Antisthecon (an-tis’-the-con): Substitution of one sound, syllable, or letter for another within a word. A kind of metaplasm: the general term for changes to word spelling.
I was lost. I was always lost. When I was headed to Alabama in search of wisdom and a catfish sandwich. I ended up on the beach in Corpus Christi with a banjo super glued to my knee. I know it sounds crazy, and it is! It took a week to find a solvent that would cut th glue. While I was waiting I had to wear shorts all the time and I pretty much stayed in my hotel room reading. I read four books. The best was “I Was a Teenage Middle-Aged Man.” It grabbed my hart-strings and womped my soul. The man was known as “Bill Booring.” Only gin and tonic would put him on a role—three and he became the lite of the party—juggling 3 flashlights while the other partygoers watched, awestruck.
Anyway, I hired a certified “Wayfinder” to lead me “somewhere.” I had spent more time in the middle of nowhere than any human being should. The middle of nowhere can range from a Kansas cornfield to a Mormon commune somewhere at the outside edge of Utah, somewhere near Nevada. I once spent a week at a landfill that had all the trappings of nowhere—which will remain unstated here. The worst was the Microsoft administrative offices. The people all looked the same—all men, perfect teeth, skinny asses, glasses, white socks with black shoes. They treated me like I was one of those poison toads. When they talked they sounded like mating gerbils—or muskrats in love. When I tried to leave, the supervisor gave me a work pouch—a large zip loc bag containing black shoes, white socks, clip-on teeth and an elastic ass shrinker. I said “No thanks!” And threw the bag on the floor. A “Get Out” app came out of the floor and grabbed me by the feet and dragged me out the door.
The “somewhere” I went to first with my Wayfinder was Grant’s Tomb” in NYC. It was somewhere for sure! It is gigantic and you can smell cigar smoke wafting through the air. Then, we went to Howe Caverns in Central New York. It was a thrill riding the elevator to the caverns and riding in a boat to view them. I thought I saw my dead grandmother float past—it was like the River Styx.
I’ve been traveling with my Wayfinder to “somewheres” around the world. Next, we are headed to a place called Chernobyl. It is in Russia. There, we hope to see the five-legged dog, the man with nine penises and the woman with a fin on her back between her shoulders.
So you can see! No more middle of nowhere for me! We’re speeding to the airport in my Somewhere Mobile. It always takes us somewhere after my Wayfinder programs it.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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