February 28 2011
Trix or Treat?!
Keeping things Latino for a day, after our Spanish Birdbrain, here’s a curious plea from a bloke named Craig. Please, if anyone has the right classical nous, or detective skills, you may be able to help our stricken correspondent.
According to his recent email, Craig was minding his own business at Brisbane Airport some ten years ago. Out of the blue, a stranger handed Craig a piece of paper with the phrase TRIXACUPIS CAVIAG written on it.
Quoting Craig, ‘I think the phrase is old Latin, but I have not found it in standard Latin dictionaries. The closest I came was “something to do with caged lab rat”, but that’s about as far as I got. I suspect it’s some type of old Latin curse, but why me? And what does it mean?’
Buggered if I know, Craig. I turned to Dr Watson, alias Google, and found myself reading all about a parasite unique to guinea pigs, but that seems unlikely, and besides, the Latin was out of whack, as the blood-sucking mite is actually Trixicarus caviae. Close, but no eureka.
Any other hare-brained theories out there? Did our man in transit cop a Harry Potter spell? A code? An anagram? A practical joke? Were you the stranger, by any chance – or has something weird and gypsy-like crossed your own path? Both Craig and I would welcome your theories, as I sense a mystical column taking shape.
Comments
Boniface — 28 February at 09:43AM
Got it.
You need to compare TRIXACARUS CAVIAE (DA, this is the correct spelling of the mite) with TRIXACUPIS CAVIAG.
In doing so, you'll note that the letters UP and G have been substituted in for ARE.
In the whacko world, UPG is an Unverified Personal Gnosis, something like a personal revelation or epiphany.
Still in the whacko world, ARE is the Association for Research and Enlightenment, an organisation which researches subjects such as personal spirituality, dreams, reincarnation etc...
I'd say Craig was nut-jobbed, that's all. Just as well he didn't get bitten!
Mauve — 28 February at 10:37AM
But it's the letters UPI and G being substituted for ARU and E. Is there a UPIG that could just as cynically replace ARUE?
And why make the poor little minding-his-own-business blood-sucking mite the starting point in the first place?
DA — 28 February at 11:00AM
ARUE UPIG? (That sounds like a real possible, Bon. At least a decent argument for a flaky event.)
And Mauve, feel free to abandon the hamster theory. It's the only straw I could grab, drowning in this whole surreal query.
Best I could find for anagrams had something to do with TAXI CUPS or GUAVA CIGAR. In short, clear cries for help. Hence this Post, just to see what kinda leads others may suggest.
(We've solved weirder things before now!)
Boniface — 28 February at 11:09AM
Mauve -
I went back to the vet lit and found that the right name is Trixacaris caviae (although Trixacarus seems a common substitute), so my initial reasons still stand.
Good point re the mite, I couldn't initially work out why, but I think it's because it's a good vector for the word play. Eg another species where you could do the same swap is Pun tpoglodytgs (for Pan troglodytes, the chimpanzee) but the pronunciation is a bit rough!
For fun, I'll see if I can come up with any others that make a bit more sense. That's before getting into my spaceship and warp-speeding outta here...
Mr X — 28 February at 11:17AM
Putting aside the guinea pig mite and going back to Latin, "cupis" is apparently Latin for "wish" or "desire". So Trixacupis can be broken down into:
Tri(three) X(times) a(one) cupis(wish) which translates as three wishes.
Caviag is still a mystery
Mr X — 28 February at 11:23AM
There is a town or village called Caviaga in Italy, not too far from Milan. Maybe if Craig goes there he'll be granted three wishes.
DA — 28 February at 11:37AM
Strange how close CAVIAG, your sticking point, Mr X, seems to CRAIG...
Add alternative letters to MILAN, and it's mainly malign as well. Note to self: careful what you wish for -
Boniface — 28 February at 12:07PM
Doing the UPG/ARE substitution for Macropus Macropodidae (the kangaroo) yields Mucpopus Macropodidag. And for the Madagscar teal (Anas bernieri) you get Anus bepnigri. Hmm.
Mauve — 28 February at 12:13PM
Bon - I'm relieved that your vet lit clears that dilemma up. Hate to have a stray I and U messing up a good theory.
Re the other problem, maybe it was a personal intimate acquaintanceship with that particular creature. A bit like L. Ron Hubbard.
Mr X — 28 February at 12:29PM
Sticking to my Latin theory, "cavi" has a number of translations - one of which is Cave. So maybe Craig can get his three wishes at the Cave of Silver (Ag). On the other hand, "cavi" can also mean beware or avoid, so perhaps he needs to get rid of all his sub-dollar coinage.
dg — 28 February at 01:36PM
TAXI CUP AVIS CRAIG?
ML — 28 February at 04:47PM
Could it be an example of 'sampling' pronounciations of letters from other words, much the same way that 'ghoti' is pronounced 'fish' ?
SK — 28 February at 05:50PM
Are you sure he wasn't just an anagram-loving ethnic gent cruising the airport terminal for a fare?
"Vic Pugia- Taxi Cars"
dg — 28 February at 06:33PM
It's actually Klingon for "Do not read this note"
PRS — 28 February at 11:06PM
I suppose it could be a substitution cipher - the first word has nine different letters (with only the "I" repeating), so a good word list and a little computation could generate a set of target words. Then using A, C and I would probably give a small (or even zero) set of second words.
Alec Ihm — 01 March at 04:16PM
Changing from Latino to Latin, the mystery phrase throws up many an interesting anagram.
A Vix Cupitas Craig (A Scarcely Desired Craig)
Via Pax, Ictus Craig (The Way to Peace, A blow to Craig)
PRS — 02 March at 11:40AM
On my previous assumption that it might be a substitution cipher, I did some research.
There are about 120 words in the Macquarie that satisfy the criteria of having nine different letters, with the third and ninth being identical. Of these only 11 produce 33 possible second words, most of which don’t pair well.
So, my offerings:
Craig was approached by a brain-damaged acrobat, inviting him to join in some handspring pranks or create handspring prints.
The stranger was under the influence of Morayshire sherry or a surfeit of oversalted aliens.
Bearing in mind it was a decade ago, he was a closet redneck, protesting about overstayed takers.
Most likely, he was lonely, seeking people who could decode his plea for transexual expats
AG — 03 March at 12:09PM
The similarity of the mystery message to the mite is so great it is unlikely to be coincidental. My prosaic explanation is that the note was hastily scribbled and three letters were misread. U for A and P for R, in cursive script, are plausible misreadings. G for E is less so, but perhaps a little paraph-like flourish might account for that.