
righting facts is inherently challenging—nearly impossible. This poses a significant issue for those who work with information. Since reference materials are factual by nature, safeguarding them from dishonest individuals seeking to plagiarize your work is tough. Enter fictitious entries: false facts are far easier to copyright. These fabricated people, places, and things exist solely on paper, designed to deter potential information thieves.
Lillian Virginia Mountweazel
The fictional Mountweazel was a photographer and fountain designer. Her book, Flags Up!, was said to be an unparalleled collection of photographs showcasing rural American mailboxes. Tragically, she allegedly died in 1973 during an explosion while working for the equally fictional Combustibles magazine. Lillian Mountweazel’s fabricated life was crafted to safeguard the 1975 New Columbia Encyclopedia. Despite being a fabrication, her story gained fame: her (fake) life inspired an exhibit in Dublin, and her (fake) name became synonymous with fictitious entries, thanks to a New Yorker article discussing the next Mountweazel on this list.
Esquivalience
The second edition of the New Oxford American Dictionary was released in early 2005. Shortly after, a rumor surfaced that the dictionary included a fabricated word starting with the letter e. A dedicated individual, armed with meticulous cross-referencing and perhaps an excessive amount of free time, identified six potential candidates: earth loop, EGD, electrofish, ELSS, esquivalience, and eurocreep. Among nine lexicographers, six identified esquivalience as the fabricated term. Erin McKean, the dictionary’s editor-in-chief at the time, confirmed, “Its inherent fakeitude is fairly obvious.” (Notably, fakeitude is not listed in the NOAD 2E.)
Zzxjoanw

Rupert Hughes’ Music Lovers’ Encyclopedia of 1903 featured the word zzxjoanw, described as “a Maori term for ‘drum.’” This entry remained in later editions until the 1950s. It was eventually exposed as a fabrication when it was discovered that the Maori language lacks the letters z, x, or j. For the curious, zzxjoanw is pronounced exactly as it appears.
Dog of Norway
The Golden Turkey Awards, a quirky 1980s compilation of obscure and poorly made films, awards a Golden Turkey to movies of notably low quality. (Think of it as a Razzie, but even less esteemed.)
The authors, film critic Michael Medved and his brother Harry, admitted that one entry was entirely fabricated and invited readers to identify the nonexistent film. No extensive research was needed: the fictional movie, Dog of Norway, starred “Muki the Wonder Dog”—the same dog pictured on the book’s cover alongside the authors. (Coincidentally, that dog was also named Muki.)
Agloe, New York
Agloe, New York, was a fictional town created by mapmakers, a practice as old as cartography itself. However, Agloe experienced something extraordinary: it transformed into a real location. The Agloe General Store was constructed at its imagined coordinates, leading the (real) county administrator to officially recognize Agloe as a town. (John Green’s Paper Towns is partly set in Agloe, and one character owns a dog named Myrna Mountweazel.)
“The Song of Love” and The Cysterz
Joel Whitburn’s book series, based on the Billboard music charts, includes a fabricated entry: Ralph Marterie’s “The Song of Love” supposedly peaked at #84 for the week ending December 26, 1955. Unfortunately for Marterie, who likely aimed for a higher rank, this was impossible—Billboard didn’t publish a chart that week, and Marterie never recorded the song.
In Whitburn’s rock charts, the song “Drag You Down” by The Cysterz appears, despite the fact that neither the band nor the track ever existed in reality.
Beatosu and Goblu, Ohio

The 1978 official state map of Michigan featured two fictitious entries intended to annoy Ohio football fans. The chairman of the State Highway Commission (a Michigan alumnus) added Beatosu and Goblu (“Beat OSU!” and “Go Blue!” for Michigan supporters) near the Ohio-Michigan border. Although later editions removed them, Goblu briefly regained attention when it was revealed as the birthplace of Road Pig from G.I. Joe.
Philip
When Trivial Pursuit launched in 1984, it became an instant success. However, the company faced potential lawsuits exceeding the $256 million earned in its first year. The reason? One answer on the game’s cards was fabricated by Fred L. Worth, who had created it years earlier, making it known only to him.
During the 1970s, Worth authored a series of trivia encyclopedias, including The Trivia Encyclopedia, The Complete Unabridged Super Trivia Encyclopedia, and Super Trivia volumes I and II. To safeguard his niche in the trivia market (which was still niche at the time), Worth included one entirely fabricated “fact.”
The Trivial Pursuit card asked, “What’s Columbo’s first name?” and claimed the answer was Philip, which was incorrect. In reality, Columbo’s first name was never disclosed, a detail confirmed by the show’s cast and writers. (Unless you consider a specific badge scene as evidence.) Worth’s lawsuit revealed that Trivial Pursuit had copied his work so thoroughly that even his typos and misspellings were replicated. The game’s creators admitted to using Worth’s material but argued it was part of their “research,” as they had borrowed from numerous sources.
The case was dismissed before trial, with the court ruling that Trivial Pursuit was “substantially different” from Super Trivia. Worth and his legal team appealed to the Supreme Court but were unsuccessful. Despite this, due to Trivial Pursuit’s enduring popularity, some trivia websites still incorrectly assert that Columbo’s first name was Philip.