Epizeuxis

Epizeuxis: Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for palilogia.

“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit.” I was elated. I had gotten a “standing bullshit” from my fellow “Bullshit Club” members. We met once a week and we’re prohibited from telling the truth more than 5 times per meeting. Otherwise, everything had to be bullshit—obvious bullshit, not lies we tried to get away with. Things like “I have four penises.”

We just took turns dropping bullshit bombs. We believed our club activities made our lives outside the club more tolerable. In the club we crafted UPPER CASE BULLSHIT, which made our everyday bullshit more effective by seeming to exhibit a degree of veracity that pushed it into the truth zone. It was good exercise. Plus, my fellow club members were great friends, even though, all we did was bullshit each other. Here’s sample:

When I lived in Utah, I had four wives: one that cooked and took care of the kitchen, one that did the laundry, one that cleaned house, and one that rode my hooter once a week. I gave them all nicknames: “Cookie” for cooking. “Soapy” for doing the laundry. “Dusty” for cleaning house. “Hooterbumper” for riding my hooter once a week.

I was tempted to change Hooterbumper’s nickname after a few incidents out in public. Sometimes, when I introduced her to people, they would noticeably flinchlike they’re knew her name had a sexual connotation. This was especially the case with my male friends. The crazier ones would respond with things like: “Yeah pleased to meet you. My nickname is ‘Boxopener.’ I used to work in a grocery store.” Or, one time I introduced her to a female friend and she slapped me in the face and yelled “Shame on you!”

After about a year, I couldn’t take the responses to Hooterbumper’s name any more. I vowed to change her nickname to something less suggestive. After weeks of brainstorming, I just shortened her nickname to “Bumper.” It was ambiguous—it could refer to a car bumper, a bumper crop, bumper plates, and a variety of other “bumper” variations.

Problem solved!

Now, the other wives wanted new nicknames too! to keep the peace I capitulated. I changed Cookie’s name to “Half & Half.” I changed Soapy’s nickname to “Agitate.” I changed Dusty’s nickname to “Moppy.” And, of course, Hooterbumper became “Bumper.” Peace reigned and public introductions smoothed out.

POSTSCRIPT

Well, this is a classic bullshit story. None of it is true. Many bullshit stories it convey a moral. In this case it has to do with bowing to peer pressure. Did changing his wives’ nicknames really change anything but the nicknames?

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.

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