Category Archives: asphalia

Asphalia (as-fay’-li-a): Offering oneself as a guarantee, usually for another.

“If you let him go, I’ll be responsible for his behavior, for $5,000 per month.” I was a Professional Miscreant Tender—a PMT. It was like I was a baby-sitter for wealthy evildoers. Teenagers were a real challenge to keep in line—I shadowed them wherever they went watching like a hawk ( or maybe a vulture) for evil- doing. Underage drinking was a frequent offense. When I caught them, which was every time, I duct- taped them to saw horse, stuck a funnel down their throat, and poured copious amounts of diet Dr. Pepper down it. They would choke, and cough, and cry. When they cursed me out, I would pour more soda down their throats and punch them in the stomach—boys and girls alike. The sawhorse treatment usually put them on the right side of the law. When it didn’t work, I would break their fingers or brand them on the shoulders with a “LOSER” logo in red boldface Helvetica front. If that didn’t work, I had them ride in clothes dryers on high five hours per day, seven days per week. Some of them became severely brain damaged, but that helped put them on the right side of the law.

Then, there were the shoplifting housewives. I developed a “caregiving” technique that curtailed their thievery. They loved stealing clothing—mostly dresses—from retail dress stores. They would put two or three stolen dresses on under the dress they wore into the store. They would disable the security tags and nonchalantly walk out of the store. But, I was on them. I would walk up behind them and stick my faithful taser between their ass-cheeks and let it rip. They would do the taser dance and fall to the floor twitching. I would use a box-cutter to remove their outside dress, and then, carefully remove the stolen dresses and return them to the shopkeeper. I would rummage through their purse and find their credit card, push them into the dressing room, give them a new dress and bid them a safe trip home as I waved the taser at them. This strategy worked 99% of the time. They never shoplifted again. When it failed, I sent them to Malaysia to work in a sweat shop making sneakers. After a month, they were ready to never steal clothing again.

So, being a PMT is a pretty good gig. You’ve got to be ruthless and sadistic. The hours a grueling— misbehavior and managing it are a 24-7 proposition. Be prepared to get up in the middle of the night to light somebody on fire or hit them in the face with a blackjack. Whatever works.

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.

Asphalia (as-fay’-li-a): Offering oneself as a guarantee, usually for another.

I never knew what was coming next. My life was like an entrance to a busy department store. But I had nothing to sell. Everybody who passed through my life was disappointed. I had nothing to offer. Nothing spiritual. Nothing material. I was like a cartoon that wasn’t serious or funny. I was like a brain damaged Donald Duck—I had no quack, no meaning, no significance. The only characteristic I possessed was honesty. Since I had nothing to tell the truth about though, I had nothing to say, and to many people, that made me a liar.

Then, I read about George Washington chopping down his father’s prize cherry tree and readily admitting it when his father questioned him about it: “Father, I cannot tell a lie, I chopped down your cherry tree.” His father never asked him why he did it, but I think he did it to show his prowess as a lumberjack and truth teller.

I have a friend who is a criminal defense attorney who always complains when his client is obviously guilty, and there’s really no defense. He asked me if there’s any way I could help him, given my reputation for claiming to tell the truth all the time while all the time probably lying. I resented that, but I didn’t care. I needed to make a better living. Currently, I was working as a temporary contractor for the Catholic Church. I worked in a confessional 3 days a week i absolved everybody and felt good about it. I didn’t listen to their confessions, so I felt absolving them was my best option.

I was excited about my new job—it was pretty screwed up, but I could guarantee a reduced sentence, if only the client would follow my lead. I needed to have her or him tell me what really happened. I would record their story and revise it stylistically make it sound remorseful and sincere, while keeping it true. I’d soften the language so it didn’t sound as bad as it had at the client’s telling. We would also look for scapegoats to add to the story who could absorb some of the blame. For example, in some regions of the US if you truthfully tell a jury your client was raised by Liberals you may get a not guilty verdict, especially in the case of murdering one’s parents. We always tell the “truth” and make it “speak” on our behalf.

I became known as “”Saint Johnny” for my ability to wield the truth in defense of miscreants—of murders, robbers, child abusers, embezzlers, and more. I feel it’s my civic duty to give the guilty a better chance. I have a guarantee: if we lose big time, I’ll serve a “small part” of the sentence myself. Of cause, a “small part” is 2 days max.

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.

Asphalia (as-fay’-li-a): Offering oneself as a guarantee, usually for another.

I am a professional witness, but not in courts of law. I specialize in backing up people’s lies. I make people believe I’m a close friend of the accused. I have a stock list of characteristics. For example, we grew up together, we went to school together, we served in the Army together. Then there’s the things the accused has done proving their character. Here I use made-up stories about “the time they. . .” Like saving me from drowning, telling the truth even if they suffered, never taking opportunities to cheat.

I back everything up with vivid stories if I have to give evidence. We also make up a story of how we know each other and why their partner has never met me before, or even heard about me. We talk about the falling out we had, that had kept us apart for awhile. I have to make sure that the falling out does not reflect badly on my client—it is a challenge. I usually summon a third person who was to blame, lying to both of us about each other, making us angry at each other. The story that supports the legitimacy of our mutual anger is that it was induced by the third party stealing our TV and then blaming each of us separately for stealing it. We believed them, blaming each other, and ended our friendship. Then the person who had stolen our TV invited us to dinner. There was our Tv sitting in the livingroom. We beat them to a pulp, took our TV back, and became friends again.

My current client is a real challenge. I have to convince his accuser that the sexually explicit videoclip is inconsequential, based on my good character—on what I have to say on their behalf. Pretty much every road was closed to me. So, I went with the “it’s normal” rationale—that it isn’t such a bad thing to cheat, especially if it does not happen too often. Then, I took a turn down “Revenge Road.” I told her that cheating with his best friend (aka me) would anger him and then humble him, while at the same time affording her the opportunity to taste forbidden fruit and get even. Once they got even with each other, they could go back to their relationship on an equal footing. She thought it was a good idea. We slept together. She told him.

I underestimated the depth of his double standard. He went berserk. I’m in the hospital with three broken ribs and a ruptured spleen. The girlfriend has been missing for 2 weeks. The police found traces of her blood in the boyfriend’s apartment along with a recently fired Glock. The boyfriend is being held on suspicion of murder. I’m not being held for anything yet.

I’ve given up my witness business. I’m thinking of becoming a life coach.

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.