A what?

11 common objects that are never called by their proper names

While we typically go about life describing the end of our shoelaces as ‘the end of the shoelace’ or the whites of the egg as ‘egg whites’, these things, and many more, have names of their own, even if they are not always widely known or used. Let’s have a look at 11 common things that have proper names, even if no one uses them.

The little plastic or metal tip at the end of shoelaces or drawstrings is there to prevent the fibres from fraying, and to make it easier to pass the lace or drawstring through a hole. Its proper name is ‘aglet’, from the French aguillette, meaning ‘needle’, a reference to its use in helping to thread the string through the hole.

Erasers at the end of wooden pencils are not usually glued together, but they are instead held together by a little metal band. This band is called a ‘ferrule’—from Medieval Latin viriola or ‘little bracelet’—and the term can be used for any metal band that strengthens or fastens a joint, such as those used in handles, to hold brush bristles, or to secure a connection between two cables.

The ‘little plastic table on the pizza’ is quite a long name for something aptly named ‘pizza saver’, but no one seems to really care. It was invented in 1974 by an Argentine pizza maker, who named it SEPI or separador de pizza (‘pizza separator’). In America, it was patented as a ‘package saver’ in 1985, though it was later renamed ‘pizza saver’.

Most mathematical symbols have proper names that are not regularly used, and the division sign is no exception. It was officially introduced into mathematics as a symbol of division in 1659 by the Swiss mathematician Johann Rahn in his influential work Teutsche Algebra. This sign is called an ‘obelus’, from the Greek obelos, meaning ‘sharpened stick’ or ‘skewer’, as it was initially used as a pointer for questionable passages in a text.

Paper cups and their corresponding cardboard sleeves to protect our hands from the heat or the cold are relatively new, but their proper names are not—at least, the name for the cardboard sleeve. This holder is called a ‘zarf’, an Arabic (zuruuf) and Turkish (zarflar) word used for ornamented cup holders, usually made from metal. The materials and the details of the zarf have changed, but the purpose still remains.

Do we need a more technical term than ‘armhole’ for a hole meant for an arm to go through? Maybe not, but the technical term still exists. An ‘armscye’ (pronounced arm-sigh) is the proper term used in sewing and patterns to describe the opening on a garment where the sleeve is attached. The word is a compound of ‘arm’ + scye, a Scots word meaning ‘opening’. So, in the end, ‘armscye’ just means ‘armhole’.

We often use the words ‘railing’ or ‘handrail’ when talking about a staircase, but these terms only describe the top portion of it, not the pillars that support the handrail. The pillars and the rail altogether are called a ‘banister’, a corruption of the word baluster, derived from the Italian balaustro. The term originally was used for the pillars, but eventually came to mean the entire structure.

Not all beverage foams are equal. The foam on top of alcoholic beverages, in particular, is called ‘barm’, a term derived from Old English beorma, meaning ‘yeast’ or ‘leaven’, and it's mainly used for the effervescence of fermented liquors such as beer, ale, or wine.

Did you know that the white (or clear) part of the egg is called the ‘albumen’? The term entered English as a loan from Latin, where _albumen_—from albus, ‘white’—was used in the same way. Though it is not widely used in everyday life, it’s still the correct term for that part of the egg.

As a rule of thumb, you should always assume that all marks, symbols, and strokes in calligraphy have a proper name, even if it's not often used. When it comes to the lowercase letters ‘j’ and ‘i ’, the little dot on top is not a dot, but a ‘tittle’. This name comes from the Latin _titulus_—meaning ‘title’, ‘inscription’, or ‘small mark’—and was initially used by scribes to distinguish these letters in their cramped writing.

If you ever got lost in the mall or the museum, you must have come across a map that marked your location using an arrow or a pointer, usually accompanied by the phrase ‘you are here’. Well, that pointer is called an ‘ideolocator’, a combination of the Greek idea, a ‘mental image, concept, or visual representation’ (in this case, the pointer), and the Latin locatus, meaning ‘to place’ (the specific location on the map). For the sake of convenience, we will keep calling it the ‘you are here’ sign.

BELIEVE IT OR NOT

Stranger Than Fiction: 10 Unbelievable Events That Actually Happened

Image: Diana van Ormondt

They say truth is stranger than fiction, and some of these historical events are living proof of this old adage.

Brace yourself for a rollercoaster ride through history, where the strange and unexpected take center stage in the theater of reality. From absurd battles to mysterious weather phenomena, these 10 astonishing tales will leave you thinking long and hard about the complexities of human history.

Image: Sharon Co Images

Wars are typically waged between nations, but in 1932, Australia faced an unusual adversary: emus. After large numbers of these flightless birds invaded crucial farmland within Western Australia’s Wheatbelt, the government decided to intervene by sending soldiers armed with machine guns to reduce the emu population in the area. However, most attempts were ineffective at most, killing very few birds and costing thousands of dollars in supplies and ammunition.

As soon as the first shot was fired, the seemingly tame emu dispersed way beyond the range of the machine guns, and apparently switched to guerrilla tactics of sorts, avoiding all further military ambushes and frontal attacks while still feasting on the farmer’s crops. The government’s futile attempts were ridiculed and physical barrier methods to manage wildlife were preferred from then on. Sadly, they give no medals for having endured the Great Emu War.

Image: Hannah Skelly

In 1518, the town of Strasbourg, France, was gripped by a strange and inexplicable phenomenon - people suddenly began dancing uncontrollably in the streets. The dancing madness persisted for weeks, with some of the affected succumbing to exhaustion or even death. The authorities at the time did not know how to react, and some people even joined the dancers voluntarily, as they feared it was a punishment from Saint Vitus (and presumably wanted to stay on the safe side).

After many efforts to fight the strange epidemic, the dancing eventually subsided and people in the town could resume their normal lives. While theories range from mass hysteria to hallucinogenic substances and neurological disorders like Sydenham's chorea, the event remains a historical enigma that challenges our understanding of the human mind and collective behavior.

Image: Nima Sarram

In 1908, a massive explosion flattened over 80 million trees in the remote Tunguska region of Siberia. The cause? A mysterious airburst, likely caused by the explosion of a meteoroid or comet in Earth's atmosphere. It is now estimated that the event had an explosive energy of 3 to 5 megatons, equivalent to over a thousand Hiroshima bombs. The resulting shockwave broke windows, and knocked people down hundreds of miles away, reaching an equivalent of an earthquake of 5.0 on the Richter scale in some areas.

A bright glow was observed in night skies in Asia and Europe for days after the event due to high-altitude ice particles that formed as a result of the explosion. For all its magnitude, the explosion left no visible crater and minimal debris beside the devastated forest. The Tunguska Event serves as a stark reminder of the potential cosmic threats that lurk in the darkness of space.

Image: British Library

Miscommunication can often lead to chaos, but rarely on the scale witnessed in the Battle of Karánsebes in 1788. The Austrian army, at the time facing the Ottoman Empire, descended into total anarchy when two different scouting parties mistook one another for the enemy, fired on each other, and raised the alarm.

Making matters worse, the Austrian army was made of men of different nationalities who more often than not could not understand each other. All attempts to end confusion and the ensuing friendly fire on the part of the Austrian emperor himself were in vain, and after a while - deeply demoralized - he was forced to give the order of retreat. When the Ottoman army arrived two days later, they found an empty battlefield and were able to take the city of Karánsebes without any resistance.

Image: Aswathy N

In 1807, eight years before Waterloo, Napoleon Bonaparte had a humiliating defeat at the hands of a strange opponent - a horde of rabbits. During the celebrations that followed the Treaties of Tilsit - which effectively ended the war between the French and Imperial Russia - Napoleon’s chief of staff Alexandre Berthier had the idea of organizing a rabbit hunt to entertain its guests.

So far, nothing out of the ordinary for the time, but when the rabbits were simultaneously freed along the edges of a grassy field, instead of scattering as expected, all these fluffy beasts began running toward their amused hunters. But the fits of laughter didn’t last long, as the now-hunted hunters realized that there was nothing they could do to stop the relentless animals as they swarmed their positions and had no other choice than to flee. Some accounts state that Berthier had gathered around 3000 rabbits, so not even mighty Napoleon was a match for this unexpected army.

Apparently, the chief of staff's mistake was buying tame rabbits from local farmers, accustomed to being fed by humans, instead of trapping wild hares for the hunt. If we learned anything from the Great Emu War, the lesson is clear: never underestimate animals!

Image: Mitsuo Komoriya

In the aftermath of the eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia - the largest in at least 1,300 years - 1816 became known as the "Year Without a Summer." The volcanic ash floating in the atmosphere led to climate abnormalities worldwide, resulting in crop failures and widespread famine in the most affected areas.

In Europe and North America temperatures plummeted, and most crops suffered irreparable damage due to the persistent frost. In the United States, a "dry fog" was observed in the eastern regions, dimming sunlight so much that sunspots were visible to the naked eye. Also, the high level of volcanic particles present in the atmosphere caused strange optical effects in the following years, such as strong red hues during sunsets, which can be observed in many paintings produced at the time.

Image: Tiana Attride

It seems that wars against unusual adversaries are a fashionable trend in human history because the Roman Emperor Caligula declared war in the year 40 AD on no one other than the god Neptune himself, king of the raging seas.

Known for his eccentricity, Caligula allegedly ordered his legionnaires to "attack" the sea with swords and spears, after which he declared victory against the powerful god and told the men to gather seashells as trophies of war. One can only imagine that the soldiers had a fun -albeit puzzling- day.

Image: Tim Mossholder

In the late 1980s, Pepsi briefly possessed the sixth-largest navy in the world. In exchange for commercializing Pepsi products in the Soviet Union, the company received 17 submarines, a cruiser, a frigate, and a destroyer.

However, the fleet was composed of obsolete and unseaworthy vessels that were destined to be turned into scrap almost immediately. The payment was made in the only resources the USSR could gather easily at the time, and it provided a way to establish profitable international relations - and open up to the world.

Image: Garry T

The American Civil War started and concluded with a curious connection to Wilmer McLean, an American wholesale grocer from Virginia. The conflict's first major battle, the First Battle of Bull Run, took place in McLean's farm in 1861. A cannonball fell directly through the kitchen fireplace of the McLean’s house, which was being used as headquarters for the Confederate Army, destroying the dinner that was being prepared by the stationed officers - something that was noted not without humor by the Brigadier General P. G. T. Beauregard.

The McLean family moved to Appomattox, Virginia trying to escape the war, but just four years later, General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant in McLean's parlor, marking the conclusion of the Civil War. Unintentionally, McLean was a prime witness of one of America’s most defining conflicts. Later, he said of this: "The war began in my front yard and ended in my front parlor."

Image: Snowscat

Genghis Khan's vast empire and brutal military campaigns had an unexpected impact on the Earth's climate. A recent study suggests that the Mongol invasions in the 13th century led to a significant reduction in global carbon dioxide levels, as large areas of cultivated land returned to forests.

This had the unintentional effect of scrubbing as much as 700 million tonnes of carbon from the atmosphere, roughly equivalent to the global annual consumption of gasoline today. This drastic ecological shift highlights the effect that land use, and particularly deforestation can have on our planet at a large scale.