Posted by: Jack Henry | February 3, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Groundhogs and Eponyms

Good morning, folks! I hope that everything is going well and that you are all feeling fit and feisty for February. It is the day after one of my favorite days of the year: Groundhog Day!

One summer, I remember visiting my grandparents in Pennsylvania and hearing my brother call, “Come quick! What do you think that is?” From the upstairs window there was a view of Seton Hill, the college my mom went to. And on that hill, was a big brown animal. We told Grandma we were going for a walk, and we raced out of the house.

The hot, sweaty summer heat hit us, but we were intent on getting a closer look at the mystery animal. We went over to the bottom of the hill, and we could see several of these big creatures digging and galumphing along in the grass. They didn’t have beaver tails, but we couldn’t think of what they might be. We returned home, and our grandparents told us they were groundhogs! About a dozen years later, the film with Bill Murray came out, and the rest is history. For more information on the day itself, see Groundhog Day | History, Punxsutawney Phil, & Facts | Britannica.

Now, completely unrelated, I have some information for you on eponyms. We’ve chatted about them before. They are words or terms named after people, for example the word “guy” comes from Guy Fawkes, and “sandwich” from the Earl of Sandwich. I’ve selected a few from an article in Mental Floss: 20 Terms You Probably Didn’t Realize Were Named After People.

The first is guillotine, but they aren’t all horrible!

Guillotine

French physician Joseph Guillotin suggested that France standardize its execution method during the French Revolution. Guillotin didn’t invent the guillotine—in fact, he was anti-death penalty. He just thought it would be more humane if beheadings were done with one mechanical chop, rather than by executioners of varying skill. When France took his advice and built such a machine, everyone started calling it “the guillotine.” Joseph Guillotin’s family was so appalled that they later lobbied the government to change the name of the device—and when their request was refused, they changed their name instead. [KC – I could not find what they changed it to.]

German chocolate cake

While we’re on misleading monikers, German chocolate cake wasn’t christened for its country of origin. The dessert, layers of chocolate cake filled and topped with coconut-pecan frosting, was created in Dallas, Texas in 1957. It’s named after Samuel German, who developed the sweet baking chocolate used in the recipe.

Macadamia nut

And macadamia nuts don’t hail from Macadamia, because Macadamia isn’t a place. The nuts (which are technically seeds) and the trees they grow on are endemic to Australia. Nineteenth-century German expat Ferdinand von Müller named them after his Scottish colleague John Macadam.

Shrapnel

Shrapneloriginally referred to a specific kind of exploding shell invented by Henry Shrapnel, a British artillery officer, in the late 18th century. These days, we use the term more generally for fragments generated by an explosion.

Jacuzzi

Roy Jacuzzi debuted the first integrated whirlpool bath. That particular bath was called “the Roman.” But the name of the family company, Jacuzzi, eventually caught on as shorthand for any whirlpool bath.

Doily

The kind of frilly napkin or paper mat we call a “doily” was also named for its purveyor: Doiley, among other spellings, anglicized from the French d’Ouilly… Sources from around that time (late-17th-century) mention doily suits, doily coats, and doily petticoats.

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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Posted by: Jack Henry | January 29, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Words from the Greek and Roman gods, Part 2

Hello and welcome! It’s time for the second half on English words from Greek and Roman mythical creatures, courtesy of Mental Floss. Here is a link to the first half of the set, in case you missed it: Part 1.

MONEY

Both money and the coin-producing mint where it is made take their names from Juno Moneta, an epithet for the Roman goddess Juno specifically associated with an ancient temple erected in her honor on Rome’s Capitoline Hill. The temple later housed the city’s mint, where Roman currency was made, and as a result, her name came to be associated with cash flow and monetary production.

MORPHINE

The sleep-inducing qualities of morphine led to its discoverer, the German pharmacist Friedrich Sertürner, giving it a name derived from Morpheus, an ancient god of dreams. Morpheus is said to have been one of the three sons of the sleep god Hypnos, or Somnus, who, along with his brothers, were responsible for the nightly visions we see when we dream; Morpheus’s name, ultimately, literally means “maker of shapes.” [KC – I had to check on Hypnos’ other sons. “Morpheus, who sent human-shaped dreams; Phobetor (also called Icelus), who sent animal and monster-shaped dreams; and Phantasos, who sent dreams of inanimate objects
and surreal landscapes.”]

MUSIC

The Muses were nine sister goddesses in the ancient world, each of whom was seen as presiding over and providing inspiration in a different field of the arts or sciences: Clio (history), Euterpe (music), Thalia (comedy), Melpomene (tragedy), Terpsichore (dancing), Erato (lyric poetry), Polymnia (sacred poetry), Urania (astronomy), and Calliope (epic poetry).

Some of their names have gone on to inspire words relating to their artistic field, such as terpsichorean (relating to dancing) and thalian (comic, comedic). But the names of the Muses as a whole are the origin of both music (which was once a far more general term, relating to any musical, poetic, or artistic field), and a museum where creative works might be collected or displayed.

NARCISSIST

Another character from mythology whose name inspired that of a flower was the beautiful Greek youth Narcissus, who pined away by the side of a mountain spring, having become enraptured by his own reflection in its waters. The narcissus flower (better known as a daffodil) is said to have sprung from the earth where he died—while Narcissus’s fascination with his own beauty gave us a word for someone who is similarly obsessed with their appearance or self-importance.

NEMESIS

Derived ultimately from a Greek word meaning a distribution or doling out of something, Nemesis was the name of a Greek (and later Roman) goddess of retribution and divine vengeance, who was tasked with either punishing or rewarding people for their evil or benevolent actions. It is from her that the word came to be used for anything that proves an eternal enemy, or risks bringing about a person’s downfall. [KC
– Divine vengeance. That has a great ring to it!]

PANIC

In Greek mythology, Pan was the goat-legged, panpipe-playing god of woods, pastures, herds, and fertility, who was often said to reside in isolated woodlands and mountainsides.

Among the many curious stories associated with him was the belief that his voice or disembodied cries could cause herds of animals or crowds of people to stampede, seemingly for no reason—while lone walkers in the woods where he dwelled would typically attribute the unnerving calls and sounds of the wilderness to him. Pan’s ability to seemingly alarm people without being seen, ultimately, is the origin of our word panic.

TANTALIZE

In Greek legend, Tantalus was an ancient king of Lydia who fell into such disfavor with the gods that in the underworld he was condemned to forever stand up to his neck in water that ebbed away from him as he leaned to take a drink, and beneath a fruit tree whose branches were lifted away by the wind whenever he reached up to pick them.

Eternally hungry but unable to eat, and eternally thirsty but unable to drink, his name has since come to be used for a kind of drinks holder [KC
– See the following image] that keeps its decanters visible yet under lock and key—while his dastardly punishment of temptation inspired the verb tantalize.

VOLCANO

The word volcano was adopted into English via either Italian or Spanish but can be ultimately traced back to the name of Vulcan, the Roman god of fire. [KC
– And not a mention of Mr. Spock!]

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

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Posted by: Jack Henry | January 27, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Words from the Greek and Roman gods, Part 1

Good morning, folks! I was looking through some different newsletters, and I found this little treasure on the Mental Floss website. It is an article on English words that come from Greek and Roman mythical creatures. I love the stories of the ancients, and I love words, so this is the perfect pairing! Today I will provide you with half of the article, and next time you get the second half. Enjoy!

APHRODISIAC

Arousing aphrodisiacs take their name from the Greek goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite. It was Aphrodite, too, who also fell in love with the beautiful youth Adonis, giving us a byword for a handsome man. [KC – byword: a person or thing cited as a notorious and outstanding example or embodiment of something. “He was the most gorgeous specimen of man—a real Adonis.”]

AURORA

Aurora was the Roman goddess of the dawn, whose origins are thought to lie even further back in the ancient Indo-European cultures of Europe and western Asia. As the early-morning bringer of daily light, Aurora’s name later came to be attached to the famous dawn-like phenomenon of swirling colored arches of light that appear in the night sky at high and low latitudes.

CEREAL

Ceres was an early Roman goddess of agriculture, whose particular responsibility for the crops that provide us with food gave us the word cereal.

HECTOR

Hector is the gallant son of King Priam in Homer’s Iliad, who is typically portrayed as the epitome of the loyal elder son, ideal husband to his wife Andromache and son, and the lead soldier of Troy. Quite how such a heroic character’s name has come to be used as a verb meaning to harangue or intimidate is debatable.

Some sources suggest it is his bold encouragement of his fellow Trojan soldiers that is the missing link here, but others point to a more recent origin—namely, gangs of intimidating youths known as “Hectors” who roamed 17th-century London.

HYACINTH

Hyacinth is said to have been a beautiful young man who was struck on the head and killed while the god Apollo taught him how to throw a discus. (According to some versions of the tale, the discus was deliberately blown off course by the god of the west wind, Zephyrus, in a fit of jealousy.) The flower that now bears his name is said to have sprung from the ground where his blood touched the earth.

JOVIAL

Jove was a poetic byname for both the thunderbolt-wielding Roman god of the sky, Jupiter (the Roman equivalent of the Greek god Zeus), and the planet now named after him. The astrological belief that the position of the planets on a person’s birth could influence their character led to the adjective derived from Jove, jovial, being used of someone who is fun-loving or good-natured.

The characteristic gloominess of those born under the planet named after Jupiter’s father, Saturn, meanwhile, is the origin of the adjective saturnine, meaning melancholic or morose.

MENTOR

As another word for a wise advisor or counsellor, mentor comes from the name of a character from the Greek myths of Odysseus and his son Telemachus. According to at least one version of his story, Mentor (who is sometimes said to have been the goddess Athena in disguise) is an old sage and friend of Odysseus whom Odysseus requests act as guardian and advisor to his son, Telemachus, while he is away fighting in the Trojan War. [KC – Athena in disguise? Those gods were always up to something!]

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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Posted by: Jack Henry | January 22, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Touch Grass

Good morning, folks!

I used to get emails from A.Word.A.Day (Anu Garg) each week, but they stopped coming some time ago. I figured they were, perhaps, off limits according to Jack Henry, or maybe Anu got tired of writing. In any case, I sadly bade them farewell. Then, about a month ago, they started to appear again! I’m so glad to welcome them back, and this week’s words fit right in with some of the terms I’ve been covering recently, such as 6–7.

The following are this past week’s five terms, their definitions, etymologies, and any notes that were included:

touch grass

verb intr.: To spend time in the real world, especially as a corrective to excessive online activity.
Etymology
Originally a derogatory remark implying someone is delusional or out of touch due to internet addiction; later adopted as a mantra for digital well-being. Earliest documented use: 2016.
Notes
Spending time in the real world instead of the virtual one, who could be against it? There’s even a smartphone app for it because one apparently needs an app to stop using apps.
doom scroll

verb tr., intr.: To scroll through the news or other online material compulsively, especially negative or distressing stories.
Etymology
From doom, from Old English (judgment, law) + scroll, a blend of Old French scrow (writing) + rowle (roll). Earliest documented use: 2020.
shadow ban

verb tr.: To block or restrict someone without their being aware of it.
noun: The practice of doing so or an instance of it.
Etymology
From shadow, from Old English sceadu (shade) + ban, from bannan (to proclaim). Earliest documented use: 2007.
Notes
In a shadow ban, the user keeps speaking. Their comments appear to post normally, but reach few or no others. It’s a way to deal with spammers and trolls without prompting retaliation or martyrdom.
edgelord

noun: A person who affects an edgy persona by saying or doing provocative or offensive things, chiefly to attract attention.
Etymology:
From edge, from Old English ecg + lord, from hlaford (loaf guard). Earliest documented use: 2013.
Notes:
An edgelord’s goal is not persuasion, humor, or insight, but reaction. The term is often used dismissively, suggesting that the “edge” is for the show and the lordship entirely self-bestowed. In other words, all edge, no point.
nepo baby

noun: A person whose success is significantly aided by family connections.
Etymology:
Short for nepotism, from Italian nepotismo, from Latin nepos (grandson, nephew) + baby. Earliest documented use: nepotism baby, since 1992; shortened form popularized c. 2020.
Notes:
It’s a harsh world out there. Having successful, famous, or wealthy parents helps. It opens doors, smooths the path, and allows one to start not on the ground level, but in the penthouse. The point is not inherited talent so much as inherited access. A related term is trust-fund baby.

You could say their success is … relative.

That said, being born in a family where a parent is, for example, a musician, politician, or businessperson also provides immersion. Growing up, one soaks up the sounds of music being practiced, strategy being discussed in the living room, and deals being outlined over dinner. The field becomes familiar long before it becomes professional.

I can imagine saying, “Turn off the TV and leash Sylvie up. Let’s go out and touch grass!” No matter what you’re up to, I hope you enjoy your day!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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Posted by: Jack Henry | January 20, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Answering questions with contractions

Dear Editrix,

I believe that there are a few contractions that could be considered full sentences (don’t, perhaps?), but I recently ran into a situation where a response I got was intended to be a full sentence but made my skin crawl reading it.

I was texting with someone, and I asked them to let me know if their availability changed. Her response was “I’ll.” That was it! I know that she meant “I will,” but I chuckled at the simple “I’ll” and wondered why this seems so wrong? No wonder English is one of the hardest to languages to learn. So many rules.

Anyway … any insight you can provide on why some contractions are acceptable responses to questions and others not? I would never respond with “I’ll” or “you’ll” or “we’ll” as a full sentence. I’m sure that there is a rule somewhere.

Dear Reader,

I really had to work at finding an answer to this question! First, you are correct. “Don’t!” can be a complete sentence. The “you” is implied, as is the full meaning of the sentence “You do not do (whatever it is you are doing)!” But let’s look at the main question: Can you answer a question or end a sentence with a contraction?

I could not find an actual rule, but I found a lot of advice from smart people, whose advice was crammed into this explanation from AI:

Yes, there’s a strong grammatical tendency against ending sentences with positive contractions (like he’s, you’re) because they lose necessary stress and clarity, often leaving the sentence feeling incomplete or "hanging," while negative contractions (isn’t, can’t) are fine because the not carries the weight, but in cases of contrast, the full word (e.g., "I am," not "I’m") is preferred for emphasis.

Why Positive Contractions Don’t Work at the End

  • Stress and Emphasis: Words at the end of a sentence usually carry emphasis. Positive contractions, by nature, are weak forms of words (like "he is") that lose their stress when contracted, making them sound unnatural or unfinished.
  • Clarity: A sentence like "I think we’re almost there" works because the main verb "there" provides closure. But in a question-answer scenario, "Are you coming?" "Yes, I’m" leaves the listener waiting for the "am," so "Yes, I am" (full form) is required for clarity and completeness.

When They Can Work (or are acceptable)

  • Negative Contractions: Isn’t, can’t, won’t are fine at the end because the "not" provides the necessary grammatical weight and negation.
  • For Style/Poetry: Poets or informal writers might bend the rule for effect, but it’s generally considered non-standard in formal writing.

The Bottom Line: Stick to the full form (e.g., "I am," "he is") when the contraction would end the sentence or a clause to maintain clarity and proper emphasis.

So, dear reader, your instincts are good! For those of you with English as your second (or third, or 33rd) language, remember the short version of this AI-compiled rule:

You can end a sentence with a negative contraction (Is he here? No he isn’t), but not a positive one (Is he here? Yes, he’s).

And if you aren’t sure? Spell out both words until you become an expert at contractions.

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Posted by: Jack Henry | January 15, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Meurtriere

While I was researching some of the Editor’s Corner topics from previous weeks, I searched for photos of castle bulwarks and loopholes. And then I stumbled on this spine-tingling and grotesque term: murder hole.

Okay, that sounds pretty disgusting, but I must admit that for some reason I have always been intrigued by the terrible actions of humans, usually wondering “Why would someone do that?” In this case, I couldn’t let the term murder hole slip by.

A peppy site called The Wonders of Ireland has an animated video showing one example of a murder hole, but I think a quick Wikipedia definition and some pictures will be faster. From Wikipedia:

A murder hole or meurtrière is a hole in the ceiling of a gateway or passageway in a fortification through which the defenders could shoot, throw, or pour harmful substances or objects such as rocks, arrows, scalding water, hot sand, quicklime, or boiling oil, down on attackers.

That’s horrible, but not nearly what I was expecting. You gotta protect your home and hearth, man! And now for some photos of murder holes:

And here are a few more details (these courtesy of AI):

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Location: Murder holes were typically located in the ceilings of gatehouses, over internal staircases, or above a passageway leading to a specific room.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Defensive strategy: They were part of a layered defense, used in conjunction with features like portcullises (grated gates) that could be dropped to trap attackers in a killing zone.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Attacking method: Once an enemy was trapped, defenders could attack with projectiles or liquids from a safe, elevated position.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Other uses: Some historians suggest that in certain castles, murder holes may have also served other purposes, such as allowing for communication or letting in light.

The second photo above is from Deal Castle. I’ve never been there, but it looks amazing. It isan artillery fort constructed by Henry VIII in Deal, Kent (England), between 1539 and 1540.

On that note, I hope you have an enjoyable day and stay far away from any murder holes, unless it is to get a little sun in your chilly castle!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Posted by: Jack Henry | January 13, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Time for kiffles and fox coughs

Good morning, friends! I was going to talk to you today about using “if” vs. “whether” in your writing, until I saw that we’ve done that three times in Editor’s Corner: 2021, 2014, and 2013. Well dang, people! Let’s start using them properly!

So, instead, today I’m going to share something that is related to the holidays, travel, and getting together with people we adore: winter ailments. There are numerous illnesses going around—I like to think I’m ahead of the curve because I had COVID and strep throat in the fall. But these words, from Mental Floss, are from the article: 10 Old-Timey Words For Winter Ailments. (See the full article for longer explanations of some of the words.)

meldrop

Derived from Scandinavian roots, meldrop was originally a drop of foam from a horse’s mouth as it chomped on the bit—the metal crossbar held in a horse’s mouth, the Old Norse word for which was mel. According to the English Dialect Dictionary, however, it came to have additional meanings in 16th-century Scots: Meldrop can be used to refer to both a drip of water from the tip of an icicle and a pendulous droplet on the tip of a person’s nose. [KC – What a lovely image: foaming horse mouths and a big snot-drop on someone’s nose.]

snirl

Besides being a long-forgotten dialect word for the nose—or for the metal hoop pierced through a bull’s nostrils—snirl or snurl is an old 18th-century dialect word for a stuffy head cold.

kiffle

To kiffle is to cough because you have a tickle in the throat.

fox’s cough

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, this is a hoarse, scratching cough that refuses to clear up, apparently so-called because the fox’s call is so raucous and guttural.

sternutament

Sternutation is a 16th-century medical word for the act of sneezing, which makes sternutament an equally ancient word for a single sneeze.

awvish

Probably derived from a corruption of half or half-ish, awvish describes someone who isn’t exactly unwell, but who isn’t feeling their best. A similar and equally evocative term from the 18th century was frobly-mobly, or fobly-mobly, which the lexicographer Francis Grose defined as meaning “indifferently well” in his Glossary of Provincial and Local Words in 1839. [KC – I like this one! It’s kind of like “so-so.”]

presenteeism

The opposite of absenteeism is presenteeism—a term coined in the early 1930s for the act of turning up to work, despite being unwell.

headwarch

Waerc was an Old English word for pain (which derives from the same ancient root as work). That makes headwarch an equally ancient word for a headache, which only survived into recent decades in a handful of dialects from the northern counties of England. [KC – Honey, can you turn the music down? You’re giving me a headwarch.]

kink-haust

As a verb, kink can be used to mean “to cough convulsively,” while a haust or hoast is a single cough or tickle in the throat. Put together, those words combine to form a dialect word, kink-haust (or kinkhost), which according to the 19th-century book Vocabulary of East Anglia was once used to refer to a combined “violent cold and cough.”

alysm

And finally, if some or all of the above apply to you, it might be worth remembering this obscure term from psychology and psychiatry: The restless boredom or ennui that comes from being unwell or confined to your bed is called alysm.

On that note, I hope you avoid the “yuck” and have a happy and healthy January!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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Posted by: Jack Henry | January 8, 2026

Editor’s Corner: May I? May you?

Dear Editrix,

This is something I’ve noticed previously, but it seems to be more prevalent lately. People asking for another person to perform an action and saying: “May you…” rather than what I would say: “Would you…” (Of course, with a please added in.)

Not a burning issue, but I was curious, and who knows, it might lead to an interesting rabbit hole!

Dear readers,

I received this email a month or two ago, and I thought that I knew the answer. I told the submitter that the person speaking was incorrect and that “may you” is grammatically wrong. But sometimes “may you” is not wrong. When I read the answer from a panel of experts (via a Google™’ AI overview), I saw that there are circumstances in which it is correct.

Here are the details:

Yes, "May you" is grammatically correct, but it’s used for wishes, blessings, or formal expressions (e.g., "May you have a wonderful day!"), not for asking someone to do something. For requests, English speakers use phrases like "Can you?" or "Would you?" because "May you" sounds awkward and confusing in those situations.

When to use "May you…"

  • Blessings/Wishes: "May you find happiness and peace."
  • Formal Statements: "May this treaty bring lasting peace."
  • Figurative/Literary Contexts: "May the Force be with you."

When not to use "May you…" (for requests)

  • Awkward: "May you please pass the salt?" sounds like you’re asking if they have permission to pass it.
  • Better alternatives for requests:
  1. "Can you pass the salt, please?" (ability/informal)
  2. "Could you pass the salt, please?" (polite)
  3. "Would you pass the salt, please?" (polite request)

So, when you are asking for something, don’t use “May you”; use one of the alternatives. If you are blessing or wishing love and goodness to people, “May you,” is okay.

May you live long and prosper!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Posted by: Jack Henry | January 6, 2026

Editor’s Corner: Vibe coding and rage bait

After what seems like a year full of AI frenzy, it doesn’t surprise me that most dictionaries’ words of the year were about technology. As promised the other day, here are the words of the year from the Collins English Dictionary (vibe coding) and the Oxford Dictionary (rage bait).

The Collins Dictionary blog describes vibe coding like this:

Tired of wrestling with syntax? Just go with the vibes. That’s the essence of vibe coding, Collins’ Word of the Year 2025, a term that captures something fundamental about our evolving relationship with technology. Coined by AI pioneer Andrej Karpathy, vibe coding refers to the use of artificial intelligence prompted by natural language to write computer code. Basically, telling a machine what you want rather than painstakingly coding it yourself. It’s programming by vibes, not variables. While tech experts debate whether it’s revolutionary or reckless, the term has resonated far beyond Silicon Valley, speaking to a broader cultural shift towards AI-assisted everything in everyday life.

The man who coined the term describes it a little more casually (from Tech.Co):

It’s not really coding – I just see stuff, say stuff, run stuff, and copy paste stuff, and it mostly works. – Andrej Karpathy

The Oxford Dictionary chose rage bait as its word of the year.

Rage bait is defined as “online content deliberately designed to elicit anger or outrage by being frustrating, provocative, or offensive, typically posted in order to increase traffic to or engagement with a particular web page or social media content”.

With 2025’s news cycle dominated by social unrest, debates about the regulation of online content, and concerns over digital wellbeing, our experts noticed that the use of rage bait this year has evolved to signal a deeper shift in how we talk about attention—both how it is given and how it is sought after—engagement, and ethics online.

…(I)t has become shorthand for content designed to elicit anger by being frustrating, offensive, or deliberately divisive in nature, and a mainstream term referenced in newsrooms across the world and discourse amongst content creators. It’s also a proven tactic to drive engagement, commonly seen in performative politics. As social media algorithms began to reward more provocative content, this has developed into practices such as rage-farming, which is a more consistently applied attempt to manipulate reactions and to build anger and engagement over time by seeding content with rage bait, particularly in the form of deliberate misinformation of conspiracy theory-based material.

Isn’t rage bait two words?

The Oxford Word of the Year can be a singular word or expression, which our lexicographers think of as a single unit of meaning.

Rage bait is a compound of the words rage, meaning ‘a violent outburst of anger’, and bait, ‘an attractive morsel of food’. Both terms are well-established in English and date back to Middle English times. Although a close parallel to the etymologically related clickbait—which has a shared objective of encouraging online engagement and the potential to elicit annoyance—rage bait has a more specific focus on evoking anger, discord, and polarization.

The article continues on the website (Oxford Dictionary) and raises some interesting points about “being human in a tech-driven world.” I recommend having a look at the whole article. It’s a little scary.

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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Posted by: Jack Henry | December 30, 2025

Editor’s Corner: Word of the Year 2025

Good morning, and happy (almost) New Year!

It is my annual tradition to share the Merriam-Webster word of the year with you when we reach the end of December; this year is no different. I’ve been waiting to see what the different English dictionaries come up with for a few weeks now. You may be familiar with some of these that I covered in earlier episodes of Editor’s Corner, like parasocial and 6 -7. Other winners that I haven’t covered (but will cover soon) are vibe coding and rage bait. But the winning word from Merriam-Webster this year? Slop. From M-W:

Slop

Merriam-Webster’s human editors have chosen slop as the 2025 Word of the Year. We define slop as “digital content of low quality that is produced usually in quantity by means of artificial intelligence.” All that stuff dumped on our screens, captured in just four letters: the English language came through again.

The flood of slop in 2025 included absurd videos, off-kilter advertising images, cheesy propaganda, fake news that looks pretty real, junky AI-written books, “workslop” reports that waste coworkers’ time… and lots of talking cats. People found it annoying, and people ate it up.

“AI Slop is Everywhere,” warned The Wall Street Journal, while admitting to enjoying some of those cats. “AI Slop Has Turned Social Media Into an Antisocial Wasteland,” reported CNET.

Like slime, sludge, and muck, slop has the wet sound of something you don’t want to touch. Slop oozes into everything. The original sense of the word, in the 1700s, was “soft mud.” In the 1800s it came to mean “food waste” (as in “pig slop”), and then more generally, “rubbish” or “a product of little or no value.”

In 2025, amid all the talk about AI threats, slop set a tone that’s less fearful, more mocking. The word sends a little message to AI: when it comes to replacing human creativity, sometimes you don’t seem too superintelligent.

I can’t argue with their conclusion—I complain about slop a lot. I just tend to use a different “s” word. But I also admit to sending someone this AI cat photo just yesterday:

And then there are those Instagram videos of puppies and kittens in the kitchen with the Italian chef making little pizzas, being told that they need to work harder because, “This is not a daycare!” Here is a short Christmas version: working puppies (just click X on the Never miss a post message).

In the weeks to come, I will share some of the other words of the year with you. Until then, have fun, stay safe, and limit the slop!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

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