Metaplasm (met’-a-plazm): A general term for orthographical figures (changes to the spelling of words). This includes alteration of the letters or syllables in single words, including additions, omissions, inversions, and substitutions. Such changes are considered conscious choices made by the artist or orator for the sake of eloquence or meter, in contrast to the same kinds of changes done accidentally and discussed by grammarians as vices (see barbarism). See: antisthecon, aphaeresis, apocope, epenthesis, paragoge, synaloepha.
“Don’t be a broken promise of what you coulda’ been.“ My father gave me this advice when I graduated from high school along with a pointer—a thing like a car antenna you could use to point at things. It went from six inches to three feet in a second. I used it in later life primarily for whipping employees I caught pilfering from my factory “Kiddie Karbs.” We made different flavored and colored child-sized sugar discs packaged in rolls of 20, and wrapped in red paper with a picture of a clown sleeping down with “X’s” in his eyes.
Sometimes, I actually considered encouraging my employees to try to steal from me so I could have the opportunity to reform them by whacking them on the butt 1 or 2 times. But, I pushed those thoughts out of my head—they were somewhat perverted. I was no Marquis DeSade, ha ha! Actually, I was more like L’il Abner. They called me “The Hurty-Gurty Man,” and I was unashamed! Whipping underlings was not that unusual in the 1950s—even school children were whipped, often for minor infractions like giggling or farting. There was actually a company called “Wicked Whackers” that specialized in employee punishment devices. I didn’t need them, I had my pointer, but I was fascinated by the “Correcto-Shock,” a battery-powered rod that administered a corrective shock when it was touched to the skin of the miscreant. I stuck with the pointer for sentimental reasons, as well as its effectiveness and the convenience of not having to change batteries.
When I administered a whipping I would say in a gravelly voice, “Now, you’re going to receive a pointer. Moo-hoo-hoo-ha-ha.” They would bend over a chair and reveal their naked buttocks. I would whip them one at a time—two strokes—just me and the malefactor alone in the red whipping room. In 99.999% of the cases one whipping session was enough—either they would return what they had pilfered and quit stealing, or become clever enough not to get caught. The “one percent” that I had a problem with was Nell Bender. She was apparently incorrigible.
She would steal inconsequential things like paper clips, and in some cases go out of her way to get caught. I had disciplined her 16 times when I got my latest issue of “Big Boss Man” magazine. The issue, surprisingly, was devoted to disciplining errant employees. It took a strong stand against corporal punishment. Aside from all the obvious reasons for condemning it, was the finding by modern psychology that some people actually enjoyed physical punishment, and would misbehave as a way of getting the pleasure they craved. Instantly, I thought of Miss Bender and her repeated offenses.
The article in “Big Boss Man” changed my thinking entirely. I followed the recommendation to garnish the offender’s pay until the pilfered items were paid for or returned. It was more humane and accomplished my aims far more effectively—I was no longer called “The Hurty-Gurty Man.” Now I was called “Mr. Fair-Hand.” The new regime of mutual respect increased employee productivity and solidarity. Also, I built into the new discipline regime a provision that repeat offenders would be terminated after two incidents. Miss Bender asked to meet with me to discuss the new policy. I told her “No.” I knew what she was going to ask—that I make a special exception for her and continue whipping her for her uncontrollable infractions. I did not wish to abet her desires.
But I was a hypocrite.
When I got home that night my wife was waiting at the door like she did every night. She asked, “Have you been a naughty boy today?” I said “Yes” and pulled down my pants and handed her my pointer. As I was reveling in my daily whacking, I thought about Miss Bender’s buttocks. The next day, I fired her from “Kiddie Karbs” and hired her as a household maid. I told her if she pilfered anything, she would “get the pointer.”
Miss Bender was hired and small things started going missing. First, was a potato peeler. I found it under Miss Bender’s pillow. There was a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it stuck on the potato peeler.
I was ashamed of myself for what I had done, and it felt good.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 