Kirk Mahoney . com

I saw each of these words in the past week and wondered about their origins.

Problem:
These two nouns are not synonyms but look so similar that some people will mistakenly use one of the nouns when they should use the other noun.

Explanation:
The noun “bouillon” — spelled B-O-U-I-L-L-O-N — means a clear broth made from straining water in which meat has been cooked. This noun dates back to the mid-sixteen-hundreds and is derived from the French verb that means to boil.

The noun “bullion” — spelled B-U-L-L-I-O-N — means silver or gold considered in mass (for example, in bars) instead of in value. This noun dates back to the mid-thirteen-hundreds and also can trace its origin to the word for boiling or bubbling — as in a melted mass of silver or gold.

For fun, I searched Google for each of the following mistaken phrases (with the quotation marks) and got about the indicated numbers of matches:

• “chicken bullion” — 18,300 matches
• “beef bullion” — 14,700 matches
• “gold bouillon” — 3,510 matches
• “silver bouillon” — 1,280 matches

I call these “mistaken phrases” because I combined two words that should not go together based on the definitions of bullion and bouillon. These results tell me that Web authors are worse at properly naming their broths than they are at properly naming their masses of gold and silver.

Solution:
Use “bouillon” when referring to broth. Use “bullion” when referring to gold or silver.

I heard this on a radio program this morning.

Problem:
This is a mispronunciation that almost hits the mark.

Explanation:
The talk-show host on the radio program was referring to a politician who had stirred up a crowd of unhappy voters.

The compound noun “rabble-rouser” was what the host should have said.

The noun “rabble” means mob or disorderly crowd.

The noun “rouser” means someone who brings others out of a state of apathy, depression, or sleep.

The host mispronounced “rabble-rouser” as “rebel-rouser” — almost hitting the mark in that rebels can be disorderly, too, but failing to recognize that rebels need not be brought out of apathy because, by definition, rebels are passionate.

For fun, I searched Google for each of the following compound nouns (with the quotation marks) and got about the indicated numbers of matches:

• “rabble-rouser” — 393,000 matches
• “rebel-rouser” — 124,000 matches

This tells me that Web authors favor “rabble-rouser” over “rebel-rouser” by a pitiful ratio of 3.17:1.

Solution:
“Rabble-rouser”

I sometimes hear people mispronounce one of these words as if it were equivalent to the other word.

Problem:
These two nouns are not synonyms.

Explanation:
The noun “anecdote” means a short account of an incident as an unpublished narrative.

The noun “antidote” means a medicine for counteracting a poison.

Those who confuse these two nouns probably are distracted by the fact that both nouns have “dote” — D-O-T-E — in them, the fact that both nouns start with A-N, and the fact that both nouns are eight letters long.

The noun “antidote” is constructed from the prefix “anti-”, which means against, and “dote”, whose origin essentially means given. In other words, the roots of “antidote” when assembled mean given against.

The noun “anecdote” is constructed from the prefix “an-”, which means not, and “ecdote”. The “ecdote” part of “anecdote” is a combination of “ec”, which means out, and “dote”, whose origin, as just noted, means given.

So the “ecdote” part of “anecdote” essentially means published. In other words, the roots of “anecdote” when assembled mean not published.

Solution:
Use “anecdote” when referring to a spoken story; use “antidote” when referring to a remedy for poison.

I saw this in a PowerPoint document.

Problem:
The word “assessable” makes no sense in this phrase.

Explanation:
The PowerPoint document was about online support content. The slide in which this appeared was about providing a link to support content from the home page of the website.

The adjective “assessable” means capable of being assessed (e.g., for the purpose of taxation).

The PowerPoint author probably mispronounces — or at least hears mispronounced — “accessible” as “assessable” instead.

If you cannot imagine this, then think of the way that Jo Frost on the ABC TV show “Supernanny” mispronounces “That’s not acceptable.” as “That’s not asseptable.” instead.

I believe that this kind of mispronunciation — mispronouncing a “k” sound followed by an “s” sound as simply an “s” sound — is consistent with my “Devolution toward Simpler” linguistic hypothesis.

Solution:
“… content accessible from the home page”

I sometimes hear these two words used interchangeably.

Problem:
These two words are not synonyms.

Explanation:
The primary definition of the word “determinate” as a verb is to make certain of. The primary definition of the word “determinate” as an adjective is having defined limits.

The primary definition of the word “determinant” as a noun is a determining agent. The primary definition of the word “determinant” as an adjective is having the power of deciding.

I believe that these words most often are used interchangeably because of sloppy pronunciation.

Solution:
When using each of these words as an adjective, think having defined limits for “determinate” and having the power of deciding for ” determinant”.

I saw this in a PowerPoint document.

Problem:
This adjective is misspelled.

Explanation:
I believe that the misspelling of the adjective “accessible” is mostly due to the common mispronunciation — as “accessable” — of that adjective.

Other adjectives that use “ible” instead of “able” include “visible” and “horrible”.

The suffix “ible” is a variation of the suffix “able”; most people use memorization to know which suffix to use.

For fun, I searched Google for each of the following words (with the quotation marks to avoid hyphenated forms) and got about the indicated numbers of matches:

• “accessible” — 130,000,000 matches
• “accessable” — 2,170,000 matches

This tells me that Web authors have written the word correctly vs. incorrectly by a ratio of 59.9:1, which is good, but the fact that the Web contains more than two million instances of “accessable” is disappointing.

Solution:
“Accessible”

I heard someone say this recently.

Problem:
This sometimes is a mispronunciation of another idiom.

Explanation:
The other idiom is “It doesn’t cut muster.”

The noun “muster” means an assembly of military troops for inspection.

The verb “cut” in the idiom refers to “making the cut” — that is, “meeting a certain standard, below which whatever is being inspected is cut”.

So “It doesn’t cut muster.” means that something does not meet a certain standard following inspection.

Given that the noun “muster” is not as commonly used as the noun “mustard”, I suppose that it is not surprising that some say or write the idiom as “It doesn’t cut mustard.”

For fun, I searched Google — with the quotation marks included in the search box — for “doesn’t cut mustard” and “doesn’t cut muster” and got about 61,700 and 1,070 matches, respectively.

According to a post at Washington State University’s website, “cut the mustard” first appeared in a 1902 O. Henry story and was used there to mean to achieve the required standard.

Solution:
“It doesn’t cut muster.” or “It doesn’t cut mustard.” — your choice! Simply be conscious about which one you’re using — and why!

I heard U.S. Congressman Bennie Thompson (D-MS) say this yesterday on Fox News Channel.

Problem:
The Congressman used the wrong word for the verb in this popular expression.

Explanation:
The word “error” is a noun and not a verb.

What the Congressman should have used is the word “err”, which looks like “error” but is a verb that means to be mistaken or incorrect.

Perhaps the Congressman simply mispronounced “err” (the verb) as “error” (the noun).

Wondering whether this could be more than a pronunciation problem, I searched Google — with the quotation marks included in the search box — for “error on the side of caution” and “err on the side of caution” and got about 20,200 and 441,000 matches, respectively. That tells me that Web authors have written the expression correctly by a ratio of 21.8:1, which is very good.

Still, over 20,000 matches for “error on the side of caution” indicates a substantial number of confused writers!

Solution:
“We have to err on the side of caution.”

I often hear this, although I certainly can’t hear the possessive apostrophe.

Problem:
These are mispronunciations of a popular February holiday, and one is missing the required possessive apostrophe.

Explanation:
The person whose day is celebrated on February 14 is St. Valentine.

So the proper name of the holiday is “St. Valentine’s Day” or more simply “Valentine’s Day” — not “Valentimes Day” or “Valentime’s Day” or even “Valentines Day”.

For fun, I searched Google for each of the following phrases (with the quotation marks) and got the indicated numbers of matches:

• “Valentimes Day” — 18,800 matches
• “Valentime’s Day” — 7,570 matches
• “Valentines Day” — 1,560,000 matches
• “Valentine’s Day” — 10,800,000 matches

This tells me that Web authors have written the phrase correctly by a ratio of 6.8:1, which is not good!

I believe that the use of “Valentimes” or “Valentime’s” instead of “Valentine’s” is consistent with my “Devolution toward Simpler” hypothesis. It is simpler to pronounce the “m” sound in “Valentimes” or “Valentime’s” than to pronounce the “n” sound in “Valentines” or “Valentine’s”.

I believe that the omission of the possessive apostrophe in the otherwise-correct “Valentines Day” is also consistent with my “Devolution toward Simpler” hypothesis. It is simpler to omit the apostrophe than to include it, and this holiday is only one of many examples in which writers omit required possessive apostrophes.

Solution:
“Valentine’s Day”

I heard a landscape designer say this yesterday on an HGTV television program.

Problem:
This is a mispronunciation of a noun for one of the three basic dimensions.

Explanation:
The endings of the nouns for the other two basic dimensions seem to interfere with how some speakers pronounce “height”.

The nouns “length” and “width” end with the “th” sound that begins the word “thin”, so it seems that some speakers want to pronounce “height” with this “th” sound, too.

Wondering whether this speech problem also occurred in writing on the Web, I searched Google for “heighth” and “height” and got about 112,000 and 42,500,000 matches, respectively. That tells me that Web authors have written the word correctly by a ratio of 379.5:1, which is excellent. And, because the most popular “heighth” matches on Google talk about why this is a misspelling of “height”, the ratio of correct use to incorrect use probably is much higher.

Solution:
“Height”