People find joy in discovering weird facts. Even if those facts are about the magic of language we invent and reinvent. Words have no basis in reality except that we use them. Descriptivism is a pointless wet blanket in its own right, but it’s downright cruel when it’s used to revoke perfectly harmless words that bring some ... ahem ... nerds joy.
Not that this or any of it is the worst thing in the world, and I know I’m having an outsized reaction to it. But there’s no need for it, and believe it or not some people find etymology—and the richness of language—a source of some small joy. Some people use that richness, even in its absurdity, as a source to create, as a spring from which art can flow. Art that enriches others, even if they don’t give half a damn about what a nonexistent group of wombats is called.
In the spirit of more lightly thumbing my nose at this whole thing: today I learned that a collective noun for a generalized grouping of animals—and also a word to describe sexual indulgence—is a “venery”. I will henceforth use it to also describe a group of people who crap on harmless joys they can’t relate to.