Category Archives: cacozelia

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.


Novitiate: Your sobriquet manifests a quality of veritas-inducing pathos, bathos and credence in the sincerity of your verbalizations. You are known as Father Potato—your soul is wedded to the earth, with many eyes you survey your manse, and you would be ready to be whipped or mashed in service of the Lord. Not to mention, scalloped or fried in oil—to a crisp beige hue, and liberally salted, or soaked with ketchup, or even mayonnaise, if visiting Holland. We know these are all metaphors Father Potato, but they provide us with an orientation to what we can only trust as we wander this vale of tears, forgetful of where we come from. Am I right Father Potato?

Father Potato: No, you are completely wrong. Your musings about me and everything else, are like “a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan, a rider on the storm.” Thus spake Saint James of the leather pants, who died in Paris and ascended to Montmarte, to sit at the left hand of Baudelaire on Saturdays, and his right hand the rest of the week. Saint James can’t speak French, so he just nods his head when Baudelaire reads “Paris Spleen” out loud. “I woke up this morning and had myself a beer, the future’s uncertain and the end is always near.” Thus spake St. James. Accordingly, I have begun drinking beer and letting it roll all night long, as should you, my son. Instead of a beer, you should have a glass of orange juice when you wake up in the morning, before school. Now, please go away. I have to work on this Sunday’s sermon. It is about a man who becomes locked in a coal cellar and eats a piece of coal. The coal poisons him and he dies a slow agonizing death and goes to hell. It is an allegory.

Novitiate: Oh Father potato! I am up to my ankles in the wisdom overflowing from your words. I can’t think of enough cliches to encompass the truth you purvey—like a ladle filled with the broth of prayerful uplift on the wings of a great big white dove, soaring above the Sea of Galilee, crapping on sinners hauling their nets filled with great flopping lies, inducing vile uncharitable thoughts suited for cackling imps and howling demons. There is so much I have to learn—that I want to learn—“about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees, and a little thing called love.” Thus spoke Jewel Akens. I am overwhelmed. I am going to pass out!

POSTSCRIPT

The novitiate passed out, rolling down the stairs in an ecstatic revelry—including a vivid vision of his high school English teacher, Miss Carnaletti. When he awoke, Father Potato was dragging him under the altar. He left the boy there and went to Pop’s Bar and Grill to let it roll all night long, and to ride the coin-operated pony in the back room.


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

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.


My cat made me nervous. His utilization of his food bowl as a litter box made me reticent to be around him. I wanted to incentivize him to do the right thing, so I started putting his food in his litter box and switched the food dish for the litter box, putting the litter box in the kitchen for him to eat from. But then he started looking at me—sitting on his haunches, unblinking yellow eyes, grooming his whiskers. I had heard of cats eating their owners—chewing off their faces and escaping through their cat flap, blood dripping from their whiskers to ingratiate themselves to an unsuspecting widow or a little girl or boy, or any lonely person in need of a modicum of affection and company.

Every night would begin with Sidney jumping up on my bed. He would dig his well-honed claws into my chest as he purred, sounding like an idling motorcycle. After I’ve fallen asleep, he jumps off the bed and wakes me up with a loud thump on the floor. I go back to sleep. He jumps back on the bed and wakes me up. He starts kneading me, claws pricking my chest. He stops. Purrs. We both go to sleep. He wakes up, jumps off the bed, wakes me up, etc., etc. I have been sleep deprived for 4 years. I would send Sydney to the animal shelter if he did not have a redeeming behavior.

Each year the manufacturer of “Silver Stench” canned cat food hosts the “Cat Flap Classic.” The “Cat Flap Classic” consists of a 10-foot dash through a cat flap. The cat with the fastest time for the 10-foot dash wins the prize which is $20,000, a year’s supply of “Silver Stench,” plus a series of “Silver Stench” endorsements. Sidney has won the “Cat Flap Classic” for the past 3 years. I take the prize money and leave Sydney staying with the Vet. I travel to the Arizona desert, where it is quiet and there’s no cat to keep me awake. Ahhhh.

When I got back this year, the Vet told me Sydney was suffering from arthritis and his running days are over. It was hard to believe—he was 100% healthy when I left for Arizona. But it was true—Sydney could hardly walk. Our racing days were over. So, I invented “The Cat-a-Vator.” It is a battery-powered lift mounted on a small hand truck. When a cat steps on the lift’s platform, it slowly goes up, and they can walk onto the bed without having to jump. Likewise, stepping on it when it was up would make it go down.

I made millions off “The Cat-a-Vator.” Our mansion has fifteen cat flaps. Sydney enjoys walking through them. But, Sydney still kept me awake. There was nothing I could do—Sydney would not shut up. So, I came up with the idea of using noise cancelling ear buds to deaden the purring sound. It worked! Now, I am working with “Silver Stench” to hold a “Cat Flap Classic” for elderly and disabled cats. I think Sydney is looking forward to competing.


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

An edited version of The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paper and Kindle formats under the title Book of Tropes.

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.


He is garbage—stinking slimy garbage, giving “stench” a good name. Rotten to the core, oozing the slime of depredation and the pus of outrageous lies, he cowers in the shadows like a cockroach waiting for a chance to skitter away undetected. He is dog shit stuck on your shoe. He is a loud fart during a religious service.

He preys on bereaved widows, showing up graveside mourning men he never knew, reading their obituaries for information he can use to ingratiate himself to the widow as a long-lost friend. He’s looking for the life insurance pay-out of his “life long” friend that he “grew up with” and “lost touch with” after the Vietnam War. He befriends the widow. He earns her trust. They move in together. They open a joint bank account. He withdraws all the money, buys a plane ticket, and flys away.

With all the photos floating around, we should be able to identify and apprehend this piece of shit. But, we can’t. It’s maddening, but we’re working on a plan. We are going to bait him with a “widow” who is actually an FBI Special Agent. We will do this until he shows up graveside. It could take years. His code name is “Insurance Agent” and hers is “Dead Husband.” Wish us luck.


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

An edited version of The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paper and Kindle formats under the title Book of Tropes.

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.


Shit, shit, shit. Shit is everywhere. It is slippery. It is stinky. It is unsanitary. It is sloppy. It is lumpy. It is “just right.” But none of this is bad. Shit is a Dairy Queen without the cone. Kaka is it’s name. Merde is it’s name. Stront is it’s name. Scheisse is it’s name. Everywhere, in every language, shit has a name.

Along with pee, shit is something that all human beings know, understand, and have in common. We must remind ourselves of what we have in common every day. It will provide a bridge where we can meet in the middle with shit on our shoes and a song in our hearts. Accordingly, privacy will no longer be an option in public restrooms. Toilet stalls will be removed so we can “meet on the seat.”

Get ready for a kinder, happier world. Shit will save us.


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

An edited version of The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paper and Kindle formats under the title Book of Tropes.

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

I felt the parameters of my television crumble when my streaming box went slo-mo into a pantheon of stretched words and images. It was like floating on a sea of hardening cement with a stingray protruding from my crusted trousers. My soul filibustered my body’s ganglia. My eyes started watering and I snapped back only to find my goldfish Karma 27 crushed on the floor, eyeballs protruding like black and grey glass balls

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

The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paper and Kindle formats under the title Book of Tropes.

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned.  2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

I want to utilize the denouement of our affair to plumb the rationale of my wretched calumny and reconnoiter the restorative expurgation of my love-riven bowel.

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

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned.  2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

Uncle Bill!

He is a leech at your dinner table: You, brother Dave, suck up your food as if you were latched onto a foot or an arm, or somebody’s unfortunate neck, or armpit, or crotch. Not only that, but in another meaning of leech, you wheedle money from our poor unfortunate uncle Bill who is blinded by love for our father and the deathbed promise he made eight years ago to take care of you, the youngest.

It’s time to get your act together you disgusting fool: At least get some table manners–wipe away your dripping drool and get rid of that jacket camouflaged with specs of soup, spatters of gravy, small bits of assorted meats and jellies, and what looks like blood, but is probably beet juice. And using the coat’s sleeves as napkins has made them stiff and soiled with what, only God can tell. Also, wiping your nose on your sleeves has given them a mucus sheen–not very attractive, Dave. The jacket is a roadmap where all roads lead to Slob.

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

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned.  2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

Ecru! Ecru! How I adore you! Très jolieТы такая красивая! A light stain–like amarillo, like rubio, like ámbar cautioning the brown to beware: to slow the faint stripe growing on my otherwise bright, purely white, Calvin Klein underwear.

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

 

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned.  2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

The mise en scène of the parking lot is not exactly what I would call méthodique! We must utilize every erg at our disposal to hasten its rejuvenation with fresh white stripes.

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

Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned.  2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

The zeitgeist of our tempus is a roux of decaying bourgeois roadkills!

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