Demonyms 'R' Us

Demonyms have nothing to do with demons, in case you were wondering. According to Merriam-Webster (that's a dictionary), a demonym is "a word (such as Nevadan or Sooner) used to denote a person who inhabits a particular place".

I know that people from London are Londoners and people from Liverpool are Liverpudlians. I know that people in the British Isles are Irish or Scottish or English or Welsh, but what about people who identify with the historic English counties like Yorkshire, Essex, Wessex, and so forth? Maybe Janice or Neil or Rachel can help here.

What are people who live in the various Australian states called? You know, New South Wales, Queensland, Victoria, and so forth. Maybe kylie can help here.

What about the provinces of Canada? British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, and so forth. Is Saskatchewanian a word? Maybe Red (Keith) can help here.

The 50 states in the United States cause confusion enough when it comes to demonyms. Some are easy but some make me scratch my head. There is no pattern for choosing -an or -ian as an ending. Do you agree or disagree with the following list? Help me out here:

1. Alabaman or Alabamian?
2. Alaskan
3. Arizonian?
4. Arkansawyer?
5. Californian
6. Coloradoan? Coloradan?
7. Connecticuter? Connecticutsan?, Also Nutmegger
8. Delawarian?
9. Floridian
10. Georgian
11. Hawaiian
12. Idahoan
13. Illinoisan? Illini?
14. Indianan?
15. Iowan
16. Kansan (why not Kansasan or Kansasian or Kansaser or Kansasite?). Also Jayhawker.
17. Kentuckian
18. Louisianan?
19. State of Mainer (no matter how much you like Maniac)
20. Marylander
21. Massachusettsan?, Bay Stater?, Massacusite
22. Michigander (fitting for a male, but shouldn't a female be a Michigoose?)
23. Minnesotan? Minnesotian?
24. Mississippian
25/ Missourian
26. Montanan?
27. Nebraskan. Also Cornhusker.
28. Nevadan
29. New Hampshirian? New Hampshirite?
30. New Jerseyite?
31. New Mexican
32. New Yorker
33. North Carolinian
34. North Dakotan
35. Ohioan
36. Oklahoman. Also Sooner.
37. Oregonian
38. Pennsylvanian
39. Rhode Islander
40. South Carolinian
41. South Dakotan
42. Tennesseean
43. Texan (originally it was Texian, actually)
44. Utahan
45. Vermonter
46. Virginian
47. Washingtonian
48. West Virginian
49. Wisonsinite? Wisconsiners? Also Cheese Heads
50. Wyomingite? Wyominger?

Do you even care? Many don't. As the old saying goes, "I don't care what you call me as long as you don't call me late for dinner."

For those who do care, however, give me your opinions in the comments. Maybe we can reach a consensus.

If your nose runs and your feet smell, you’re built upside down

That is the default title I have decided to use when I can't decide what to call a post. I think the statement was made originally by either Steven Wright or Rita Rudner but I really can't say for sure.

My nose is fine and my feet are fine. What I really am is giddy because day after tomorrow I will be

and I am beside myself. Not literally, of course, but there is a photo of me at age three over there to the right, so in an odd sort of way I am. Beside myself, that is.

I thought about calling this post "Earwigs R Us" because I have had a slew of musical pieces running through my head lately like "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" and "Everything's Up-To-Date In Kansas City" and the Bach-Gounod version of "Ave Maria" (I'm not even Catholic) and "My Darling Clementine" and John Rutter's beautiful setting of "For The Beauty Of The Earth" and I could go on but I won't.

What I probably should have called this post is There's No Fool Like An Old Fool. I don't like to think that I might be a fool (there is growing evidence) but there's no getting around the fact that I am definitely old.

We have had some sadness in our extended family recently. Our daughter's mother-in-law and father-in-law died suddenly within two weeks of each other. She was 81 and he was 93. So I'm treating 85 as a major accomplishment, or at least a milestone.

What I'm also doing is thanking God for every breath I take. One never knows when one of those breaths will turn out to be one's last.

On that happy or macabre (pick one) note, I shall now run this post up the proverbial flagpole and see if anyone salutes.

Any Texan worth his or her salt knows what today is

...and since I, an expatriate Texan since 1961, still count myself among that crowd [Texans worth their salt], let me be the first, and probably the last, to remind you of today's significance.

Today is the 190th anniversary of the end of the 12- or 13-day siege and battle in San Antonio that culminated in the fall of the Alamo during the Texas Revolution in 1836. It was on this day that a force of 2,000 (give or take) Mexican soldiers under the leadership of one Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón, more commonly known as General Santa Anna, slaughtered almost every single one of the 185 (give or take) Texans inside the edifice known as the Alamo. A survivor or two were spared to bear the news of the defeat to other residents of Texas.

It was in this battle that such hallowed Texan heroes as William B. Travis, James Bowie, and Davy Crockett gave what Abraham Lincoln might call their last full measure of devotion (he used that phrase on another occasion in 1863 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania).

It was this battle that inspired the battle cry "Remember the Alamo!" (as did, it must be admitted the Battle of Goliad inspire the companion battle cry "Remember Goliad!") used at the decisive Battle of San Jacinto near Houston six weeks later on April 21, 1836, where the Texas forces defeated General Santa Anna once and for all and gained their independence from Mexico.

Texas remained an independent republic until 1845, at which time it was annexed into the United States. It never underwent territory status, and as part of the annexation agreement can divided itself into as many as five states any time it decides to. It is unlikely that any part of Texas will be willing to sever ties with the Alamo.

You can look up all the gory details details for yourself elsewhere if you so desire. Otherwise, you may now continue with your day and pursue the mundane and humdrum activities that are calling your name.

A blast from the past

...or, if you wish, Throwback Thursday on a sunny Saturday morning.

Below is a song you probably haven't heard or sung in years and years. It occurs to me that if you were not brought up in the U.S. you may not have sung it at all. But no matter. Now is the perfect time to do it. It sprang to life in my brain today, unbidden, full-grown, just like Athena purportedly did from the forehead of Zeus. (Truth in blogging: I do not accept as true any so-called facts recorded in ancient Greek myths. Be that as it may, enjoy!):


"She'll Be Coming 'Round The Mountain"

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (toot, toot!)
She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (toot, toot!)
She'll be coming round the mountain, she'll be coming round the mountain,
She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (toot, toot!)

She'll be driving six white horses when she comes (whoa, back!)
She'll be driving six white horses when she comes (whoa, back!)
She'll be driving six white horses, she'll be driving six white horses,
She'll be driving six white horses when she comes (whoa, back!)

Oh, we'll all go out to meet her when she comes (hi, babe!)
Oh, we'll all go out to meet her when she comes (hi, babe!)
Oh, we'll all go out to meet her, we'll all go out to meet her,
We'll all go out to meet her when she comes (hi, babe!)

She'll be wearing red pajamas when she comes (scratch, scratch)
She'll be wearing red pajamas when she comes (scratch, scratch)
She'll be wearing red pajamas, she'll be wearing red pajamas,
She'll be wearing red pajamas when she comes (scratch, scratch)

Oh, she'll have to sleep with Grandma when she comes (snore, snore)
Oh, she'll have to sleep with Grandma when she comes (snore, snore)
Oh, she'll have to sleep with Grandma, she'll have to sleep with Grandma,
Oh, she'll have to sleep with Grandma when she comes (snore, snore)

(source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/miscellaneouslyrics/childsongslyrics/shellbecomingroundthemountainlyrics.html)

As if that weren't enough, I know two more verses that the cited source does not include. They should be inserted just before the final verse:

Oh, we'll all have chicken and dumplings when she comes (yum, yum)
Oh, we'll all have chicken and dumplings when she comes (yum, yum)
Oh, we'll all have chicken and dumplings, Oh, we'll all have chicken and dumplings,
Oh, we'll all have chicken and dumplings when she comes (yum, yum)

Oh, we'll all have biscuits and gravy when she comes (slurp, slurp)
Oh, we'll all have biscuits and gravy when she comes (slurp, slurp)
Oh, we'll all have biscuits and gravy, Oh, we'll all have biscuits and gravy,
Oh, we'll all have biscuits and gravy when she comes (slurp, slurp)

So there are seven verses in all. Now go back and sing that song over again, this time inserting the additional verses. I'll wait now while you do it. Return to the next paragraph when you are finished.

Surprise, you are not finished! To sing the song the way we used to sing it, build upon the previous parenthesized stuff in the last line of each verse. That is, the last line of the second verse is "toot, toot! whoa, back!"; the last line of the third verse is "toot, toot! whoa, back! hi, babe!" and so on through all seven verses. For the cherry on top, don't just say "snore, snore" at the end of the seventh verse; make actual snoring sounds instead.

Now go back and re-live your childhooe, I mean my childhood.

You have just wasted valuable time that you will never regain, but wasn't it a lot of fun?

The world may well be going to Hell in a handbasket but I'm definitely in my second (or third or fourth) childhood. I've reached the age (or mental state) where I sometimes don't care any more. Well, I do care, but that is a post for another day.

An end-times lament bubbles to the surface

I wrote the following words more than 20 years ago. They are more than a poem. They are lyrics to a song for which I also wrote the music.


"Perhaps Today"

Perhaps today....
Perhaps today the Lord will come for His own.
Perhaps today we'll worship Jesus 'round His throne.
The skies will part and with a shout Christ will appear.
It's very near,
Perhaps today.

Perhaps today....
Perhaps today the Lord will catch away His Bride.
Perhaps today we'll see His hands, His feet, His side.
Oh, how we're looking for our Savior's soon return.
How our hearts yearn.
Perhaps today.

Perhaps today....
The shining Daystar will arise within my heart.
The dark of night will end, eternal day will start.
The Lord has promised to return. God is not slack.
He's coming back,
Perhaps today.

Perhaps today....
We'll be with Christ in glory on that blissful shore.
We'll praise and magnify His name forevermore.
The Lamb of God will be the object of our song.
Oh, Lord, how long?
Perhaps today.
Oh, Lord, how long?
Perhaps today!


Neither the poem nor the music has ever been published. The state of the world being what it is nowadays, however, I decided to share the poem here on my blog today.

On this day in 1809

...a male child was born in Kentucky to Thomas Lincoln and his wife, Nancy Hanks Lncoln. They named the child Abraham. Fifty-six years later, while serving as president of the United States, Abraham Lincoln was assassinated by actor John Wilks Booth at Ford's Theater in Washington, DC.

It won't be mentioned on any news broadcast today because sixty years ago Lyndon Baines Johnson persuaded Congress to combine Liincoln's Birthday and George Washington's Birthday (February 22nd) into a single observance called Presidents Day in order to create a new national holiday and give federal employees another three-day weekend off from work. This year Presidents Day occurs on Monday, February 16th.

Sorry, Abe.

Also, sorry, George.

Some of us still remember when both of you were remembered for your individual accomplishments and not just as part of a group.

To add insult to injury, a few weeks ago the U.S. Mint announced that production of the Lincoln penny, a one-cent coin produced since 1909, has been discontinued.

Fortunately, we still have the Jefferson nickel, the Roosevelt dime, and the Washington quarter. but I haven't seen a Kenndy half-dollar in a very long time.

I heard today that one bitcoin is worth fifty-six thousand dollars ($56,000.00 USD).That is a lot of pennies.

As usual, there is no rhyme or reason, no flow or continuity, to my post.

Why should today be any different?

That's probably the very question Lyndon Bains Johnson should have been asking.

January is fast coming to a close

...and February will soon be upon us. Time keeps marching on, relentlessly, in spite of all our efforts to slow it down.

The ink on the New Year's resolutions isn't even dry yet (I didn't make any, by the way) and this year is already 8% gone, or will be as of 12:01 a.m. on Sunday, er, Saturday night, er, take your choice.

This is now my fifth post of 2026, my 2,321st since this blog began on September 28, 2007. That's a lot of water under the bridge or over the dam or wherever it goes went.

I'm rambling.

I'm so old I remember B.O. Plenty and his daughter Sparkle Plenty in the Dick Tracy comic strip. I remember Jubilation T. Cornpone andd Mammy Yokum in the Li'l Abner comic strip. I remember Mutt and Jeff. I remember the Katzenjammer Kids.

Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie) and I must be regressing. We have spent many an evening recently watching old black-and-white episodes of What's My Line? and To Tell The Truth from the 1950s and 1960s. Seems like yesterday, but it was 65, 70 years ago that we watched them originally. Another sign of my advanced age.

I'm not complaining. It's good to be alive and kicking, even with all the alarming and disheartening goings-on in the news as of late. As some wag (not me) once said, "Halitosis is better than no breath at all."

T.T.F.N.