Periphrasis (per-if’-ra-sis): The substitution of a descriptive word or phrase for a proper name (a species of circumlocution); or, conversely, the use of a proper name as a shorthand to stand for qualities associated with it. (Circumlocutions are rhetorically useful as euphemisms, as a method of amplification, or to hint at something without stating it.)
How did I become known as “Stampy?” Was it because I liked licking stamps? Stamps didn’t need licking any more. You just pull them off a sheet and stick them on an envelope. How about stamping my foot to display impatience? That’s a good guess, but it’s wrong. The only time I stamped my foot was to kill a bug or to stop a blowing piece of paper. What about clog dancing? Never. No way. I like music, and I might tap my foot, but I would never clog dance, let alone, even dance!
Ok, so why am I called “Stampy”?
I wear a bandoleer of rubber stamps and carry an ink pad in my back pocket. The stamps are preloaded with opinionated statements. When I feel compelled, I rubber stamp the nearest flat surface with a phrase. For example, after finishing a meal I didn’t like at an expensive restaurant, I stamped the table underneath my plate with my “Your food tasted like shit.” I leave no tip and revel in the thought of the busboy picking up the plate and seeing the message.
All my opinionated statements are negative. I believe the negative has a stronger, longer lasting effect than cute little trivialities—quickly forgotten, like a car passing by. However, stamping does have its risks.
I was in a bar. The drinks sucked and they were way too expensive. The two pole dancers moved like they were sleep walking and the volume of the music was way too loud. I pulled out my “This place sucks” stamp and stamped it on the bar. The bartender grabbed me by the wrist and told me menacingly to sit on the bar and cover up the stamp. He told his assistant to go to the supply room and get the “Ink Out” cleaner and bring it back with a rag. They made me clean off the bar. The “Ink Out” worked really well. It took the stamp right off the bar.
It gave me an idea.
I could stamp people’s parked cars and front doors. Then, I’d “notice” them and offer to clean off the stamp’s message. For cars, I used “I’m an asshole” on the driver’s side front fender. For front doors, it would say “Child abuse practiced here.” I would charge $50 to clean the surface. People were very grateful and gladly forked over the $50.
But then, the shit hit the fan. It was a doorbell cam that caught me stamping. When I offered to clean the door, I was recognized as the person who put the stamp there. The police could only prove the one instance, so I was let off with a small fine and one month of community service. I’m still stamping car fenders though—I just don’t offer to clean them any more. The thrill of leaving my mark hasn’t gone away. I’m still “Stampy.” By the way, I’ve gotten a job in City Hall as a bureaucrat. Guess what? I rubber stamp documents all day long. I love the sound of the stamp hitting paper! I am blessed.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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