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All contents herein (except the illustrations, which are in the public domain) are Copyright © 1995-2020 Evan Morris & Kathy Wollard. Reproduction without written permission is prohibited, with the exception that teachers in public schools may duplicate and distribute the material here for classroom use.

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Hunker Down

Hunker hunker freezin’ hell.

Dear Word Detective: During the recent visit of the Polar Vortex to the US Midwest, I heard a TV weather-person advise us all to “hunker down in front of the fireplace” until the thermometer rises to a more reasonable reading. We don’t have a fireplace, but after dislodging the cat from the heating vent in the floor so I could stand on it, I began to wonder how one “hunkers down” anyway, and what kind of weird word “hunker” is. Was it just invented out of thin (presumably freezing) air, or does it have a real history? — Dave.

I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you were standing on the vent, not on the cat. Yeah, that Polar Vortex thing was fun, assuming your idea of fun is 17 below zero. If it happens again I’m moving to Guatemala. Since we don’t watch the TV news, it took me a while to realize that El Vortex (as it’s not known in Guatemala) is a real meteorological thing and not just more Accuweather.com fear-hooey. Seriously, those people deliberately make their weather maps look like posters for slasher movies.

“Hunker” is indeed a “real” word, with a real history, and more than one meaning. If you’ve ever wondered exactly how one “hunkers” in the literal sense, the Oxford English Dictionary has some helpful instructions in their definition (apparently written in 1899, though the procedure seems timeless): “To squat, with the haunches, knees, and ankles acutely bent, so as to bring the hams near the heels, and throw the whole weight upon the fore part of the feet.” (The “hams” mentioned there, by the way, are the backs of your thighs just above your knees; “ham” meat is the equivalent part of a pig.) So “to hunker” just means “to squat” all the way down, a posture that may be uncomfortable but also makes you a smaller target in situations where that is desirable.

I suppose it’s possible that the weather-person was seriously suggesting that you literally crouch in front of the fireplace; the temptation to order viewers to do silly things must be nearly irresistible for people on TV. But it’s more likely that “hunker down” was intended in its more common figurative sense of “stay indoors, marshal your resources, stockpile doughnuts, etc.” In non-emergency contexts, “hunker down” is also used as a synonym of “buckle down,” i.e., to settle in and concentrate on finishing an onerous task (“Larry finally hunkered down and worked on his term paper for the entire weekend”). “Buckle down,” by the way, dates to the mid-19th century, and comes from the 16th century “to buckle oneself,” originally meaning to literally strap on armor before a battle.

The exact source of “hunker” is, alas, uncertain. It’s probably related to the Old Norse “huka,” to crouch, with relatives in Middle Dutch, Middle Low German and the modern German “hocken,” meaning “to sit on one’s hams.” Although the specific phrase “hunker down” is apparently a US invention, first appearing in print in 1902, “hunker” by itself was originally Scots, first appearing in print in 1720.

Boilerplate

Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Film at 11.

Dear Word Detective:  As a former Boilerman in the US Navy I thought that I knew everything about boiler construction. Then I found out that newspapers use boilerplate too. What the heck do they use it for? — Mike Henderson.

They use it for the Great Steel Wall between the advertising and editorial departments that keeps the news coverage free of commercial contamination. Sorry, little newspaper joke there. Speaking of intrusive advertising, I’m constantly bombarded by ad agencies suggesting that I turn certain words in my columns into clickable links to sell vacuum cleaners and the like. I’m tempted to write back and ask them if they’d like to sponsor “dirtball” or “sleazoid.” (Which I know I could work into a column because I just did.) Operators are standing by, guys.

Boilerman, eh? I must admit that I’d forgotten that modern ships (some of them, anyway) still have boilers, but then I remembered that nuclear power works by boiling water to run steam turbines, and there are a few nuke boats out there. And while most modern ships use diesel engines, many still run on turbines powered by boilers heated with coal or liquefied natural gas (especially ships that just happen to transport coal or LNG).

“Boil,” our common English verb meaning “to heat a liquid until bubbles form, rise to the top and release vapor,” has a fairly prosaic origin, coming from the Latin “bullire,” meaning “to bubble.” The noun “boil” meaning “an inflamed swelling on the skin” is unrelated to the verb, and comes from Germanic roots meaning “to swell.”

English adopted “boil” from the Old French “bolir” in the 13th century, but when the noun “boiler” appeared around 1540, it meant simply “a person who boils things.” Another 200 years and we had “boiler” meaning “a pot or vessel in which liquids are boiled,” opening the door to the wonderful world of cooking in a double-boiler. (Does anyone still use those things?) In the mid-18th century “boiler” came to mean the large vessel, usually made of heavy cast iron or steel plates welded together, in which water is heated to create pressurized steam, as in a steam-powered engine or a heating plant in a large building.

But now we turn from the steam-powered industry to one selling good old-fashioned hot air, i.e., journalism. In the Olden Days, before computerized typesetting, printing presses used “hot lead,” printing plates cast from type laboriously set line-by-line in a frame. As recently as the late 1960s, many newspapers used enormous Linotype machines on which text typed in by the operator would be set into lines of metal type to be assembled into plates for printing the paper. Parts of the paper, however, such as the masthead, statement of ownership, etc., rarely changed, and these were printed with a fixed and durable steel plate of type called a “boilerplate” from its resemblance to the heavy plated used in boiler construction. Any text supplied by advertisers or other outside sources that didn’t need to be typeset was also “boilerplate” (“He attended to the subsidizing of news agencies that supplied thousands of country papers with boiler-plate matter to fill their inside pages.” 1905).

By the late 1890s “boilerplate” had come to mean “any block of text that doesn’t need to be changed from one edition to the next.” Today we use “boilerplate” to mean “any standardized text, such as  parts of standard contracts or consumer warranties, etc., that doesn’t even have to be read closely” (although a good lawyer would say that those are the parts you should read especially carefully).

Blow off

Like lint from the sleeve of time….

Dear Word Detective:  Recently, I found myself scheduled to be in two places at the same time. Since one was in Southern California, and the other in Seattle, I had to choose. After some thought, I said to my wife “I think I’ll blow off the book club meeting.” The sense of the term “blow off” is to cancel, or simply not attend. Is this a new-ish term in the language? I’ve tried to imagine how it could come about, but the only image I have is “blowing the head off a pint,” and I’m not sure that actually happens except in novels. — Jim Brown.

Or cowboy movies, right? Beats me whether anyone really does that. I dimly remember blowing the foam off a glass of root beer in my youth with mixed (and sticky) results, but I failed to show up for the beer-in-bars class in my 20s, and I’m afraid to try it now. People would know and mock me. It’s like that dream everyone has where you realize you’ve forgotten one course all semester until finals week. Of course, I actually did that once in real life, so I’m a little sensitive.

The specific sense of “blow off” that you note, explained by the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) as “to shirk or evade (a job or duty), to stay away from (school or work) without permission or good reason,” is arguably “new-ish.” The earliest unambiguous print citation found so far for that sense comes from 1968 (“I’m a cop, plain and simple. But I’m just cop enough to blow off a job I don’t want to get fixed into.” Mickey Spillane, “Killer Mine”). But Budd Schulberg used “blow off” in a similar sense, that of “to rebuff, to reject the advances of (a person); to ignore, disregard, dismiss” (OED) in his 1947 prizefighting novel “The Harder They Fall” (“I was just thinking like a moon-struck freshman when I was … deciding to blow Nick off.”). I don’t remember hearing “blow off” in the sense you mention before the late 1970s or early 80s, but that proves exactly nothing. Both senses of “blow off” imply an abrupt and somewhat casual rejection, as if blowing a bit of lint from one’s sleeve.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the date of the appearance of that sense because there are other slang and colloquial senses of the phrase “blow off” cluttering the landscape. One of the most popular is “blow off” meaning, literally, to let steam, gas, etc., under great pressure (in a tank, pipeline, boiler, etc.) escape forcefully, producing a loud noise. The figurative use of this sense to mean “to give vent to or forcefully get rid of anger, emotion, excitement, etc.” in forms such as “blow off steam” has been common in popular speech since the early 1800s (“The widow … sat … fuming and blowing off her steam.” 1836).

“Blow off” has also been used in the same sense as the more common “blow over,” meaning to pass away without serious consequences of lasting effect (“Do they think that … this dreadfull Sentence [shall] blow off without Execution?” 1692). The original metaphor here was an allusion to storm clouds that pass overhead without producing rain.

“Blow off” can also be a noun (usually hyphenated “blow-off”) meaning either a literal “blowing off” of steam, etc., or, figuratively, an outburst or argument (“A blow-off in this wise [i.e. swearing at golf] does one good now and then.” 1898). This sense is synonymous with “blow-up,” but one could make a case for the noun “blow-off” being used to mean the act of (or an instance of ) “blowing off” an obligation (e.g., “I’m sick of Ted, so let’s just give his party the blow-off and go to the movies.”).