This blog is for everyone who uses words.

The ordinary-sized words are for everyone, but the big ones are especially for children.



Sunday, 4 October 2015

Sunday Rest: cytoplastic. Word Not To Use Today.

It wouldn't be so bad if cytoplastic were some substance for filling in wounds, or sticking broken bones together.

It wouldn't be so bad even if cytoplastic were stuff for moulding nose-extensions. Or something.

But cytoplastic isn't anything like that because, annoyingly, cytoplastic is an adjective. It means to do with a cytoplast (which is, basically, the innards of a cell excluding the nucleus).

The really appalling thing is that you yourself contain a hundred thousand billion cytoplasts (and that's not counting the cytoplasts of all the bacteria who call you home - there are a thousand thousand billion of them).

The really really appalling thing, of course, is that I contain just as many cytoplastic bits, myself.



This is a Common Ringtail Possum. Why this image showed up on Wikimedia Commons when I Googled cytoplast I have no idea. But it's a cute picture, anyway.

Word Not To Use Today: cytoplastic. The cyto bit comes from the Greek kutos, vessel or container, and the plastic bit comes from the Greek plassein, to form.


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