There are no words in the English language that begin with the letter X. Prove that I’m wrong.
X-ray is not a word. ‘Ray’ is a word, but the prefixing X is just a letter meaning ‘unknown.’ It is not pronounced like the X in taxes or Texas. Much the same is true of the X-Acto craft knife. This is just a commercial label. Like the corporate identifier, NXIVM, it contains letters, and can be pronounced, but is not a true word with a definition.
As I claimed in my There Are No Words To Describe It post, there is no real English language. Almost all words beginning with X came here from ancient Greek. While occasionally used, they often have not been truly “adopted.” They are more like foster children that science and medicine pay us to support.
Xerography, a compound word from Greek, meaning dry print, for document reproduction, was developed by the Haloid Corporation, which wisely changed its name to Xerox. For years, they held a stranglehold monopoly. Finally though, a dozen, mostly Asian, electronics companies began producing newer, better models.
They found that the printing of what had been scanned did not have to be done immediately. The data could be sent down telephone lines to a remote printer, and a facsimile of the original could be produced. And so, the fax machine was invented.
As computers developed, these data files could be sent from the scanner/printer to the PC, and from the computer to the printer. Humans, being the NSFW idiots that we are, soon found amusing, entertaining uses for the scanners that weren’t mentioned in the users’ manual.
There was – there may still be – a website named Boobscan, which entreated female office workers to place their bare chest on the glass plate, press scan, and send the result off to be ranked and archived with thousands of others.
What could be done on the top, could also be done at the bottom. Not to be left out, (mostly) men sat on the scanners and took pictures of their butts, just to prove what assholes they were. However voluptuous, the weight of a pair of breasts is nowhere near what a fat-ass is. I sometimes wonder how many copy machines are broken during X-rated, alcoholic Christmas parties.
So, X marks the spot of another year’s post, from a rapidly reducing list of options.