a conversational tactic in which a person responds to an argument or attack by changing the subject to focus on someone else’s misconduct, implying that all criticism is invalid because no one is completely blameless: Excusing your mistakes with whataboutism is not the same as defending your record.
Whataboutism is a transparent formation of the phrase “What about…?” used to form objections in an argument, and the noun suffix –ism. Whataboutism entered English in the second half of the 20th century.
Whataboutism appears to broaden context, to offer a counterpoint, when really it’s diverting blame, muddying the waters and confusing … rational listeners.
The best response to whataboutism has historically been to say that while, yes, other countries have their faults, injustice should not be tolerated anywhere.
to permit, approve, or agree.
In English, the verb sense of consent is recorded considerably earlier than the noun. Consent ultimately derives from the Latin verb consentīre “to share or join in a sensation or feeling, be in unison or harmony.” Consentīre is a compound of the Latin prefix con-, a variant of com– “together, with.” The Latin verb sentīre has many meanings: “to perceive by any of the senses, feel, be aware of, recognize, discern, hold an opinion, think, cast a vote, give a verdict.” The many English derivatives of the Latin verb include assent, consent, resent, sense, sentence, sentient, and sentiment. The verb senses of consent entered English in the 13th century, the noun in the second half of the 14th.
Before you even put your cookie on my computer, or in my mobile device, you have to make sure I consent to being followed ….
If she consents to assist the experiment, she consents of her own free will ….
to move or wander about intellectually, imaginatively, etc., without restraint.
The English verb expatiate comes from Latin expatiātus, exspatiātus, past participle of expatiārī, exspatiārī “to move, run, or flow away beyond bounds, spread out,” a compound of the prefix ex– “out of, throughout” and the verb spatiārī “to walk about leisurely, stroll” (and the source of German spazieren “to take a walk, stroll”). Spatiārī is a derivative of the noun spatium “expanse of ground, area, space, racetrack, playing field, act (of a play).” Expatiate entered English in the 16th century.
… at every step of this mental process, sufficient time must be allowed for the imagination to expatiate on the objects before it, till the ideas approximate, as near as possible, to the reality.
He was troubled too about his love, though when he allowed his mind to expatiate on the success of the great railway he would venture to hope that on that side his life might perhaps be blessed.
a feeling of contentment with one’s own pursuits and activities, without worrying over the possibility of missing out on what others may be doing.
JOMO, the acronym for “the joy of missing out,” and its opposite, FOMO “the fear of missing out,” both entered English around the same time, in the early years of the 21st century.
Don’t think of JOMO as a detox, but more like an integral part to a healthy, well-balanced nutrition plan for your brain.
JOMO allows us to live life in the slow lane, to appreciate human connections, to be intentional with our time, to practice saying “no” ….
natural or practical intelligence, wit, or sense.
Mother knows best, as they say. In mother wit, the word mother means “innate, inborn.” Wit comes from a very widespread Proto-Indo-European root weid-, woid-, wid– “to see, know.” This root appears in Latin vidēre “to see,” Sanskrit veda “knowledge,” Greek ideîn (and dialect wideîn) “to know” (literally “to have seen”), Slavic (Czech) vědět “to know” and vidět “to see.” From wid– Germanic (Old English) has the verb witan “to know.” In Old English the first and third person singular form was wāt “I know; he/she/it knows,” which survives today as the obsolete word wot (“God wot”). Mother wit entered English in the 15th century.
… not one of the rest of us had the guts, the gumption, or the mother wit to recognize where all four of us were headed and drag the fool to a stop.
One’s mother wit was a precious sort of necromancy, which could pierce every mystery at first sight ….
Chiefly Southwestern U.S.
a grove or clump of trees in prairie land or open country.
Motte is a word that may cause food fights in reference libraries among etymologists. Motte, “a grove or stand of trees in prairie land or open country,” is a regionalism in the American Southwest, especially in Texas. The origin of motte may be from Mexican Spanish mata, from European Spanish mata “grove, plantation,” and perhaps from Late Latin matta, source of English mat. Other authorities say that motte is not a borrowing from Spanish but from French motte “hillock, mound” (English moat), related to Medieval Latin mota “hill, mound, fortified height” (further etymology is speculative). Motte entered English in the 19th century.
We came up finally to a place where the road made a bend around a motte of trees, and I thought I ought to be able to find it again.
They’d camped at the edge of a motte, a thick grove of oak trees, not too far from the Arroyo Colorado …
a person given to vain, pretentious displays and empty chatter.
The many spellings of popinjay, e.g., papejay, popingay, papinjai in Middle English, in medieval Romance languages, and in medieval Germanic languages, demonstrate the foreign, exotic origin of the term, let alone the bird. The English change of the final syllable from –gay to –jay may be by folk etymology, through association with the jay, the name of several kinds of raucous, lively birds of the crow family. Medieval Latin has papagallus, whose first half, papa-, may be imitative of the bird’s cry; the second half, gallus, is the ordinary Latin noun for “rooster, cock.” Papagallus comes from medieval Greek papagállos, itself a derivative of papagás, from Arabic babghā’, babbaghā’, which is imitative of the bird’s cry. Popinjay entered English in the 13th century in the now obsolete sense of a picture or representation of a parrot (as on a tapestry).
… Matt Damon brings preening fun to a popinjay in spurs and suede fringe; his throwaway lines and sidelong glances finally realize the comic promise the character always possessed.
The Prince of Wales (Rupert Everett) is a nasty popinjay, and George’s prime minister, Pitt the Younger … a manipulative cold fish.