Category Archives: aschematiston

Aschematiston

Posted on September 29, 2025 | Leave a comment

Aschematiston: The use of plain, unadorned or unornamented language. Or, the unskilled use of figurative language. A vice. [Outside of any particular context of use or sense of its motive, it may be difficult to determine what’s “plain, unadorned or unornamented language.” The same is true of the “unskilled use of figurative language.”]

“Give me a library or give me death.” It is hard to believe that a librarian actually said this. She was 87-year-old Mrs. Mildred Cage. She had been harassing patrons with overdue books for around 60 years and patrolling the library basement’s periodicals section in case “those teenagers were doing more than reading down there.” She made people pay their fines before they were allowed to leave the library. Alfonso, her thug grandson, intimidated them with a raised OED and threats of a fractured skull. 99% of the patrons capitulated, the rest were treated by EMTs on the library’s front steps. If people didn’t have money she made them pay with their jewelry—brooches, wedding rings, cocktail rings, earrings, pearls. Alfonso helped her “collect” and she bribed a judge to rule “it was well within the law” to confiscate goods to pay library fines, and to cover administrative costs.

Then it happened.

A patron saw Mrs. Cage leaving the library with a book without checking it out: she just took it without leaving a record of its withdrawal. In short, she had stolen it! The police obtained a search warrant for her home. When they opened the front door and entered, they were horrified. Mr. Cage was sitting at a table eating a sandwich made from white bread and owner’s manuals for electric appliances and lawnmowers. He said, “Please help me. These are not very nutritious.” But what was worse: the house was filled with books—upstairs, downstairs, the basement. Nearly every surface was stacked high with books. A cursory look established that the books were stolen from the town library—including a first edition of Tom Swift and His Rocket Ship, a signed copy of Porky Pig Sells Mousetraps, and a leather-bound edition of Herbert Hoover’s Freedom Betrayed. There were probably 100s of additional valuable books stolen by Mrs. Cage over the years.

Mrs. Cage was arrested, tried and convicted of robbery. She was sentenced to 100 years for her crimes. Ironically, she was put in charge of the prison library. The prison library had only 12 books. She complained to no avail. Soon, all the books went missing. Given her crime, you would think that Mrs. Cage would be the primary suspect in what looked like the books’ theft. But she wasn’t, due to a massive oversight.

The mystery remained, until a routine search for prison contraband found the stolen books under Mrs. Cage’s mattress. She was deemed incorrigible and was thrown into the hole, serving the remainder of her sentence in solitary confinement. She had one naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. By the kindness of the warden, she was given an L.L Bean Catalogue to pass the time reading.

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.

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged elocutio, figures of speech, rhetoric

Aschematiston

Posted on February 13, 2025 | Leave a comment

“The duck ducked.” I thought this was so funny, I tried make as many of these kinds of sayings as was humanly possible. I would use them in conversations, to seem astute, witty, and literate, and more. I will share some of them with you, but beware, be sure you know what you’re doing when you use them. Whatever you do, don’t use them with English Professors, literary critics, or librarians.

Baby Bear couldn’t bear Goldilocks. This is especially effective when talking about people who do not like each other. You say: “Just like Baby Bear who couldn’t bear Goldilocks, Jane can’t bear Jill.”
The snake is a snake. This is effective in pointing out a person’s reptilian character: cold and squirmy. You say: “The snake is snake, just like Bill is a snake.
A box that can’t box. This is readily employed to allude to a parson’s deficiencies. You say: “A box that can’t box, is like Bob in bed.”

As you can see, you will have a ready stock of “sayables” that will make people stop and think “Wow!” You will be invited to more social gatherings in order to make them more interesting and more fun to attend. You will find yourself surrounded by a circle admiring guests, some of which who might be interested in having some private tutoring lessons with you. (Do you know what I mean?)

I can’t emphasize the importance of using language to get your way. Sophists understood this in ancient Greece. But, it is never too late to follow their lead. They were history’s first spinners—they treat the truth like a rigged roulette wheel, spun in such a way that their bets would always win.

We all know that truth can’t compete with lies any more. At worst, truths and lies are seen as the same. Whichever sounds “better” wins the day. What makes it “sound better?” More lies! The “plethora strategy” has proven itself in national politics. Ten good lies rapidly strung together obscure the truth to the point where it is inconsequential. Also, using words like “beautiful” and “huge,” and lots of hyperbole elevates lies to the Elysian Fields—to worlds of belief-inducing delight: including candy coated pronouncements that may be eagerly and easily swallowed: Yum! Let’s let those kids starve! Mmm! There are only two sexes!

Anyway, we’re stuck in crazy rhetorical times. Usually, when a society gets to a place like ours, it collapses. I predict our collapse will come some time in the next four years. In the meantime, spin baby spin!

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.

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged definitions, elocutio, example, figures of speech, rhetoric, schemes, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on June 6, 2024 | Leave a comment

I have known so many weird people in my life. For example, I knew a guy who could only tell me he truth when he was drunk. Otherwise, he’d lie. Just to have a “normal” conservation, he had to drink a bottle of wine. He had “In Vino Veritas” tattooed across his chest with a gallon jug of Carlo Rossi “Sweet Red” below it. After about a half-gallon he started being honest. Often, he was belligerent, but at least he was honest. Situations where he couldn’t be drunk, but he had to tell the truth were his downfall. When he went to court for a speeding ticket, he nearly ended up in prison: he showed up drunk so he could be truthful about what had happened. The judge fined him $50 and put him in jail for one week. The second time he came to court he was sober: everything he said was a lie. He was fined $500 and his driver’s license suspended for 6 months. So, pretty weird, right?

Well, what about this: I went to high school with a kid who only had one eye. It was in the middle of his forehead. It was the size of an elephant’s eye. It was brown and sparkled in the sunlight. If you looked at it too long, you started to feel your soul being being sucked out of you. Carl was big and strong so nobody teased him or bothered him in any way. One kid, Sammy Bort, messed with Carl. He said “Did the moon hit your eye like a big pizza pie?” to Carl. Sammy became a shuffling, drooling, fart blowing zombie of sorts who would wait on Carl hand and foot. Carl would have him do nonsense tasks, like fetch three pebbles from the parking lot. So, it was a no-brainer to treat Carl with respect, even though he didn’t deserve it.

It was rumored that Carl’s mother ran a uranium crusher at a mine in Nevada. She was exposed to immense doses of radioactivity. Safety standards were such that she wasn’t required to wear goggles while running the crusher. As a consequence, her eyes became saturated with radioactivity. They say her eyes glowed. She became pregnant with Carl and her hair fell out and her gums started to bleed. She wasn’t alone. Her co-workers suffered the same plight. An investigation was undertaken and the Union reached an agreement with the US government to award the workers $2,000,000.

Carl was born 3 months later with the giant eye in the middle of his forehead, His mother placed him in a circus sideshow. He was known as “Cyclops Boy” and drew huge crowds. He would speak in pretend Greek and shake fist. By the time he got to high school, he had dealt with just about everything.

The last time I saw him he had gotten a job on a reality TV show “Classic Mayhem.” He “played” a wrestler from Ancient Greece. He called himself “Mr Cyclops” and became more and more like a Cyclops as time went by. He is obsessed with being strong. He is a loudmouth, violent, and, most likely, murderous.

I just made a new friend. Maybe this one will be normal, but it doesn’t seem likely: she has 12 cats and eats dinner with them out of a dish with her name on it. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m pretty sure I know where it’s going to end.

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.

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged definitions, elocutio, figures of speech, rhetoric, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on November 1, 2023 | Leave a comment

“The bouncing corn dog hit me in the ankle—it’s stick stabbed me in the ankle like an angry knitting needle steeped in revenge on the edge of unfathomable cryptic incidences without valor or heroism—just a random wound on life’s fabric—the vulnerable skin—the bag of life.”

This is fictional, although it is hard to identify it as such. I am a writer looking for a break among the rubble of hope, meeting out failure and displaying it in front of so many eyes. It used to be anybody with a stylus could bang out stories in cuneiform on clay tablets. It took so much effort just to write, only the gifted could afford to put in the time and effort it took to write something. The very first story ever written was about a Turkish shoe salesman who is beheaded for selling uncomfortable shoes to the Caliph. The Caliph’s Minister of Footwear purposely gave the wrong size to the shoe salesman because he had seduced his wife with a pair of golden, jewel encrusted, running shoes. When she put on the shoes, they made her run to the shoe salesman’s house every night at 8:00pm. On her way one night, she was run over by a chariot. The chariot cut her in half, but a Genie took pity on her for her foolishness and put her back together and restored her life. But there was a problem: the Genie put her together backwards. Her butt faced frontward, so her feet faced backward. She wore a rear-view mirror on her shoulder so she could see where she was going. It is said that this is where the saying “ass backwards” originated.

Now, everybody has a computer. Everybody can become a writer. Every day, every publishing house receives an avalanche of email, proffering poems, short stories and books that nobody reads and that are responded to with short stock phrases: “Your work shows promise, but send it somewhere else,” “Your work made my eyes water, not with tears, but trying to make sense of it,” “Thank you for your submission. Please make this your last.” Their rule thumb is to randomly choose one manuscript out of every 25,000 manuscripts. This is why there’s so much crap being published. The only place that actually reviews manuscripts is China where there is a surplus of cheap labor. “Big Mao Press” is my favorite. They publish everything I submit, but they don’t pay royalties. They send me a framed picture of Mao and a copy of his “Little Red Book.”

Don’t let me discourage you with the truth of the futility of your hope to be a writer. If you aspire to be a writer, you will fail, unless you give “Big Mao Press” a spin. There’s no shame in being a Commie dupe. You won’t be the first or the last. Melania Trump’s book “Living With a Piece of Shit,” was published by “Big Mao Press” and she can’t even write!

Anyway, I am going to sort of give up on writing. Once, I wanted to write the great novel, like “Atlas Shrugged,” or Herbert Hoover’s “American Individualism.” But alas, it isn’t meant to be. I have completed one book: “The Talking Fire Hydrant.” I intend to submit it every day to a different publisher. Once I’ve exhausted them all, I’ll submit it to “Big Mao Press.” In the meantime, “Big Mao Press” has sent me a mail-order editor all the way from China—she and I travel in the vintage Chevy generously provided by the Chinese government. We drive to military installations, and take pictures in preparation for writing a travel guide together tentatively titled “Goodbye American Pies.”

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.

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged definitions, elocutio, example, figures of speech, rhetoric, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on March 14, 2023 | Leave a comment

Elgin: “The moon is like a yellow bathrobe hanging in the sky. When it is full it is like a fat man. When it wanes, it’s on a diet, slimming down and disappearing—sneaking into a late night diner and becoming quiche.”

What do you think? I’m taking a creative writing class. When I read this in class, my fellow students squirmed around in their chairs and looked at the professor and coughed quietly.

You: It stinks. It’s like vomit with words. Or, a speaking hairball.

Elgin: Thanks—your cutting criticism builds my character. All great writers were not appreciated in their own time. Look at Poe. He died a drunk in the gutter. Or Socrates: his critics made him feel so bad, he killed himself! Hunter Thompson took lots of psychedelic drugs to drive out the critics’ voices.

Do you see what I’m saying? The worse you say it is, the better it is. That’s the rule I follow for dealing with my writing’s reception. And of course, out of respect, I must accept any positive feedback I get: of which my 14-year-old nephew is the only instance. He liked “I Shot the Teddy Bear, I Didn’t Shoot the Bunny Rabbit.” It was influenced by my Reggae roots in music and my sympathy for the plight of all Jamaica.

You: What happened to you?

Elgin: Ha ha! I’ve written a lot of great stuff. Here’s another sample.

“My mouth is an inverted unicorn horn with the tip sawn off—a single shaft jammed down my throat like a train track made from bananas soaked with cognac and sweet syrup leading to the mall, carrying the mail in a ruby-crusted bag made by greedy charlatans in workshops on mountaintops somewhere in Switzerland, wearing goose down coats and mink fur hats, and banging their sheep skin gloved hands together to keep them warm. The rubies are fake.”

I like this! The surprise ending is the clincher: “The rubies are fake.” Did it bowl you over? When I wrote it, it bowled me over! The rest of it conveys the angst of modern life, and it’s roots in it’s ultimate incoherence.

You: “Ultimate Incoherence!” Perfect! “Unintelligible” might be more accurate. Or perhaps “mentally ill” captures it best. I think you’re about to join the ranks of under-appreciated writers. There’s a van waiting downstairs.

Elgin: You have thwarted my artistic endeavors all my life. Your jealousy has consumed you. You Neanderthal! You jelly sandwich! You box of mud!

POSTSCRIPT

Of course, after he was put away, Elgin was “discovered” by the literary world. “Unicorn Horn” achieved acclaim everywhere and was voted by Literati Magazine “Most Likely to Induce Functional Confusion.” However, the asylum kept the news from Elgin because it would damage his fragile self concept as a complete failure. They told him he won nothing.

The asylum that Elgin was housed in was in Texas, where “guests” are permitted to kill themselves as as long as the vehicle is a hot beverage. When he found out he was a loser, Elgin requested a mug of piping hot hemlock, sweetened with honey and seasoned with nutmeg. After drinking it, he said, “This isn’t bad,” and died. Now Elgin is a literary icon. Now, first editions of his works are worth $100,000. Now, his brother, who had him committed, has become a millionaire.

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available at Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged figures of speech, rhetoric

Aschematiston

Posted on July 14, 2022 | Leave a comment

I am an amateur organic chemist. I boil random things, cut them up and look at them on dishes or in cups from my mother’s China set. I also practice experiments in behavior modification. My last b-mod study was to use carefully metered electric shocks to train a duck to bark like a dog. The experiment almost succeeded as far as the duck developed a taste for dog biscuits, but barking was not going to happen. The duck survived the experiment. Now, it staggers and falls down when it walks and can’t do “ducks in a row” any more. He has been, what I call “deflocked.”

My “Mummy” stands in the corner watching me. When she died in the living room upstairs, I dragged her into the kitchen, took her apart and dried her out in the oven. Then, I put her back together and dressed her in her favorite red blouse, Campbell tartan skirt and my favorite apron, with the inscription: “I’d be a vegetarian if bacon grew on trees.” Every time I look at her standing there, I have to laugh. If Mom wasn’t a mummy, she’d laugh too, but if she laughed now, she would crack.

Today, I am trying to get one of my lab rats to moonwalk like Michael Jackson. I put him on my rat treadmill, and he keeps flying off the back and hitting the wall, and landing on the floor. I am thinking about making a papier-mâché moon, and then letting the lab rat walk on it. I’m not sure, but I think walking on a papier-mâché moon would constitute a moon walk. But, maybe I should try a different kind of animal—maybe a black bear or a box turtle. In the meantime I’ll set the slightly injured lab rat free down by the town dump. He’s nearly blind from hitting the basement wall so many times, but who knows, he may find somebody to love down at the dump and start a family. I sincerely hope he does not catch rabies, or some sort of social disease, from his rat-bride.

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available at Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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

Leave a comment

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged aschematiston, elocutio, example, figures of speech, rhetoric, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on November 19, 2021 | Comments Off

1. The Red Fox jumped over the fence. He landed on the other side and kept going. He was hunting mice. The mice lived in the field. He caught a mouse and chewed its head off before he ate it. Then, he went on his way. I watched hm until he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the field. Then, I climbed over the fence to examine the mouse’s head. It’s eyes were glassy and it’s nose was dripping blood. I put the head in the plastic sandwich bag I carried on my country walks. When I got home I would boil the head until the flesh fell off. Then, I would add it to my skull collection. So far, I had a crow, a rabbit, a groundhog, a squirrel, a raccoon, a vagrant, and a chicken.

2. The Northern Lights looked like strands of colored spaghetti dangling overhead— the stars looked like twinkling flecks of Parmesan cheese, shaken from above, seasoning the display with their shimmering cheesiness. I had been in Iceland for two weeks waiting to spot the Lights. I was collecting dust like a tabletop in a sawmill. I was a tire waiting to roll. Finally, the Lights appeared. I was happy as a crayon rubbing around on a piece of paper.

It was time to go back to New York.

Iceland is pile of old lava with smelly steam coming out of holes in the ground everywhere. Iceland is a lava lullaby where it is either light or dark all the time. I had seen the Northern Lights. One more thing to erase from the list of things I want to do. Next, I will visit Liberty Park in New Jersey. After that, maybe the Tesla factory—it will be electrifying!

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available at Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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

Comments Off on Aschematiston

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged definitions, elocutio, example, figures of speech, rhetoric, schemes, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on March 8, 2021 | Comments Off

1. This is a mess. You spilled your milk and dumped your Spaghettios on the floor. I’m going to pretend I never saw this, but you should consider heading back to Kentucky and working as a school crossing guard or something like that. What do you think, Mitch?

2. The sky is a sponge squeezing it’s juice on the peanut butter earth: like a forked wing flying around in circles spitting invisible lice into the air, it rains down a blood-sucking shower of Truth.

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available at Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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

Comments Off on Aschematiston

Posted in aschematiston

Tagged definitions, elocutio, example, figures of speech, rhetoric, schemes, trope

Aschematiston

Posted on November 29, 2017 | Leave a comment

1. Today is Wednesday. Tomorrow is Thursday. Then comes Friday. Friday is payday. Starting at 5.00pm, it is the best day of the week. It’s when the Senators and Representatives take off their shirts and hang around the mall.

2. The sky is clouded with big clouds, like floating Brillo pads hovering over bedsheets of snow. Winter has arrived and I am headed to the air-conditioned wonderland brimming with swimming pool hopes and coconut pies. It’s like watching a puppy wag its tail. Mexico, here I come!

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