pseudopodium

. . .

The Media Question of the Month (and potential Word of the Day) was raised by Joseph Gallivan in the New York Post:

On hearing last week that Freenet was on hit list of Hilary Rosen and the RIAA to be shut down, Clarke laughed. ".... any legal action against me would be just as ridiculous as taking legal action against the manufacturer of women's [pantyhose] that were used in a bank robbery. Both Freenet and women's [pantyhose] provide anonymity to those who use them."
So what word or phrase do you reckon is hiding behind the "[pantyhose]" brackets? I hope it's a dirty word for pantyhose, 'cause I've been wanting one bad!

. . .

As long as I'm up here on my high horse, I must say that for the first time ever I am disappointed in my readers. The only response sent to my plea for a rude word for [pantyhose] was "knickers." Twice.

This, despite the spiritual alignment a hemisphere or two away of Feline Transfer Protocol (links as in original):

The signifier 'panties' as employed to gesture to feminine underthings just gets right up my ginger. It is devoid of humour or taste, unlike Patty's Parlour. The suffix 'ies' (as in diminutives a la puppies, kiddies and 'mommies') like 'ette' (kitchenette, dinette, bacholerette et al) confers a type of codicil status. That is, somehow, my undergarments are trivialised. ... Julie Burchill, I feel assured, would similarly disapprove of the phallogocentric referent 'panties'. It has troubled me for years. I concede, she has proffered some execrable novels indeed. But she would prefer undies, dacks or, conceivably smalls.
Hmm... "ginger snaps," perhaps?

Luckily, my old friend Sadie Vary has come to my aid with the following suggestions:

Sausage skins. Saunas. Cheesecloth. Muffler. Puddintanes. Snatchwrap. Barbie sox.
"Gadzooks," quoth I, "but here's a saucy bawd!"

. . .

Rogue librarian Juliet Clark alerts us to a boffo research tool:

No word for pantyhose, though n.b. hotsy -- strong performance at the box office; "The Devil's Advocate made a hotsy bow last weekend."
Speaking of [pantyhose], as everyone seems to be, Helen Razer please note the following suggestion from Le Mouton Sinistre:
If you're going to quote a song lyric with a 'panties' link, I really think it should be Mason William's "The Prince's Panties."

-- Baaaaa.

And another loyal reader comes through with a [pantyhose] substitute that, oddly enough, I suggested many years ago as a name for a punk polka band: "Literhosen."

. . .

Cold Feet, Bedroom Eyes

Beauty, since you so much desire
To know the place of Cupids fire:
About you somewhere doth it rest,
Yet never harbour'd in your brest,
Nor gout-like in your heele or toe;
What foole would seeke Loves flame so low?
But a little higher, but a little higher,
But a little higher --
But a little higher --
There, there, o there! lyes Cupids fire.
  Thinke not, when Cupid most you scorne,
Men judge that you of Ice were borne;
For, though you cast love at your heele,
His fury yet sometime you feele;
And where-abouts if you would know,
I tell you still, not in your toe:
But a little higher, but a little higher,
But a little higher --
But a little higher --
There, there, o there! lyes Cupids fire.
- Thomas Campion, 1617
  1. This conspiracy of mind and foot against the groin seems to've been much on Campion's mind or groin at the time he assembled his Fourth Booke of Ayres, as, only two songs earlier, he'd complayn'd:

    Then downe my pray'rs made way
          To those most comely parts
    That make her flye or stay,
          As they affect deserts:
                But her angry feete, thus mov'd
                Fled with all the parts I lov'd.
      Yet fled they not so fast
          As her enraged minde:
    Still did I after haste,
          Still was I left behinde,
                Till I found 'twas to no end
                With a Spirit to contend.

  2. Many a bawdy song has been burlesqued from a Plutarchian lyric, as many a sentimental or childish-foolish number has been bowdlerized from a bawdy song.

    Twentieth-century American pop musicians often commuted between gospel and secular genres (which themselves mandated varying degrees of directness), and sometimes carried specific songs with them. But pretty much all the earlier transformations I'm familiar with were cross-author, and often conceived of as parodies, with the Earl of Rochester's memorably horrific (and Bataille-trumping) Scroope-over one of the most vicious.

    Exceptionally, Campion was here burlesquing one of his own. From the first Booke of Ayres, published in 1601:

    Mistris, since you so much desire
    To know the place of Cupids fire,
    In your faire shrine that flame doth rest,
    Yet never harourd in your brest;
    It bides not in your lips so sweete,
    Nor where the rose and lillies meete,
    But a little higher, but a little higher:
    There, there, O there lies Cupids fire.
      Even in those starrie pearcing eyes,
    There Cupids sacred fire lyes;
    Those eyes I strive not to enjoy,
    For they have power to destroy;
    Nor woe I for a smile, or kisse,
    So meanely triumph's not my blisse;
    But a little higher, but a little higher,
    I climbe to crowne my chast desire.

    (The fine editor of my Campion, Walter R. Davis, oddly refers to the later version as "slightly revised.")

. . .

Two Political Allegories

-- dedicated to all the pediphiles down at Candidia Cruikshanks
"If the feet knew their strength as we know their oppression, they would not bear as they do."
- Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke, speaks to Parliament in the 1590s

"And the brave little blood cells tumble down, down, down on the long journey to the feet -- where they take one look at those feet, turn around, and rush right back."
- Robert Benchley explains the circulatory system in the 1930s

. . .

And a linguist can't stand the gaffe:

you mean "podophile". pedi- latin, -phile greek, you're mixing your roots!
That's why it's called perversity, babe! Besides, this way I can become number one search result among child molesters who can't spell.

Hey, it's a community.

. . .

The day job stymied any notice of this here venture's tenth anniversary this summer. Still, I can't let the calendar change come upon us without conveying another rude term for [pantyhose]:

The cat's pajamas

Happy New Year!

 

Copyright to contributed work and quoted correspondence remains with the original authors.
Public domain work remains in the public domain.
All other material: Copyright 2015 Ray Davis.