To decide upon the language's silliest word, many would steep themselves into the gallimaufry that features such sesquipedalian monstrosities as mollycoddle, liripoop, and kinnikinnick, but in my view such words are no more than flagrant tomfoolery. (In point of fact, almost every word seems silly, if you just say it over and over again, especially spoon, swivel, and sluice [just in the s's alone]). A more promising category in which to delve is among those words that ought, from their sound, mean something entirely other than they do, as for example turdiform, titmouse, cacoethes, antimacassar and crepuscular. Some words are silly because it is inherently ridiculous that their combination of consonants and vowels should mean anything at all: usufruct, zeugma, ginkgo and glebe fall into that unlovely grouping.
As a child, I thought that the silliest word in the English language was "pumpernickel," but now I can make more mature judgments. I therefore announce that the second most ridiculous word in English -- the penultimate -- is "indubitably." "Indubitably" is composed of a series of staccato syllables that can only be spoken by a duchess, or a dandy wearing a tuxedo and a monocle -- or perhaps even a lorgnette. I have never heard anyone utter the word "indubitably" with a straight face. It's a word that is intrinsically litotic.
And now, after decades of pondering, I proclaim that the grand champion silliest word in the English, and of this there can be no shadow of doubt, no possible probable shadow of doubt, is: ointment.
The evidence? Well, first of all, there's that wayward "oint." Except for "oil" and oil-related words (oiler, oily), there are very few English words that begin with "oi" --and for good reason. "Oi" lacks the dignity of more imposing vowels. It's an unstable gliding sound, hard to fix in the mouth, almost thriphthongic. Moreover, "oint" comes perilously close to "oink" and therefore reeks of the piggery. To couple "oint" with "ment" is to augment the awkwardness. Most words that end in "ment" make obvious sense: battlement, pavement, amazement, advancement. If the "ment" in ointment is such a suffix, what, pray tell, is an "oint"? And then there's that foolish near-congruence of the first and second components of the word --its perfect and quintessential spondeehood -- exaggerated by slant rhyme and the awkwardness of "nt"/"nt." Altogether, "ointment" is indubitably absurd.
Etymology offers no solace. The silly thing came to us through Old French "oignement" from late Latin "unguimentum" and from classical Latin "unguentum." "Ointment" may ultimately derive from an ancient root for butter. Just as might be suspected, that first ludicrous "t" is an accident, having been smuggled in, by analogy, from "anoint."
When Jean Lundegaard bites Gaear Grimsrud on the hand, he grunts, famously, "Unguent, I need unguent." One hesitates to suggest an improvements to classic dialogue, but, tell the truth, wouldn't the scene have been even funnier and more memorable if Gaear had muttered, "Ointment, I need ointment?" Especially if the tip of his tongue had landed plosively on both of the lingual-palatal stops?
I like "dentifrice."
Posted by: Axel Sprengtporten | December 25, 2009 at 11:33 AM
Excellent choice. I've always had a fondness for "gubernatorial."
Posted by: Otis Jefferson Brown | December 25, 2009 at 11:28 AM