Cliche Phrases and Their Possible Origins

[Ladyzekke]

Well there are so many "sayings" that we all use frequently, but the origin of where the phrase actually came from most people don't even know.

For instance, the phrase "Grasping at Straws". The meaning, at least here in America, basically is "a futile attempt." But where did that term come from??

So for fun, let's try and think of a story behind said Grasping of Straws LOL.

Here is what I came up with:

A long long time ago (did you just here Jim Croce?) [img]smile.gif[/img] , there was a man, and his hut made out of straw. One day a big tornado came though and destroyed his hut. He was seen crouched on his hands and knees afterwards trying to pick up the straw remnants from the ground, which of course would be a futile attempt, as most of the straw was blown away, i.e, his "straw collecting" would be futile. All the other people in his village saw him, "grasping" at the straws that were left of his hut LOL, hence the term "Grasping at Straws" was born, meaning "futile attempt."

I'd love to hear anyone else's imagined stories re the phrase, just for fun of course [img]smile.gif[/img]

Oh and please don't reply in this thread with another cliche, lets do one at a time, stick with "Grasping at Straws" for now OK?

So is anyone grasping yet? [img]tongue.gif[/img]

[antryg]

Most people think of Kansas as being a land of wide open flat spaces. The only thing that blocks a view to infinity is when something moves in your line of sight. Kansas, short grass prairie and flat land, hardly the setting for adventure or facing sudden death. That's what my great grandfather thought when he saw it for the first time.
My great granddad was named after one of the founding fathers. His name was Thomas Jefferson Hartung. His dad named him that when he born, only 2 years after coming to America. Now at the age if 8 the family was moving, trying their luck in the new territory of Kansas. As the wagons rolled westward into Kansas Tom was filled with excitement as they approached their new home but the excitement was tempered by the boredom of day after day and mile after mile of flat land and grass.
It was the end of the days travel, as the family was making camp that a family legend was born. It was the start of Fall and the night came quickly. Tom was sent off with the water bucket to get water from the creek that could be seen about a quarter mile from the family's camp. The grasses were dry and crunched under Tom's boots as he made his way to the creek in the gathering gloom. Being a typical child and bored with his task, Tom wasn't paying attention to where he was walking. Suddenly the ground gave way and Tom began to slip down the edge of a cliff, the bottom lost in darkness. As he fell he grasped the dry leaves and flower stems of the dormant grasses around him. He couldn't climb back up and he didn't know how far he would drop or what was under him. He began to cry out at the top of his voice, hoping someone in the family would here him and effect his rescue. After holding on for what seemed forever, and as his arms began to numb with fatigue he could hear his parents coming to his rescue. When they were just inches away from lifting him to safety the unthinkable happened and the grass and straw finally gave way. With a wail Tom plunged into the darkness. He fell 3 feet down into the creek. There he was, sitting in the water soaking wet, covered in mud, with his arms still extended grasping the life saving straw.

For the rest of his life, Tom's family would respond to a bad idea or plan with the question; "Are you grasping at straws again?"

[Ladyzekke]

ROTFL!!!!!!!!!! Excellent Antryg! [img]smile.gif[/img]

(LOL, still laughing....)

[Xero279]

ROFL!!!! [img]graemlins/thumbsup.gif[/img] good one!

[pcgiant]

The real origin of the phrase 'grasping at straws'

Nick Burson was a simple man. A simple man, indeed, but a happy man. He liked nothing better than to drive his tractor by day and watch the stars by night. Now, the day of the event that would change Nick's life forever began like any other. Nick woke up with the birds (due to the rather irritating nest of bluejays living in his attic) with a smile on his face. "Another day to cherish the beauty of nature", he said to himself. He leapt out of bed, dressed himself, and went out to his tractor, without even a piece of toast for breakfast. "'lo, Betty", he said to his tractor, calling her by his pet name for her. "Where shall we go today?". Now the sad thing about Betty was that she couldn't talk. It broke Nick's heart to see his tractor and, more than that, his friend, sitting in her shed faithfully all night long with nobody to talk to. Of course, we must remember that Nick didn't have a clue about Betty's inability to speak, he merely assumed that she was shy. Such is the life of one who is simple.

Nick didn't know any other tractors to keep Betty company, because this was during the 1950's and at that time tractors were classified as an endangered species. He decided he'd have to improvise. Now Nick had always been quite good at making scarecrows (graduating in Scarecrow making 101 from Seattle University of Extremely Specialised and Useless Jobs, with Honours) so he got the idea to make a scarecrow. So he made one, and put it out in his field. Then, he got an even BETTER idea, and made another scarecrow to put in Betty's shed to keep her company. He propped the scarecrow, who he had decided to call Goose, next to Betty and went outside to watch the stars (it was dark by this stage, after all, it takes a while to make scarecrows!) He had been out for well over an hour when he heard a strange noise coming from Betty's shed. He waited a moment, and when he was sure it was his imagination, began to watch the stars once more. Then again, he heard the noise. It sounded like a struggle was taking place within Betty's shed! Nick was never one for fighting, but he would take a bullet for Betty. He got up and rushed to the shed.

Inside, Nick was greeted with a horrific sight. Goose, his scarecrow, had his hands wrapped around Betty's exhaust pipe, trying to strangle her to an untimely death. Betty was fighting as best she could, but was running out of fuel. It was up to NICK to save the day! He leapt to action, grabbing Goose and trying to wretch his grasp from Betty. Goose held hard. Our hero went into something of a frenzy, and began tearing at the straw which allowed Goose to keep ahold of Betty. Finally, he managed to make Goose lose enough straw to slow him down. Sensing his chance, Nick quickly reached into his pocket for his hedge clippers, and cut off Goose's head. The horror was over and Betty was safe. It was only then that Nick stopped to consider why Goose had come to life... and then he realised that he had used VOODOO straw when making Goose, instead of regular straw. This realisation was overrode by the fact that he was a hero and had saved Betty, his one true love. Such was his joy that he didn't notice the OTHER scarecrow looming up behind him... but Betty did. With a cry of "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Betty dived in front of Nick, into the path of the scarecrow's pitchfork. The pitchfork stabbed into her fuel canister, and she feel dead on the ground. After a long fight, with lots of 'Matrix style' action, Nick vanquished the scarecrow. He fell to the floor, gasping and crying, and grasped at the scarecrow's straw, hoping that somehow he could bring Betty back. Of course, Betty had taken a fatal hit, and nothing he could do would bring her back. The next day, when the meter reader came, he found Nick lying upon the floor, dead, with a few pieces of straw in his hand.

And that's where the saying came from!
Boy, that story just went on and on, didn't it? [img]tongue.gif[/img]

Cheers, pcgiant

[LennonCook]

Remember that old game where someone holds a few straws, one of which is short, and people all take one of the straws each to decide on something... short straw wins.
Now, what are your chances of getting the short straw if there are, say, 20 people ?? It`s futile... and you`re grasping at straws.

[Arledrian]

Once upon a time, there lived an ice cube. Out of the freezer he came, and into the harsh world of fizzy beverages he meandered. However, this ice cube, who for all intensive purposes we shall name 'Bob,' was, unlike his glassmates, unable to swim. Time after time the other well-floating ice cubes would laugh and poke fun at Bob whenever he was dropped into an ice-cold drink, as he fumbled and scrambled for dear life, as a watery, sugary, and carbon-dioxidized death seemed imminent. But Bob, being the stoic and hardened little block of h2o he was, would always cheat fate and somehow manage to scramble out of his predicaments, much to the disbelief of all the other ice cubes.

One day, after being plunged into a particularly deep glass, it looked as if all hope was lost as Bob struggled vainly against the tsunamis of soda, when suddenly, and in slow motion, a straw appeared from the heavens and rooted itself into the glass. "I'm saved!" whooped Bob, as he latched onto the straw with both hands and hung on tightly. But sadly, and being slippery as ice so inherently is, Bob lost his grip and plunged into the murky depths once again. Lacking the strength needed to flap about and stay afloat in the water, he perished beneath the waves. A guilty-looking group of once-taunting ice cubes observed the now calm waters. "Poor sod... " they murmered between them. "Grasping at straws, he was... "

It's tragic, but true.

[ 04-27-2003, 04:06 AM: Message edited by: Arledrian ]