Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.
I hate you and and so should everybody else. My life was going so well until you came along and stole my heart and my baseball card collection. It took me 25years to put it together—25 years of riding America’s highways, byways, back roads, and dirt roads in search of cards. I spent nearly all of my annuity paying for the cards. It was my life’s work. People called me “Johnny Card” and they weren’t joking. My life was vested in cardboard rectangles with pictures of men in hats. I have enough bubblegum to give all the homeless people in North America a sweet treat.
And you—you, you, you—stole all my cards, not just a select few, but ALL of them. I thought you loved me. I welcomed you into my home. I cooked for you. I watched what you wanted to watch on TV. I am no fan of Julia Child reruns, or Cheers, or Wheel of Fortune, or Jeopardy, but I watched and didn’t complain. I should’ve been suspicious when you asked to see my collection before we’d ever talked about it.
I heard you were spotted in Las Vegas wearing an expensive fur coat. I hope somebody spray paints you and shoves the spray can down your throat. I hate you. My hopes for you are brutally painful. I could go into lurid detail, but I won’t, even though my therapist says it would do me good and help clear my head.
While I wait to hear about my baseball cards, I’ve started a new collection: seed packets from around the world. It is such a stupid thing to collect, nobody will want steal it. I’m not enjoying collecting seed packets, but maybe it’ll grow on me.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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