Supine

Supine (pronounced soo-pahyn)

(1) Lying on the back, face or front upward.

(2) Inactive, passive, or inert, especially from indolence or indifference; displaying no interest or animation; lethargic, apathetic or passive towards something.

(3) Being reluctant to take action due to indifference or moral weakness

(4) Inclining or leaning backward; inclined, sloping (now probably obsolete except for poetic or historic use).

(5) Of the hand, forearm or foot, turned facing toward the body or upward: with the thumb outward (palm up), or with the big toe raised relative to the little toe.

(6) A technical rule in Latin; a noun form derived from verbs, appearing only in the accusative and the dative-ablative.  Often used to express purpose with verbs of motion

(7) A technical rule in English; the simple infinitive of a verb preceded by to.

(8) A descriptor (in English) for an analogous form in some other language.

(9) Inclining or leaning backward; inclined, sloping (now rare and used only as a literary or poetic device).

1490-1500: From the Latin supīnus (bent backwards, thrown backwards, lying on the back (and figuratively "inactive, indolent"), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European sup & up.  It was cognate with the Catalan supí, the Italian supino (on one's back), the Old French sovin, the Middle French souvin, supin & supin, the Anglo-Norman supin (which persists in modern French as supin), the Old Occitan sobin & sopin, the Portuguese supino and the Spanish supino.  The verb supinate dates from 1831 in the sense of "to place the hand so that the palm is turned upward" and was from the Latin supinatus, past participle of supinare (to bend back) and related to supinus (the related forms being supinated, supinating & supinators.  The adjective was from the Latin supīnus, the construct being sup- (in the sense of “under”) + -īnus (of or pertaining to).  The noun came later, from the Late Middle English supin (as in “supine of a Latin verb”) or the Middle French supin ((grammar) supine) all from the Latin supīnum (short for supīnum verbum (supine verb)) from supīnus.  It partially displaced the Old English upweard (upward, supine), from which Modern English gained "upward".  The now rarely used sense of "morally or mentally inert, negligent, listless, heedless" was in use in English by the early seventeenth century and the noun supinity is used in this context.  Supine is a noun & adjective, supination, supinator, supinity & supineness are nouns, supinate is a verb, supinated is a verb & adjective and supinely is an adverb; the noun plural is supines.

Lindsay Lohan supine from a photo-shoot by Terry Richardson (b 1965) for Love Magazine (2012).

The technical rule in Latin grammar: "the verbal noun formed from the past participle stem" is from the Late Latin supinum verbum (supine verb), the origin of which is undocumented but thought so called because, though furnished with a noun case ending, it "falls back" on the verb.  In Latin grammar, supine is best thought of as a practice rather than a rule and it’s observed rather than understood or applied.  The verbal noun is used in only a few syntactic constructions and occurs in only two cases, an accusative in -tum or -sum and an ablative in -tū or –sū although the accusative form is sometimes listed by scholars as the fourth principal part of the Latin verb, a fine distinction only they understand.

Although there was a war going on, the misuse of "supine" and "prone" (by fellow  physicians!) so disturbed Dr Edwin H Shepard MD of Syracuse, NY he wrote a letter to the editor of the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) which was published in the edition of 27 May 1944.  Eighty years on, Very Well Health advises doctors the trick to remember the difference between supine and prone is: "supine contains the word "up", reminding you you are face up in this position while prone contains the word "on" which you can use to remember you are lying on your face or stomach."

So, strictly speaking, "supine" means lying face upwards while the words for lying face downwards are "prostrate" or "prone" but these have long been used loosely (probably increasingly so) for lying flat in any position.  Thus, the antonym correctly is "nonsupine" (or "non-supine") but "prone" is sometimes used, doubtlessly leaving many baffled, including, clearly, some physicians.  The synonym resupine is rare and may be functionally extinct.

Frango

Frango (pronounced fran-goh)

(1) A young chicken (rare in English and in Portuguese, literally “chicken”).

(2) Various chicken dishes (an un-adapted borrowing from the Portuguese).

(3) In football (soccer) (1) a goal resulting from a goalkeeper’s error and (2) the unfortunate goalkeeper.

(4) The trade name of a chocolate truffle, now sold in Macy's department stores. 

In English, “frango” is most used in the Portuguese sense of “chicken” (variously “a young chicken”, “chicken meat”, “chicken disk” etc) and was from the earlier Portuguese frângão of unknown origin.  In colloquial figurative use, a frango can be “a young boy” and presumably that’s an allusion to the use referring to “a young chicken”.  In football (soccer), it’s used (sometimes trans-nationally) of a goal resulting from an especially egregious mistake by the goalkeeper (often described in English by the more generalized “howler”.  In Brazil, where football teams are quasi-religious institutions, such a frango (also as frangueiro) is personalized to describe the goalkeeper who made the error and on-field blunders are not without lethal consequence in South America, the Colombian centre-back Andrés Escobar (1967–1994) murdered in the days after the 1994 FIFA World Cup, an event reported as a retribution for him having scored the own goal which contributed to Colombia's elimination from the tournament. Frango is a noun; the noun plural is frangos.

The Classical Latin verb frangō (to break, to shatter) (present infinitive frangere, perfect active frēgī, supine frāctum) which may have been from the primitive Indo-European bhreg- (to break) by not all etymologists agree because descendants have never been detected in Celtic or Germanic forks, thus the possibility it might be an organic Latin creation.  The synonyms were īnfringō, irrumpō, rumpō & violō.  As well as memorable art, architecture and learning, Ancient Rome was a world also of violence and conflict and there was much breaking of stuff, the us the figurative use of various forms of frangō to convey the idea of (1) to break, shatter (a promise, a treaty, someone's ideas (dreams, projects), someone's spirit), (2) to break up into pieces (a war from too many battles, a nation) and (3) to reduce, weaken (one's desires, a nation).

A frangō in the sense of the Classical Latin: Lindsay Lohan with broken left wrist (fractured in two places in an unfortunate fall at Milk Studios during New York Fashion Week) and 355 ml (12 fluid oz) can of Rehab energy drink, Los Angeles, September 2006.  The car is a 2006 Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG (R230; 2004-2011) which would later feature in the tabloids after a low-speed crash.  The R230 range (2001-2011) was unusual because of the quirk of the SL 550 (2006-2011), a designation used exclusively in the North American market, the RoW (rest of the world) cars retaining the SL 500 badge even though both used the 5.5 litre (333 cubic inch) V8 (M273).

The descendents from the Classical Latin frangō (to break, to shatter) included the Aromanian frãngu (to break, to destroy; to defeat), the Asturian frañer (to break; to smash) & francer (to smash), the English fract (to break; to violate (long obsolete)) & fracture ((1) an instance of breaking, a place where something has broken. (2) in medicine a break in a bone or cartilage and (3) in geology a fault or crack in a rock), the Friulian franzi (to break), the German Fraktur ((1) in medicine, a break in a bone & (2) a typeface) & Fraktion (2) in politics, a faction, a parliamentary grouping, (3) in chemistry, a fraction (in the sense of a component of a mixture), (4) a fraction (part of a whole) and (5) in the German-speaking populations of Switzerland, South Tyrol & Liechtenstein, a hamlet (adapted from the Italian frazione)), the Italian: frangere (1) to break (into pieces), (2) to press or crush (olives), (3) in figurative use and as a literary device, to transgress (a commandment, a convention of behavior etc), (4) in figurative use to weaken (someone's resistance, etc.) and (5) to break (of the sea) (archaic)), the Ladin franjer (to break into pieces), the Old Franco provençal fraindre (to break; significantly to damage), the Old & Middle French fraindre (significantly to damage), the Portuguese franzir (to frown (to form wrinkles in forehead)), the Romanian frânge (1) to break, smash, fracture & (2) in figurative use, to defeat) and frângere (breaking), the Old Spanish to break), and the Spanish frangir (to split; to divide).

Portuguese lasanha de frango (chicken lasagna).

In Portuguese restaurants, often heard is the phrase de vaca ou de frango? (beef or chicken?) and that’s because so many dishes offer the choice, much the same as in most of the world (though obviously not India).  In fast-food outlets, the standard verbal shorthand for “fried chicken” is “FF” which turns out to be one of the world’s most common two letter abbreviations, the reason being one “F” representing of English’s most unadapted linguistic exports.  One mystery for foreigners sampling Portuguese cuisine is: Why is chicken “frango” but chicken soup is “sopa de galinha?”  That’s because frango is used to mean “a young male chicken” while a galinha is an adult female.  Because galinha meat doesn’t possess the same tender quality as that of a frango, (the females bred and retained mostly for egg production), slaughtered galinhas traditionally were minced or shredded and used for dishes such as soups, thus: sopa de galinha (also as canja de galinha or the clipped caldo and in modern use, although rare, sopa de frango is not unknown).  That has changed as modern techniques of industrial farming have resulted in a vastly expanded supply of frango meat so, by volume, most sopa de galinha is now made using frangos (the birds killed young, typically between 3-4 months).  Frangos have white, drier, softer meat while that of the galinha is darker, less tender and juicer and the difference does attract chefs in who do sometimes offer a true sopa de galinha as a kind of “authentic peasant cuisine”.

There are also pintos (pintinhos in the diminutive) which are chicks only a few days old but these are no longer a part of mainstream Portuguese cuisine although galetos (chicks killed between at 3-4 weeks) are something of a delicacy, usually roasted.  The reproductive males (cocks or roosters in English use) are galos.  There is no tradition, anywhere in Europe, of eating the boiled, late-developing fertilized eggs (ie a bird in the early stages of development), a popular dish in the Philippines and one which seems to attract virulent disapprobation from many which culturally is interesting because often, the same critics happily will consume both the eggs and the birds yet express revulsion at even the sight of the intermediate stage.  Such attitudes are cultural constructs and may be anthropomorphic because there’s some resemblance to a human foetus.

Lindsay Lohan at Macy's and Teen People's Freaky Friday Mother/Daughter Fashion Show, Macy's Herald Square, New York City, August 2003.  It's hoped she had time for a Frango.

 Now sold in Macy’s Frangos are a chocolate truffle created in 1918 for sale in Frederick & Nelson department stores.  Although originally infused with mint, many variations ensued and they became popular when made available in the Marshall Field department stores which in 1929 acquired Frederick & Nelson although it’s probably their distribution by Macy's which remains best known.  Marshall Field's marketing sense was sound and they turned the Frango into something of a cult, producing them in large melting pots on the 13th floor of the flagship Marshall Field's store on State Street until 1999 when production was out-sourced to a third party manufacturer in Pennsylvania.  In the way of modern corporate life, the Frango has had many owners, a few changes in production method and packaging and some appearances in court cases over rights to the thing but it remains a fixture on Macy’s price lists, the trouble history reflected in the “Pacific Northwest version” being sold in Macy's Northwest locations in Washington, Idaho, Montana and Oregon while the “Seattle version” is available in Macy's Northwest establishments.  There are differences between the two and each has its champions but doubtless there are those who relish both.

A patent application (with a supporting trademark document) for the Frango was filed in 1918, the name a re-purposing of a frozen dessert sold in the up-market tea-room at Frederick & Nelson's department store in Seattle, Washington.  The surviving records suggest the “Seattle Frangos” were flavoured not with mint but with maple and orange but what remains uncertain is the origin of the name.  One theory is the construct was Fr(ederick’s) + (t)ango which is romantic but there are also reports employees were told, if asked, to respond it was from Fr(ederick) –an(d) Nelson Co(mpany) with the “c” switched to a “g” because the word “Franco” had a long established meaning.  Franco was a word-forming element meaning “French” or “the Franks”, from the Medieval Latin combining form Franci (the Franks), thus, by extension, “the French”.  Since the early eighteenth century it had been used when forming English phrases & compound words including “Franco-Spanish border” (national boundary between France & Spain), Francophile (characterized by excessive fondness of France and all things French (and thus its antonym Francophobe)) and Francophone (French speaking).

Hitler and Franco, photographed at their day-long meeting at Hendaye, on the Franco-Spanish border, 23 October 1940.  Within half a decade, Hitler would kill himself; still ruling Spain, Franco died peacefully in his bed, 35 years later.

Remarkably, the Frango truffles have been a part of two political controversies.  The first was a bit of a conspiracy theory, claiming the sweet treats were originally called “Franco Mints”, the name changed only after the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) in which the (notionally right-wing and ultimately victorious) Nationalist forces were led by Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975) and the explanation was that Marshall Field wanted to avoid adverse publicity.  Some tellings of the tale claim the change was made only after the Generalissimo’s meeting with Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) at Hendaye (on the Franco-Spanish border) on 23 October 1940.  Their discussions concerned Spain's participation in the War against the British but it proved most unsatisfactory for the Germans, the Führer declaring as he left that he'd rather have "three of four teeth pulled out" than have to again spend a day meet with the Caudillo.  Unlike Hitler, Franco was a professional soldier, thought war a hateful business best avoided and, more significantly, had a shrewd understanding of the military potential of the British Empire and the implications for the war of the wealth and industrial might of the United States.  The British were fortunate Franco took the view he did because had he agreed to afford the Wehrmacht (the German armed forces) the requested cooperation to enable them to seize control of Gibraltar, the Royal Navy might have lost control of the Mediterranean, endangering the vital supplies of oil from the Middle East, complicating passage to the Indian Ocean and beyond and transforming the strategic position in the whole hemisphere.  However, in the archives is the patent application form for “Frangos” dated 1 June 1918 and there has never been any evidence to support the notion “Franco” was ever used for the chocolate truffles.

Macy's Dark Mint Frangos.

The other political stoush (a late nineteenth century Antipodean slang meaning a "fight or small-scale brawl) came in 1999 when, after seventy years, production of Frangos was shifted from the famous melting pots on the thirteenth floor of Marshall Field's flagship State Street store to Gertrude Hawk Chocolates in Dunmore, Pennsylvania, the decision taken by the accountants at the Dayton-Hudson Corporation which had assumed control in 1990.  The rationale of this was logical, demand for Frangos having grown far beyond the capacity of the relatively small space in State Street to meet demand but it upset many locals, the populist response led Richard Daley (b 1942; mayor (Democratic Party) of Chicago Illinois 1989-2011), the son of his namesake father (1902–1976; mayor (Democratic Party) of Chicago, Illinois 1955-1976) who in 1968 simultaneously achieved national infamy and national celebrity (one’s politics dictating how one felt) in his handling of the police response to the violence which beset the 1968 Democratic National Convention held that year in the city.  The campaign to have the Frangos made instead by a Chicago-based chocolate house was briefly a thing but was ignored by Dayton-Hudson and predictably, whatever the lingering nostalgia for the melting pots, the pragmatic Mid-Westerners adjusted to the new reality and with much the same with the same enthusiasm were soon buying the imports from Pennsylvania.

Macy's Frango Mint Trios.

Remarkably, there appears to be a “Frango spot market”.  Although the increasing capacity of AI (artificial intelligence) has made the mechanics of “dynamic pricing” (a price responding in real-time to movements in demand), as long ago as the Christmas season in 2014, CBS News ran what they called the “Macy's State Street Store Frango Mint Price Tracker”, finding the truffle’s price was subject to fluctuations as varied over the holiday period as movements in the cost of gas (petrol).  On the evening of Thanksgiving, “early bird” shoppers could buy a 1 lb one-pound box of Frango mint “Meltaways” for US$11.99, the price jumping by the second week in December to US$14.99 although that still represented quite a nominal discount from the RRP (recommended retail price) of US$24.00.  Within days, the same box was again listed at US$11.99 and a survey of advertising from the previous season confirmed that in the weeks immediately after Christmas, the price had fallen to US$9.99.  It may be time for the Chicago Mercantile Exchange (CME) to open a market for Frango Futures (the latest “FF”!).

Monospecchio

Monospecchio (pronounced mon-oh-spec-kjo)

The Italian for “one mirror”, a descriptor applied to the early production (1984-1987) Ferrari Testarossas (1984-1991).   

1984: The construct was mono- + specchio.  Mono was from the Ancient Greek, a combining form of μόνος (monos) (alone, only, sole, single), from the Proto-Hellenic mónwos, from the primitive Indo-European mey- (small).  It was related to the Armenian մանր (manr) (slender, small), the Ancient Greek μανός (manós) (sparse, rare), the Middle Low German mone & möne, the West Frisian meun, the Dutch meun, the Old High German muniwa, munuwa & munewa (from which German gained Münne (minnow).  As a prefix, mono- is often found in chemical names to indicate a substance containing just one of a specified atom or group (eg a monohydrate such as carbon monoxide; carbon attached to a single atom of oxygen).  The Italian specchio (mirror, table, chart) was from the Vulgar Latin speclum, a syncopated form of the Classical Latin speculum, the construct being speciō +‎ -culum.  Speciō (observe, watch, look at) was from the From Proto-Italic spekjō, from the primitive Indo-European spéḱyeti which was cognate with the Ancient Greek σκέπτομαι (sképtomai), the Avestan (spasyeiti), and the Sanskrit पश्यति (páśyati).  The suffix –culum was (with anaptyxis) from the Proto-Italic -klom, from the primitive Indo-European -tlom, from -trom.  Despite the resemblance, ōsculum and other diminutive nouns do not contain this suffix which was used to form some nouns derived from verbs, particularly nouns representing tools and instruments.

1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa.  One sold in a private sale in 2014 for a reported US$39.8 million, exceeding somewhat the US$16.39 million one achieved at auction in 2011.

The type F110 Ferrari Testarossa (1984-1991) was one of a number of models between 1973-1996 to use a flat-12 which pedants insist is actually a 180^o V12 because of a definitional distinction related to the attachment and movement of internal components; the external shape is essentially identical.  The Testarossa name (testra rossa literally “red head” in Italian) was a revival of one the factory had last used for the 1957 250 Testa Rossa which had won that year’s World Sportscar Championship, the first having been the 1954 500 TR.  The visual link to the name was the red paint applied to the engines’ camshaft covers.

BB & BB:  Ferrari 365 GT4 Berlinetta Boxer displayed at the 1971 Turin Motor Show & Brigitte Bardot, supine, 1968.

The factory was in general a bit loose with the nomenclature on which purists like to insist.  The first of the road-going flat-12 Ferraris was the 365 GT4 BB (1973-1984), the “BB” long thought to stand for Berlinetta Boxer but Road & Track in 2018 noted RoadRat's publication of an interview with the BB’s designer, Leonardo Fioravanti (b 1938) who admitted it was named after the actress Brigitte Bardot (b 1934), simply because the staff in Ferrari's design office were as besotted with Mademoiselle Bardot as engineers everywhere; "Berlinetta Boxer" was just a cover story.  There’s an undeniable similarity in the lines of the two and on the factory website, Ferrari later confirmed the story.

The Italian berlinetta translates as “little saloon” and is the diminutive of berlina (sedan) and the 365 GT4 BB in no way resembled a saloon, small or large, Ferrari using the word to describe a two-seat car with a closed cockpit (convertibles are Spiders), referred to by most as a coupé.  Nor was the Ferrari’s flat-12 technically a boxer, the boxer configuration one where each pair of opposed pistons move inwards and outwards in unison, the imagery being that of a pugilist, ritualistically thumping together their gloves prior to a bout.  The Ferrari unit instead used the same arrangement as a conventional V12, each pair of pistons sharing a crankpin whereas as true boxer has a separate crankpin for each piston.  This is one practical reason why boxer engines tend not to have many cylinders, the need for additional crankpins adding to weight & length.  Thus the earlier flat-16s, the Coventry Climax FWMW (1963-1965) intended for Formula One and the unit Porsche developed in 1971 for the Can-Am and tested in chassis 917-027 weren't boxers although bulk was anyway a factor in both proving abortive, Porsche instead turbo-charging their flat-12 and Coventry Climax giving up entirely, the FWMW having never left the test-bench.  Despite it all, just about everybody calls the 365 GT4 BB “the Boxer” and its engine a “flat-12”, the factory clearly unconcerned and while cheerfully acknowledging the technical differences, their documents refer to it variously as a “boxer”, a “180^o v12”, a “flat-12” & a “boxer-type” engine.

1986 Ferrari Testarossa in monospecchio trim.

The early-production Testarossas were fitted with a single high-mounted external mirror, on the left or right depending on the market into which it was sold and although the preferred term was the Italian “monospecchio” (one mirror), in the English speaking-world it was quickly dubbed the “flying mirror" (rendered sometimes in Italian as “specchio volante” (a ordinary wing mirror being a “specchietto laterale esterno”, proving everything sounds better in Italian)).  The unusual placement and blatant asymmetry annoyed some and delighted others, the unhappy more disgruntled still if they noticed the vent on right of the front spoiler not being matched by one to the left.  It was there to feed the air-conditioning’s radiator and while such offset singularities are not unusual in cars, many manufacturers create a matching fake as an aesthetic device: Ferrari did not.  The mirror’s curious placement was an unintended consequence of a European regulation regarding the devices and this was interpreted by the designers as having to provide 100% rearward visibility.  Because of the sheer size of the rear bodywork necessitated by the twin radiators which sat behind the side-strakes (another distinctive Testarossa feature), the elevation was the only way but it later transpired the interpretation of the law was wrong, a perhaps forgivable mistake given the turgidity of much legislation.

1991 Ferrari Testarossa in duospecchio trim.

That alone may have been enough to convince the factory to change to a more conventional location but there had also been complaints, notably from the US, that the monospecchio restricted the vision of oncoming traffic and many missed having a passenger-side mirror, remarking too on the difficulties found when trying rapidly to adapt to the placement, few owners using a Testarossa as their only car.  Thus was taken the decision to phase in the fitting of dual mirrors, mounted in a conventional position at the base of the A pillars.  Shown at the 1986 Geneva Motor Show, the first examples of the new arrangement were those built for European sale, those bound for the US revised initially in 1987 with a single, low-mounted, driver-side mirror before later gaining the same dual arrangement as those sold in Europe.

Caveat emptor: 1986 Ferrari Testarossa.

Being Ferraris with a certain cachet, the monospecchio cars attract additional interest and inevitably there is fakery and folklore.  There exists the odd early Testarossa with either double-high or double-low mirrors but Ferrari insists these are modifications installed either by dealers or owners and there was at a time, a lot of it about.  It wasn’t a simple job, requiring one or two mirrors, window frames and support assemblies and thus always cost somewhere in four figures but, like those who once converted their now precious 1963 split-window Chevrolet Corvettes to 1964’s single piece of glass lest they be thought driving last year’s model, there were those who didn’t wish to look outdated.  Also, the Testarossa was, by Ferrari’s standards at the time, almost mass-produced with over seven-thousand sold and, in the aftermath of the severe recession of the early 1990s, a glut emerged which for years depressed prices; originality not then the fetish it would later become, modifications to mirrors and other bits & pieces not uncommon.  Still, the factory was known to accommodate special requests from good customers so if a duospecchio with high mounts does show up, accompanied with the vital proof of authenticity, it would add a notch of desirability.  Market support for Ferrari’s flat-12 ecosystem (Boxer, Testarossa & 512 TR) is now healthy and, while not matching the buoyancy of the pre-1973 cars, operates well into US$ six figures, the quirk of the monospecchio cars making them much fancied.

Monospecchio: Lindsay Lohan selfies, one mirror at a time.

Efflux & Afflux

Efflux (pronounced ef-luhks)

(1) Outward flow, as of water.

(2) Something that flows out; effluence.

(3) A passing or lapse of time.

(4) A passing away; expiration; ending.

(5) Death (obsolete).

1635–1645: From the Medieval Latin effluxus, noun use of past participle of effluere (to flow out), from effluō (flow out or away), the construct being ef- (an alternative form of ex- (out of; from) used when combined with f-initial words)) + fluc- (a variant stem of fluere (to flow) from fluō (flow) + -sus, (for -tus;suffix of action).  The synonyms (in the sense of “the process of flowing out”) include outflow, effluxion & effluence; the antonyms is influx (in the sense of “the process of flowing in”).  The present participle is effluxing, the simple past and past participle is effluxed and the plural is effluxes.

Afflux (pronounced af-luhks)

(1) Something that flows to or toward a point.

(2) The act of flowing to or toward; flow.

(3) In medicine, a flowing towards an area, especially of blood or other fluid toward a body part such as the brain or lung.

(4) In hydrology, the rise in water level (above normal) on the upstream side of a bridge or obstruction caused when the effective flow area at the obstruction is less than the natural width of the stream immediately upstream of the obstruction.

1605–1615: From the Medieval Latin affluxus (the flow of blood from the heart to part of the body), from afflūxum (supine of affluō (to flow towards)), noun use of past participle of affluere (present active infinitive of affluō), from fluxus (flux), from fluō (flow) +‎ -tus (the action noun-forming suffix).  The most common related forms in Latin were affluĕre & affluxum.  The plural is affluxes.

The phrase “effluxion of time” is used often as a fancy way to say “the passing of time” but it has a specific technical meaning in law, most often seen in contracts such as leases.  When used in conveyances, leases and similar deeds, it indicates the conclusion or expiration of an agreed length of time specified in the deed or writing, such conclusion or expiration arising in the natural course of events, as opposed to the sundering of the term by the acts of (at least one of the) the parties or by some unexpected event.  This phrase can be used also to indicate the conclusion or expiration of an agreement in simple writing when the conclusion or expiration occurs through a natural course of events.

As nouns the difference between affluxion and effluxion is that affluxion is the act of flowing towards and effluxion the process of flowing out.  The distinction is an important one in the technical language of disciplines such as pathology, hydrology, medicine and others who deal with specifics of fluid dynamics but in the matter of time they should be interchangeable (and therefore one should be unnecessary).  Despite the suggestions of cosmologists, theoretical physicists and other specialists that other possibilities exist, lawyers insist time is lineal, flows in one direction and is, for all legal purposes, constant.  The phrase “effluxion of time” would therefore appear to cover all circumstances but “affluxion of time” does exist in the legal record.  It appears to be a North American variant, noted in at least three examples, two from a lease and a option plan, both apparently drafted in the US, the third appearing in a consulting agreement, executed in Canada. 

Notwithstanding anything herein contained, the Landlord shall be under no obligation to repair or maintain the Tenant’s installations, alterations, additions, partitions and fixtures or anything in the nature of a leasehold improvement made or installed whether by the Tenant or by the Landlord on behalf of the Tenant; and further, notwithstanding anything herein contained, the Landlord shall have the right upon the termination of this Lease by affluxion of time or otherwise to require the Tenant to remove its installations, alterations, additions, partitions and fixtures or anything in the nature of a leasehold improvement made or installed by the Tenant or by the Landlord on behalf of the Tenant and to make good any damage caused to the Leased Premises by such installation or removal.

“Vested” shall mean, in relation to all or any part of the option, as appropriate, when any relevant condition (including, for the avoidance of doubt, the affluxion of time) has been satisfied, as confirmed by the Board of Directors (or, where relevant, waived) and “Vesting” and “Vest” shall be construed accordingly. For the avoidance of doubt, unless stated otherwise, any part of the option which Vests does not automatically become exercisable.

In the event this Agreement is terminated for any reason whatsoever, whether by affluxion of time or otherwise, the Consultant shall forthwith upon such termination return to the Corporation each and every copy of any Confidential Information (including all notes, records and documents pertaining thereto) in the possession or under the control of the Consultant at that time.

An analysis of the text does suggest it may have been a mistake, perhaps a transcription from dictation or a quirky spell-checker because substituting effluxion for affluxion seems not to affect meaning.  Those who found those three paragraphs a bit turgid can be assured things used to be worse and that as written, this text is a reasonable example of legal writing in “plain English”.

Lindsay Lohan's hair styles: Landmarks in the effluxion of time, 2002-2009.

Tobacco

Tobacco (pronounced tuh-bak-oh)

(1) Any of several plants belonging to the genus Nicotiana (of the nightshade family), especially one of those species, as N. tabacum, whose leaves are prepared for smoking or chewing or as snuff.

(2) Any of numerous solanaceous plants of the genus Nicotiana, having mildly narcotic properties, tapering hairy leaves, and tubular or funnel-shaped fragrant flowers. The species N. tabacum is cultivated as the chief source of commercial tobacco

(3) Any of various similar plants of other genera.

(4) The leaves of certain of these plants, dried and prepared, as used in cigarettes, cigars & pipes, as snuff and for chewing.

(5) Any product or products made from such leaves.

(6) To indulge in tobacco; to smoke.

(7) To treat with tobacco.

(8) A range of colors in the brown spectrum, tending to the darker.

1525–1535 (attested since 1588): From the Spanish tabaco of uncertain origin.  It was either from the Arabic طُبَّاق‎ (ṭubbāq) (Dittrichia viscosa) or from one or more Caribbean languages (including Galibi Carib, Arawak or Taíno) from a word meaning “roll of tobacco leaves” or “pipe for smoking tobacco” (there are contemporary reports citing both and scholars tend now to prefer the former), the best known of which was tabago (tube for inhaling smoke or powdered intoxicating plants).  Taino is thought by linguistic anthropologists to be the most likely source.  That the name of the inhaling implement was applied to the leaves was explained by the Spanish assuming it was the name of the plant.  The West Indian (Caribbean) island of Tobago was said to have been named in 1498 by Christopher Columbus (1451–1506) after the tambaku (pipe), a reference to the native custom of smoking dried tobacco leaves.  Derived forms include smokeless tobacco, tobaccoless & anti-tobacco and there are a wealth of slang terms for tobacco and its products (including the tax-evading illicit varieties) including occabot (the backward spelling), baccy, backy, chop chop, durrie, smoke, fag, gasper, ciggy, coffin nail, cancer stick, darb, dart, death stick, bine & stogie.  The spelling tabacco is obsolete.  Tobacco is a noun & verb, tobaccoing & tobaccoed are verbs; the noun plural is tobaccos or tobaccoes.

One attempt at social engineering began in earnest in the 1980s: Pressure was applied on film & television studios, advertisers and publishers to stop depicting smoking as "attractive, sexy and cool".  Because cigarette smoke is known to be carcinogenic and sustained use typically reduced the human lifespan by about a decade, it was an admirable part of the public health programme but the difficult thing was that images of smoking undeniably could be sexy.  Lindsay Lohan demonstrates.   

A supine Lindsay Lohan, smoking in The Canyons (2013).

The unusual construct of the noun tobacconist (one who deals in tobacco) was tobacco + -n- + -ist.  The abnormal inserted consonant appeared to reflect the way the word actually was pronounced.  The sense of the commercial trader in the product dates from the 1650s although the earlier meaning, dating from the 1590s was “someone addicted to tobacco and by 1873 the word nicotinism (morbid effects of excessive use of tobacco) had been coined so the awareness of the adverse effects of tobacco are not new.  The first “tobacconist” (a shop where tobacco and related products are purchased) seems to have operated in Florida in the early 1800s.  The -ist suffix was from the Middle English -ist & -iste, from the Old French -iste and the Latin -ista, from the Ancient Greek -ιστής (-istḗs), from -ίζω (-ízō) (the -ize & -ise verbal suffix) and -τής (-tḗs) (the agent-noun suffix).  It was added to nouns to denote various senses of association such as (1) a person who studies or practices a particular discipline, (2), one who uses a device of some kind, (3) one who engages in a particular type of activity, (4) one who suffers from a specific condition or syndrome, (5) one who subscribes to a particular theological doctrine or religious denomination, (6) one who has a certain ideology or set of beliefs, (7) one who owns or manages something and (8), a person who holds very particular views (often applied to those thought most offensive).

Art deco: Snuffbox (left) and cigarette case (right).

Snuff (powdered tobacco to be inhaled) was first available in the1680s and was from the Dutch or Flemish snuf, a shortening of snuftabak (snuff tobacco), from snuffen (to sniff, snuff).  The practice of taking (sniffing) snuff quickly became fashionable in England and generated an industry in the making of “snuff boxes”; many small and exquisite, they’ve long been collectable.  The slang phrase “up to snuff” (knowing, sharp, wide-awake, not likely to be deceived) dates from 1811, the order of the words thought a reference to the upper-class association with the substance while the meaning is presumed to allude to the "elevating" properties of snuff.  The noun nicotine (which still appears occasionally in scientific papers as nicotin) describes the poisonous ,volatile alkaloid base found in tobacco leaves and was first documented in English in 1819, from the French nicotine, from the earlier nicotiane, from the Modern Latin Nicotiana, the formal botanical name for the tobacco plant, named for Jean Nicot (circa 1530-1600), the French ambassador to Portugal who in 1561 sent tobacco seeds and powdered leaves from his embassy in Lisbon to Paris.

Until the mid-twentieth century, there was much variation in packaging but in the post-war years things were (more or less) standardized in terms of size and shape.  It was a relatively small area with with to work and the convention which developed was to use the simple corporate symbol and product name, thus Marlboro's famous red-on-white chevron.  As the product range proliferated (women were a target market thought to have great potential), Philip Morris adopted the technique of semiotics to differentiate while retaining the same identifiable shape, the basic difference being in the color: red for the standard cigarette, blue for mild, green for menthol, gold for longer (ie 4 inch or 100 mm sticks) and black for higher-priced special offerings.  That didn't last and while some manufacturers stuck to the red / blue / green model, Marlboro's colors increasingly became random.       

James VI and I (1566–1625) King of Scotland as James VI (1567-1625) & King of England and Ireland as James I (1603-1625) was appalled by tobacco an in 1604 wrote the treatise A Counterblaste to Tobacco in which he left none in any doubt about how he felt and it’s a document which sounds very contemporary in its condemnation even if some of what was then medical orthodoxy is dated.  The king blamed the scourge of tobacco on Native Americans (although it was European adventurers which brought it from the new world) and is especially scathing about what is now called passive smoking, responding by imposing heavy taxes but such were the adverse consequences for the American colonies that in 1624 a royal charter was instead granted and the whole crop became a royal monopoly.  Written originally in Early Modern English (here transliterated) it still reads well:

Have you not reason to be ashamed, and to forsake this filthy novelty, so basely grounded, so foolishly received and so grossly mistaken as something good to use?  In your abuse you are sinning against God, harming both your health and your wallet, making yourselves look absurd by this custom, scorned and contemned by the civilized people of any nation.  It is a habit loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fumes are like the horrible Stygian smoke of the bottomless pit of Hell.

The king’s mention of Stigian is a reference to the goddess Styx (Στύξ) (stýks (literally “Shuddering”)) who in Greek mythology took the form of a river of Elia, Arcadia which surrounded Hades nine times and flowed from a rock into silver-pillared caves.  What the king probably had in mind was the tale that Stygian waters imposed senselessness for a year and a draft of the waters was decreed by Zeus for gods who had perjured themselves.  More positively though it was said of Zeus he also insisted the oaths of the gods be sworn by the water of the Styx.

Mid-century cigarette advertising.  Even in the 1950s the public's suspicion that tobacco was a dangerous product was rising and the industry's advertising switched from the traditional "lifestyle" model to one which relied on endorsements by celebrities and scientists and much quoting of research and statistics, much of which would later be wholly debunked.  The tactics and techniques similar to those later adopted by the fossil fuel lobby in their long campaign to discredit the science of human-activity induced climate change. 

Although there were always the fastidious types like James I who found it abhorrent, it wasn’t until late in the twentieth century that in the West governments began to crack down on the industry to the point where in many jurisdictions the stated aim is to eliminate it completely, the most recent innovation being progressively to raise the minimum age at which tobacco products can be purchased which, in theory, means that within decades, nobody will be able to buy them.  Having effected that policy, the heath advocates much have thought there was light at the end of the tunnel, only for vaping to become a thing.  Governments were however always interested in tobacco as a form of revenue and taxing an addictive, lawful product provided for centuries a constant and often gradually increasing source of income and cynics like to note the attitudes seemed only to shift when advances in surgical techniques and drug treatments meant those suffering the consequences of a lifetime of tobacco use began to be kept alive for decades, often at public expense.  Previously, the afflicted had had the decency quickly to drop dead, usually at an age when their usefulness as economic units had either vanished or significantly diminished to the point where, as pensioners, they were a cost to society.  The BBC’s comedy Yes, Prime Minister explored the math & morals in a discussion between the prime-minister and the permanent head of the cabinet office.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Notwithstanding the fact that your proposal could conceivably encompass certain concomitant benefits of a marginal and peripheral relevance, there is a countervailing consideration of infinitely superior magnitude involving your personal complicity and corroborative malfeasance, with a consequence that the taint and stigma of your former associations and diversions could irredeemably and irretrievably invalidate your position and culminate in public revelations and recriminations of a profoundly embarrassing and ultimately indefensible character.

Prime-minister: Perhaps I might have a précis of that?  It says here, smoking related diseases cost the National Health Service £165 million a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes but we've been in to that, it has been shown that if those extra 100,000 people had lived to a ripe old age, it would have cost us even more in pensions and social security than it did in medical treatment.  So, financially speaking it's unquestionably better that they continue to die at their present rate.

Prime-minister: We're talking of 100,000 deaths a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes, but cigarette taxes pay for a third of the cost of the National Health Service.  We're saving many more lives than we otherwise could, because of those smokers who voluntary lay down their lives for their friends. Smokers are national benefactors.

Prime-minister: So long as they live.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: A lot of people, eminent people, influential people have argued that such legislation would be a blow against freedom of choice.

Prime-minister: Rubbish. I'm not banning smoking itself. Does every tax rise represent a blow against freedom?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Well, depends how big the tax rise is.

Prime-minister: Oh, that's fascinating. Does 20p represent a blow against freedom?  25p? 30p? 31? Is something a blow against freedom simply because it can seriously damage your wealth?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: I foresee all sorts of unforeseen problems.

Prime-minister: Such as?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: If I could foresee them, they wouldn't be unforeseen.

The Kennedy connection

The 1941 film Tobacco Road was based on the 1932 novel of the same name by Erskine Caldwell (1903-1987).  It involved a family living in poverty in the rural backwoods of the US and their antics did not suggest the possession even of average intelligence.  The term “tobacco road” came to be used as a slur against such folk and their lifestyle and while it’s usually an amusing disparagement exchanged between the rich and well-connected, even among them context can matter as Thomas Maier (b 1956) illustrated in one episode recounted in When Lions Roar: The Churchills and the Kennedys (2014) involving John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) and Pamela Harriman (1920–1997), later one of Western society’s last great courtesans but then just divorced from what had been a brief and understandably unhappy marriage to the even then dissolute Randolph Churchill (1911-1968), son of Winston (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  Crooked old Joseph Kennedy (1888–1969) fashioned his sons to become politically powerful establishment figures but didn’t forget his great-grandfather had in 1848 left the poverty of rural Ireland during the potato famine to begin to build wealth and influence in Boston.  He’s made sure his sons knew the family history and when in Ireland in 1945, JFK’s curiosity had prompted a trip to the old Kennedy homestead:

At the Kennedy farm in County Wexford, accompanied by Pamela, Jack discovered not much had changed since his great-grandfather left. “I’m John Kennedy from Massachusetts,” he said after his knock on the door was answered. “I believe we are related.” His distant cousin Mary Kennedy Ryan seemed dubious at first but eventually invited the two strangers in for tea.

The Kennedys who remained in Ireland had spent much of the past century trying to regain the land rights to their tenant farms from the British and supporting Ireland’s independence movement led by such politicians as de Valera. Mary Ryan herself had been a member of the old IRA’s women’s auxiliary during the 1920s conflict against the British, carrying guns and money, either in carts or under her dress, to a secret hiding spot near their farm. “Jack kept pressing on about his ancestors going to America and so on, trying to make the link,” recalled Pamela. As a treat, Jack took the Irish Kennedy cousins for a short ride in Kick’s shining new station wagon, accompanied by the former Mrs. Randolph Churchill. “They never could figure out who I was,” recalled Pamela. “‘Wife?’ they’d ask. I’d say no. And they’d say, ‘Ah, soon to be, no doubt!’”

After nearly two hours “surrounded by chickens and pigs,” Jack recalled, he “left in a flow of nostalgia and sentiment.” The trip reaffirmed the Irish stories he’d heard from his parents and grandparents. Neither Pamela nor Kick, however, seemed impressed. As their car pulled away from the Kennedy farm, Pamela turned to Jack with a remark meant as witty. “That was just like Tobacco Road!” she tittered, referring to the popular novel about rural life in Georgia. Jack wasn’t amused. “The English lady,” he later recounted, ” …had not understood at all the magic of the afternoon.” To Dave Powers and Ken O’Donnell, his Irish-Catholic political aides from Boston, he was much blunter: “I felt like kicking her out of the car.” At Lismore, Lady Hartington was even haughtier. After listening to her brother’s wondrous account of the Kennedy homestead, Kick mustered only a bemused question. “Well, did they have a bathroom?”