Daily Archives: November 26, 2021


Aporia (a-po’-ri-a): Deliberating with oneself as though in doubt over some matter; asking oneself (or rhetorically asking one’s hearers) what is the best or appropriate way to approach something [=diaporesis].

I’ve been lost on Rte. 80 for about 12 hrs. Where the hell is the Delaware Water Gap? How can I be lost on Rte. 80? Did somebody sabotage my GPS? The battery’s dead anyway. But Rte. 80 is loaded with well-marked exits. Where is the damn Delaware Water Gap? I hear sirens and see flashing red lights in my in my rear view mirror. What’s going on? Why are they chasing me?

I pull over to the shoulder and start looking for my registration and insurance card. And just like that, the 2 New Jersey State Trooper cruisers roar past, sirens blaring, lights flashing. They must be going 100!

Where the hell is the Delaware Water Gap? I can see the river out my car window. The sky is clear. The stars are bright. Now, to complicate things, I hear a tapping sound coming from the passenger side of the car. I look and see an old badly dressed man riding shotgun. He says in his old man voice: “Son, Delaware Water Gap symbolizes your life’s divisions: you wife, your children, and your children’s hamster Wild Bill.”

Oh my God, It was my father. How had I forgotten he was in the car? Between being lost and forgetting, I was surely having some kind of mental breakdown. Then Dad said, “According to my phone’s GPS, We’re not lost. The Gap is five miles up the road.” I pulled over and borrowed Dad’s phone to call home. It was reassuring hearing my wife’s warm and comforting voice. I felt the Gap narrowing and wanted to turn around and go back home and be with my wife, children, and the hamster.

As we came up on the exit, Dad said “This is where I get out.” I thought he was joking, so I pulled over. He told me to keep his phone as he opened the car door. He instantly disappeared into the night. I jumped out of the car calling his name and looking for him. He was nowhere to be found.

I got back in the car, started it up, turned around, and headed back to Chatham. Aside from the cellphone, there wasn’t a trace of Dad in the car. I decided to report him missing the next day, which was really shitty of me. I got home around 8:00 am. I could smell coffee as I came through the door. I was carrying Dad’s cellphone in my hand. When my wife saw it, she smiled and reached for it. “You found my cellphone, I thought I lost it forever.” I told her I had found it in the car. I decided not to report Dad missing. Why?

He was in the little brass urn on the mantle.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Paper and Kindle editions of The Daily Tope are available on Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.


Aposiopesis (a-pos-i-o-pee’-sis): Breaking off suddenly in the middle of speaking, usually to portray being overcome with emotion.

It’s Thanksgiving again and I’ve got to spend the day with the gaggle of morons called “my family.” There’s Roger my brother who is the most wicked farter in the United States of America. It’s so bad, the rotten egg smell follows him around like a miasma from the Edgar Allen Poe story: “The Murder of the Bellicose Butt.” Then there’s my sister Annette. At the slightest provocation she cries and pulls her hair and asks God to “kill them all.” The last time it happened was at CVS. She was looking at hair dye and I said in a dazzling pun, “Are you dying for a new color?” She went berserk—sobbing uncontrollably and yelling, “Hair I am. Hairs my life. I might as well commit hairy carry. You should. . .try to . . . God, kill them all.” I put my arm around her and we slowly walked out of CVS.

Are you getting an idea of the joys of Thanksgiving at my house? No? Then how about this:

There’s Aunt Venice. Her name should clue you in to her weirdness. She changed her name from Betty after she saw “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” which is set in Venice. I never understood it, but it is what it is. She thinks it’s funny to ask me about my penis: “How’s hangin?” is her favorite. But she has a repertoire: “Have you been letting you meat loaf, Clayton? You know Clayton, a hard man is good to find. You need to put some lead in your pencil, Clayton. When I frown she asks: “Do you have a boner to pick with me?”

You can imagine! This has been going on since I was seventeen. It was bad enough to be a little confused about my sexuality, but it was worse when Venice came for Thanksgiving from Miami and plied me with her dick sayings, and now she was coming again. I am 25 and I still dread the banter. I just hope she won’t ask me to move to Miami again, like she did last year. I was thinking about asking her about her vagina as a counter to her dick jokes, but I was afraid to and decided it was inappropriate anyway. She’s family (my father’s sister), but she has some serious problems.

There’s more to the story, but enough is enough. You don’t want hear about Mom and Dad and their ongoing kickboxing tournament, or my Grandpa’s tattoos.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)

Print and Kindle editions of The Daily Trope are available on Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.