Category Archives: anthimeria

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).


He was a human “Ho-Ho.” I can’t explain it, but every time I saw Milt I started to laugh. Maybe my laughter came from basic meanness or some kind of incongruity between Milt and the way we’re supposed to look, and the way he looked. Milt must’ve dressed in the dark every morning. One day he showed up at work wearing one black polartec slipper and one patent leather dress shoe, red sweat pants, plaid flannel shirt, a blue necktie with a picture of a smiling Jesus on it, and a hat advertising baked beans. Standing there with his Tiger Wood coffee mug, he gave me a big smile and said “Hi Jim.” I tried to return the greeting, but I started uncontrollably sucking in air and my nose started snoffelling and my throat contracted, then, bam, out came a chuckle that turned into a guffaw, that turned into a roaring belly laugh. After it all subsided, I apologized to Milt and started to walk away. “Wait a minute,” he said. He told me he suffered from sartorial dyslexia (SD): an inability to dress right due to a genetically-based chemical imbalance in the part of the brain that processes wardrobe choices. He told me he inherited it, and that family gatherings were like fashion shows without fashion—everything from bathing suits with sports coats, to total nudity with one black Blundstone, and an Apple Watch. I was totally taken by surprise that Milt had a disease that prompted his bizarre clothing choices. I asked him if there was some kind of foundation I could donate to that helps people suffering from SD. He told me the most help I could give was to “Walk in my shoe for a day.”

So, the next morning I dressed in the dark—putting on whatever came to hand, whenever it came to hand. I ended up leaving the house with a Beatle boot on one foot and a penny loafer on the other, blue compression pants, a hunter orange polartec vest, and a navy-blue necktie with ducks on it (neckties were required at work). When I stepped out my door I instantly noticed that people were staring at me, some were laughing and pointing, same were yelling mean taunts—“Where’d you get dressed? In a blender?” That was the rudest. I didn’t even get to the subway before turning around and running with a shoe-induced limp back to my apartment. When I got there, I tore off my clothes and took a shower. I felt so bad for Milt.

I moved in with him and became his “dresser.” I would properly dress him every morning before we went to work. I even went to one of his family gatherings. It was a combination of a mescaline-induced Mardi Gras and a Hieronymus Bosch painting. I loved it! Anyway, we fell in love and got married. Every once-in-awhile, I get dressed in the dark and we drink beer, and we dance around the apartment and laugh.


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.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).


He holly-jollyed his way into the office, red suit mistletoed from top to bottom and wearing one of those stupid red conical hats with a white pom-pom tassel. His black boots made of vinyl, with gold plastic buckles, made me sick. And I thought, the big wide black patent leather belt would work well to strangle him. When he said “Ho, Ho, Ho” he sounded like he was counting the prostitutes who hang out in front of our building. Then he threw a candy cane at me, hitting me in the eye. That was his idea of gifting. I wanted to kill him, but he was the boss. And besides, I would surely be caught.

Now we had to drink his disgusting homemade eggnog. I felt like I was in Jonestown. He poured two bottles of rum into the punch bowl to “enhance” the egg nog. In about 30 minutes everybody was drunk, slurring their words, and rubbing against each other. Truly weird as we tried to sing “Jingle Bells.” A couple of people were draped over their desks and Harry Little was passed out on the floor. Then I saw Marla Gino standing by an open window with her blouse unbuttoned beckoning the boss by moving her shoulders back and forth. As I watched the boss stagger toward her, I realized why the window was opened—we were 15 stories up. The fall would kill the boss. Everyone who could still stand, silently watched the boss stagger toward Marla’s hypnotic gestures.

Marla stepped away from the window at the last second and the boss tripped. He flew out the window without a sound. Everybody started singing “Jingle Bells” and Marla called 911.


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.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).


He peanut-buttered his way to oblivion. He was a greedy grabber—everything in excess, everything over the top, everything.

He was found stuck behind the wheel of his car—a car filled with sliced bread and jars of peanut butter—turned on its side on a country road in South New Jersey, somewhere outside of Atlantic City. State Police say that if he had been eating crunchy, and not creamy, his hands would not have stuck to the wheel when he tried to avoid a carload of drunken teenagers swerving across the road.

Death due to peanut butter and reckless teens. It is so wrong. But in death he has earned his nickname: Skippy. As we lower him into the earth, in his casket made to look like two giant slices of white bread, let us bow our heads and smell the peanut butter in the soft spring air.


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.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).

Trump has porn starred his way to to a whole new level of impropriety. Sure, he had sex with her before he was President. But what the hell does that matter. He cheated on his wife with a porn star while Melania sat home patting her baby bump.

As the dribs and drabs of the despicable personal life Trump leads come out, and his treatment of women as sex objects is made public, one wonders what’s next. Will it be a Roy Moore mockery? A Carlos Danger defection? An Eliot Spitzer $15,000 hooker blitzer?

Or, do we just end up with the Donald Trump Hump-a-Dump–a sexually charged dance routine on Saturday Night Live? Alec Baldwin–are you ready to Trump Hump-a-Dump?

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.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).

Let’s truck those apples to market before they start turning brown!

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.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).

Are you going to TV with me tonight? The DVR is overflowing!

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

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).

Are you going Black Fridaying today?

  • Post your own anthimeria on the “Comments” page!

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

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb [or a verb used as a noun]).

Let’s tomato the Democrat candidate!

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Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb [or a verb used as a noun]).

I’m baseballed to the max! Are you ready for some football?

Or:

I had a good compute with my calculator!

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Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.