Traumatic

Traumatic (pronounced traw-mat-ik (U), truh-mat-ik or trou-mat-ik (both non-U))

(1) In clinical medicine, of, relating to, or produced by a trauma or injury (listed by some dictionaries as dated but still in general use).

(2) In medicine, adapted to the cure of wounds; vulnerary (archaic).

(3) A psychologically painful or disturbing reaction to an event.

1650–1660: From the French traumatique, from the Late Latin traumaticum from traumaticus, from the Ancient Greek τραυματικός (traumatikós) (of or pertaining to wounds, the construct being traumat- (the stem of τραῦμα (traûma) (wound, damage) + -ikos (-ic) (the suffix used to forms adjectives from nouns).  Now familiar in the diagnoses post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) & post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSS), it was first used in a psychological sense in 1889.  Traumatic is an adjective & noun and traumatically is an adverb; the noun plural is traumatics.

PTSD, PTSS and the DSM

Exposure to trauma has been a part experience which long pre-dates the evolution of humans and has thus always been part of the human condition, the archeological record, literature of many traditions and the medical record all replete with examples, Shakespeare's Henry IV often cited by the profession as one who would fulfill the diagnostic criteria of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).  Long understood and discussed under a variety of labels (famously as shell-shock during World War I (1914-1918)), it was in 1980 the American Psychiatric Association (APA) added PTSD to the third edition of its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-III).  The entry was expected but wasn’t at the time without controversy but it’s now part of the diagnostic orthodoxy (though perhaps over-used and even something of a fashionable term among the general population) and the consensus seems to be that PTSD filled a gap in psychiatric theory and practice.  In a sense that acceptance has been revolutionary in that the most significant innovation in 1980 was the criterion the causative agent (the traumatic event) lay outside the individual rather than there being an inherent individual weakness (a traumatic neurosis).

However, in the DSM-III, the bar was set higher than today’s understanding and a traumatic event was conceptualized as something catastrophic which was beyond the usual range of human experience and thus able to be extremely stressful.  The original diagnostic criteria envisaged events such as war, torture, rape, natural disasters explosions, airplane crashes, and automobile accidents as being able to induce PTSD whereas reactions to the habitual vicissitudes of life (relationship breakdowns, rejection, illness, financial losses et) were mere "ordinary stressors" and would be characterized as adjustment disorders.  The inference to draw from the DSM-III clearly was most individuals have the ability to cope with “ordinary stress” and their capacities would be overcome only when confronted by an extraordinarily traumatic stressor.  The DSM-III diagnostic criteria were revised in DSM-III-R (1987), DSM-IV (1994), and DSM-IV-TR (2000), at least partly in response to the emerging evidence that condition is relatively common even in stable societies while in post-conflict regions it needed to be regarded as endemic.  The DSM-IV Diagnostic criteria included a history of exposure to a traumatic event and symptoms from each of three symptom clusters: intrusive recollections, avoidant/numbing symptoms, and hyper-arousal symptoms; also added were the DSM’s usual definitional parameters which stipulated (1) the duration of symptoms and (2) that the symptoms must cause significant distress or functional impairment.

#freckles: Freckles can be a traumatic experience.

The changes in the DSM-5 (2013) reflected the wealth of research and case studies published since 1980, correcting the earlier impression that PTSD could be thought a fear-based anxiety disorder and PTSD ceased to be categorized as an anxiety disorder, instead listed in the new category of Trauma- and Stressor-Related Disorders, the critical definitional point of which is that the onset of every disorder has been preceded by exposure to a traumatic or otherwise adverse environmental event.  It required (1) exposure to a catastrophic event involving actual or threatened death or injury or (2) a threat to the physical integrity of one’s self or others (including sexual violence) or (3) some indirect exposure including learning about the violent or accidental death or perpetration of sexual violence to a loved one (reflecting the understanding in the laws of personal injury tort and concepts such as nervous shock).  Something more remote such as the depiction of events in imagery or description was not considered a traumatic event although the repeated, indirect exposure (typically by first responders to disasters) to gruesome and horrific sight can be considered traumatic.  Another clinically significant change in the DSM-5 was that symptoms must have their onset (or a noticeable exacerbation) associated with the traumatic event.  Sub-types were also created.  No longer an anxiety disorder but now reclassified as a trauma and stressor-related disorder, established was the (1) dissociative sub-type which included individuals who meet the PTSD criteria but also exhibit either depersonalization or derealization (respectively alterations in the perception of one's self and the world) and (2) the pre-school subtype (children of six years and younger) which has fewer symptoms and a less demanding form of interviewing along with lower symptom thresholds to meet full PTSD criteria.

When the revised DSM-5-TR was released early in 2022, despite earlier speculation, the condition referred to as complex posttraumatic stress disorder (CPTSD) wasn’t included as a separate item, the explanation essentially that the existing diagnostic criteria and treatment regimes for PSTD were still appropriate in almost all cases treated by some as CPTSD, the implication presumably that this remains an instance of a spectrum condition.  That didn’t please all clinicians and even before DSM-5-TR was released papers had been published which focused especially on instances of CPTSD be associated with events of childhood (children often having no control over the adverse conditions and experiences of their lives) and there was also the observation that PTSD is still conceptualized as a fear-based disorder, whereas CPTSD is conceptualized as a broader clinical disorder that characterizes the impact of trauma on emotion regulation, identity and interpersonal domains.

Still, the DSM is never a static document and the committee has much to consider.  There is now the notion of post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSS) which occurs within the thirty-day technical threshold the DSM establishes for PTSD, clinicians noting PTSS often goes unrecognized until a diagnosis of PTSD is made.  There is also the notion of generational trauma said to afflicting children exposed repeatedly to the gloomy future under climate change and inter-generational trauma Screening tools such as the PTSS-14 have proven reliable in identifying people with PTSS who are at risk of developing PTSD. Through early recognition, providers may be able to intervene, thus alleviating or reducing the effects of a traumatic experience.  Long discussed also has been the effect on mental health induced by a disconnection from nature but there was no name for the malaise until Professor Glenn Albrecht (b 1953; one-time Professor of Sustainability at Murdoch University (Western Australia) and now honorary fellow in the School of Geosciences of the University of Sydney) coined psychoterratic, part of his lexicon which includes ecoagnosy (environmental ignorance or indifference to ecology and solastalgia (the psychic pain of climate change and missing a home transforming before one’s eyes).  The committee may find its agenda growing.

Saved by a “traumatic” transmission

In the 1960s, “the ocean was wide and Detroit far away” from Melbourne which is why Holden was authorized to design and built its own V8 rather than follow the more obviously logical approach of manufacturing a version of Chevrolet’s fully-developed small-block V8.  The argument was the Chevrolet unit wouldn’t fit under the hood of Holden's new (HK) range which was sort of true in that there wasn’t room for both engine and all ancillaries like air-conditioning, power brakes and power steering although it would have been easier and cheaper to redesign the ancillaries rather than embark on a whole new engine programme but this was the 1960s and General Motors (GM) was in a position to be indulgent.  As it was, Holden’s V8 wasn’t ready in time for the release of the HK in 1968 so the company was anyway forced in the interim to use 307 cubic inch (5.0 litre) and 327 (5.3) Chevrolet V8s, buyers able to enjoy things like power steering or disk brakes but not both.

The "Tasman Bridge" 1974 Holden Monaro GTS (308 V8 Tri-matic).  The HQ coupés were Holden's finest design. 

Also under development was a new three-speed automatic transmission to replace the legendarily robust but outdated two-speed Powerglide.  It was based on a unit designed by GM’s European operation in Strasbourg and known usually as the Turbo-Hydramatic 180 (TH180; later re-named 3L30-C & 3L30-E) although, despite the name, it lacked the Powerglide-like robustness which made the earlier (1964) Turbo-Hydramatic 400 (TH400) famous.  Holden called its version the Tri-matic and, like the early versions of the TH180 used in Europe, there were reliability problems although in Australia things were worse because the six and eight cylinder engines used there subjected the components to higher torque loadings than were typical in Europe.  Before long, the Tri-matic picked up the nickname “trau-matic” and in the darkest days it wasn’t unknown for cars to receive more than one replacement transmission and some even availed themselves of their dealer’s offer to retrofit the faithful Powerglide.  The Tri-matics’s problems were eventually resolved and it became a reliable unit, even behind the 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) Holden V8 (although no attempt was ever made to mate it with the 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) Chevrolet V8 Holden offered as an option until 1974).

Whatever its troubled history, the “trau-matic” did on one occasion prove a lifesaver.  In the early evening of 5 January 1975, the bulk carrier Lake Illawarra, while heading up Hobart's Derwent River, collided with the pylons of the Tasman Bridge which caused a 420 foot (128 m) section of the roadway to collapse onto the ship and into the river, killing twelve (seven of the ship's crew and five occupants of the four cars which tumbled 130 feet (40 m) into the water.  Two cars were left dangling precariously at the end of the severed structure and it emerged later that the 1974 Holden Monaro was saved from the edge only because it was fitted with a Tri-natic gearbox.  Because the casing sat lower than that used by the manual gearbox, it dug into to road surface, the effect enough to halt progress.

The tragedy had a strange political coda the next day when, at a press conference in The Hague in the Netherlands, the Australian prime-minister (Gough Whitlam, 1911-2014; Australian prime-minister 1972-1975) was asked about the event and instead of responding with an expression of sympathy he answered:

I sent a cable to Mr Reece, the Premier of Tasmania, I suppose twelve hours ago and I received a message of thanks from him.  Now you have the text I think.  I expect there will be an inquiry into how such a ludicrous happening took place.  It's beyond my imagination how any competent person could steer a ship into the pylons of a bridge.  But I have to restrain myself because I would expect the person responsible for such an act would find himself before a criminal jury. There is no possibility of a government guarding against mad or incompetent captains of ships or pilots of aircraft.

Mr Whitlam’s government had at the time been suffering in the polls, the economy was slowing and ten days earlier Cyclone Tracy had devastated the city of Darwin.  The matter didn’t go to trial but a court of marine inquiry found the captain had not handled the ship in a proper and seamanlike manner, ordering his certificate be suspended for six months.

Aftermath:  Hobart clinical psychologist Sabina Lane has for decades treated patients still traumatized by the bridge’s collapse in 1975.  Their condition is gephyrophobia (pronounced jeff-i-ro-fo-bia) which describes those with an intense fear of driving over a bridge (which in the most severe cases can manifest at the mere thought or anticipation of it), sometimes inducing panic attacks.   Ms Lane said she had in the last quarter century treated some seven patients who suffered from gephyrophobia trigged by the trauma associated with the tragedy, their symptoms ranging from “...someone who gets anxious about it all the way to someone who would turn into complete hysterics."  Some, she added, were unable “…even to look at a photo of the Tasman Bridge.”  She noted the collapse remains “still quite clear in everybody's mind, and that's perhaps heightened by the fact that we stop traffic when we have a large boat passing beneath it."  Her treatment regime attempts to break the fear into manageable steps, having patients sketch the bridge or study photographs before approaching the structure and finally driving over it.

Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation is something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining.  The odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling. 

Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of shoes and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the errant sandal’s straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the National Gallery of Australia, a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the last decade's increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff), that estimate may now be conservative.

Number 11 (Blue poles, 1952), Oil, enamel and aluminum paint with glass on canvas

Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas placed on the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened.  Pollock (1912-1956) died in a drink-driving accident.

Alchemy (1947), Oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibers, and broken wooden sticks on canvas

Although the general public remained uninterested or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced stuff which can sell for millions.  New York art historian and curator Helen A Harrison (now director of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Centre) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), Enamel over gesso on paper

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), Oil and enamel on canvas

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), Enamel and metallic paint on canvas 

There have been famous responses to that but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything.”  In 2010, she released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.

Helen A Harrison, The Jackson Pollock Box (Cider Mill Press, 96pp, ISBN-10:1604331860, ISBN-13:978-1604331868).

Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene and Henri Bendel.  Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting and probably pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt by Bendel best illustrates the value of his trained eye.

Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.

Bogus

Bogus (pronounced boh-guhs)

(1) Not genuine; counterfeit item; something spurious; a sham; based on false or misleading information or unjustified assumptions.

(2) In printing. a matter set (by union requirement) by a compositor and later discarded, duplicating the text of an advertisement for which a plate has been supplied or type set by another publisher.

(3) In computer programming, anything wrong, broken, unlinked, useless etc).

(4) In philately, a fictitious issue printed for exclusively for collectors, often issued as if from a non-existent territory or country (as opposed to a forgery, which is an illegitimate copy of a genuine stamp).

(5) As calibogus, a US dialectical word describing a liquor made from rum and molasses (sometimes rum and spruce beer).

1827: An invention of US English, coined originally by the underworld to describe an apparatus for coining counterfeit currency.  The origin is unknown, etymologists noting the Hausa boko (to fake) and because bogus first appeared in the US, it’s possible the source arrived on a slave ship from West Africa.  An alternative speculation is it was a clipped form of the nineteenth century criminal slang tantrabogus (a menacing object), from a late eighteenth century colloquial Vermont word for any odd-looking object (which in the following century was used also in Protestant churches to mean "the devil").  The New England form may be connected to tantarabobs (a regionalism recorded in Devonshire name for the devil) although the most obvious link (for which there’s no evidence) is to bogy or bogey (in the sense of “the bogeyman”).  In this sense, bogus might thus be related to bogle (a traditional trickster from the Scottish Borders, noted for achieving acts of household trickery which sometimes operated at the level of petty crime.  The use of bogy & bogie by the military is thought unrelated because the evidence is it didn’t pre-date the use of radar (a bogie being an unidentified aircraft or missile, especially one detected as a blip on a radar display).

The noun came first, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) tracing the first use to describe the counterfeiting apparatus to Ohio in 1927, the products of the nefarious minting having also picked up the name by at least 1838, adjectival use (counterfeit, spurious, sham) adopted the following year.  Later, bogus came to be applied to anything of poor quality, even if not something misrepresenting a brand-name (ie bogus in intended function).  The adoption by computer programmers (apparently in the 1980s) to refer to anything wrong, broken, unlinked, useless etc was an example of English in action; they could have chosen any of bogus’s many synonyms but it was the word of choice and hackers use it too.  Bogus is an adjective and (an occasional) noun, bogotic is an adjective, bogusly is an adverb and bogusness a noun.

From the nerdy humor of programmers came the related bogon, the construct being bog(us) (fake, phony) + -on (the suffix used to form names of elementary particles or fundamental units) (the noun plural being bogons).  To programmers, the bogon was the the imaginary elementary particle of bogosity; the anti-particle to the cluon (the construct being clue (idea, notion, inkling) + -on (the plural being cluons) which was the imaginary elementary particle of cluefulness and thus the anti-particle to the bogon.  The slightly less nerdy network engineers adopted bogan to refer to an invalid Internet Protocol (IP) packet, especially one sent from an address not in use.  Clutron proved useful, a clutron an especially clever or well-informed nerd although it was also picked-up in the misogynistic word of on-line gaming where a slutron was a highly skilled female player a combination where meant she attracted hatred rather than admiration a make would usually enjoy.

The surname Bogus was borrowed from the Polish (masculine & feminine) forms Bogus & Boguś, or the Romanian Boguș (the plural of the proper noun being Boguses).  In the British Isles it was initially most common in Scotland before spreading south and is thought ultimately related to other named beginning with Bog- (Bogumił, Bogusław, Bogdan et al).  In Polish, Boguś is also a given name and listed as a back-formation (as a diminutive) from either Bogusław, Bogdan, Bogumił or Bogusław (+ -uś).

A real Ferrari 1963 250 GTO (left) and Temporoa's superbly made replica of a 1962 model (right).  US$70 million vs US$1.2 million. 

The synonyms can include fraudulent, pseudo, fake, faux, phony, false, fictitious, forged, fraudulent, sham, spurious, artificial, dummy, ersatz, imitation, pretended, pseudo, simulated, counterfeit but bogus is what’s known as a “loaded word”.  Bogus implies fake (and less commonly “of poor quality”) but just because something isn’t real doesn’t mean it need be thought bogus.  Ferrari made only 39 (it can also be calculated at 36 or 41 depending on definitions) 250 GTOs and one has sold for US$70 million but it’s possible for experts to create an almost exact replica (indeed one of higher quality than an original although given the standard of some of the welding done in the factory in those years that's really not surprising) but it will only ever be worth a fraction of the real thing (a fine example offered for US$1.2 million).  Whether such a thing should be regarded as a replica, recreation, clone or whatever is something about which there's debate but few would dismiss such a work as bogus.  It really hangs on disclosure and representation.  With only 39 250 GTOs on the planet, all with well-documented provenance, it’s not possible to claim a replica is authentic but there are cars which have been produced in the hundreds or even thousands which some try to pass off as genuine; in these cases, they have created something as bogus as knock-off handbags.  One popular use of bogus is to describe various members of royal families who parade themselves in the dress military uniforms of generals or admirals, despite often having never served on been near a combat zone.  

With something digital, just about anyone can create an exact duplicate, indistinguishable from the source, hence the attraction of the non-fungible token (NFT) which, thus far, can’t be forged.  NFTs have been linked to real-world objects, as a sort of proof of ownership which seems strange given that actual possession or some physical certificate is usually sufficient, certainly for those with a 250 GTO in the garage but there are implications for the property conveyancing industry, NFTs possibly a way for real-estate transactions to be handled more efficiently.  For those producing items which attract bogus items (running shoes, handbags etc), there’s interest in attaching NFTs as a method of verification.

Humble beginnings: Publicity shot for the 1960 Ford Falcon.

When Ford released the Falcon in 1960, it was modest in just about every way except the expectations the company had that it successfully would counter the intrusion of the increasingly popular smaller cars which, worryingly, many buyers seemed to prefer to the increasingly large offerings from Detroit.  A success in its own right, the Falcon would provide the platform for the Mustang, the Fairlane, the Mercury Cougar and other variations which, collectively, sold in numbers which would dwarf those achieved by the original; it was one of the more profitable and enduring platforms of the twentieth century.  In the US, it was retired after a truncated appearance in 1970 but it lived on in South America and Australia, the nameplate in the latter market lasting until 2016, a run of over half a century during which the platform had been offered in seven generations in configurations as diverse as sedans, vans & pick-ups (utes), hardtop coupés, 4WDs, station wagons and long wheelbase executive cars.

Ford Falcon GTHO Phase I leading three Holden Monaro (HT) GTS 350s, Bathurst 1969.

Most memorably however, between 1969-1972, it was also the basis of a number of thinly disguised racing cars, production of which was limited to not much more than was required by the rules of the time to homologate the strengthened or high-performance parts needed for use in competition.  The Falcon GT had been introduced in 1967 and had proved effective but the next year faced competition from General Motors’ (GM) Holden Monaro GTS which, with a 327 cubic inch (5.3 litre) Chevrolet V8 out-performed the Ford which had by then had benefited from an increase in displacement from 289 cubic inches (4.7 litres) to 302 (4.9) which proved not enough.  The conclusion reached by both Ford & GM was of course to increase power so for 1969 the Falcon and Monaro appears with 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) and 350 (5.7) V8s; the power race was on.  Ford however decided to make sure of things and developed homologation-special with more power, some modification to improve durability and, with endurance racing in mind, a 36 (imperial) gallon (164 litre) fuel tank, quickly (and inexpensively) fabricated by welding together two standard tanks.  The car was called the GTHO (written variously in documents as also as G*T*H*O, GT-HO & G.T.H.O. (and as GT·HO on the glovebox lid)), HO apparently understood by the Ford engineers to mean “high output” but presented to the public as “handling options”, the company not wishing to frighten the horses with fears of racing cars being sold for use on the streets (and such a furore did ensue in 1972 which proved the GTHO’s death knell.

1970 Falcon GTHO Phase II.

If the 1967 GT had been something beyond what Ford in 1960 thought the Falcon might become, the GTHO would have been beyond their wildest imaginings.  Still usable as a road car, it also worked on the circuits although, because of a bad choice of tyre which was unsuited to the techniques of the drivers, it failed to win the annual Bathurst 500, then (as now), the race which really mattered.  Determined to win the 500, a revised GTHO was prepared and, in a novel move, was known as the Phase II (the original retrospectively re-christened the Phase I), the most obvious highlight of the revised specification a switch to Ford’s new Cleveland 351 V8 which, heavier and more powerful, replaced the Windsor 351.  Underneath however, there were changes which were just as significant with the suspension re-calibrated to suit both racing tyres and the driving style used in competition.  Said to have been developed with “a bucket of Ford’s money in one hand and a relief map of the Bathurst circuit in the other”, the Phase II drove like a real racer and probably few cars sold to the public have deliberately been engineered to produce so much oversteer.  On the track it worked and victory at Bathurst followed, something which drew attention from the early unreliability of the Cleveland 351, the implications of it’s less elaborate lubrication system not for some months appreciated.

1971 Ford Falcon GTHO Phase III (Clone).

The Phase III followed in 1971 with increased power, the propensity to oversteer toned down and it proved even more successful, the legacy due to be continued by a Phase IV with four-wheel disk brakes (something probably more helpful than more power) but the project was abandoned after a moral panic induced by a Sydney newspaper which ran a front page which alleged “160mph (257 km/h) supercars” were about to fall into the hands of teenagers to use on city streets and highways.  That certainly frightened the horses and politicians, always susceptible to anything which appears in a tabloid, vowed to act and prevailed on the manufacturers to abandon the homologation specials.  Thus ended the era of the GTHO and also the similar machines being prepared by GM and Chrysler, the handful of Phase IV GTHOs built quietly sold off, never to see a race track although one did, most improbably, enjoy a brief, doomed career as a rally car.

1972 Ford Falcon GTHO Phase IV.

Over the decades, as used cars, the surviving GTHOs (many destroyed in accidents on and off the track) have become collectable and of the 1222 made (including circa 115 of the (unofficial) Phase 1.5 with a milder (hydraulic valve lifters) Cleveland engine), it’s the Phase III (300 built) which is the most coveted at auction (the handful of Phase IVs seem to change hands mostly in private sales and the record is said to be circa Aus$2 million) and while the prices achieved track the state of the economy, the current record is believed to be Aus$1.3 million.  Based on what was essentially a taxicab which was produced in the hundreds of thousands, there’s an after-market ecosystem which produces all the parts required for one exactly (except for tags and serial numbers) to create one’s own GTHO at considerably less than what a real one now costs so it’s no surprise there are many acknowledged replicas (also described as clones etc) but the odd bogus example has also been unearthed.

Ford Falcon GTHO Phase IVs being prepared for racing, Melbourne, 1972.

Quite how many of the 287 Phase IIs survive isn’t known and the prices are high so it’s little surprise some have been tempted to misrepresent a bogus example as something real and there are legal implications to this, both criminal and civil.  There are even examples of the less desirable Falcon GTs and in 2011, in a judgment handed down in the District Court of Queensland (Sammut v De Rome [2011] QDC 294), a couple was ordered to pay the plaintiff AU$108,394.04 (US$107,200 at the then favorable exchange rate).  The defendants had sold to the plaintiff what they advertised as a 1969 Ford Falcon GT, a vehicle they had in 2006 purchased for Aus$18,000.  The plaintiff undertook due diligence, inspecting the car in person and in the company of a expert in bodywork before verifying with Ford Australia that the VIN (vehicle identification number) was legitimate car.  Once the VIN had been confirmed as belonging to a 1969 Falcon GT, a sale price of Aus$90,000 was agreed and the sale executed, the buyer having the car transported by trailer to Sydney.

Bogus & blotchy: Lindsay Lohan with fake tan.

Two years later, when the plaintiff attempted to sell the car, a detailed inspection revealed it was a bogus GT, a real GT’s VIN having been used to replace the one mounted on an ordinary 1969 Falcon, an x-ray examination of the firewall confirming the cutting and welding associated with the swap.  It was never determined who was responsible for creating the bogus GT and expert testimony given to the court confirmed that then, a non-GT Falcon of this year and condition was worth between Aus$10-15,000 while the value of an authentic GT was between Aus$65-70,000.  Accordingly, the plaintiff sued for breach of contract, requesting to be compensated to the extent of the difference between what he paid for the car and its current value, plus associated matters such as transport, interest and court costs.  The court found for the plaintiff in the sum of Aus$108,394.04 although the trial judge did note that the defendants likely didn't know the car was bogus, thereby opening for them the possibility of commencing action against the party from whom they purchased the thing, his honor mentioned that because of the civil statute of limitations, they had less than a month in which to file suit.  It's to be hoped they kept the car because in 2022, well-executed replicas of XW Falcon GTs are being advertised at more than Aus$125,000.

Chopine

Chopine (pronounced choh-peen or chop-in)

(1) A shoe having a thick sole, usually of cork, suggesting a short stilt, worn especially by women in Europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and said to have been introduced from the Ottoman Empire.

(2) A bottle of wine (usually Bordeaux) containing 0.250 fluid liters, 1/3 of the volume of a standard bottle.

1570–1580: From the Middle French chapin, from the Old Spanish chapín (type of high shoe or clog, raised by means of a cork sole), from chapa (plate), the construct being chap(a) (from the Middle French chape) + -in (the adjectival suffix).  The original, the Old Spanish chapín, is probably imitative of the sound made by the shoe when walking.

The ultimate platform shoe

How they worked.  Chopines were a kind of wonder bra for the feet.

Chopines began as a purely functional device; a means of raising women’s shoes and the hems of their dresses above the dirt and filth in which they were often compelled to walk.  It's said they were brought by traders from the Ottoman Empire where they'd been worn in bath houses by concubines, courtesans and others, the speculation being they were originally a modestly proportioned device designed as a health measure, a means of protecting the feet from infection, bath houses being warm, dark and moist, the perfect incubation environment for bacteria.  As sometimes happens, they became a status symbol with prestige determined by their elevation, the tallest extant examples reaching 20 inches (508 mm) although some historians claim they were built as high as 30 inches (762 mm).  Beyond a certain height practicality was marginal but there's evidence highly stylized examples were worn outside the bath house on ceremonial occasions.  Chopines were most popular in Spain and Italy in the late sixteenth century and when they spread to England, they were sometimes referred to as "the Venice" because of the perception that was their city of origin, something which seems to have arisen because of their mention in widely-read travel journals of the age.  Their impracticality must have made them a niche item because they never became part of any defined English costume or style of dress.  Whether men objected to women suddenly appearing taller is lost to history.

As shoes, they had a short life because their sheer size dictated they be made from lightweight materials like cork and wood although some used a metal framework.  The style, in a less extreme form, was briefly revived with the cork-soled platform soles of the 1970s which had the effect of creating a short-lived investment bubble in the Portuguese cork industry.

The absurdity of the style attracted the attention of writers.

"It is ridiculous to see how these ladies crawl in and out of their gondolas, by reason of their choppines [clogs]; and what dwarfs they appear when taken down from their wooden scaffolds; of these I saw nearly thirty together, stalking half as high again as the rest of the world."  (John Evelyn, diary entry, June 1645)

"By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the altitude of a chopine." (Hamlet, act 2 scene 2, William Shakespeare, 1602)

"He creaked to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a chopine... "(Ulysses, James Joyce, 1922).

Continuing the chopine tradition: Lindsay Lohan in Saint Laurent Billy leopard-print platform boots (Saint Laurent part number is 5324690SR00), New York, March 2019.

Attaché

Attaché (pronounced a-ta-shey, at-uh-shey or uh-tash-ey)

(1) A diplomatic official attached to an embassy or legation, especially in a technical capacity (often as a commercial attaché, cultural attaché etc).

(2) A military officer who is assigned to a diplomatic post in a foreign country in order to gather military information (historically usually as air attaché; army attaché; naval attaché, military attaché).

(3) As attaché case, a type of briefcase intended for carrying documents.

1825–1835: From the French attaché (plural attachés, feminine attachée), (junior officer attached to the staff of an ambassador (literally “attached”)), noun use of the past participle of attacher (to attach), from the Old French atachier, a variant of estachier (bind), from estache (stick), from the Frankish stakka (stick) (which was cognate with the Old Occitan estacha, the Italian stacca and the Spanish estaca, from the Gothic stakka).  The attaché case (small leather case for carrying papers) dates from circa 1900.  English, typically, picked up attaché unaltered from the French (although the spelling attache is now common) as did German, Polish and Swedish but other languages adapted as was suited by tradition or pronunciation including Georgian (ატაშე (aṭaše)), Russian (атташе́ (attašé)), Serbo-Croatian (ataše) and Turkish (ataşe).  In sardonic diplomatic humor, attaché was long regarded as a euphemism for “spy” and that, the humor and the practice, remains afoot.  Attaché is a noun and the noun plural is attachés (use in attaché case is not adjectival).

The attaché case and the briefcase.

Meme of Lindsay Lohan in court, Los Angeles, 2013.

A Lindsay Lohan court appearance in Los Angeles in 2013 attracted the usual commentary (choice of hairstyle, clothes, shoes etc) but the attaché case carried by her lawyer inspired the meme community to create a spoof Louis Vuitton advertisement.  The mock-up, which appeared on the now defunct danielpianetti.com, used a courtroom image in which Ms Lohan’s seemed transfixed, eyes focused on the attaché case recumbent on the defense table.

Lawyer Mark Jay Heller with attaché case and rabbit’s foot.

Ms Lohan was represented by celebrity lawyer Mark Jay Heller (b 1945) who gained fame from representing “Son of Sam” serial killer David Berkowitz (b 1953) before becoming a staple of the paparazzi business and he recently resigned from the New York bar due to professional misconduct.  In 2013, his attaché case was notable for the white rabbit's foot key chain attached to the handle which Mr Heller said brought him good luck.  On 17 March 2022, a New York state appeals court accepted his resignation from the bar after he admitted several counts of misconduct including failing to communicate with one client and neglecting another.  The subject of a disciplinary investigation, he acknowledged to the court he had no defense to offer.  Luck had run out.  Mr Heller’s attaché case was a Louis Vuitton Serviette Conseiller Monogram Robusto, fabricated with a cross grain calf leather interior & a natural cowhide handle (part-number M53331).  It's no longer available but a similar item, suitable for tablets and smaller laptops is the Porte-Documents Voyage PM Monogram Macassar Canvas (part-number M52005) at US$1950.

The attaché case and briefcase have not dissimilar histories.  In the diplomatic establishment, attachés were originally junior members of staff (their dual role as covers for spying swiftly a parallel career path) who fulfilled administrative duties which included carrying the ambassador’s papers in as slim case which came to be known as an attaché case.  In the legal community, a brief was a summary of facts and legal positions supporting arguments in judicial proceedings, prepared by a solicitor and provided to the advocate who was to appear in court.  The “brief case” was originally a wooden box in the chambers of barristers in which the bound briefs were deposited but by the early twentieth century it had come to be used to describe the small, rigid bags which had become the usual device used by lawyers to carry stuff to court.  These quickly became an almost obligatory accessory for businessmen either successful or wishing to appear so and they remained part of the informal uniform until the 1990s when laptops and later tablets & smartphones began to supplant paper.  The look remains admired however and high-end laptop bags use many of the design cues from the briefcase, even down to that signature touch of the 1970s, the dual combination locks.

Between manufacturers, there’s no agreement on when the attaché case ends and the briefcase begins but it seems the attaché case is a small, slender suitcase which opens into two distinct and usually symmetrical compartments, made from leather or metal and definitely without a shoulder strap.  By contrast, a briefcase is a flat, rectangular container which opens to reveal one large compartment although the “lid” is likely to have pockets or gussets that expand to accommodate pens, phones and such, generating flexible storage functionality.  Historically a briefcase would not include a shoulder strap but many are now so equipped suggesting the laptop bag is a descendent of the briefcase rather than the attaché case.  For that reason, the attaché case would seem to be thought something slim and stylish while a briefcase must be bigger to accommodate not only documents but also the electronic devices of the modern age including accessories such as charges, power cords and cables.  Other manufactures however claim an attaché case is actually bigger than a briefcase and always includes a shoulder strap but this view seems unfashionable and may relate more to their product differentiation and naming conventions.  However, for those not bothered by fine distinctions in such matters, using the terms interchangeably will likely confuse few.

Although probably thought by many to be something which exists only in the imagination of spy novels, briefcase guns really have been a thing and along with other innovations like the poison-tipped umbrella, there are documented cases of them being used by Warsaw Pact counter-intelligence services.  Remarkably, though unsurprisingly, briefcase guns are available for purchase in the US and can in some jurisdictions lawfully be carried (being luggage this is most literal) provided it’s first registered under the National Firearms Act as an Any Other Weapon (AOW), the relevant clause being 26 U.S.C. § 5845(E): Any weapon or device capable of being concealed on the person from which a shot can be discharged through the energy of an explosive.

In this example, the weapon is a Heckler & Koch MP5 (Maschinenpistole 5), a 9x19mm Parabellum submachine gun, developed in the 1960s and there have been dozens of versions, both automatic and semi-automatic.  Widely used around the world by both the military and in law enforcement, the MP5 has survived the introduction of its supposed successor (the UMP) and remain popular, a familiar tale in military hardware.  The MP5K (the K stands for kurz (short)) is locked into a claw mount with the muzzle connected to a tubular firing port.  Loading a magazine is said to be a clumsy operation with the MP5 in place but is possible although it’s noted the recommended 30-round clip is a tight fit, barely clearing the bottom of the case.  The trigger is conveniently located in the handle and connected with a mechanical linkage.  There’s a knurled button on the handle which functions as a kind of external safety catch because the fire mode is set prior to closing the case and spent shells are deflected downward so they can’t cause a malfunction by bouncing into the action.  Within, there’s a holder for a spare magazine and the briefcase is lockable (which seems a sensible feature).  It’s said to take some practice to achieve anything like the accuracy one could attain with a conventionally held MP5 but for the section of the target market which wants a sudden, rapid fire over a wide field, it’s presumably ideal.