Many credit Samuel Johnson with the creation of the first English dictionary, but there were in fact numerous previous efforts to catalog the language prior to his seminal accomplishment. The earliest attempts were notably inadequate, much to the dismay of writers and publishers at the time.

Charles Bradbury was a businessman and entrepreneur in the late 17th century. Seeing the need for an exhaustive record of English words, he sought to compile the definitive collection. However, he did not have a literary background so he was ill-equipped to personally author such a book. Instead, he offered payment of one pence to anyone that could provide him with a word that wasn’t already on his list. News spread that someone was offering “a coin a word” and soon his door was flooded with paupers looking to make some easy money.

Bradbury was unprepared for the inundation of people, and even more unprepared for their creativity. His list was quickly filled with the most common words, so naturally he began to deny payment for repeated items. Instead of simply leaving, the people started offering profanity, slang, and straight-up fabrications in an attempt to receive their coins.

The event was a disaster and Bradbury was forced to retract his offer. His lexicon never saw the light of day, and he retired in shame. However, while Charles Bradbury may have faded from memory, the “coin a word” promotion was not as easily forgotten. The phrase gradually shifted in usage, and “coin” is now a verb used primarily in reference to neologisms.

Coincidentally, Ben Franklin was also born with only one eyelid and was given one the earliest recorded skin graft surgeries in America when the left-over flap of skin from his circumcision was used to create a new eyelid.

There is no recorded link to Franklin’s penis-skin eyelid and the term “cock-eyed”, but, in this author’s opinion, it is difficult to ignore the connection.

One such evolution of the phrase occurred when Henry VIII (1491- 1547) wrote a letter to Pope Clement VII requesting an annulment from his wife in order to marry a woman to produce him a male heir. In this letter he stated that the matter of divorce should be easy for the Pope to decide on as it was “not akin to straw roof thatching.” This, however, did not aid Henry’s request.

During the Industrial Revolution the world was rapidly changing, as was the language. Toward the tail end of the Revolution the phrase began to take on more colloquial meaning. In American speakeasies it was not uncommon for a man in a Zoot Suit to exclaim “Say here, what’s the big idea? Now listen here, this ain’t that steam science, ya crazy broad!”

In the late 1950’s the Space Race was on at full power and the phrase is first credited to German rocket physicist and astronautics engineer Dr. Wernher Magnus Maximilian Freiherr von Braun (1912- 1977), a man who obviously knew his history. When von Braun first immigrated to America in 1945 he was asked by the American Colonel overseeing his transfer for the correct spelling of his name. The rocket scientist replied, slyly, and with his thick German accent [read phonetically]: “Colonel, das spellings iz note rocket sciences, nein?” Receiving uproarious laughter from his fellow rocket scientists, this quickly became von Braun’s catchphrase. For example, in restaurants he would order a Pepsi and when the server would ask if Coke was all right he would respond with “well, it’s not rocket science!” What made these exchanges even more painful to watch was the knowledge that von Braun had already looked into the menu to see what was being served merely to request the opposite and set up unwitting waitresses. All in all, von Braun was a jerk and that kind of assessment is not rocket science.

He, however, recommended flossing in moderation, as those who cleaned their teeth excessively experienced “loss of function in mind and body”. It is now believed that was a result of the flossers not wanting to waste a single part of the plant.

This short phrase used to accurately describe uncomfortably cool temperatures dates back to the Salem Witch Trials in the Northeasten United States. A ‘Witch’ was not deemed guilty of their accusation of using Witchcraft before their burning, but only after burning. It would happen that after a ‘Witch’ was burned the townspeople would sift through the ashes looking for two telltale bodyparts that wouldn’t burn if the victim was a Witch. The Nipples. They would find the Witch’s ‘Tit’ Unscathed, Erect, and so cool to the touch it seems almost frozen. If neither ‘Tit’ was found, the accused would recieve a proper funeral and a very awkward apology.

recaptcha: Rational Officials

He had tried everything to get his daughter to speak, but it was no use. Even a single word would have made him content, but it seemed destined not to happen.

One morning, our hero was putting Brylcreem on his hair and whistling the tune to the jingle he had yet to write words for. It was for that very product, and he was frustrated, for he could not think of a good line that would sell this wondrous hair product.

As he whistled, his daughter wandered into the bathroom. She took up the tube of Brylcreem and looked at it.

“Hello, dear,” her father said. “Why don’t you tell me what it says on that tube? Just the one word, darling, and daddy will be happy.”

The little girl lifted an eyebrow, read the word silently to herself, and looked up at her father.

“So,” she said, speaking for the first and last time in her life, “Just a little gab’ll do ya?”

The jingle writer was happy, and an advertising empire was born.

In the days of mariners, and the fear of weather disturbing a long trip at sea, early English sailors used to look at the sky, noting its hue, before setting sail. If it was dark, then the storm would pass before the end of the day, and the sky was said to be “for boating.” Eventually, the term morphed into its current spelling.