Anglish Spamthread

[k1234567890y]

http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/get ... 0723030521

http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/get ... 0723030405

lol a lot of creeplings are climbing onto their bodies.

Spoiler:

creeplings = lizards.

[k1234567890y]

"meter" is a lawful Anglish word, it can be made with "(to) mete" + "-er".

Therefore one can say "warmmeter" instead of "thermometer"

[Lambuzhao]

I am gobsmacked to read and search out that yea indeed mete+r would work (!)

Though I would, since it is a thing and a tool, noot -el, like shovel, runnel, thimble, handle and the like.

metel = that which metes, thing which metes
meter = he who metes, one who metes

Thus

heatmetel, warmthmetel = thermometer
heatmeter, warmthmeter ≅ meteorologistweatherman (?)

Maybe too much??

[elemtilas]

I am gobsmacked to read and search out that yea indeed mete+r would work (!)

Though I would, since it is a thing and a tool, noot -el, like shovel, runnel, thimble, handle and the like.

metel = that which metes, thing which metes
meter = he who metes, one who metes

Thus

heatmetel, warmthmetel = thermometer
heatmeter, warmthmeter ≅ meteorologistweatherman (?)

Maybe too much??

Aye, methinks a tad much.

Weatherman is good Anglish, being come of old from weder, air, sky; breeze, storm, tempest + man, person. So, a person who deals in weather.

As for warmthmetel, I think that would be some thing that metes warmth. What the Frenchly inclined folks do call a "radiator".

For "thermometer", perhaps warmthgage; or better, one of those "thermometer-barometer-humidimeter" thingies, perhaps weathergage would suffice? Old English weder + Frankish galgo by way of Old French gauge.

[Lambuzhao]

The other day, I saw Bladerunner Two Thousand Forty-Nine.

It was a gripping tale. At times thrilling.
Jared Leto's Newmann Wallace was near worthless, and
The background songs were a little too loud.
Nonetheless, a worthy next step taken.



The fit with the bereft children's home in Bladerunner,
and the fit with Thor & Hulk's fight in the Slaughterhall in Thor: Ragnarok,
both made me think of Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.

[clawgrip]

I heard it was good, but I haven't seen it. I seldom have the chance to see films, these days.

[Lambuzhao]

Me neither; no Anglish soul can find a chance.

[clawgrip]

You know me, I like to be worlddwellerish in my word picks; I'm not as folkshirish as you. Don't tell me you've never been to Frankland!

[Lambuzhao]

Folkshirish, indeed.
Folkshirish is as folkshirish doth, I ween.
Worldly-wise would have been enough for me, but worlddwellerish I like as well.

Don't tell me you've never been to Frankland!

I won't, then.
My eldest sister asks and asks and asks, and she goes and goes and goes, making holy elsewandering after holy elsewandering without yours truly.

Though, years ago, I have gone with my mom, dad and sibs to see New Frankland of the Great White North, and to Olde Yorktown and Olde Marytown therein.



At Olde Marytown I saw the World Show - Man and His World. Forsooth twas eye-opening!

[k1234567890y]

I have left Sahar, I am no longer a dealnimmer of Sahar.

[Lambuzhao]

What here then?

Shall I raise the ye Aulde Spamthread from the grave?
Dust off her hoary bones once againe??
Aye, forsooth I shall!

I took my walk as needs must. I am o'erburdened by forty pounds, dry weight (!!) I must shed these pounds, lest the sweet illness have it all up with me. The long lost summer's song of the Dog Day Harvestfly greeted me with forgotten glee. Hot days are eftsoons to follow. While I also was gathering some bitter eggwort leaves, who should show up, but a wee little Devil's Horse, that is, the fold-handed and bidding kind, and not a great, black Devil's Wainhorse (beetle) from under a log in the Wide Wild Wood. This little bug was a bright lenten green, and hopping hither and yon amidst the deep dark greenfulness of leaves and blades of thick dewy grass.

I even had the good hap to find some thick-leaved Mossrose wortlets growing beside a hardballhouse in the nearby fairsward.
Huzzah! I will grow mossrose once more indoors, and with less burden upon a sunnier sill in the kitchen, where life is warmikins all the time in this utterly rightmost and good selfsame nook. Why brooked I not of it last year? I know not… Ah, yes I know now- I brooked of it for growing burdocks, whose leaves were bitterer than pitch, even moreso than eggwort,, its wort-kith.

Well, enough of that. Sing on, dear Harvestfly, wake your bug-kin from their rooted beds with thy hoarse dreaming. Bede on, yon Devil's Foal, may thy beads be answered with fatter and fatter booties, and plumper and plumper plunders, lest thou thyself, if groom, become entwinèd guest in a last bridal unsunder.

Onward, Summer's Ho!