Hendiadys (hen-di’-a-dis): Expressing a single idea by two nouns [joined by a conjunction] instead of a noun and its qualifier. A method of amplification that adds force.
Fish and chips. Love and marriage. Spaghetti and meatballs. Shoes and socks. Fire and ice. Oil and water. Salt and pepper. Bacon and eggs. Hope and fear. The list of nouns connected by conjunctions stretches around the world. Here and there and everywhere, over and under.
I am a graduate student at Rugbert University in South Jersey. Rugbert was founded at the end of the American Revolution as a place to warehouse General Rowan Pulaski’s war booty. Pulaski was a Polish mercenary who headed a company of other mercenaries known as the “Weather Group.” They were responsible for the “Fall of Secaucus,” in what was known as the “Battle of Pig Run.” Thousands of pigs were liberated, compromising the Loyalists’ food supply and resulting in the near-starvation of the entire population. The rhyme “This little piggy” was composed as a protest to the pigs’ incursion and destruction of the food supply. It author, Wilfred Ginger, was nearly hanged, but he devised a game to play with his little daughter, squeezing her toes while he recited the poem. This deflected interest from the politics of the poem and it became all the rage in affected communities.
Today, Rugbert is flourishing. Some people compare it to Rutgers, but there’s no comparison. Pulaski’s war booty is sill in the university’s possession and it’s value has grown to 1,345 billion dollars, making the endowment the world’s largest. Last year, the trustees considered buying Puerto Rico as a faculty vacation resort and as a “field lab” for its environmental degradation program. The purchase was called off at the last minute when they found out Puerto Rico is an island and can’t be driven to in university vans. The decision is the result of the “if you can’t drive there, you can’t go there” policy instituted on the recommendation of the Middle Fingers accrediting body after its most recent review of Rugbert.
I am working on my dissertation in the field of the anthropology of math and linguistics. As you’ve probably guessed, I have an interest in nouns connected by conjunctions—specifically, the conjunction “and.” My dissertation title is “AI, Oi Vey, and Ee I ee I oh: The Strange Case of X and X.” My dissertation committee does not like my idea. Professor Crumbutt, my major advisor, actually called me stupid. Since I am a Pulaski legacy, I am allowed—even expected—to be stupid. So, I’ve been sitting in my dorm room for the past two years thinking up phrases made up of two nouns conjoined by the conjunction “and.” At this point, I’ve amassed 340,000. So far, I’ve noticed that many food dishes consist of “conjuncto-combonios” indicating something possibly important to my study, but I need to think about it some more—possibly over winter break when I’ll be staying at the manor house in Princeton with my family and dog Luther and feasting on family recipes—like pineapple and pheasant on a shovel, or deep-fried bunny and cheese sticks.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.
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