Smash Splash Splat [patched]: Bam Bang Bash Crash
Too many: He bam-bang-bash-crashed the room. (Becomes meaningless noise.)
In the Golden and Silver Ages of comics, artists needed a way to convey dynamic action in a static medium. A drawing of Superman punching a villain could only
Language is often thought of as a tool for quiet description—a way to label a flower, a cloud, or a feeling. But there is a raucous, noisy underbelly to the English language that thrives on the visceral. It lives in the action movies we watch, the comic books we read, and the descriptions of the accidents we witness. It is the language of kinetic energy. bam bang bash crash smash splash splat
The symphony of the "onomatopoeia explosion"—the words and splat —represents more than just a list of sounds. These words are the linguistic embodiment of impact. They bridge the gap between human language and the raw, kinetic energy of the physical world. In a vacuum, these terms are merely phonemes, but in the theater of the mind, they are the soundtracks to our most visceral experiences. The Phonetic Architecture of Impact
Together, form a complete kinetic alphabet —a toolkit for describing every way matter can meet matter. Too many: He bam-bang-bash-crashed the room
Used for words like crash and smash to visually represent shattering glass or tearing metal.
The word "Smash" is perhaps the most satisfying of the collection. It is an aggressive word; linguists note that the "Sm-" sound requires a press of the lips followed by a rush of air, mimicking the very action of breaking apart. To "smash" is to render something irreparable. A crash might be an accident; a smash is often intentional. It is the bringing down of the hammer. When we reach "Smash" in our sequence, the object in question is no longer recognizable. It has been defeated. But there is a raucous, noisy underbelly to
Similar to a crash but more destructive. It denotes total obliteration, where an object is violently broken into small pieces, often by an overwhelming force.
– The Sudden, Heavy Stop
Pop artist Roy Lichtenstein elevated this language into fine art. His 1963 painting Whaam! (based on a war comic) made worth millions. Suddenly, these juvenile sound effects were serious commentary on mass media and violence.