As I sit here Monday afternoon (yes, that’s when I write the Wednesday column) waiting for the next rejiggering of my grocery delivery, that at this moment’s writing is supposed to be by 3:15 p.m. rather than the original time of between 9 and 11 a.m., and tucked under an electric blanket cranked to its highest setting, my mind turns again to phrases. And not just because my oldest brother was a little irritated that his suggestion didn’t make it into last week’s column.

Now I’ve upset the family dynamics. He might not save me some bass the next time he has enough to put some aside in the freezer for me, and he knows how much I love bass. Too bad we don’t have anyone farming bass so I could get it at the grocery store.
Mitch wanted to know where a phrase our fisherman dad used might have come from. There were a few he suggested, but only one that was acceptable for publication in a family newspaper.
Yeah, like your dad never worked blue.
The phrase at question was “mess with the bull, you get the horns.” Unfortunately, as shown in last week’s column, tracking the origin of phrases is much harder than for individual words. I would love to claim myself as the origin for “brain fart” (a mental lapse) as I don’t remember ever having heard it before I first said it probably in the mid-1980s, but odds are it wasn’t me, and I can’t find any evidence for who might have first uttered it. It’s much the same with “mess with the bull, you get the horns.”
The listserv for the American Dialect Society pondered this one in 2010, but could find nothing conclusive (and one anecdote from someone who’d been in the Army around 1961 was far bluer than the version Daddy used). We know it was firmly in place by the time “The Breakfast Club” (1985) was filmed; one of the more famous lines from that movie came from Mr. Vernon, the assistant principal overseeing Saturday detention: “Don’t mess with the bull, young man. You’ll get the horns.”
There was a report of a slightly different phrase in 1967 in the Tennessee Folklore Society Bulletin, but again, not the origin. Who knows who originated the phrase, where, and when? I don’t know, but I’d venture to guess that person probably had a few extra holes in his body thanks to a run-in with a ticked-off bull.
(And now that grocery delivery estimate is 4:15. Gosh, I love winter.)
My boss wanted to know the origin of “crazy as a Bessie bug,” and that I can do, sort of. The Phrase Finder notes that the expression (sometimes using Betsy instead of Bessie) is common in the South, but especially in Arkansas and Kentucky. The Old Farmer’s Almanac says Bessie bug “refers to the 1.5-inch-long, shiny black beetle (Odontotaenius disjunctus), also called a patent leather beetle, horn beetle, horned passalus, or pinch bug. … It is considered harmless and beneficial, feeding on rotting wood.”

The phrase, it says, “may refer to the sounds that these insects make—at least 17 different types! As a mode of defense, adults will make a noise when disturbed (some say that it sounds like they are saying ‘Bessie’), created by rubbing parts of their hind wings against their abdomen.”
The Word Detective (no fan of bugs; can’t blame him, as I really only like butterflies and dragonflies) notes that the phrase has been around since at least the 19th century and evoked the similar phrase, “crazy as a bedbug,” but said, “While bedbugs do their best to hide from human eyes and lurk in the nooks and crannies of furniture, etc., Bessie bugs wander around in plain sight looking for rotting logs to eat.”
Such behavior, and with all those different sounds, seems at least a bit crazy to me, who is not averse to smushing bugs that should not be in the house. With extreme prejudice, of course, especially if I have to get out from under this blanket.
Sandra Withers wondered about “Hell’s bells.” The Phrase Finder reports that it’s been in use in the UK and U.S. since at least the 19th century, with the earliest example in print in a British sporting newspaper in 1840. By the early 20th century, it was in common use. Its origin, though, is murky, and is most likely just an example of reduplication/rhyming, which is also likely true with “bee’s knees” (apparently dating from the 18th century), which a colleague from my college days at KASU-FM, Mark A. Smith, now the station manager, puzzled about. (He did the farm report when I was at ASU, and I spent a semester doing afternoon news updates for the station, as well as many more semesters in and out of the KASU newsroom for various things.)
Mark also was curious about “the cat’s pajamas.” I couldn’t resist being snarky when I replied, “I wouldn’t recommend putting pajamas on cats unless your insurance is fully paid up.” But, yeah, unless your cat is hairless and/or likes being dressed, it’s safer to just let that feline be. Let my arms be a cautionary tale.

“The cat’s pajamas” appears to have found purchase in the U.S. flapper culture of the 1920s. Said Phrase Finder: “In the 1920s the urban east-coast cities of the USA were a breeding ground for new and wacky modes of expression. The bright young things of the flapper era wanted to throw off anything old or stuffy in fashion, music and language. Many new, and for the most part nonsense, animal-related expressions were coined to denote excellence. These included the snake’s hips, the kipper’s knickers, the monkey’s eyebrows and so on. Of the many such phrases, only the bee’s knees and the cat’s pajamas remain in regular use.”
The earliest printed reference found was in 1918 in a South Carolina newspaper, so it was in at least limited use a little before the ’20s, when “cat” was used as flapper slang for a fashionable young woman.
Oh, those young ’uns, always making up weird phrases. Next they’ll be having us talking about our on-fleek baes being the GOAT.
No, I have no idea what I just said.
(Sigh. Now we’re looking at sometime Wednesday for groceries when it’s supposed to snow more tonight into Thursday. If I keep saying I love winter, maybe it will even be Wednesday this week. Before you ask, I put in my order Saturday afternoon, but was unable to get a Sunday delivery time, which is when I usually get my groceries. But I sure love winter! 😬)



I always liked “He who rides the tiger ends up inside.” I’m sure there are political examples of this, but my work here is done. Hope to find my car with the snow melts.
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WHEN the snow melts. I blame a frozen keyboard.
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I’ve been doing the same thing for days. It’s harder to type when you’re cold.
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There assuredly are, but I’m too cold to think about it at present.
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I think I remember, as a youngster, folks using hell as a comparative to a to of things…hotter ‘en hell, uglier ‘en hell, etc. Although it makes no sense it certainly describes my emotional state regarding the current state of our weather the last few days: colder ‘en hell! BRRRR!
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Very true. And I’m irritated as hell that it’s so cold!
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If you want bass, I know how to play one.
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Short a, not long a.
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My late father was also good at cussing and profanity. He earned his degree in that field while he was serving in the Marines during World War Two.
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My grandpa was a sailor, but didn’t cuss like one. Nanny did that. 😏
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Speaking of rotting wood, maybe what is wrong with Donald Trump supporters is that they have rot inside their brains? And it is not the type of rot which would be a tasty meal for an insect.
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Could be.
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Since I am required to show up for work no matter how bad the weather is, I will not miss the cold and the snow and the rest of this winter weather.
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There is an unincorporated community in Michigan named “Hell” which freezes over every winter.
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Just thought I’d drop in and see how you’re doing. Do you have power? Or are you just cold because it’s cold out? Take care, in any case.
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Hey, PT! So far, fingers crossed, my power has stayed on, though the city utility has urged conservation. It’s just frickin’ cold! 😏
I just rescheduled a doctor’s appointment again because I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to get on the road and drive, considering all the snow on my street. I think it will take more than a day or two of decent temps for this stuff to melt enough and dry up, and I won’t feel safe driving until probably Wednesday or Thursday of next week. There are neighborhoods in the city that are relatively clear, but mine isn’t among them.
Stay safe and warm!
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You’re wise to wait for the roads to clear!
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