Correctio (cor-rec’-ti-o): The amending of a term or phrase just employed; or, a further specifying of meaning, especially by indicating what something is not (which may occur either before or after the term or phrase used). A kind of redefinition, often employed as a parenthesis (an interruption) or as a climax.
I was looking out the window at the spice bush when I realized I was crazy (well, not exactly “crazy” per se, but deeply unhinged). The spice bush was trying to get my attention, and I realized that seeing a gesturing spice bush secured my candidacy for another stay at “Yodel Hills,” a weirdly named insane asylum, supposedly named for 19th-century yodelers who went crazy yodeling—being unable to stop for weeks at a time, becoming so emaciated their cowboy hats would slip down over their ears, casting a menacing shadow. They called the malady “Yodelitis” and began a program of research to eradicate it. One of the first things they discovered was not wearing cowboy boots and wearing Florsheim imperial Wingtips instead, would significantly reduce, if not cure, instances of Yodelitis. And also, closing down the yodel camps where children were taught to yodel, almost eliminated Yodelitis. Dr. Littleoldlaydyhoo is credited with the final breakthrough: a drug that softened the larynx and prevented yodeling altogether: “Yode-Away.”
I knew if I told anybody about the spice bush, I’d be “taking a ride.” So, I decided to keep my mouth shut. As the days went by, the spice bush became more and more aggressive. Whipping back and forth, one day it tore a hole in the screen porch’s screen. I feared that it would become violent and hurt somebody. So, I decided to trim it back. It was pretty big, so I bought an electric hedge trimmer on Amazon. It came, and I charged the battery. I was ready to go.
I walked around the swimming pool toward the spice bush, carrying the trimmer. As I approached, it started shaking and wiggling. A branch shot out, whipped me in the face, and grabbed the hedge trimmer. It shook it at me as it fumbled to pull the trigger that would turn it on. I ran into the garage and grabbed my pole pruner. When I got back to the spice bush it had figured out how to start the trimmer. As I came toward it, it thrust the trimmer toward me in an attempt to keep me at bay. But that didn’t matter. I could attack from 10 feet away with my pole pruner if I had to.
The pruner had a curved saw blade and a lopper that operated by pulling a rope attached to it. My plan was to shove the pole pruner into the spice bush, hook the branch holding the trimmer and pull the rope, lopping off the branch. When I pulled the lopper, the spice bush let out a blood curdling scream and burst into flames. The screen porch was on fire!
The police said I had a shotgun in one hand and a can of gasoline in the other when they arrived. I couldn’t account for that, but I knew I was crazy as I got in the van for my “complimentary” ride to Yodel Hills. As we came up to the entrance, I noticed there were two large spice bushes growing on either side of the door. I could tell they wanted to kill me. I begged to use a side entrance and everybody laughed as they dragged me toward the door and the waiting spice bushes.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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