The last blog was popular yesterday among epeolatrists; epeolatrists literally meaning those who worship words, but really if we’re to be precise worship is a step too far, I’m really talking about those who like to stretch or test their vocabulary. If you are such a one, then you might like to chew on these 10 words:

1. Deipnosophy. Last night was definitely a night of deipnosophy, although at points, I’m sad to say, the conversation descended to the realm of political correctness. Americans are in my experience more prone to “politically correct” word deployment than the British. So, last night at dinner, I was was speculating (to myself) that some of my dinner companions lived in an “epeocratic” world, but – not being sure that epeocratic is a word – I never mentioned it. My instinct was correct. It’s not a word.  Deipnosophy, btw is defined as educated banter or, more accurately, since deipnon is Greek for “dinner”, learned dinner conversation.
2. Lethologica. My shameful failure to think of a word that specifically meant “being ruled by words” may have been just another example of lethologica – or it may not. There may not be any word that precisely means “being ruled by words”, even though, for example, there is a word (anemocracy) which means government by whim and there’s  “beerocracy”, which means government by brewers and there’s even harlotocracy, which means government by ladies of the night. Lethologica, as I’m sure you’ve realized, means not being able to find the right word for something.
3. Thymogenic. The word ‘thyomgenic’ emerged in the conversation. The tendency for American TV shows to end in an emotional ‘American moment’ is, by definition, thymogenic. You might know this word if you study alternative medicine. The thymus is regarded by some as the center of emotions within the endocrine system. There’s even supposed to be a “chakra” located there or thereabouts.  Thymogenic means ‘due to emotion” and when one discusses Darwinism and evolution in America, thymogenesis is often an element of the discourse.
4. Umami. Apparently, the tongue is capable of detecting five distinct classes of taste; sweet, salty, sour, bitter and umami – although at the Mexican restaurant last night, I suspect that a sixth taste made a guest appearance (severe jalapeno – the taste is situated somewhere between piquant and the fires of hell). Umami means “the taste of meat.” and it’s a Japanese idea. For most of us, umami is a pleasant taste sensation, a fact that caused me to ponder out loud at dinner, if the animals we eat took a clever Darwinian decision, when they chose to be domesticated, if they did.
5. Fortuitism. Did cows darwinistically evolve with umami in mind? Did they improve the taste of their flesh in order to be farmed by man, thus severely diminishing their life expectancy. This formulation creates an entertaining paradox since all the fauna we farm (pigs, cows, sheep, chicken, etc.) exist in much greater populations than they ever would if we were all vegans. I’ve always had a bad feeling about Darwinism. I acquired it watching nature programs, where the commentator would proclaim that some angel fish or other developed its glorious coloring so that it could attract mates. A few moments later some sandy colored bottom-feeder would be congratulated for stunningly camouflage which kept it safe from predators (and rapacious angel fish as well, I shouldn’t wonder.) Darwinism is tautological. I prefer the concept of fortuitism; evolution by nothing more than chance variation.
6. Hylozoist. I’m also a hylozoist; someone who suspects that all matter is endowed with life. Of course, I don’t pursue this to the insane conclusion that, for example, my stapler is alive – although it does seems to have a mind of its own at times. I’m more struck by the fact that when you study the inner doctrines of the more respectable religions the discussions of the origin of the universe are remarkably similar and equally paradoxical, no matter whether you insert God into the equation of remove him/her/it entirely. Hylozoists tend towards the “God conclusion.” If the universe is endowed with life then…
7. Cladogenesis. What I’m saying here is that science and religion appear to be cladogenetic in their theories of creation. They are historically cladogenetic anyway. Cladogenesis is evolution as if branching off from a common ancestor and I’m using the term metaphorically.
8. Tetrapyloctomy. OK, I admit that you can argue (as happened last night) that the scientific method and religion have little in common intellectually, but I personally think that’s just tetrapyloctomy. For example, Isaac Newton, the father of physics, used the scientific method and, while he was no theologian, he spent a good deal of his later life studying the Torah. He was not atheist or agnostic. Tetrapyloctomy? That would be the splitting of hairs four ways.
9. Ultracrepidate. Of course, we are all prone to ultracrepidation, and to be honest when someone starts to propose “intelligent design” as the genesis of life on this planet I’m wont to ultracrepidate with the best of them (i.e. to criticize beyond my sphere of knowledge.)  The problem I have with “intelligent design” is that it’s not really a theory, because it defines no mechanism for evolution. However, that doesn’t mean that there is no such god given mechanism.
10. Astraphobia. Some people of the religious persuasion with whom I have discussed intelligent design may have hoped that I would be struck down by lightning -especially when I resort to sarcasm. Maybe they’ve even prayed for it. If so they’ve prayed to the wrong god. Thor (of the Norse pantheon) and Zeus (of the Greek pantheon) are the ones to be beseeched in that regard. In any event, I’m not astrophobic. Them thunderbolts don’t scare me.

See also:

10 Curse Words You Don’t Know
10 Insulting Words You Don’t Know
10 Nonsense Words You Don’t Know
10 Words You Don’t Know With Limericks
10 Units of Measure You Don’t Know

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