What is the Difference Between a Graveyard and a Cemetery?

That is a tremendous question, Tony. While too late to take advantage of Halloween to boost my readership by spooky leaps and bounds, this topic seems well-worth pondering. My immediate thoughts are thus: The graveyard is where spooks, goblins and other nefarious creatures of the night wander in eternal restlessness in search of peace for their tortured souls and ghouls such as Victorian-age graverobbers fulfilled their horrific, filthy deeds.

The cemetery, on the other hand, feels more orderly and much less horrific in my mind. A place where loved ones visit their dearly departed and take comfort in being near and to tend to the gravesite and leave flowers, be they fresh or plastic, which last much, much longer, for those in the memorial know.

My idea of a cemetery

 Of course, I could be wildly wrong. To debunk or confirm my rash and hasty answer to the question, the staff and management of the Go Ask Jerry Research Team, Detective Agency and Haberdashery was dispatched to the four corners of the Earth in search of the truth. And this is what they found:

From the Worldwide Source of Knowledge (Google):

"The word cemetery (from Greek κοιμητήριον, means "sleeping place") implies that the land is specifically designated as a burial ground and originally applied to the Roman catacombs. The term graveyard is often used interchangeably with cemetery, but a graveyard primarily refers to a burial ground within a churchyard."

Aside from the laziness of the over-paid research staff (this lack of effort will be noted in their next merit review...), Everything, it seems, always come back to the Greeks. "Sleeping place" sounds rather kind and mildly soothing for those who have lost a loved-one. Nice move, though it makes little sense to those unwashed masses who have lost touch with the ancient Indo-European languages (me).

Surprisingly, it was the churches who brought the definition of a burial area back to the commonfolk (me). With its easily-deciphered definition, "Grave Yard" leaves little room for error. If you turn up at a graveyard, there should be little to no surprise in what you find upon arrival. Thanks, churches, for once in your holy lives doing something that is not nebulous, haughty and often more than a little creepy. In fact, the use of the word "yard" makes it sound even a little playful, hardly a word often associated with the word "church". 

I stand by my definition of "graveyard", regardless of the researched definition of the term. What better place for the goblins and ghosts to gather to search for relief than in a church graveyard. Where else would a tortured soul go to find its lost way to heaven, I ask you? And as the grave-robbing ghouls would say, "Good day, sir."

What is the difference between a Jungle, a Forest and some Woods?

 

What a tremendous question, Raymond, and one that desperately needs clarification, for sure!

My first thought is that a jungle is any patch, swath or endless vista of trees and such that is capable of supporting, monkeys, apes, colorful birds and big cats. And their prey. And Tarzan. Also, the availability of edible jungle fruit would be key in identifying a jungle. That and the huge tree-snake wrapping itself around your torso - another clear identifier.

How Tarzan survived in the jungle is a mystery all its own. He lived with apes, yet did not have the ability as a youngster to scurry up a tree or swing from tree to tree to escape tigers, jaguars, pumas, hyenas and the like, which would have made him easy pickings for the big cats. Obviously, once he was big enough to climb and swing and yodel, he was considerably safer, even though he could not grasp a banana with his foot. I'm certain he took a certain amount of ribbing from his ape-brethren for his lack of usable feet, as well as his mostly-hairless body. It didn't seem to affect his self-esteem, because in a matter of just a few years, he was running the show.

A yodeling Tarzan, running the show.

A forest, I assume, would be a smaller grouping of trees, incapable of supporting apes and big cats. Mostly deer, squirrels, rabbits and smaller predatory canines, such as wolves or foxes. Tarzan would also be unlikely to survive in the forest. A young Tarzan, while not needing to the ability to grasp a banana with his feet, would still be easy fodder for the forest-dogs without the aid of his wily monkey friends. Forests would be found abutting farms, castles and other populated communities and could be used to hunt (or poach, if it were owned by gentry) the aforementioned deer, squirrels and rabbits.

Some woods would also be found next to communities, farms and ranches. Sodbusters would hunt for the same game here as in forests and use their lumber to build their rough cabins and later carpentried homes. I would consider the woods to be the younger, red-haired brother of the forest. Much smaller and not much missed if completely destroyed by progress. Just like the younger red-haired brother.

Let's to to the research. This from Sciencing.com: "Woods and forests have no clear delineation in scientific terms, although they are widely considered to be slightly different. Both are expanses of land covered in trees and inhabited by animals, but woods are smaller and their canopy cover significantly less dense than those of forests. Jungles are a colloquially-termed subtype of tropical rainforest that is particularly dense with undergrowth. Woods and deciduous forests are populated by animals such as deer, bears, mice and owls, while jungles are populated by animals such as snakes, monkeys, macaws and crocodiles."

 I forgot about bears. Not to mention crocodiles. Both of which would eagerly devour a young Tarzan. Otherwise, I was pretty much on-point. Good job, Jer-Bear. Take that, research staff.

And as the apes often say, while slinging their feces, "Good day, Sir!"

What are Salad Days?

 

That is a very good question, George. My first thought is that they are the worst days of the month on the grade-school cafeteria schedule. After all, who in their right mind would look forward to a plate of greens after a week of canned spaghetti, limp frozen cheese pizza, stale-bun hot dogs and fish sticks (or "fish dicks", as we called them with a sixth-grade snicker)?

On a side note, in grade school in the early 1970's, "lunch tickets" were purchased for the week or month and we were issued little punch cards that were diligently punched by hair-netted lunch-ladies as we were processed through the lunch line. Or a kid could pay with cash, had he not had the foresight to pester his parents for a check or cash for the ticket. As hooligans, we would crumple the ticket over and over again until it had the consistency of a dishrag and was probably half its original size. When presented with these abominations, lunch ladies would invariably scowl or scold, depending on their mood. Even if they had gone through the same ritual the day before. We got a great kick out of seeing who could brandish the most distressed lunch card. You can do the same thing with a dollar bill and get the same reaction from your local grocer. Er, I've heard... But I digress.

With the able assistance of the "Just Ask Jerry Research Laboratory, Memorial Library and Family Hayride" staff, I was able to come up with a more appetizing answer to the question "what are salad days?".  According to Wikipedia, the Repository of All Knowledge, and supported by Miriam Webster and Company, the Arbiters of All Things Defined as Words, "Salad Days" are defined as "a youthful time, a period of carefree innocence, idealism and pleasure associated with youth, a heyday, a period when somebody was at the peak of their abilities, not necessarily in their youth."  Such as my life, mid-twenties: pre-AIDS, mid-cocaine, playing music in bars where the women were usually drunk, and if lucky, possessing a  questionable moral compass. Also known as "The Good Old Days".

But why "salad", you may ask. We can thank Bill Shakespeare for the "salad days" turn of phrase, he having apparently grabbed it out of thin air to back the quote in Antony and Cleopatra, where Cleo laments her youthful dalliances with Julius Caesar at the end of Act I "...My salad days, / When I was green in judgment, cold in blood/To say as I said then!  Get it? Green, cold - salad? Leave it to WS, who came up with other phrases we still use to this day, such as "mum's the word", "too much of a good thing" and "dead as a doornail".

One phrase not attributed to Shakespeare: "Good day, sir."

 What is "Diddly-Squat?"

Well Michael, that is a tremendous question and one that certainly needed asking, for sure. 

Instinct tells me that since the phrase "diddly-squat" is an insult, the origins of the phrase must have certainly been given the most debasing context possible. "diddly" being almost childlike in its cadence, inferring non-importance by the very sound of its pronunciation . Definitely condescending at the very least. Adding "squat" only further cements the insult, seeming to invoke the position required to go poo-poo. 

This said, it would seem to me that knowing "diddly-squat" is tantamount to "knowing shit", which is insulting and very concise by anyone's standard.

My first thought when told I don't know diddly squat is humiliation. And that my knowledge is limited, if not non-existent. And since my knowledge is limited and possibly compromised altogether, my first guess is likely wrong and should be looked into.

Thanks to the devoted staff of the Jerald Ford Memorial Library, Research Laboratory and Ice Cream Stand, we have been able to dredge up the following from the internet.

Etymology:

The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang suggests that this is a variation of doodly-squat from 1934, probably from American slang doodle (“excrement”) + squat, used in the sense of defecating.^[1] Doodly-squat was originally the more common form, but diddly-squat overtook it in the early 1980s, and is now an order of magnitude more common in print.

Definition:

slang

: the least amount : anything at alldidn't know diddly-squat about sports— Sam Toperoff
It seems I was closer than my attacker would imagine possible with my guess.So I would have to say, upon further reflection, that he didn't know diddly-squat.
Good day, Sir.

 How much is a "drove"?

That is a terrific question, Scotty, and one which I have frequently pondered. Usually at 3am, when it is either gnaw on this type of grist or wrestle with the dark demons that try to take over my soul during this, the witching hour. 

But I digress.

This, according to Miriam Webster:

"Drove: A large number of people doing or undergoing the same thing."

This definition smacks of laziness in my humble opinion. Miriam might have had a bad day or simply didn't have the resources to truly investigate - it was, after all, a much simpler time. That said, I would think with today's high-tech gadgetry, technical gewgaws and outer space all at Webster's fingertips, they might have scrubbed this kind of nebulous crowing by now and settled on a more concise, easy-to-follow protocol for defining our language on which the entire universe is inclined to rely.

Don't worry, I'll write them a strongly-worded letter. And it will be concise and easy-to-follow.

While "a large number of people" sounds like a lot, it could mean different things to different people. For instance, for a well-documented introvert like myself, three people in a living room seems like at least one too many and likely two too many. I would define three as "a large number of people" if I were questioned about the event. However, for other more gregarious folk, the more the merrier. God can only imagine what those horn-blowers and cork-poppers might say if you asked them what a large number of people would be - I would guess it would be well into the six-figures. I shudder at the thought.

Horn Blowers and Cork Poppers

Back to the issue of the drove. After reckoning on the problem at least three times longer than the nerds at Miriam Webster, I came up with what I found to be the most logical solution. By using the A1Z26 code system, wherein a letter equals a number (for example, A=1, B=2, and so on), we simply take the word "drove" and apply the code. D=4, R=18, O=15, V=22, E=5.

If you add these numbers up, it equals 67. Which by a Horn-Blower or Cork-Popper's definition would in no way be a large number of people. However, if you line the numbers up together in a row, they show 41,815,225, which by any standard would dictate a large number of people indeed.

So, I can answer, without hesitation that a drove consists of 41,815,225 people. "Droves" would be 83,630,450 or more people. And that my friend, is a lot of cheeseburgers.

Good day, sir.

How Much Wood Could A Woodchuck Chuck...

That is a fantastic question, Kevin - I'm glad you asked. They actually get their name from the Algonquin tribe of Native Americans, who originally called them “wuchak.”  English settlers, in trying to use that word, likely came up with the name “woodchuck.”  Depending on where you are in the country, woodchucks are also known as groundhogs, land beavers, and whistling pigs. This from the Wikipedia.

Personally, I prefer the "whistling pig" moniker, even though the rodent is not related to the porcine species in any way. Nor does it whistle. It just sounds more fun than groundhog or woodchuck. Land beaver just sounds like a weekend goal for a twenty-three year-old fella.

But I digress. About the chucking, one must first examine the ability of the animal to chuck. Since the name attributed to the land beaver (tee-hee) is based on it's Native American sobriquet, we can assume it had nothing to do with the animal's ability to hurl wood, or any other object for that matter. And the composition of its body does not lend itself to easy-chucking, with its short, stumpy arms and tiny paws. Unless the whistling pig is inclined to sling a branch using its jaws to grip the stick and its powerful, thick neck to propel it, the chances of it successfully tossing wood are very slim indeed.

That said, I believe that if a woodchuck could chuck wood, I imagine it would be quite a bit, given the animal's boundless energy and tenaciousness. 

If it only had thumbs and some longer arms. God is cruel.

Answer: two to three pounds of wood per hour.

Good day, sir.

What is the difference between tennis shoes and sneakers?

Ken, that is a fantastic question and I am delighted you asked. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that tennis shoes are sold mainly for use on the tennis courts and probably have some kind of tricky, scientific design specifics that make them more suitable for the abrupt changes of direction and lateral movement inherent in the game that might blow other shoes out like a second-hand, high-mileage retread.

Sneakers, on the other hand, are most likely a rubber-soled shoe that would be worn by athletes and spies alike, who either need excellent traction or stealthy silence in their movement - hence the term "sneakers". I would also offer that the term "gumshoe" for the private eye probably came about from the requirement of stealth in the business of sleuthing. Whether or not a "gumshoe" is the same as "sneaker", I have no idea. I would also assert that a tennis shoe can be a sneaker, but a sneaker is not necessarily a tennis shoe. Let's go to the web...

"Sneakers go back a long way. In the late 18th century, people wore rubber soled shoes called plimsolls, but they were pretty crude—for one thing, there was no right foot or left foot. Around 1892, the U.S. Rubber Company came up with more comfortable rubber sneakers with canvas tops, called Keds. By 1917, these sneakers began to be mass produced. (They got the nickname sneakers because they were so quiet, a person wearing them could sneak up on someone.)" Ta-da, this from factmaster.com. I like the idea of the plimsoll - trying to differentiate between the left and right foot in the dark (especially scampering out a window with a jealous husband in hot-pursuit - just saying) can be trying. Plus, I think the plimsoll would make an excellent slapshoe, should one have the urge to be a circus clown or a silent film comedian.

And this from answers.com, regarding the gumshoe:

Gumshoe

(gŭm'shū')
n.

1. A sneaker or rubber overshoe.
2. Slang. An investigator, especially a detective.

I hope this answers your question - if it doesn't, feel free to hire a gumshoe to get to the bottom of it.

Good day, Sir.