Kippling*, Kilping*, Kiplng* (for Kipling*)

Rudyard Kipling wrote:

We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe.

I've quoted this charming verse before, but please indulge me once again. Christopher Hitchens, who passed away late last night in a hospital in Houston, wrote about Rudyard Kipling for The Atlantic Monthly; he also once wrote about drinking tea. There wasn't very much that Hitchens didn't write about (see his 2011 book of essays, Arguably, for so many marvelous examples) and with his sudden, if not entirely unexpected, demise, it feels like the bottom's dropped out of the universe. I wanted to eulogize Hitchens today in this all too modest space, but it just felt too enormous, too difficult, too wrong somehow. In the midst of a furious flurry of blog postings in the wake of his death, Alexandra Petri warns against the tendency to wax lugubrious or try and get too personal. I have to confess that I too, like all the others, am feeling sort of stupidly sentimental at the moment and possessed of a precious little "how I once met Christopher Hitchens" story, but rest assured I shall restrain myself. Instead, I'll approach the subject obliquely, a little at a time. Sneak up on it, as it were. So today it's about Rudyard Kipling; in my heart, though, it's all about Hitchens. (The typo Kippling* turned up once in OhioLINK and 55 times in WorldCat—14 if combined with the correct spelling. We also found a handful of both Kilping* and Kiplng*.)

(Portrait of Rudyard Kipling from Current History of the War, vol. I, December 1914–March 1915, New York Times Company, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Conversat* + Conservat*

I cannot be entirely sure of this, O Best Beloved, but I almost feel as if I can trace my unabashed love for alliteration to my first reading of "The Elephant's Child" by Rudyard Kipling, a pourquois story first published in 1902. "I am going," the Elephant's Child declares one day, "to the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the Crocodile has for dinner." While searching in OhioLINK for today's typo—which got a whopping 175 hits in OhioLINK—I had to stop and smile at one rather lengthy one, which read in part: "... on the effectiveness of the African Elephant Conversation Act ..." I am not conversant with this act, but it certainly has my wholehearted support (I'm not a conservative, after all). Still, no matter how many lawmakers sit around jawing about elephant conservation, I doubt it will ever do as much for our love of these gentle giants as that wonderful Kipling tale has done. The Elephant's Child, with his 'satiable curtiosity, chatted up nearly every single animal in the jungle, and got repeatedly spanked for it. But in the end, those conversations served him well, as did the spanking new nose he received from the Crocodile. (Please note that not all 175 records retrieved contain typos; the majority, in fact, proably don't. For example, the first one in the list is for a 1938 publication called Conservation conversation, concerning the Civilian Conservation Corps in Tompkins, New York.)

(Original woodcut illustration for the Just So story, The Elephant's Child, by Rudyard Kipling, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Fictious* (for Fictitious*)

Our Cool/Confusing Word of the Day (thanks, Anu Garg!) is factitious, which kind of sounds like the opposite of fictitious, right? Wrong. But they're not exactly synonyms either. Factitious means "produced by humans rather than by natural forces; formed by or adapted to an artificial or conventional standard; or produced by special effort: sham." (Fictitious basically means "not true or real.") Seeing as how nearly every time I tried to type fictitious earlier, I ended up writing "fictious" instead, I thought perhaps I had stumbled on to a good typo—and I had. However, it appears that "fictious" may in fact be a word in its own right—albeit an obsolete or archaic form of fictitious. Also, the more I repeat the word fictious to myself, the more it reminds me of the resonant Rudyard Kipling refrain: Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk. (I read an article on Slate the other night about how the "greatest short story of all time" is "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi." I had never read it before, but I adore what Kipling I have read, so I did so and now I can't get that mongoose earworm out of my head!) Like Rikki-Tikki-Tavi on the track of a covert cobra, we rousted 13 cases of Fictious* in OhioLINK today, and 371 in WorldCat. (Some of these typos may be fictitious, though, so be sure and check your source.)

("He put his nose into the ink," page 326 of the 1895 edition of The Two Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling, 1895, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Conditon* (for Condition*)

For such a concise little conjunction, if can really pack a punch. It's the title of quite a few songs (by the likes of Perry Como, Joni Mitchell, Bananarama, Pink Floyd, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers), along with a handful of other cultural products (film, comic strip, sci fi mag, video game, couple of TV shows, etc.). Perhaps the most memorable of all of these, though, is the inspiring poem by Rudyard Kipling, which begins: "If you can keep your head when all about you / Are losing theirs and blaming it on you / If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you / But make allowance for their doubting too / If you can wait and not be tired by waiting / Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies / Or being hated, don’t give way to hating / And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise..." It may also be the longest teaser in existence to a conditional sentence beginning with "If...". After four eight-line stanzas, the poet finally produces the payoff: "You'll be a Man, my son." We've blogged about Rudyard Kipling before, but given as today is the great man's birthday (born in Bombay in 1865), I say, "What the hell? One more time!" There were 54 cases of today's typo found in OhioLINK today, and 1,414 in WorldCat.

(Father and son, John Lockwood Kipling and young Rudyard, circa 1890, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

San Fransisco (for San Francisco)

San Fransisco (for San Francisco)

There are as many ways to misspell San Francisco as there are grains of rice and vermicelli in Rice-A-Roni. (The San Francisco treat!) Rudyard Kipling said "San Francisco has only one drawback: 'Tis hard to leave." Kipling should amend that to include "and hard to spell correctly!"

My thanks to Jeffrey Beall for collaborating with me this week, selecting the Typo of the Day words and several of the pictures used in the blog.

Wendee Eyler

Precipt* (for Precipit*)

It rained on Saturday, it rained on Sunday, and it's raining today. They say it's going to rain all week. But precipitation, condensation, flash floods, rainfall, drizzles, downpours, sprinkles, storms, and April showers bring May flowers, so I'm really not complaining that much (although, nota bene, this is May already). Anyway, it's kind of nice to stay inside and read a book or otherwise cocoon, while slowly sipping a nice cup of tea. Make sure your beverage is not pre-sipped, however; timing is everything when it comes it to making tea. The tea plant contains both caffeine and tannins; the former excite you, while the latter relaxes. If you want to lessen tea's stimulating effects, you should let it steep a while longer in order to activate the slower-releasing compounds. Rudyard Kipling once wrote:

We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe.

We found five cases of today's typo in OhioLINK and 171 in WorldCat. (Watch out for the properly spelt preciptin, though). This is not a typo of precipitous proportions, but little drops can become a deluge, so take a moment on this rainy day (and Monday) to repair any leaks before they're made worse. Then after that, if you've got a mind to, go and make yourself a hot cup of tea.

I just realized that this typo has been blogged before, as has its cousin Precipation. Thus, permit me to add a few more "low probability" variants to today's rainy rerun: Precipitaton (two), Percipita* (one), and Pricipit* (one).

(Une tasse de thé en verre, or a glass of tea, 2006, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Horicultur* (for Horticulture)

With eight lapses in OhioLINK (two of which were original sins), Horicultur* would appear to be a low-to-moderate type typo. Robert Service was an Englishman of Scottish descent who moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, when he was 21 years old. A popular, accessible, serviceable writer, Service became known as the "Canadian Kipling." He had a rather rough-and-tumble approach to his subject matter and I can recall my own father reciting "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" with a certain gusto and flair. In another poem, titled "My Madonna," the poet seems to have positioned his tongue in his cheek, while at the same time modeling the attitude of Christ himself:

I haled me a woman from the street,
Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
I bade her sit in the model's seat
And I painted her sitting there.

I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
I painted a babe at her breast;
I painted her as she might have been
If the Worst had been the Best.

She laughed at my picture and went away.
Then came, with a knowing nod,
A connoisseur, and I heard him say;
"'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."

So I painted a halo round her hair,
And I sold her and took my fee,
And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,
Where you and all may see.

(Portrait of Robert Service from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Rebub* (for Repub*)

With the Republican National Convention off to a rollicking start; with scores of creative protesters and parodies galore; with comedians like Bill Maher, Stephen Colbert, Trevor Noah, Samantha Bee, and Seth Meyers—all mining this event for its comedy gold—and with heartfelt apologies to Rudyard Kipling...

If ?!?

If you can keep your hair when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when voters doubt you,
But bust their asses for their doubting too;
If you can bait and not get sick of baiting,
Or being spied upon, hire more spies,
Or being hated, just keep right on hating,
And don’t eat ethnic food, nor talk too nice:

If you can dream—of making money faster;
If you can think—but see it as a game;
If you can flirt with Triumph and Disaster
And always find somebody else to flame;
If you can bear to hear hard words you've spoken
Repeated all verbatim-like—the fools!
Or watch the towers you've erected, broken,
But be relieved you've still got massive tools:

If you can make one heap of all your "billions"
And risk it on one turn at being Boss,
And lose (of course), and start again with millions
And never shut your face about your loss;
If you can force your delegates and donors
To serve you after Hope is all but gone,
And have your back despite your many boners,
With wiliness that cries to them: "Hang on!"

If you can talk with louts and leave 'em laughing,
Or walk with Kings—not knowing who they are,
If neither Bros nor uggo girls can shaft you,
If other pols can never meet your bar;
If you can fill the mortifying minute
With sixty seconds at the podium,
You could be POTUS, and the way you'll spin it
Should make us all feel hugely—hugely—glum.

There were 23 cases of Rebub* (for Repub*) in OhioLINK today, and 795 in WorldCat.

(Donald Trump stencil with bubble, 14 July 2016, Vector by Vector Open Stock, from Wikimedia Commons.)

Carol Reid

Estern (for Eastern)

"East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet," according to Rudyard Kipling. This particular typo seems pretty straightforward - Estern for Eastern. Think again. What if somebody didn't hit the 'W' hard enough and this was the result for some poor soul who wanted to type 'Western.' The error is on the 'C' list of Typographical Errors in Library Databases, meaning that it was present from 8 to 15 times in OhioLINK at the time of its discovery. We checked that catalog today and found exactly 100 hits for the term, but most of them were in German. That is why our volunteers always limit to records in the English language. Because of the possible East/West confusion, it is more important than ever to check for context before attempting to correct a record with this error.

Today's photo shows the thriving boardwalk scene at Coney Island in Brooklyn, New York. The original is found at http://www.pbase.com/image/101838544