Apocarteresis (a-po-car-ter’-e-sis): Casting of all hope away from one thing and placing it on another source altogether.
For most of my life I believed there was a magical creature assigned to me and only me by Buck England, patron to people of all sizes and ages, with or without limbs, anemia, and good posture. My assigned creature was the family dog. It took me years to work out the patterns in Magchop’s barks. I would ask hm a question and he would “wooferate” an answer. To outsiders, it looked like he was just barking at me. I would give hm a treat and go on with my life. Magchop’s advice wasn’t always on the mark, and I would pay for it. For example, once advised me to squeeze my teacher’s boobs. I was expelled from school, chafed with assault, and put on probation for 5 years and undergo rigorous psychological counseling. I prayed to Buck England for a new magical creature. He sent me a raccoon. The family dog mysteriously ran away. The raccoon’s name was Dicky Dumpster.
All of his advice cycles around rummaging in trash receptacles where I would eventually discover untold wealth and delicious leftovers. My first nightt out I was bitten on my finger by a rat.
So, here I am. No more Buck England for me! I’m moving on to better things. I’m moving on to bibliomancy. I’m using “Dr. Zhivago” as my text. I open the text to a random page and then point at a sentence, which becomes my guide for the day. in my first attempt I bought a snow blower, even though I live in South Florida. I’m not sure what to do with it, but I’m sure time will tell. Maybe I can use it to till my garden or weed my lawn.
I am generally happy with my venture into bibliomancy. Today, I decided to enlist in the army and become an aristocrat.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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