Proecthesis (pro-ek’-the-sis): When, in conclusion, a justifying reason is provided.

Ok. I admit everything—I cheated, I lied, I blew out the credit card, I hit a raccoon with our car, I spilled coffee on the couch, I broke the back door window, I sold my wedding ring on E-Bay, I made crank calls to your mother, I shot a hole in our wedding picture, I broke the dishwasher, I forgot Georgie’s birthday, my name isn’t really Clay Potts, I was never a policeman, my college diploma is fake, I tapped into our neighbor’s wi-fi network, I stole our car, I don’t know how to raise chickens, I’m actually 45, I don’t have a bad back, I’ve never been to Finland, I’m not a genius, I have an inoperable brain tumor, I’ll be dead in two weeks. If you don’t believe me, here’s a note from Dr. Welby.

According to the doctor, it all adds up. The tumor can influence your behavior for 10 or 20 years. It provides the answer for all the crazy shit I’ve done. I’m not asking for pity or forgiveness. I’m going to sit in my recliner and wait for the end. Or, maybe I’ll take a trip and die somewhere warm, like Ratso in “Midnight Cowboy.” If you can gift me $500, I’ll be on my way.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (

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