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Acoloutha

Posted on November 5, 2025 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacolutha.

I blew a hole in my garage door with my 10 gauge goose gun. The garage door opener had been going up and down for the past 20 minutes. I had unplugged the goddamn thing, but it wouldn’t stop. I pulled the rope chord disconnecting it from the door, but it wouldn’t work. In fact, it had some kind of whiplash that almost pulled off my arm—right out of its socket.

A couple of rounds from the goose gun did it in. Eventually, I had to go into the garage and blow away the opener motor. It made a whining sound as it slowed down and stopped dripping lubricant. It was almost like it was bleeding. Creepy.

I had to get a new garage door and door opener. I called “Open Doors” and made an appointment. The installer showed up an hour later with her three-person team. She was wearing a gold remote control door opener with “The Doors” engraved on it. As a joke, I asked her if she was an LA woman. She didn’t think it was funny. She slashed the air in front of my face with the screwdriver she was holding. She said “No jokes about ‘The Doors,’ next time, it’ll cost you an eye. I am known as The Liftmistress” goddess of Up and Down.”

She went into the garage with her team. They gasped and said “Oh my God” in unison. “You shot the motor. It still has pellets lodged in it” she said in a low-pitched reverent tone. I told her she was damn right—it was running wild and would’ve injured me somehow. As bizarre as it seems, she said we needed to give it a proper burial. I was so stunned, I agreed.

Lifty, one of her team, took the motor down, very gently. They rolled it up in the passenger side floor mat from my Mercedes, a fitting coffin for a garage door opener. They carried it on their shoulders to a spot under my mulberry tree. They took turns digging the grave. Liftmistress gave a brief eulogy:

“Your life had its ups and downs, opening and closing the portal of shelter for the driver and his expensive automobile. You went wild in your mission, losing your normal connection to the hand-held device controlling your trajectory. You were shot when you should’ve been repaired. You were murdered when you should’ve been made whole. Rest in peace.”

When she stopped speaking they turned and looked at me. I was terrified—I knew I had murdered the garage door opener. Liftmistress said “Pretty dramatic, huh? Time to put in the new door and motor!”

They finished up in about an hour. I had had a mild heart attack during the craziness. I went to the emergency room and was cleared. Now, my lawn mower stopped running. I’m trying to figure out what to do. I think I’ll park it somewhere in my back yard and just buy a small flock of sheep to keep the grass trimmed.

My garage door opener motor has started making a moaning sound when I open and close the garage door. I called Liftmistress and she told me I should be grateful—a moaning motor is a happy motor.

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

The Daily Trope is available in an early edition 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.

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Acoloutha

Posted on April 5, 2025 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacolutha.

My cat was mewing, talking softly to his catnip toy. Then he yowled and batted it across the floor. I yowled too and he looked me like I was nuts—crazy as the mouse that would pop out of the hole in the baseboard and taunt him with his whiny chatter. You never knew when he was going to stick out his head and start the cat and mouse games. I think the two of them actually enjoyed it. Melody could’ve caught the mouse hundreds of times, but he didn’t. He would fake-chase the little mouse.

But, then the rat moved in. Sleek and shiny with a low-profile slink, seemingly floating across the floor, silent, devious.

He took over the mouse’s little hole in the baseboard, gnawing it out so he could comfortably fit through. He was unlikeable. He wouldn’t play and we could hear the little mouse trapped behind the baseboard. The rat was holding him prisoner. We could hear him thrashing around and squealing. I got a flashlight and looked into the hole when the rat was out rummaging through trash cans. I could barely see the little mouse in the back shadows of what had become the rat’s nest.

Somehow the rat had found a piece of an adhesive rodent trap and stuck the little mouse to it. He was being tortured by the rat! I feared he would wriggle and whine until he died of starvation. Goddamn rat.

We got some rat-sized adhesive traps and put them in the kitchen along with a half-eaten raspberry jelly donut. That night, I was asleep when I was awakened by a sort of tickling feeling on my forehead. I brushed my forehead and saw blood of the back of my hand as the rat scampered off the end of my bed. The bastard had bitten me. I had to go to urgent care and get antibiotics. I got back from urgent care and went back to bed.

The next morning I made my way into the kitchen and there was the fu*king rat stuck to one of the traps. Melody was sitting there looking at him. I swear he had a cat smile on his cat face. He purred.

All I wanted to do was kill the rat. I stabbed him at least ten times with a steak knife from the kitchen drawer, and then crushed his head with the hammer my father had given me last Christmas. Then, I put his body in a paper bag and took him outside, doused him with gasoline, and burned him to a crisp. Then, I went back inside and I pried off the baseboard behind which the little mouse lived, and rescued the little mouse, and fed him some bits of New York State aged cheddar. He gobbled it up. Then, I used nail polish remover to free him from the trap. I nailed the baseboard back on and he scampered through the hole.

I called an exterminator and told him to get rid of every rat he could find, but to leave the little mouse alone.

Everything is back to normal now. Incidentally, Melody has overcome his catnip addiction and is now a drug-free cat. I attribute this to some extent to his friendship with the little mouse and the quality time they spend together.

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.

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Acoloutha

Posted on July 28, 2024 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacolutha.

My car was the automobile of the year. It had every possible option from leather seats to a triple tone pant job—black, gray and red. It had a chrome bowl of ice cream for a hood ornament and a mink dashboard. The doors had no handle. Instead, you whistled “Oh Susana” and they popped open. There was a bar in the back seat, and the seat vibrated when you pushed a button on the arm rest. The engine was 600HP—top speed 260MPH. The front seats folded into a queen-sized bed. There were concealed storage compartments under the floor. I kept them full of $100 bills. I used the money for gas, food, and motels when I was traveling around America and going to state fairs in the summer and ski resorts in the winter. By the way, my car had all-wheel drive. I could drive at a 90-degree angle with no trouble. I was famous for climbing Niagara Fall’s and driving down-river to Buffalo. Oh, I almost forgot! My car’s horn had tree settings: machine gun fire, Ricola Alphorn, and cheering football fans.

One day I was cruising down the wide open highway at 240 MPH. The landscape was a blur and I was listening to Ozzie’s “Crazy Train.” Suddenly, another car passed me like a bat out of hell—maybe it was going 300MPH. All I saw was it was red and had towering tail fins. I knew I would never catch him, so I kept cruising at 240. Then I saw the car pulled over on the road shoulder ahead. The driver was standing by it waving at me. The driver was wearing a bathrobe and combat boots and was holding a bottle of kefir, and, by the way, the driver was a woman. I said “Hi” and she splashed me in the face with kefir. It was peach flavored and quite tasty.

She asked me where I was headed. I told her I wasn’t sure—maybe Ft. Collins. She laughed and told me nothing much was going on there and that I should try Las Vegas. She apologized for splashing me with kefir. I told her it wasn’t a problem. She asked me if I wanted to drive in tandem with her to Vegas. I agreed and we jumped in our cars, started them up and took off. I led the way because my car was slower than hers. We had a great time in Vegas! We saw Wayne Newton 15 times and learned “Danke Schoen” by heart. We saw Cher also. She does not look a day over 70.

It came time to part ways. Her name was Buffy, and I was falling in love with her. I asked her if she wanted to take another tandem ride to New Orleans. She said “Sure honey, let’s go.” Off we went. I was hoping.

Definition 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.

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Acoloutha

Posted on December 19, 2023 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacolutha.

I had a car—an automobile that broke down so frequently that they’d treat me really well at the repair shop. It seemed like something went wrong almost every week. This week, it was the red “check engine light.” It came on when I started the car. Today, I was going to actually check the engine before calling “Nuts and Bults” the place where I had my car serviced. I couldn’t figure out how to open the hood, so I called “Nuts and Bolts” to ask. Ray cautioned me. “You better be careful. When that light comes on, you never know what the hell’s going on under there.” I laughed and Roy told me how to open the hood. “There’s a lever under the driver’s side dash ear the door. Pull it down and the hood will pop. Then, there’s a second lever you pull on the hood on the outside and it’ll open.

When I went to pop the hood and open it with the outside lever, I heard something like techno music coming out from under the hood. I peeked into the gap between the hood and the grill and the music stopped. So, with a few trepidations, I threw open the hood. The music started again and there was a band of imps dancing on the air filter. It scared the total hell out of me. They were dressed in gold lame’ jump suits and boots. One of the female imps winked at me and beckoned me toward the air filter. I climbed up on the grill and dove into the air filter. When I hit it, I made a loud farting sound as I shrunk to imp-size almost immediately. I was wearing a gold lame’ jump suit and boots, and I was dancing with the imp girl who had beckoned to me. She took my hand and we climbed into the wheel well and up on top of the tire. We talked about our different worlds and I thanked her for giving me a glimpse of hers. Then, she left and I started to grow. I pretty much got out of the wheel well, but my lower leg got stuck. I called “Nuts and Bolts” and told them I got my leg stuck in the wheel well while I was checking under my hood because of the check engine light being lit. Roy told me he had warned me.

They took the tire off and my leg came loose. I have sworn that I will never check my engine again if the light comes on. I had a great experience under the hood, but once in a lifetime is often enough.

Definition 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.

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Acoloutha

Posted on May 6, 2023 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

I fell down again. I didn’t exactly plummet, but I fell. I had contracted “Fall-Down Syndrome” on a safari to Tampa, Florida. We had been contracted by the Peace and Freedom Party to observe gun shops to better understand their patrons. Tampa is a prime site. Nearly everybody owns at least one gun. Some own 50 or 60.

I contracted Fall-Down when I was bitten by a Mullet in Tampa Bay. Nobody told me of the danger. The water looked so inviting and I had only been in Tampa for 1 day when I was bitten. I didn’t notice it at the time, but the mullet had grabbed ahold of my armpit. When I started toweling down, I detected it and tore it out from under my armpit. That was my mistake. The residual mullet saliva that was left behind in the small wound in my armpit contains the bacterium muleticus falldownious. It took about a month, but eventually I started falling down. It did not matter where or when, I just went down. I fell into the avocado display at the grocery store. I fell into the reflecting pool outside the bank. I fell down the stairs at home. My home is now fitted with foam rubber floors, so I’m safe there. When I go out, I wear a football helmet, knee pads, and boxing gloves.

A cure to my malady has been discovered and I’ve travelled back to Tampa for a consultation, and a possible dose of the cure. Doctor Mojito’s office had a foam rubber floor. I found that reassuring. The Doctor explained that the vaccine was extracted from the contents of Pelicans’ stomachs, whose chief food source is the mullet. The digested mullet is sucked out of the Pelicans’ rectums with a soft rubber hose that causes stress but no physical injury. Then, it is subjected to a secret process. He said, “The vaccine is $2,000, payable in cash prior to being vaccinated. We don’t take insurance because the vaccine has not been approved by the FDA.”

I was elated. I withdrew $2,000 from the ATM across the street. It took 10 transactions, but I pulled it off. I headed back to the Doctor’s office and fell down in the middle of the street. Two homeless people dragged me across the street after I was almost run over by a gang of mopeds driven by kids. I gave the homeless people $1.00 each for their trouble. I entered the Doctor’s office and the receptionist asked me if I was “ready to pay the tariff.” I told her “Yes” and the Doctor’s examination room door swung open. Dr. Mojito had a syringe in his hand. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. He pushed up the sleeve and plunged in the needle, and that was that.

I was cured. I went walking all over my little home town with no trepidations. I went to the mall. I went to the grocery store. All was well UNTIL I started growing a Pelican pouch under my chin. I have no idea how it was possible, but whenever I ate, I stuffed the pouch and went to my room and ate the contents with my hands. I am looking into having plastic surgery to remove the pouch. I have tried to contact Dr. Mojito, but his receptionist keeps telling me that he’s “draining the Pelicans.” I wonder if this is a metaphor.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99

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Acoloutha

Posted on September 7, 2022 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

“The lance in my doublet sitteth well with my lady love. Her breath quickens and we retire to chambers to entwine as shameless doves.” A Wanton Idyll by Willman Shakepear.

This is my favorite quote from the bard of Birmingham. I am a professional jouster, and the passage’s reference to the “lance” always provokes my baser instincts and makes me think of my lance, holding it tight and galloping on the lists, hoping to poke my opponent’s throat with my handsome tool.

I am a knight. My father is a nobleman. I did my time as a page and a squire waiting on tables and cutting meat in Bone Dew Castle for the Earl of of Bone Dew, a member of an old Scottish family with, like most Scottish families, roots running all the way to Hell, via Edinburgh, beneath the university. My family is of Dutch origin. My great great grandfather invented the wooden shoe. Everybody thought he was mad when he first clomped down Nieuwe Hoogstraat wearing a pair, but they caught on with peasants who spent a lot of time in wet mud and needed something waterproof to avoid the foot rot caused by leather footwear. My great great grandfather was made a prince by the king of England to induce him to emigrate there and “Practice his wizardly skills to the great benefit of England.” When he left Holland he was cultivating a flower called “tulip,” but he had to leave his project unfinished due to the Dutch government’s confiscation of his plants and bulbs. He sold his patent to Carolus Clusius, who was a biologist from Vienna, and who took credit for tulip’s discovery in Turkey, which was a lie.

I am competing in a jousting match the tomorrow. I had my shield refurbished—freshening up the family crest: a painting of a wooden shoe overflowing with guilders encircled by stars on a red background. I had also purchased a new lance from Henry the Unrepentant, a new and used lance vendor. My new lance was made of a newly discovered wood that had become popular among jousters. It was called “Moohogini” and it came from the edge of the earth.

I arrived at the tournament grounds at 6:00 am. The stands were packed. There were a lot of lusty looking girls seated there, waving brightly-colored handkerchiefs around their heads. There was one waving a crimson handkerchief and looking at me. She was the one! I wanted that handkerchief so badly I was nearly crying. The bell rang and I mounted my horse Bruto. I was up against somebody named Sir Lancelot. I had never heard of him. His horse looked like it was dying. He looked like an oaf from Camden Town. The herald signaled the charge. Lancelot came at me like an ill wind, slammed me in the chest, broke his lance, and knocked me off my horse. I was seeing stars. I was done. The girl with the crimson handkerchief knelt by me and cradled my head on her bosom. She tied her handkerchief around my arm and abruptly walked over to Lancelot. They laughed together and left the lists holding hands and chattering.

I did not care. There was another tournament coming up in two days in Manchester. I would find a way to cheat. If only I could ask my great great grandfather how to cheat at jousting, I know he would come up with a plan. Maybe I should talk to Henry the Unrepentant.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99

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Acoloutha

Posted on January 15, 2022 | Comments Off on Acoloutha

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

He was hiking across America—the USA. He was walking from New York City to Santa Barbara—“from sea to shining sea.” He was plodding 3,000 miles to raise awareness about the fact that ALL buttons are made in China. “The implications of this fact are astounding,” he wrote in the little yellow-paged notebook his mother had given him to feed his obsession with “Blue’s Clues” back in the 90s. His adult life was devoted to finding the truth and spreading it far and wide with his public antics. He nearly asphyxiated himself with a plastic shopping bag during during the “war” over their effect on the environment. Going way back, he nearly sliced off his thumb during the pop-top troubles by opening the giant can of Coke he’d made out of cardboard with a meat cleaver he’d altered to look like a pop top. He refused to go to the hospital until he nearly fainted on the pavement outside the 7-Eleven where he was demonstrating with another person, who was opposed to him, and was making pop-top necklaces and giving them to admiring children.

Anyway, if all buttons are made in China, and China decides to stop making them, all shirts and blouses would hang open, exposing us to each other’s chests. He was pushing the idea that the US government should set up a button reserve, much like the petroleum reserve—a button stockpile that could be accessed in times of button shortages. Also, he believed the government should provide subsidies for the development of Velcro alternatives. Moreover, given that China also has a corner on the pearl-snap market, all the problems related to button- front shirts pertained as well to Western-style shirts.

It was a flaming hot crisis.

He had set up a Go Fund Me site called “Don’t Let the Future Come Unbuttoned.” So far, he had raised $11.58. At this point, after two weeks, his trek had taken him to Netcong, New Jersey where, on the road shoulder, he had unbuttoned his shirt and opened and closed it, flapping it like a bird’s wings and flashing his chest.

He was arrested by the State Police and was charged with distracting motorists and parading without a permit.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

A video reading of this example is on YouTube: Johnnie Anaphora

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Acoloutha

Posted on May 4, 2021 | Comments Off on Acoloutha

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

Barbara cut her lawn. Edward mowed his lawn. Jimmy dressed his lawn. Carl cut off his finger with his hedge clippers. The ambulance ran him to the hospital. His wife Barb drove to the hospital, following the ambulance far behind with Carl’s finger in a little red and white lunch cooler. She was sure that the finger could be sewn back on. When she got to the hospital they told her that they already had Carl’s finger and had reattached it, and that Carl had to stay over night for observation. As she headed back home alone with the mystery finger in the chest beside her on the seat, she wondered if there were other body parts buried near the hedge. When she got home, she got the shovel out of the garage and took a closer look at the finger. Why didn’t she notice before? The nail of he severed finger was well-manicured. Carl’s nails had never been well manicured.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

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Acoloutha

Posted on May 6, 2018 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

Donald was eating really fast. The food was quickly headed to the cavern under his belt called Belly. Belly ruled Donald’s life and it showed in the upwardly changing size of his presidential pants. Donald was worried that he was becoming fatter than the North Korean dictator and that he would soon lose a key point of ridicule at the negotiating table: Little Fat Boy–what he planned to call him–to cow him and make him pliable. But now, Donald was becoming Big Fat Boy: how he loved KFC; more than he loved his wife and daughter, Sean Hannity and Vlad Putin put together.

“This is an emergency” he said to his new physician Admiral Dr. Frankenstiner. The Doctor grimly nodded and turned on his fettabsaugung–a fat sucking machine made in the Black Forest in a former Cuckoo clock factory.

Donald cried out in pain as his fat oozed from the machine and dripped onto the floor. Dr. Frakenstiner said “A handgun won’t do you much good now Fat Man.”

The doctor’s face mask fell off. It was the North Korean Dictator! He had a sock stuffed with kimchi. He stuffed it into Donald’s mouth. Donald began chewing furiously–like a monkey with a piece of candy.

It was all to no avail. North Korea has annexed Oregon and Donald is nursing a broken jaw. Donald lamented: “If I could’ve spoken more clearly through the sock and kimchi, Oregon would still be ours. Ceding Oregon to North Korea is a pretty bad thing, but not as bad as Obama when he . . . “

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

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Acoloutha

Posted on April 30, 2017 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

Today, we are affirming every last bit of what he has done and said. We are still in an accepting mood despite all the disappointments we’ve had these first 100 days. He says it, we approve it. We are the loyal base.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

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Acoloutha

Posted on October 6, 2015 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

We are gathered here to mourn the loss of our colleagues and friends.

We are assembled here to show our solidarity with their families, loved ones, and friends.

And finally, we are standing here to show the world that we are not afraid, that our lives will go on even as they are touched by absences and tragic memories.

We live in times already horrific enough when murder, pillage and rape are cloaked in religion, ideology, and nationalism and all the other disguises worn by viscous criminals.

But there is no disguising madness.

There is no disguising the fact that in the USA  demonstrably crazy people have easy access to weapons–to bullets, to triggers, and to their victims who are as innocent and unsuspecting in their daily lives as infants are in their parents’ arms.

We look at each other with tears in our eyes and despair in our hearts. We ask, “Who next? Where next?”

We must answer these questions for our fallen friends, family members, loved ones and colleagues for they are gone forever; silenced, pushed out of our lives by the mad hands of murder.

We must answer “who next” with “nobody.”

We must answer “where next” with “nowhere.”

And together, we must do everything humanly possible to deprive the insane–the mentally mangled narcissists who murder unarmed innocent people–we must do everything humanly possible to deprive them of their bullets, rifles, and pistols and their alleged ‘right’ to bear arms.

So, as we stand together, so we shall talk together, walk together and collectively voice our raging sorrow to those who permit mass murders by arming, by law and by flawed gun control policies, people who should be in psychiatric wards, not on campuses, in hallways, and in classrooms killing teachers, killing students, killing staff people or anybody else they can aim at and shoot at through the beguiling haze of their insanity.

At a minimum we demand a government-funded full psychiatric evaluation, and periodic reevaluation, of every gun owner and every individual who intends to purchase a firearm of any kind for any purpose, from now until the end of time.

We are sick of hearing about seemingly “normal, quiet people” who purchase firearms legally and then use them to commit mass murder.

We must go forward together and agitate, and demonstrate, and never again placate with our votes those who would stand in our way and collude in arming and equipping mentally unbalanced murderers as if they were Ken and Barbie going off to target practice at their favorite shooting range, which may turn out to be the local high school, community college, or university.

May our lost colleagues, family members, spouses, loved ones and friends forever rest in peace.

And, may we never rest until we have our way and clear the future of the suffering, anguish, and pain we feel here today.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

Buy a print edition of The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99.

 

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Acoloutha

Posted on February 23, 2008 | Leave a comment

Acoloutha: The substitution of reciprocal words; that is, replacing one word with another whose meaning is close enough to the former that the former could, in its turn, be a substitute for the latter. This term is best understood in relationship to its opposite, anacoloutha.

I am here in Texas to meet you–to stand face-to-face so that we may see the common ground between us.  Yes my friends, I have come to the Lone Star State to join together on the common ground between us.

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Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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