For the seemingly never-ending thread, a reader sends the above hathetic spelling for colitas – Mexican slang for marijuana buds:
I happen to be karaoking tonight in Korea Town for a friend’s birthday and we happened on what I think is a brilliant new subgenre: the karaoke eggcorn! Of course, we couldn’t let that go without thinking of Andrew and the rest of you at The Dish. “Warm smell of colitis?!!!”. I’m pretty sure that’s not what Don Henley and the rest of the Eagles were thinking when they wrote “Hotel California”.
Anyway, it made us double over with laughter and we hope it does the same for you guys. See? Where else would I be able to send these great gems that make you and my fellow Dishheads smile? #KeeptheDishgoing
Update from a reader, who sees that mondegreen differently:
For the record, my brother’s eggcorn for Hotel California was:
On a dark desert highway
Cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of coitus
Rising up through the airI lost a couple of hours of sleep because I couldn’t stop laughing at this, particularly the visual it provoked for me of dark California roadways lined with people having intercourse.
Another reader points to this supercut on YouTube:
I don’t think it’s been mentioned yet, but the Canadian TV show Trailer Park Boys is a treasure trove of eggcorns. There are way too many to list, but Ricky (one of the main protagonists) has a few gems like “survival of the fitness” and “her mating name” (you know, the name she had before she started mating).
Another notes, “The recent eggcorn you mentioned (black ice/black guys) was actually the subject of a hilarious Key and Peele sketch.” An American history teacher writes in:
We were talking tirelessly of JFK and the 1960s. After a test, an essay I was grading pointed out how influential President Jay F. Kay was.
Another from the classroom:
When I was in first grade back in the ’60s, I missed several days of school and was concerned about returning, in anticipation of potentially embarrassing urgent visits to the bathroom. My mother instructed me to tell the teacher a specific phrase, and this would explain everything, problem solved. You can imagine the confusion experienced by that poor teacher when I whispered that I should be allowed to leave the classroom whenever I needed to because I had LOOSE VOWELS.
I do recall her as a very kind person, our Miss Grey.
Another childhood story:
When I was small, I was not the least bit interested in eating, particularly breakfast. But at my granny’s house there was a cow and freshly-made butter, every day, which I loved with toast. I was so enamored with her butter, and butter in general, that I heard “Row, row, row your boat” this way for years and years:
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is butter dream.
The Dish 