Paralipsis (par-a-lip’-sis): Stating and drawing attention to something in the very act of pretending to pass it over (see also cataphasis). A kind of irony.
“I’m not going to say anything about your giant ass—that it jiggles like a water balloon when you walk and makes a creepy squishing sound when you sit on it.” That was ten years ago. I was admonishing my best friend’s father Lyle. His ass had continued to grow. At first, his pants would rip when he bent over. We thought it was funny, but his ass kept growing. Lyle started wearing stretch pants, straining to pull them over his medicine-ball sized ass.
As the years went by, Lyle’s ass went out of control. Next, he’d load his ass in a wheelbarrow and hired a man to push it along behind him when he went for walks. He wore a spa towel with the back cut out and a large flap sewn to it that would “cover his ass” when he went on wheelbarrow walks.
A few years later, he had his ass weighed. It clocked in at 3200 lbs. That’s when he started using the fork lift riding slowly behind him when he went for walks. They would put a down comforter over his ass secured with bungee chords.
That’s when I finally went at him again: “Your giant ass is totally out of control Lyle. You look like you’ve got Plymouth Rock glued to your ass. Your life sucks and it’s only going to get worse. Get your ass removed!” To my surprise, Lyle capitulated.
I went nuts on the Internet and found a plastic surgeon in Belarus who said he could “take care of anything.” His name was Dr. Cutler. We set up a “Go Fund Me Site” and raised enough for the surgery. But how the hell would we get to Belarus? Lyle’s fat ass definitely would not fit on an airplane. But FEDEX came through!
They would fly Lyle to Belarus for the publicity. They fitted Lyle with a quilted goose down suit that encompassed his ass. He would also have an oxygen mask, and would be riding in the cargo bay as a piece of cargo with the other things being shipped to Belarus: Coca-Cola, bullet proof vests, roller blades, etc.
When we landed, Dr. Cutler was there to greet us, standing by the flatbed truck that would transport Lyle to the clinic. I noticed he only had one arm, but I didn’t say anything. Dr. Cutler wanted to start the surgery immediately. There was a giant tent pitched on the front lawn of the clinic, festively decorated with balloons. The tent had a hole in the top where Lyle would be lowered to the operating table by a crane. Before they lowered Lyle, Dr. Cutler let us in the tent to have a look around. The operating table was stainless steel with a large drain. The operating implements were laid out on a table next to it. There was a razor-sharp cutlass, two muffler clamps, a pair of vise grips, and three rolls of waxed paper. I said nothing. Dr. Cutler shooed us outside. I looked over my shoulder as I went through the tent flaps and saw Dr. Cutler taking off his short and putting on his prosthetic arm, The arm was decorated with blinking Christmas lights. When I got outside, I waved to Lyle as he was lowered into the tent’s hole.
The surgery lasted three days. The surgery was a complete success. Dr. Cutler removed Lyle’s giant ass and replaced it with a cosmetically-created “normal” ass. After Lyle recuperated for 2 months, we headed home. When we got home, there has a huge party. Even the wheelbarrow man was there. Everybody wanted to touch Lyle’s new ass. He accommodated them all.
Lyle sang the praises of Dr. Cutler for the next 6 months when he died from “complications” related to his ass surgery. Dr. Cutler had embedded two holiday hams under the excess flesh from the giant ass removal. The hams went bad, killing Lyle.
INTERPOL is currently searching for Dr, Cutler. He was reportedly seen somewhere in Syria eating a ham and cheese sandwich.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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