Bacon and Scrambled Reason

As you know, my friends, I enjoy to work the newspaper puzzles, and in Friday's entertainment section, there was one puzzle in particular that confounded and confused me in memorable fashion, just as numerous of the Queen's outfits are of memorable fashion. Having solved the cryptogram and wishing to return later to the crosswords and Sudoku (both of which had encountered difficulty by then), I looked at a number of words that needed unscrambling, and the first two of the four were immediately apparent. With a brief thought, so was the fourth word. Clearly this was child's play, for this was surely a child's puzzle. It even had a drawing next to it. So I came upon this third set of letters, and they proved to be a mystery. They were these:

IGGLOO

I defy my kind readers to figure out what this word is supposed to be. I stared at it for a long while, writing many things, precisely these:

GIOLOG, IGGLOO GOOGLI, GOOGIL, GILGOO, GILOOG, GIGOOL, GOLOIG

In conjunction with deep meditation on the subject, I determined that nothing I had contrived from these letters made a legitimate word. I even consulted a dictionary to prove that GOOGLI was not a strange spelling of its pronunciation. Thus I also consulted my mother and brother for help, and they produced no answer, either. Returning to the task alone then, the following list came into being:

LOGIGO,OILGOG, GOGOIL, GOGLIO, OGGLIO, LOGGIO, GLOGIO, GILGOO, ILGOOG, GOILOG, GOIGOL, GOGOLI

As you can see, none of these are legitimate words, either. By that time, though, I felt that I had endured quite enough for the sake of that set of letters, and I inquired as to the location of Saturday's newspaper, where the answers were promised to be. Fortunately, it was still in the house, and I did indeed find the answer there. For those still wishing to suffer this word, do not read on.

The letters IGGLOO make up the word gigolo. As it turns out, the puzzle had not been written for children. The word "gigolo," by the way, comes from the French "gigue," which was a dance frequently employed in baroque dance suites. Later on, the male partner in dance was called a "gigole." The pronunciation of "gigue" easily reveals its English counterpart, jig. Fortunately our good and pure English word predates both "gigole" (an early twentieth century term) and hence "gigolo," as well. Still, I emphasize that the latter term is a linguistic abuse and an abomination, one which concerns me in particular.

Good day,
J I G