Daily Archives: February 17, 2023


Conduplicatio (con-du-pli-ca’-ti-o): The repetition of a word or words. A general term for repetition sometimes carrying the more specific meaning of repetition of words in adjacent phrases or clauses. Sometimes used to name either ploce or epizeuxis.

Row, row, row your boat somewhere else! This is a private dock. Time to go sailing, sailing, over the bounding main to the other side of the lake—to your home, home on the shore, where you belong, along with your piece of crap pickup truck. Hurry, before I light your flimsy rowboat on fire and send you to the bottom on the lake like some kind of Viking looser.

My family built this camp in 1779. They had sided with the Redcoats. As known Royalists, they were harassed everywhere they went. So, they built this camp as a getaway. They named it “King George’s Rest” and fished for Walleye, and made Walleye pies, and put on disguises and sold them in the nearby village of Constantia. The men dressed and spoke as women, and the women dressed and spoke as men. If they were caught, they would be hanged. One of my ancestors refused to shave off his beard. He was caught, but the magistrate spared his life after he convinced the magistrate he was an unfortunate sufferer of “Pandora’s Hair,” a malady she picked up working with Tory women when serving them meals in a Continental prison camp. What luck!

My ancestors also made fishing lures and would sell them to punters out on the lake. They made the lures out of small tree branches, sawn straight at either end, and painted to resemble frogs or minnows. The women would paint the lures and attach the hooks. The hooks were made of sewing needles, curved with pounded tips making barbs. My ancestors also invented what has come to be known as the “spinning reel,” a device allowing longer casts, out to where the fish are. The first spinning reel was a was a sawed off musket. The fishing line would be coiled loosely, around the end of the musket’s barrel, the musket would be lifted back over the shoulder and then, holding on, flung forward toward the water, almost like bringing it down like a rake, but not putting it in the water.

Ok, rowboat man, it’s time to turn, turn, turn, or it’s gonna be boom, boom, boom followed by smoke on the water and fire in the sky. Git.

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

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