural is colophons.

The etymological relationship between the colophon in publishing and the Ancient Greek city of Colophon lies in the original meaning of the word and the reverence in the West for the classical world which would have found a Latin or Greek form preferable to something in brutish English like “details page”.  The Greek word κολοφών (kolophṓn) meant “peak” or “summit” and thus the ancient Lydian city in Asia Minor (what is now the land mass of the modern Republic of Türkiye) which was said to be the oldest of the twelve of the Ionian League came to be known as Colophon because it was built upon a ridgeline which rose between Ephesus & Lebedos.  From the, in Greek, kolophṓn came to be used to mean “a city or town at the summit of a hill or a signpost at the end of a trail that indicated the name and location of the place” and thus “a finishing touch; a finishing stroke”.  From this duality of meaning came the use in publishing, the bibliographic addendum called a “colophon” in the metaphorical sense of a “crowning touch” and the historic placement at the end of a book or manuscript an allusion to “the signpost at the end”.  Although it would be centuries before anything like a standardized form emerged, the concept of the colophon has been identified in texts from antiquity, recognizable versions existing as early as the second century AD.

An emulation of a colaphon.

A colophon is not an essential component of a book but many publishers have long included one.  In its most simple modern form, a colophon is a summary of technical information which includes data such as the name & insignia of the publisher, the font(s) used, the details of photographs or art used on the covers and the names of the author(s) or editor(s), along with whatever biographical data they may care to reveal.  The nature of the text also influences what’s included, books with a technical bent (and certainly those covering IT matters) likely to list software used in the composition while those which focus on photography are likely to include much about cameras.  Reflecting environment concerns, increasingly colophons include mentions of thing like sustainability in the process (which can mean much or little) or the use of recycled materials.  A colophon differs from a blurb (often printed on the back cover or a cover flap) which is a blend of promotional puff-piece and a précis of the contents.  Traditionally part of the back matter, they’re now often found among the front pages along with the title page (a more modern innovation than the colophon) appearing with the usual entries such as the date & place of publication, the copyright stamp, ISBN references etc.  In a sense, a colophon can be considered a form of metadata (which references the concept of structured information which is about other data).

Reagent

Reagent (pronounced ree-ey-juhnt)

In chemistry, a substance that produces a chemical reaction, used in analysis and synthesis.

1785: A compound word, the construct being re(act)- + agent.  The prefix re- is from the Middle English re-, from the Old French re-, from the Latin re- & red- (back; anew; again; against), from the primitive Indo-European wret-, a metathetic alteration of wert- (to turn).  Agent is from the Latin agēns, present active participle of agere (to drive, lead, conduct, manage, perform, do) from the Proto-Italic agō, from primitive Indo-European hzéǵeti.  It was cognate with the Old Irish aigid, the Ancient Greek ἄγω (ágō) (I lead), the Old Norse aka (move, drive), the Avestan azaiti and the Sanskrit अजति (ájati) (to drive, propel, cast).

The difference between a catalyst and a reagent is that catalysts are not consumed during the chemical reaction, whereas reagents may be.  A catalyst is a substance which can increase the reaction rate of a particular chemical reaction, while a reagent is a substance used in chemical analysis or to induce another chemical reaction.

Novichok

A Novichok (Russian: новичо́к (novičók) (newcomer)) agent is one of a number of chemical weapons developed by the state chemical research institute (GosNIIOKhT) in the Soviet Union (USSR) and Russia between 1971-1993.  Said to be the deadliest nerve agent ever created, Novichok was designed in a way that evaded the restrictions on chemical weapons imposed by treaties to which the USSR was a signatory.  Novichok agents have become well-known because they’ve been used to poison several opponents of the Russian government, most notably Sergei Skripal (b 1951; a former officer in the Russian military agent of UK intelligence) and his daughter, Yulia Skripal (b 1985) who were poisoned in the city of Salisbury, UK.  The Kremlin denied complicity and accused the UK government of whipping-up anti-Russian hysteria.

The design requirements for Novichok included it being undetectable using standard equipment, being able to penetrate personal protective equipment, being easier to handle in its transportable form and able to circumvent the various chemical weapons treaties the USSR had signed.  The use of reagents made many of these objectives possible.  As a binary weapon, in which precursors are mixed to produce the nerve agent immediately prior use, handling is easier because, in un-mixed form, the reagents are less hazardous and thus simpler to store and transport.  The reagents are also chemically less unstable and have a long shelf life although western analysts note at least one liquid form of Novichok is sufficiently stable to be able to remain deadly for decades if stored in a controlled environment.

In July 2018, a UK distillery was forced to apologize after releasing a 75% abv vodka named Novichok, days after a woman and her partner were poisoned with the same nerve agent that almost killed Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia in Salisbury earlier in the year.  Bristol Dry Gin’s limited edition Novichok vodka quickly sold out and the company has made clear there are no plans for a second batch.  Amesbury woman Dawn Sturgess (b 1974), who lived some eight miles (13 km) north of Salisbury, fell ill on 30 June 2018, dying within days after being exposed to what experts said must have been a sizable dose of the Novichok substance.  Her partner, Charlie Rowley (b 1973), was for some time critically ill but recovered.

Just before Ms Sturgess’ death, Bristol Dry Gin posted to its Facebook page an image of its new “limited edition” Novichok vodka, along with a promotional blurb: "Our new limited edition vodka is out! Set at 75%, this smooth drinking spirit is no laughing matter."  "Available as a 35cl bottle, perfect for manbags and gym bottles, or as a pack of three 5cl minis, a great solution to body cavity searches. Get em from our web store or distillery.”  Not so much the product as the timing of the release attracted criticism, many finding it in “poor taste” and the distillery in its statement of apology agreed, admitting the timing “may have lacked sensitivity” and was named and launched only after the Skripals had recovered.  “It was intended to lighten the mood and ease tensions, not to cause offence, and reaction has been overwhelmingly positive. We sincerely apologize if any offence was caused, especially to the families of Dawn Sturgess and Charlie Rowley, and understand the timing of the release of this product may have lacked sensitivity.  The Novichok Edition is a limited edition, which sold out within a hours of being released, and we have no plans to produce any more.”

Capitalism in Russia proved a little more robust, a Russian entrepreneur capitalizing on the poisoning in the UK of Sergei & Yulia Skripala by releasing the новичо́к (novičók or Novichok) brand of cooking oil.  Ulyanovsk-based farmer Alexei Yakushev explained he was inspired to choose the name for his new brand of sunflower oil after watching a news report of the events in Salisbury.  “I regularly watch the news” Mr Yakushev informed an interviewer and as the product wasn’t available in store, he decided to produce and bring it to market himself.

Said to be the ideal oil for sukhariki (oven-toasted stale bread strips), the Novichok oil was marketed under the slogan “products for a long life” and, in a nice touch, the label included the famous insignia of the KGB.  On Mr Yakushev’s webpage, to counter Western propaganda, he included in the “About us” section the line “We don’t hide money offshore,” in rhyme.

Puffery

Puffery (pronounced puhf-uh-ree)

(1) Undue or exaggerated praise; inflated laudation; publicity, claims in advertising, acclaim etc, that are exaggerated (also known as the “puff piece”).

(2) In common law jurisdictions (often as “mere puffery), certain claims or assertions made which, even if literally untrue or misleading, are not actionable.

(3) An act of puffing (rare except in humor).

1730–1735: The construct was puff (in the sense of “to praise with exaggeration”) + -ery.  The noun puff was from the early thirteenth century Middle English puf, puffe, puff & puf, from the Old English pyf (a short, quick blast of wind, act of puffing) which was imitative and cognate with the Middle Low German puf & pof.  It was derived from the verb which was from the Middle English puffen, from the Old English pyffan & puffian (to breathe out, blow with the mouth) and similar forms in other European languages included the Dutch puffen, the German Low German puffen, the German puffen, the Danish puffe and the Swedish puffa.  The sense of “to blow with quick, intermittent blasts” was common by the mid-fourteenth century while the meaning “pant, breathe hard and fast” emerged some decades later.  It was used of the “fluffy light pastry" from the late fourteenth century while the “small pad of a downy or flossy texture for applying powder to skin or hair” was first so described in the 1650s.

The meaning “to fill, inflate, or expand with breath or air” dates from the 1530s while the intransitive sense (in reference to small swellings & round protuberances) was noted by 1725.  The transitive figurative sense of “exalt” was known by the 1530s which shifted somewhat by the early eighteenth century into the meaning “praise with self-interest, give undue or servile praise to”, the idea by mid century focused on the figurative sense of “empty or vain boast”, this sense soon extended to mean “flattery & inflated praise”.  The derogatory use of poof for “an effeminate man; a male homosexual” was noted from the 1850s and is presumably from puff (possibly in the sense of “powder puff”, an allusion to the stereotype of their “excessive concern with maintaining a delicate appearance”)) and the extended form “poofter” was early twentieth century Australian slang, an unusual linguistic departure for a dialect which tended either to clip or add a trailing “e”, “y” or “o” sound to words.  The correct spelling for the furniture piece (A low cushioned seat with no back; a padded foot-stool) was pouf, from the French pouf & pouff (again of imitative origin) but, presumably because of confusion caused by the pronunciation, the spellings puff & poof sometimes are used.  The suffix -ery was from the Middle English -erie, from the Anglo-Norman and Old French -erie, a suffix forming abstract nouns.  The suffix first occurs in loan words from the Old French into the Middle English, but became productive in English by the sixteenth century, sometimes as a proper combination of -er with “y” (as in bakery or brewery) but also as a single suffix (such as slavery or machinery).  Puffery is a noun; the noun plural is pufferies.

Mere puffery

The origin of “puffery” in the publishing industry is thought to be the character of Mr Puff, the verbose and bogus critic in Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s (1751-1816) The Critic (1779).  Puffery was the class of “criticism” used as a tool by literary cliques (comprising groups of authors who praised each other’s works) and this excessive lauding was referred to also as a “blow up” (ie the notion of puffing into a balloon, inflating something which although becoming bigger, remains essentially “empty’).  In the jargon of publishing, a puff (or puff piece) is the equivalent of a “blurb”.

In law, the concept of “mere puffery” was created to provide a buffer between the “meaningless” sales pitch and the deceptive or misleading claims which amount to a misrepresentation.  A misrepresentation may be actionable; “mere puffery” is not.  Puffery is used to describe a claim that (1) a “reasonable person” would not take seriously or (2) is so vague or subjective that it can be neither proved nor disproved.  Those two definitions operate in conjunction because even if an assertion can be disproved, if it would be absurd for the “reasonable person” to claim they believed it, it will be held to be “mere puffery”.

Doubling down: Disappointed at losing the case based on their £100 offer, to restore public confidence, they offered £200. 

In contract law, the term “puffery” comes from one of the most celebrated cases in English jurisprudence: Carlill v Carbolic Smoke Ball Company (1892, EWCA Civ 1) before the Court of Appeal.  During the deadly influenza pandemic in the northern winter of 1889-1890, the Carbolic Smoke Ball Company it would pay £100 (equivalent to some £14,000 in 2023) to anyone who became ill with influenza after using their smoke ball in accordance with the instructions enclosed with the product.  Mrs Carlill was concerned enough by the flu to buy a ball which, following the instructions, she used thrice daily for some weeks but nevertheless, caught the flu.  Unable to persuade the company to pay her £100, Mrs Carlill brought an action, in court claiming a contract existed which the company denied.  At first instance, despite being represented by a future prime-minister, the Carbolic Smoke Ball Company lost, a verdict upheld unanimously by the Court of Appeal.  It was a landmark in the development of contract law, refining the long-established principles of (1) offer, (2) acceptance, (3) certainty of terms and (4) payment although it would be decades before the implications would begin comprehensively to be realized in legislation.  Not only did Mrs Carlill secure her £100 but she survived the pandemic, living to the age of ninety-six.  On 10 March 1942, she died after catching influenza.

So, Mrs Carlill, having used the smoke ball three times a day for almost two months before she developed influenza sued for breach of contract and the court held the offer made in the advertisement was not “mere puff” but constituted a valid offer of contract; the Smoke Ball Company’s offer was thus a misrepresentation because, in the particular circumstances detailed, a “reasonable person” would be likely to believe that they would receive £100 and thus, relying on the claim, be persuaded to purchase the product.  However, all the circumstances must be considered on a case-by-case basis and an individual’s simple reliance on a claim they sincerely believe to be true is not sufficient to for something to be held a misrepresentation.

In the famous Red Bull lawsuit in 2013, the court noted the company’s advertising slogan “Red Bull gives you wings” was “mere puffery” in that no reasonable person would believe ingesting even many cans of the stuff would mean they would “grow wings and fly” but the lawsuit claimed that implicit in the slogan was the allegedly deceptive and fraudulent suggestion that the drink was a “superior source of energy”, something not backed up by scientific evidence.   Heard in US District Court for the Southern District of New York, the class action was lodged by someone who had been drinking Red Bull for a decade-odd.  His claim was not that he expected feathers to sprout but that idea drinking Red Bull would increase performance and concentration (as advertised on the company's television, on-line and marketing campaigns) was “deceptive and fraudulent and is therefore actionable”.  The scientific basis for the action was research which found energy drinks gained their “boost” through caffeine alone, not guarana or any other ingredient, adding although there was no academic support for the claim Red Bull provides “any more benefit to a consumer than a cup of coffee, the Red Bull defendants persistently and pervasively market their product as a superior source of ‘energy’ worthy of a premium price over a cup of coffee or other sources of caffeine.”  Red Bull, while denying any wrongdoing or liability and maintaining its “marketing and labeling have always been truthful and accurate”, the company settled the lawsuit “to avoid the cost and distraction of litigation”.  As part of the settlement, anyone resident of the US who claimed to have purchased a can of Red Bull at some time after 1 January 2002 was eligible to receive either a $US10 reimbursement or two free Red Bull products with a retail value of approximately $US15, a webpage created to enable those affected to lodge their claim.  To avoid any similar claims, the company “voluntarily updated its marketing materials and product labeling".

Advertising is often a mix of puffery and specific claims which can be actionable, depending on the circumstances, either in damages or restitution.

So every case is decided on its merits.  A case before the Federal Court in Australia in 2017 held that a false assertion an app had “the most property listings in Sydney” was a misrepresentation because uncontested evidence proved otherwise although the court note were the app to claim it was “the best” app of its kind that would be mere puffery because, in that context, the phrase “the best” means nothing in particular because it’s not something which can be reduced to a metric or precisely defined.  More intriguing for those who like to speculate when grey turns black or white was the Pepsi Points Case which was in many ways similar to Carlill v Carbolic Smoke Ball Company.  PepsiCo’s advertising included a point system which customers could use to redeem prizes and one campaign had offered a military jet fighter (then invoiced by the manufacturers at US$23 million odd) in exchange for 7 million "Pepsi Points" (then worth US$700,000).  Mailing a $700,000 cheque to PepsiCo, a customer asked to collect his jet.  The court held the offer was “mere puffery” on the basis of (1) aspects of the campaign which clearing indicated “its jocular nature”, (2) that no reasonable person would believe a US$23 million jet could be obtained by exchanging US$700,000 and it was (3) anyway impossible for the company to deliver a military fighter jet in operable condition to a civilian customer.  It was an interesting case because it might have been decided differently if the object had been closer in value to the points mentioned and been something there was no legal impediment to supplying (such as a US$1 million car).  Were it a US$143 million car (there is one), the promotion would presumably still be judged puffery but at some point, it must be that the relative values would be close enough to for the “reasonable person” test to apply.  That however is something impossible to reduce to an equation and each case will be decided on its merits.  Just to be sure, PepsiCo bumped up by several orders of magnitude the points required to start one’s own air force up and added some text to make it clear the whole thing was just a joke.

In the matter of Tyrrell’s Crinkly Crisps.  Often packaging & advertising will contain a number of claims, some of which will be mere puffery (even if it’s easy to prove blatantly they’re untrue) while others need to be verifiable:

2 Pack: Not puffery; every pack must contain two packets.  There have been instances when customers have complained they’ve received more than was advertised and paid for but it’s rare.  Usually, such things are treated as “windfalls”.

Vegan: Not puffery; the contents must be vegan (as defined in the regulation of whatever jurisdiction in which they’re sold).

Triple Cooked: Probably puffery because it’s doubtful the term has any legal definition although were it possible to prove the production process is essentially the same as for any other crisp (chip), it might be actionable.  Because “triple” does have a defined value, were it proved the goods were cooked only twice as long as the practice of other manufacturers, that would presumably compel a change of text to “Double Cooked”.

More Crunch: Probably puffery because the measure of such things is so subjective and there is a point at which to increase crunchiness becomes self-defeating because other desired qualities will be lost.

Crinkly Crisps: Not puffery; the crisps must to some extent be crinkly although it might be fun to have a judge explore the margins and tell us how slight a corrugation can be while still being called “crinkly”.

No Artificial Nasties: Not puffery; these packets probably contain artificial ingredients because they’re almost impossible to avoid in the industrial production of food.  What constitutes a “nasty” is however a thing of quantity as well as quality; something millions every day harmlessly (even beneficially) can be a toxic “nasty” in large quantities so what’s included in the packet will be safe as supplied.  If potential “nasties” are found to exist in a quantity above a certain point, it’s actionable.

Gluten Free: Not puffery; unless there is an allowable quantity (ie trace amounts) permitted by regulation, there must be no gluten.

Sea Salt & Vinegar: Not puffery; sea salt is a particular type of salt so it must be used and there must be evidence of the use of vinegar.

165 g Net: Not puffery; each pack must contain 165 g of edible content +/- the small % of production line variation a court would deem acceptable.

Content guide (fat, energy et al): Not puffery; again, what’s claimed must be a reliable indication of the products within whatever small variation is acceptable.

Photograph with giant crisp: Puffery and an example of how the “reasonable person” test works in conjunction with an objective test of truth.  The packs do not contain crisps as large as is represented in the image (indeed, such would be too big even toi fit in the pack) and no reasonable person would believe this is what they’re buying.

Debunk

Debunk (pronounced dih-buhngk)

(1) To expose or excoriate (a claim, assertion, sentiment, etc.) as being pretentious, false, or exaggerated.

(2) To disparage, ridicule, lampoon.

1920–1925: An invention of US English, the construct being de- + bunk.  The de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix)).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) from, off.  Like dis-, the de- prefix was used to form a complex verb with the sense of undoing the action of a simple one and the handy device has been most productive, English gaining such useful words as demob, degauss and, of course, the dreaded deconstruct & the lamentable decaffeinate.  It’s obviously valuable but the more fastidious guardians of English were of course moved to caution it shouldn’t be used because one was too indolent to find the existing antonym although it was conceded that some coinings were necessary to convey some special sense such as “decontaminate”, needed in those situations when something like “cleanse” is inadequate.  Bunk in this context was etymologically un-related to other forms of “bunk” and was a and was a clipping of bunkum (pronounced buhng-kuhm) which meant (1) insincere speechmaking by a politician intended merely to please local constituents and (2) insincere talk; claptrap; humbug.  Debunk is (a transitive) verb and debunker is a noun.

Although the exact date in unclear, during sittings of the sixteenth United States Congress (1819-1821), a long, torturous debate ensued on the difficult matter of the Missouri Compromise, something which would later return to haunt the nation.  Well into discussions, Felix Walker (1753–1828; representative (Democratic-Republican (sic)) for North Carolina 1817-1823), rose and began what was apparently, even by the standards of the House of Representatives, a long, dull and irrelevant speech which, after quite some time, induced such boredom that many members walked from the chamber and other attempted to end his delivery by moving that the question be put.  Noting the reaction, Representative Walker felt compelled to explain, telling his colleagues “I’m talking for Buncombe”, referring to his constituents in Buncombe County.  Delivered phonetically, the phrase entered the political lexicon as “talking to (or for) Bunkum” and this was soon clipped to “bunk” meaning “speech of empty thoughts expressed with inflated or pretentious language”.  Later, the sense of bunk was extended to mean “anything wrong or worthless”.

Bunk in the sense of “wrong, worthless” probably gained its popularity from the phrase “history is bunk”, attributed to Henry Ford (1863–1947), famous for being founder of the Ford Motor Company and infamous for some of his more odious opinions.  His words first appeared in print in an interview, publishing in 1916, the context being his opposition to US involvement in the war in Europe:

"History is more or less bunk.  It is tradition.  We don’t want tradition.  We want to live in the present and the only history that is worth a tinker’s dam is the history we make today.  That’s the trouble with the world.  We’re living in books and history and tradition.  We want to get away from that and take care of today.  We’ve done too much looking back.  What we want to do and do it quick is to make just history right now."

Quite what Mr Ford meant has been much discussed over the years and the man himself did latter discuss it, although there are inconsistencies in his explanations.  Historians have concluded he was expressing scepticism at the value of history as it is taught in schools and other educational institutions; his feeling being there was too much emphasis on kings & emperors, wars & empires, politics & philosophy and entirely too little on the lives of ordinary people who, in a sense, actually “made the history”.  Ironically, given his critique of what’s known as the “great man” school of history, he is regarded as one of the great men whenever histories are written of the early automobile and the development of assembly-line mass-production.

The verb “debunk” actually emerged from a work of what would now be called popular revisionist history.  In 1923, novelist William Woodward (1874-1950) published the best-selling Bunk, the blurb suggesting his purpose being to “take the bunk out of things” and debunk was soon adopted by academic historians who in the 1920s made something of an industry in writing books and papers debunking the myths and puff-pieces the propaganda of World War I (1914-1918) produced in abundance.  An obviously useful word, it was soon in vogue throughout North America and quickly made its way across the Atlantic and to the rest of the English-speaking world.  Pedants in England, rarely happy with anything new, of course objected to a short punchy word intruding where they might use a paragraph but debunk made itself at home and never left.

A more recent coining was "prebunk", used as both noun and verb.  The act of prebunking involves issuing warnings about disinformation or misinformation before dissemination and once done, the fake news is said to have been prebunked (in political warfare it's a pre-emptive strike and thus differs from something like an injunction which is preventive).  Very much a word of the era of Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) and crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013), "prebunk" seems not to have been used until 2017, sometime after a spokesperson for the Trump administration formalized the concept of "alternative facts".  "Alternative facts" was not something new and had been part of the language of government probably as long as there have been governments but the Trump White House was the first blatantly to admit use.  Mothers with young children are familiar with "alternative facts" such as "Santa Claus" or "the tooth fairy" and the idea worked so well under Trump it became a core part of the Biden administration's media management although, if coming from Joe Biden (b 1942; US president since 2021) himself, it can be hard to tell where "alternative facts" end and senility begins.

Servergate, the scandal about crooked Hillary Clinton's home-brew mail server was as much about the cover-up which was her attempt to debunk the facts as it was about her initial wrongdoings.  For cartoonists, crooked Hillary was the gift which kept giving.   

Conspiracy theories have probably been around as long as human societies have existed but as means of communications have expanded, their spread has both extended and accelerated, social media just the latest and most effective vector of transmission.  Debunking conspiracy theories is also a thing although in this, there’s doubtlessly an element of preaching to the converted, the already convinced dismissing the debunkers as part of the conspiracy.  However, debunking can in itself be something of a conspiracy such as the wholly unconvincing stories concocted to try to explain away the curious business surrounding crooked Hillary Clinton’s home-brew mail server.  Trying to dismiss concerns about that as the stuff of conspiracy theorists was less a debunking than a cover-up.

Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap (1998).

A more conventional debunking was published by Nicki Swift who detailed the truly bizarre conspiracy theories about Lindsay Lohan’s “twin sister”.  It began after the release of the 1998 film The Parent Trap in which twins Hallie Parker and Annie James meet at summer camp after being separated at birth and, having been re-united, the pair embark upon a series of adventures in an attempt to bring back together their divorced parents.  Lindsay Lohan played both parts including many scenes in which the twins appeared together and while there had been advances in technology since Hayley Mills (b 1946) undertook the role in the 1961 original, the film was thought an impressive achievement in editing and stage direction, the body-double being Erin Mackey (b 1986, about a fortnight before Lindsay Lohan).

The conspiracy theory is that Lindsay Lohan didn’t play both parts and that she actually had a co-star: her twin sister Kelsey Lohan, variations of the explanation for the now absent spouse including that she was murdered immediately prior to the film’s debut while others say she was killed in 2001 after a mysterious (and well-concealed) disappearance.  BuzzFeed included an entry about this in one of their pieces about celebrity conspiracies, documenting the story of how after Kelsey died in a car accident (which, given her “sister’s” driving habits when young, was at least plausible) the Disney corporation “covered their tracks” by saying Lindsay portrayed the twins, her family corroborating this due to their obsession with celebrity.  Whether there was an intention to suggest Disney was in some was involved in the “death” wasn’t made clear but the wording certainly hints at the implication.

Mandii Vee, for whom the truth is out there.

The idea of the Walt Disney Company as somehow evil has been around for decades and was the undercurrent in the helpful video posted on Mandii Vee’s YouTube channel, her explanation for the scandal being that Kelsey "mysteriously died" prior to the film's release and that put Disney in a predicament because they didn't want to release a movie starring a now dead girl.  Such things have been done before and sometimes with notable commercial success but according to Mandii Vee, Disney thought it would bring “bad juju” (a noun or adjective meaning “something cursed or haunted by a dark aura”).  Disney’s solution was said to be a high-finance version of comrade Stalin’s (1878-1953) “un-personing” or the techniques of erasure George Orwell (1903-1950) detailed in Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), paying Lindsay Lohan's parents millions in hush money to keep the secret, never speaking of the unfortunate Kelsey again and denying she ever existed.  At that point, Disney would have pulped and re-printed all the film’s promotional collateral, re-shot the credits and publicized the story that Lindsay Lohan played both roles.  Finding the idea one actor could do both at the same time improbable, Mandii Vee delved a bit into physics and pondered whether such things were technically even possible.

1958 Edsel Citation convertible.

Debunking one possibly mythical part of the Edsel tale.  The name “Edsel” has become a byword for commercial failure, based on the sad story of the Edsel car, a brand introduced in 1958 by the Ford Motor Company and so poorly received that the whole Edsel division was shuttered within three years.  The Edsel is said to have failed because:

(1) It was just another variation of the existing large cars sold by the corporation under the Ford and Mercury brands while the increasing public appetite was for smaller, imported models (and within a few years Ford’s own and smaller Falcon, Fairlane & Mustang).

(2) It was introduced into a market where automobile sales were in decline because of the brief but sharp recession of 1958, the mid-price sector where sat the Edsel especially affected.

(3) It had for more than two years been over-hyped as something genuinely innovative whereas it was little different from a 1958 Ford or Mercury.

(4) The build quality was patchy, as was the factory’s support for dealers.

(5) The styling was judged unattractive, especially the large, gaping grill, the vertical orientation of which was out of step with the trend towards the horizontal.  Some also found in the grill some resemblance to female genitalia which was thought variously disturbing or amusing but certainly not attractive.

1959 Edsel Corsair four-door hardtop.

The failure is a matter of record but one figure that has often puzzled analysts is that Ford booked a loss of over U$250 million on the programme at a time when a million dollars was still a lot of money and, depending on how the conversion is done, that would in 2022 dollars equate to between 2-3 billion.  The extent of the loss would be understandable if the Edsel had been as genuinely new as claimed but it’s difficult to see where all the money went given that all the expensive components were borrowed from the existing Ford and Mercury line up:

(1) The engines, although some were of a unique displacement, were just variations of the existing corporate line-up used in Ford, Mercury & Lincoln models (the Mileage-maker six and the Y-Block, FE (Ford-Edsel) & MEL (Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln) V8s).

(2) The platform, transmissions and suspensions were shared with Ford & Mercury, the wheelbase the only difference.

(3) No dedicated factories were built for the Edsel, the cars assembled on the same assembly lines used by Ford and Mercury.

So the costs involved in the development were relatively less expensive endeavors such as body panels and interior trim.  The marketing expenses were presumably high and there were costs associated with the dealer network but the suspicion has long been that the infamous quarter-billion dollar loss was Ford taking advantage of accounting rules, perhaps booking against the Edsel most of the development costs of things like the FE engine, something which would remain in production until 1976.  That the Edsel was a big failure is disputed by nobody but financially, the losses may have been both over-stated and to some extent transferred to the taxpayer.