
Bless us, Merriam-Webster!
Cartoon by the wonderfully creative John Deering, who drew this just to make me laugh.
After striking a short board with nails in it on my drive home from the store Sunday, I was struck by the realization that it’s been a little too long since I last talked about words, which could mean the revocation of my word-nerd credentials. Without those, I could lose my leadership position in the Universal Church of the Wordnerdian. I worked hard and prayed to Samuel Johnson and Noah Webster every day to get where I am! I shall not abdicate!
I was also struck by the expense of having to replace two tires … thanks, unknown person, for leaving that wood in the road. And if it was intentional, may your nipples bleed like you just ran a marathon and forgot to apply friction cream first. I hear salt and lemon juice can do wonders for open wounds.

When you and a bear are both doing a pee-pee dance and there’s only one bathroom, that’s awkward. Who can bear it longer?
Image found on Playbuzz.
I’ve talked about homophones before—words that have the same sound as other words but have different spellings and/or meanings—like to, too, and two—but I haven’t really touched on homographs. Which is weird for me because they’re all around. No, not the homograph phishing attacks (and don’t ask me more because I’m not a techno-nerd; the first I heard of them was Monday), but the words.
Homographs, another member of the homonym family, are words that are spelled the same (hence the “homo” for same, and “graph” for writing) but have different meanings and often different origins. Sometimes they’ll also have the same sound, like bear (as in to carry or withstand) and bear (big scary omnivorous mammal), making them homophones as well.

Yep, “spirits” is one too. And I’d love to know how a ghost could drink whiskey.
Image found on ecenglish.
Or they may have different sounds, like tear (as in to rip) and tear (as in that salty wet stuff that comes out of your eyes when you’re watching the third-season finale of Stranger Things; damn it, Netflix!), which makes them heteronyms (not the literary concept). And no, we’re not going to go further into the tear/tare and tear/tier thing—that’s pure homophone, and not the topic of today’s word-nerdiness.
Tire, as in what was replaced Monday on Izzy (yes, my vehicle has a name, and it comes from one of my two remaining great-aunts), and tire, as in to grow weary, are another pair of homographs, and they just happen to also be homophones.
Homographs that are heteronyms have the tendency to make editors cry, as ones like lead (the heavy metal) tend to get confused with the homophone “led.” When you’re talking about the past tense of the verb “lead,” it’s going to be “led,” not “lead.” It’s not like “read,” which is spelled the same in present and past tense, though pronounced differently. Now hand that editor a hanky and be careful she doesn’t backhand you. Those aren’t tears of sadness, bub.
Other homographs include accent, which can mean emphasis or regional pronunciation; and bat, which could mean the club (also a homograph) used in baseball, a flying mammal that uses echolocation to navigate, or what a cat does with things that happen to be on the same surface as it is, which is just not allowed. There’s also bass, which could be the fish I grew up eating, or a deep tone or sound. Now if you see a bat with a baseball bat or a bass playing bass guitar, please take a picture and send it to me. I live for this stuff.
Yes, I’m a weirdo. It’s not like this is a new thing.

Playing this kind of bass will get you a lot of groupies. They’re cats, but that counts.
The Deep End by Tyson Cole.
When I was on the clerks’ desk, and then the copy desk, I loved to hear from one reporter, Ken Heard, more than any other because of his love for puns, good and bad. He called me Brennie Poo, and I called him Kennie Poo, and he could always make me smile. Ken is no longer with our paper (he’s working for the Jonesboro Sun, which coincidentally my favorite poli sci professor used to call the Pun), but I always think of him when I hear a pun or similar wordplay.
So Ken, if you’re reading, this little homograph story is for you:
The day they met, the wind caused him to wind up tripping over his own feet. In the emergency room, she wound gauze around the wound on his hand. He was a most patient patient. As they grew close, they found they couldn’t close the door on love, and they set the date for their first date.
She heard bells ring as he pulled a ring from his pocket after several months of courting. He decided there was no time like the present to present the present to her. She couldn’t object to the shiny object, but she did quail at the idea of serving quail at the wedding. She was an animal-welfare advocate, and couldn’t advocate killing the birds unless it was for survival. She thought it was better to preserve the birds in a preserve so everyone could enjoy their calls.
She turned her back and walked back from the water’s edge to her car. He watched her wave goodbye over her shoulder as the wave overtook him. Funny … he didn’t remember putting on concrete shoes that morning.
Sorry … my short fiction has always had the tendency to get a little dark. Blame my mom, Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King for that. Or thank them.
Whatever works for you.

Stephen Pastis gets dark too. Just one more reason to love him. That and the bad puns.
Pearls Before Swine by Stephen Pastis.
While I’m fluent in only one language (unless snark is a language), I always admire those fluent in more than one. But I truly pity anyone learning English as a second language because of all the eccentricities involved with it. Add homophones and homographs to the equation, especially ones native speakers can’t get correct on a regular basis, and unintentional (and sometimes intentional) hilarity is bound to ensue.
All this reminds me of joke involving homophones that typically makes word nerds giggle and others roll their eyes and/or groan.
“What do you say to comfort a grammar snob?”
“Their, there, they’re.”
OK, I can hear the groans from here.
You knew I was a word nerd. What were you expecting?
I liked the cartoon (apologies to the now, to me, anonymous cartoonist) which pictured a tiny island with two men, one palm tree, and dozens of pies and cakes. One says, “This is what you get from a cartoonist with a spelling problem.” Almost a homograph and kind of a homophone (ignoring accent), though I can imagine some anti-nerds saying the whole thing only rates two-thirds of a pun: PU.
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Where is that dessert island? I want to go there! 😄
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I don’t know where this dessert island is located because I deserted my dessert in the desert.
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I will be glad to help you make sure that your Word Nerd credentials will not be revoked. What can I do to help?
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Make sure that my nerdiness is allowed to run free. 🤓
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I think that your Word Nerd Credentials should not be revoked no matter how long you wait before you start writing about words again.
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Where and when does the Universal Church of the WordNerdian hold their services? I would like to attend a service.
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At the moment, the Internet.
In the two years since Deering came up with that name, we’ve never set anything up … and I could really use the tax break. 😁
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I will be glad to provide the music for the service. What songs would be appropriate?
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Off the top of my head, “More Than Words,” “Word Up,” “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word,” “Word Wizard,” “A Word For That” … I’m sure there are many more …
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Are you going to be the Low Priestess of the Universal Church of the WordNerdian?
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Is that a short joke? 😉
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No he said shortly in a shortened tone of voice. Most organized religions seem to have a High Priest (or Priestess) of one type or another. I just thought you might want to be different with the Universal Church of the WordNerdian and have a Low Priestess instead.
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Better a high priestess than a high colonic.
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Did the female bartender have a Spirited conversation with the ghost who wanted whiskey?
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Yep, and they set up a date. Then she ghosted him. 👻
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“Ghosted him?” How appropriate.
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Somewhere on Facebook (probably on the Bass Guitarists page), I remember seeing a picture of a bass fish playing an electric bass guitar in a recording studio. Since I am a bass player, I have had a lot of really bad bass/base jokes inflicted on me over the years. Would you like some examples?
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Please. 🐟
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One time when I arrived at the Arts Center for the monthly meeting of Rackensack, someone said, “The bass player is here. We can start fishing now.”
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I have been told that I am the most FISHy and LOWdown member of the band.
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If I am playing bass ball, do I have to steal the bass so I can start playing? I usually reply that stealing the bass is one of the most difficult plays in bass ball.
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Who’s the catcher? Just anyone with a net or a pole?
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I also get teased about being a “fishman”. One year at the December Rackensack meeting, someone serenaded me by singing, “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Fishmen”.
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Do you have gills and scales? Or do you communicate with fish like Aquaman?
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“Do you catch a lot of bass with your instrument?”
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If it’s good ok’ Arkansas-caught bigmouth bass, toss it to me, please. It’s been too long.
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I don’t know who the catcher is but I do know it isn’t me. Maybe it is someone named Ketcher?
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No my name is Laurence. It isn’t Gill like the bartender at that Real Dive in downtown Atlantis.
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In the movie about the famous Danish storyteller Hans Christian Anderson, he tells a funny story about a cobbler who would like to be able to sit down while he is working on shoes. Supposedly this cobbler says, “Oh, how I’d love a chair.” So a female chair wearing a wedding gown shows up. The cobbler says, “I didn’t say I would marry you, but I would like to sit down.” So he sits down in the female chair who is wearing a wedding gown and goes to work.
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🤦🏼♀️
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A few years ago at the hospital where I work, one of our doctors-in-training who had come here from another country to attend medical school at UAMS, wrote out an alcoholic patient’s diagnosis as “Alcohol With Drawl”. I guess this doctor-in-training’s native language wasn’t English.
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So was the patient a Southerner? If so, still correct.
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If you consider a native of Arkansas to be a Southerner, the answer to your question is “Yes”.
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I do, as I am both.
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Or we could borrow “Today” the catcher from the infamous Abbott & Costello baseball team.
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Three more bass player jokes: If you want to get to the BOTTOM of the music, just talk to the bass player; bass players are Bottom Feeders; either that or we are Bottom Dwellers.
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All of a sudden, “Fat-Bottomed Girls” is in my head. 👗🎼
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If you get tired of “Fat Bottomed Girls” being inside your head, we have can it removed by an expert neurosurgeon.
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