Monthly Archives: November 2024

Gnome

Gnome (nome or no’-mee): One of several terms describing short, pithy sayings. Others include adageapothegmmaximparoemiaproverb, and sententia.


“Actions speak louder than fish.” Believe it or not, I have followed this wise saying all my life. I work in a fish market “Pisces’ Honk.” I don’t where the name of the fish market came from, but there’s a rumor that a delivery truck ran over a Salmon in the parking lot and it made a hoking sound. The fish market used to be named “Fish.” It was clear and to the point, and didn’t sound crazy. But Gills Blatter’s the boss—what he says goes.

One of our hallmarks is throwing fish at our customers. We got the idea from fish market in Seattle, Washington. You wrap the fish in a piece of paper and hurl it at the customer. Once, I threw a flounder at a woman in a wheelchair. Her arms were paralyzed and the flounder hit her in the face. I apologized and gave her a free flounder and asked her out on a date. It was a bold move, but she agreed. Her minder made a “disgust face.” She said, “Madam, do you remember the last time you went on a date? He was a sadist and tried to get you to sing ‘If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands’ and I had to beat him senseless with a mop handle.” Madam responded, “Yes dear, quite a mess. He was a cruel bastard. However, this man seems quite nice. Let’s invite him to dinner.”

If that flounder could’ve talked, he would’ve told Madam that I really wanted to go wild with Madam’s minder—who looked like a Viking princess. My deceptive actions spoke louder than the flounder which remained silent: “Actions speak louder than fish,” or in this case, flounder. Why didn’t I go directly for the minder? She worked for Madam and it would’ve been out of turn to go after the minder first. But this way, I could bore Madam, and act like dolt during dinner, but when Madam wasn’t looking, I’d get the minder’s attention with a wink, licking my lips and miming playing with my penis. I was all-in.

The minder blushed and picked up a salt cellar. She was about to throw it at me, when Madam asked if I wanted to spend the night. I was schocked, but I said yes, I had never made love to a woman with paralyzed arms before. We went upstairs and I was surprised when the minder followed us into Madam’s bedroom. Madam said: “We work as a team. She is my hands when I have sex. Climb on mister cute fishmonger.” I climbed on.

We’ve done this once a week for nearly one year. I am moving into Madam’s mansion—27 rooms, nine bedrooms, four servants, gourmet kitchen, seven bathrooms on 500 acres of woodland. The real deal! I had sort of followed my plan, but I got far more than I bargained for.

Tanto Midlop, the minder, has expressed her love for me. I love her too, but I love Madam also. Tanto and I have done it several times—she’s more than just a pair of hands to me.

Madam, Tanto, and John: A team. A trio. the “Three Musketeers.”“Three Coins in a Fountain,” a “Three Ring Circus,” “The Three Bears, and the “Three Stooges.” Ha ha!

In sum: “Actions speak louder than fish.” If I didn’t live by this saying, I wouldn’t be where I am today.


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.

Graecismus

Graecismus (gree-kis’-mus): Using Greek words, examples, or grammatical structures. Sometimes considered an affectation of erudition.


η ρητορική κυλά σαν ποτάμι (rhetoric flows like a river). It picks you up like a floating leaf and carries you where it will—you would be συνεπαρμένος (carried away). And rhetor tells us there at least two ways of looking at everything. This is the famous δύο λόγοι (two reasons) that drove Plato crazy. How could there be “two reasons” if the Truth is one? Two reasons may b a sign of error that needs to be corrected by διάλεκτος (dialectic), Plato’s remedy for σοφιστεία (sophistry).

η επανάληψη είναι η ψυχή της αλήθειας (repetition is the soul of truth). Truth is always everywhere the same. It does not vary one bit. When lies effectively affect Truth’s repetitive character, they pass for true, no matter what their substantive claims are. They may make us into dupes. “Stop the steal” is a case in point. Its repetitive ubiquity drove people to believe it was true and to instigate an insurrection by storming the nation’s Capitol Building. In addition, rumor may function to validate lies—to make them believable. Virgil’s “Aeneid” (Book iv) offers a vivid description of rumor:

“At once Rumour runs through Libya’s great cities—Rumour the swiftest of all evils. Speed lends her strength, and she wins vigour as she goes; small at first through fear, soon she mounts up to heaven, and walks the ground with head hidden in the clouds. Mother Earth, provoked to anger against the gods, brought her forth last, they say, as sister to Coeus and Enceladus, swift of foot and fleet of wing, a monster awful and huge, who for the many feathers in her body has as many watchful eyes beneath—wondrous to tell—as many tongues, as many sounding mouths, as many pricked-up ears. By night, midway between heaven and earth, she flies through the gloom, screeching, and droops not her eyes in sweet sleep; by day she sits on guard on high rooftop or lofty turrets, and affrights great cities, clinging to the false and wrong, yet heralding truth. Now exulting in manifold gossip, she filled the nations and sang alike of fact and falsehood, how Aeneas is come, one born of Trojan blood, to whom in marriage fair Dido deigns to join herself; now they while away the winter, all its length, in wanton ease together, heedless of their realms and enthralled by shameless passion. These tales the foul goddess spreads here and there upon the lips of men. Straightway to King Iarbas she bends her course, and with her words fires his spirit and heaps high his wrath.”

Gossip is a kind of rumor, equally destructive. But like everything Greek, rumor can play a positive role—the role Fame—of making people famous—or infamous for that matter. Social media has allowed rumor to move at the speed of light, affecting peoples’ perceptions of reality, by massive cyber communities, who may wrongfully lash out at people, properties, or institutions, lost in a muddle of misinformation. You don’t have to look far for a podcast whose programs spread lies. So what do we do? We find a trusted source. It’s getting harder and harder to know who to trust. This difficulty may lead to censorship and this revision of the First Amendment. The free flow of opinion and information are foundations of democracy, not lies.

What shall we do?


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.

Hendiadys

Hendiadys (hen-di’-a-dis): Expressing a single idea by two nouns [joined by a conjunction] instead of a noun and its qualifier. A method of amplification that adds force.


Shoes and socks. They go together. They belong together, like me and my suspenders. They hold up my pant like legs, hold up a table, or a bridge abutment. I recommend them even if you’re not overweight and you still have a waistline. They will not hold up your pants any better than a belt, but they may save your life!

I was exploring in the “Valley of the Sun.” I was young and tubby, so I wore suspenders to hold up my jungle shorts, graced with 16 pockets. I carried dental floss, a compass, bug repellent, dry socks, a band aid, a pencil stub, a pocket knife, and a wash cloth. I had duly memorized the location of each item in my pants’ pockets. The pockets with flaps were sealed with Velcro for easy and swift opening. I thought everything was fine until I got lost.

I had wandered for four da toys. I was getting weak from hunger. I did not know what to do. Then, it hit me. I could fashion some kind of slingshot from my suspenders! I found a sizable stick and knotted my suspenders around one end. Then, I used the crosspiece where the suspenders straps overlap to hold my projectile. What I had was a sling rifle. I cut a little groove along the length of the stick that that I could rest my projectile in, which was a straight tree branch that I had made a point on by rubbing it back and forth on a stone. Now it was time to go hunting.

I decided if I crawled, I would be more likely to find something to shoot and eat, by blending into the jungle floor. Ah ha! There was a creature the size of a rabbit. I was shocked when it said, “Don’t shoot and eat me, and I’ll show you where you can get something really good to eat. My meat is bitter and tough.” I was delirious, so I followed him. In about ten minutes, we came to a bus stop on a highway. He said, “Get off at the Palm Station Stop. I waved and my sling rifle fired and missed his head by an inch. We laughed and I boarded the bus. The restaurant at Palm Station was fantastic. I had a zebra pasta with cream sauce, green salad, and 3 beers.

Oh—but how did my suspenders actually save my life? I was hiking the Grim Reaper Trail (Rastro de la Muerte) in Bolivia. It tilts away from the cliff side that it follows. When it is wet, it is easy to slide off the edge and die. But, the views are spectacular—like nowhere else in the world. There was a downpour and the trail became as slippery as ice. There was no handhold. I slid off the edge doomed to die from the 100 foot fall. I maneuvered my back to the wall. My suspenders caught on a rock outcropping five feet from the ground. I bounced up and down a couple of times. Then, I unbuttoned my suspenders and dropped to the ground. My suspenders had saved my life.

Well, there you have it. Wear suspenders. End of story.


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.

Heterogenium

Heterogenium (he’-ter-o-gen-i-um): Avoiding an issue by changing the subject to something different. Sometimes considered a vice.


Her: I could kill you, you feckless excuse for a man! Why don’t you do something aside from playing your stupid electric trains?

He: “Feckless?” Wo, that’s a good one. You never called me that before! It’s one of those hoity-toity words that projects a degree of sophistication reserved for the tastes of the over-educated. I applaud you on your choice of words. If I had a glass of champagne, I’d toast you thusly; A picture is worth a thousand words, but sometimes, a word is worth a thousand pictures.” Voila! Feckless!

Yes, it’s all about my electric trains. They endlessly shuttle my nightmares in circles, in boxcars bulging with the remnants of my hope packed in crates of misunderstanding. And then, carrying nothing nowhere—always looking new, wheels polished, lights shining in the dining car, a headlight cutting through darkness searching for the Plastic Ville Station, where they never stop, unless I turn off the power.

ONE WEEK LATER

Her: You’re still feckless, but now, you’re a source of pity rather than anger and frustration. I’ve found an organization that was founded to help people like you. It is called “Model Trains Anonymous” (MTA). It is an organization like AA for people with a model train problem. It was founded by the family of Casey Tomes, a 19 th-century railroad engineer who was “hooked” on his model trains. He was killed in a train wreck due to being distracted reading “Model Train Aficionado” when he should’ve been paying attention to the tracks ahead. He rear-ended a disabled train on the track ahead. He was killed. He was buried in his engineer hat, with a small model train set circling his body in his coffin.

As an MTA member You will be required to abstain from model trains. You will be able to talk about your abstinence and your struggles with it. If you don’t start attending MTA, I am leaving you. “Salami” Manelli has made me an offer that I’m struggling to refuse.

He: This is shocking. Especially the Salami thing! He’s a big fat mobster. It is rumored that he clubbed a punter to death with his penis. That’s totally disgusting, not to mention the logistics of doing so. God! What have you done to yourself? Let’s go to Vegas for a couple of weeks and shake this shit off. We owe it to ourselves to be happy honey. I love you.

Her: Ok. Viva Las Vegas! I’ll go on Orbit and buy our plane tickets, and Hotels. Com for a room with a jacuzzi.

He: Yeah! I have to clean my tracks before we go. Thank you for your patience. I love you.

POSTSCRIPT

She went down to the garage and got the chain saw. She would clean the goddamn tracks!

She went back inside, she started up the chainsaw, and sawed up his model trains, the tracks and the terrain—including Plastic Ville. As her husband fled, she called Salami asked him to have her husband hit by a train. Salami laughed and said “That’s ironical. Can do,”


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.

Homoeopropophoron

Homoeopropophoron: Alliteration taken to an extreme where nearly every word in a sentence begins with the same consonant. Sometimes, simply a synonym for alliteration or paroemion [a stylistic vice].


“Chunky cracks climbed the wall in winding warped lines filled with ancient dirt, dreamy and desolate like wilted lilies limply bending in their vases, funeral funnels flowing fumes of death.”

This is an example of cnsonants at the start of nearly every word. It is called homoeoprophoron.

I have friend, Peter Piper, who speaks in homoeoprophoron. He is adept and his speech flows like normal speech—no hesitation, or searching for the right word. Unfortunately, he frequently make no sense. As a very wealthy person, he has hired a rhetorician, Dr. Corax Jones, formally of Stanford University, to translate for him. They go everywhere together. They even sleep in the same room, which is a great help to Peter’s quality of life. When Peter’s girlfriend sleeps over, Dr. Jones translates Peter’s speech, most of it romantic. The translations bring Peter and his girlfriend closer together, forming a firm foundation for their love.

Dr. jones has confided to me that half the time he can’t understand Peter and makes things up. Half the time, Peter doesn’t know what he’s saying either, so it works. Now, Dr. Jones has fallen in love with Peter’s girlfriend. He has considered getting in bed with them, but that would be too bold. He feels like Cyrano de Bergerac and is thinking of wooing Peter’s girlfriend. It will be impossible to get away with, but Peter is frequently distracted by his pickled pepper business—out in the garden picking pecks and pecks of pepper to pickle.

Things started slowing down between Peter and his girlfriend. This was the opportunity that Dr. Jones was waiting for. He told Peter, using his rhetorical skills, he would “spice up” Peter’s romantic speech. When bed time came, all Peter had to do was wink—that would be the signal for Dr. Jones to speak his own words of love.

Peter saiid: “Cracking clams cartwheel, crazy camshafts colored cranberry.”

Dr. Jones said: “I’m on fire for you. My love is a bright blaze burning in my soul. Your gaze rivets me to the wall of truth. I must have yo!”

The girlfriend was making soft moaning sounds and looking at Dr.Jones, her eyes shining. She knew what was going on. She looked at Peter who, as the most easily distracted person she knew, had started playing with his Nintendo and hadn’t heard a word that Dr. Jones had said. But she had.

And this is how Dr. Jones stole Peter Piper’s girlfriend. He kept his job with Peter, who never suspected a thing. After he stole her, Dr. Jones wrote a little homoeoprophoron celebrating Peter’s idiocy: “Dipshit dimwits dig dreadful ditches dancing dirty desires, down, down, down.” She laughed and they went to bed.


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.