Category Archives: exouthenismos

Exouthenismos

Posted on July 16, 2025 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

“I hate your guts.” As soon as I said it I realized it missed the mark by miles. Who wouldn’t hate guts.? Slimy, bloody, stinky guts are totally hate-worthy no matter whose guts they are. The truth is I just plain hate guts—anybody’s guts, no person’s guts in particular. All guts.

My mind was reeling. I was still in the hate moment and had to tell Charlene in a memorable, hurtful, way how I felt about her. I sad “I hate you” as a filler while I conjured something more wicked. She complied by sobbing uncontrollably, rending her garments and pulling out her hair. I was amazed at the work “I hate you” could do at ruining a person’s life. The emotional damage was evident. I had to call 911 and have Charlene resuscitated from the violence of her sobbing.

Although I didn’t want to, I rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital. She had rended her garments to a fairly great extent. The EMT couldn’t take his eyes off her. Maybe he looked at everybody that way—like he was looking at Thanksgiving Dinner laid out on a table. I almost gave him Charlene’s phone number, but decided against it because I was feeling like I liked her again. I didn’t know what I was going to do next.

When she woke up, I told her I liked her again, that all was well, I no longer hated her. She was a little bald from the hair pulling, but in some ways it was an improvement over her previous hairstyle. She smiled and motioned me to her bedside, pulled out her IV, and stuck it in my eye when I bent to kiss her.

I’m blind in my left eye now. Charlene was convicted of assault and is serving a one year sentence at a minimum security prison. I visit her once a month and she refuses to see me. I’m trying to get a new girlfriend, but it’s hard when you’re blind in one eye and they ask you how it happened. I stopped telling the truth. Now, I tell people it happened during a tornado when a wood sliver stuck in my eye when I was rescuing my neighbor’s dog, Tuffo.

I’ve actually gotten a couple of return dates on the strength of the tornado story. Lying 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.

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Exouthenismos

Posted on November 8, 2024 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

It had been building up for a long time. I was going to blow a fuse, go ballistic, kick some ass. The paper boy—little Jim Jones—a 15 Year old shit-for-brains—kept throwing my newspaper on the roof. I had to get out my ladder from the garage and prop it up on the front porch and climb up on the roof. It was dangerous. I weigh 240 pounds. If I fell I would die. Today was the day. I am going to tell him off and fire him.

He pulled up on his bike, which was on its last leg. The wheels wobbled and it was rusted so bad you couldn’t tell what color it was. Before he had a chance to hurl my newspaper onto the roof, I started yelling at him. “You are the world’s worst paper boy. You can’t even land my newspaper on my porch. You overcharge me every week when you collect. In short, you are an incompetent idiot. And your bike is an ugly disgrace. You’re fired!” As soon as I yelled “You’re fired!” He pulled what looked like a small handgun. I wet my pants, but it was a novelty cigarette lighter. He lit a cigarette and took a big drag and blew the smoke in my face. I thought he was around 15, but what he said next put an end to that. “I have a wife and two kids, if I lose this job, we’ll probably end up in the street. My son,m Little Joey has had pneumonia three times in the the past six months, My daughter Mazy has asthma, and my wife Caroline has rickets. She is so bowlegged people laugh at her when she goes grocery shopping. I have “Flaming Foot Syndrome.” It makes my feet so hot that my shoes smoke. I need expensive salve “Foot Coolant” to keep my feet from spontaneously combusting.” I was stunned. While he was talking, one of Jim’s teeth fell out. He put it in his shirt pocket.

His litany of woes got to me, but it didn’t make up for his incompetence. I didn’t fire him. Instead, we set up a practice session so he could learn to land my newspaper on my front porch. I got up on my roof and caught a few as I showed him how to lower his aim. That’s when he broke my storm door window, but it didn’t matter. Finally, he hit the mark 25 times in a row. He was ready. We’ve had no problems since.

He invited me to dinner. He lives in a dented motorhome with flat tires on the outskirts of town, His wife’s bowlegs are circus sideshow material. When she puts her legs together, they make a perfect circle. Little Joey’s pneumonia was acting up—he kept and handkerchief over his face. Mazy should’ve been named Wheezer. Her breathing sounded like a broken accordion. Jim was ok. We ate a fish that Jim had caught in the Town drainage ditch.

I got a little sick, but I enjoyed the company. I’m buying Jim a “new” bicycle. I bought it from this guy who hangs out under a bridge overpass. Jim loved it, but unfortunately, it was stolen. Jim was arrested and couldn’t make bail. He’s sitting in a cell. He been charged with theft of a bicycle. He could get six months in the county jail. I saw people laughing at his wife’s bowlegs yesterday when I went grocery shopping. That did it. I’m bailing out Jim and telling the police I gave him the bike.

POSTSCRIPT

I was convicted of receiving stolen goods. I should’ve known the guy under the bridge overpass was a thief. I was fined $200. Jim’s feet started his motorhome on fire. His family escaped. He was awarded a $2,000,000 settlement for medical malpractice. The shoes his doctor provided him with to keep his feet from going up in flames were Chinese knock-offs that were highly flammable.

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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Exouthenismos

Posted on March 25, 2024 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

“I hate you! You are a disgrace! You stink! You are lazy! You are terrible! You disgust me! You are like a dog butt worm. I’m leaving!”

This altercation changed my life forever. I was 16. My mother made me French toast and scrambled eggs every Saturday morning. Then, out of nowhere, one Saturday she told me she wasn’t going to make the French toast and eggs any more—not on Saturday, not on any day. She told me I was old enough to cook my own breakfast. She told me she was getting arthritis in her spatula wrist, and it was painful to make the eggs and French toast. I called her a dirty liar and went upstairs to pack my bags. I was leaving home.

I emptied my piggy bank: $5.28. I tromped down the stairs to the living room where my parents were hanging out. Dad was reading the newspaper and mom was staring at the wall. I told them I was leaving. Dad said, “Good. You’re nothing but a pain in the ass.” Mom was staring at the wall, sobbing and saying “My son,” over and over. I told her she didn’t have a son any more, and walked out the door. I could hear my father yelling at my mother to shut up, as I walked down the sidewalk.

I worked for a year selling candy at Yankee Stadium. I got good at throwing the candy, but I had to walk to the customer to get their money. One day, I was working the punters along the third base line. Casey Stengel popped up and ordered a candy bar. I threw hm one. He said “Wow, that was a hell of a pitch. You’re just in time—I’m out of pitchers—they’re all injured, and my last one just sprained his shoulder.” I agreed to do it. I suited up and headed out to the mound. With me pitching, the Yankees suffered the biggest loss in their history, and in the history of baseball. Boston: 106. New York: 7. Casey paid me $200.00 and took me to Port Authority. Luckily nobody recognized me as I boarded the bus, or I would’ve been killed.

I had just turned 17 and I wanted to join the Army so I could take advantage of the veterans benefit of a college education after I served my three years. So, I served three years as a jeep driver for the commanding officer of Ft. Dix, New Jersey. He was a maniac. We spent most of our time running wild in Philadelphia. He had two wives there and a used/stolen car business. Eventually I had to testify at his courrmartial where I buried him. Two days later I was discharged. I had already applied to colleges, so I knew where I was going: Stanford. I had taken out a loan for $2,000 to pay the bribe to the the Office of Admissions.

I loved my classes. I had a book “Cheaters Prosper” that helped me immensely. There was never any question whether I would graduate. I majored in Business. The only reason I know it is that it’s printed on my diploma in big letters. My brother told me neither of my parents could come to my graduation because they had both died of heart attacks. I didn’t care. Then, I found out my brother had lied. I still didn’t care. My heart was hardened. It felt good to harbor a grudge, especially toward my mother. That Saturday breakfast had grown into a dagger that stabbed me in the heart at the sight of scrambled eggs and French toast.

So, I moved to San Francisco. Surprisngly, I became a successful songwriter. My two biggest hits were written for Donovan: “Electrical Banana” and “Hurdy Gurdy Man.” There are 100s more, ranging from Melanie’s “Roller Skate Song” to Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, “Wooly Bully.”

Now, I am rich. I live in the redwoods. I have a girlfriend who makes me scrambled eggs and French toast every Saturday morning.

Mom, I still hate you. Make me happy. Die.

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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Exouthenismos

Posted on August 16, 2023 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

Dear Lina:

Your hair looked like a bird’s nest that fell out of a tree. But then I looked more closely. It was a bird’s nest. It had three blue eggs in it. Suddenly, a mother Robin flew in the window and settled in the nest. You told me you fell asleep on the glider on the front porch and when you woke up there was a nest woven into your hair with three eggs. Moments later, the mother Robin looked at me and and cocked head..

I asked what you were going to do. You told me your dad was going to get the nest out of your hair and throw it in the garbage where it belonged. I snapped. I called you terrible names—baby killer, murderer, monster. The little blue eggs were all innocent, and you and your dad were going to smash them just to get them off your head. It was disgusting.

My rage made you cry, but you made it clear to me that your dad lays down the “law” in your family. You said he calls himself “Moses” when he looks in the mirror and has a pile of dirt in your backyard that he calls Mt. Sinai. You cried and cried. Then, to show my love, we agreed that I would take the nest and wear it on my head until the baby birds hatched and flew away.

This was easier said than done. We went inside, and with much effort, we cut the nest out of your hair, and I apologize again for the gash across your forehead. Then, we glued the nest to the bottom of a plastic mixing bowl that fit my head perfectly. We punched 2 holes along the edges of the bowl and strung the laces from my trainers through the holes for a chin strap. I promised I would only take off the nest to shower and to sleep. I’ve kept my promise.

I went Wal-Mart wearing the nest with the mother Robin in it and everybody stared, and some people pointed and took pictures. The next thing I knew, I went viral on social media. They called me “Mr. Nest Hat.” My picture had 1,000,000 hits on the Audubon Society website. Somehow, they found out my name and address. I am being asked to endorse bird products: bird feeder seed, hummingbird feeders and food, bluebird boxes, cuttle bones, birdbaths, and badminton birdies. I’m pretty sure I’ll make at least $1,000,000.

Well, the eggs have hatched and the babies are getting more and more unruly. When I take the nest off my head I have to put a bushel basket over it. So their mother can feed them, I’ve built a platform in the maple tree where I sit wearing the nest most of the day. The mother sits on the branch above us, watching over us. She has tried to feed me several times. I pretend to take the worm, but I drop in in my shirt pocket and she’s none the wiser.

So, I was wondering: since the babies will soon fly away, will you marry me? I will be rich, so you can’t go wrong! I kept my promise. Now, it’s your turn.

Love and tweeties,

Ted

POSTSCRIPT

Ted and Lina got married and live in a trailer park on the outskirts of town. Ted continues to wait for his wealth to materialize. Lina works as a server at the Golden Chicken, a saloon catering to bikers. She hates Ted and is going to file for divorce as soon as she saves enough money. One of the baby robins was eaten by Ted’s cat Patter Paws. The other two grew to maturity. One flew into its reflection in a window and died at the age of 2. The remaining Robin sibling was mistaken for a dove and shot dead by a hunter in Texas at the age of 4. The mother Robin is still going strong, living comfortably in North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains.

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Exouthenismos

Posted on December 21, 2022 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

The world is filled with uncertainty, doubt, and pain. The aisle you walked down on our wedding day was an off ramp. The vows you made were sarcastic— they were just missing the cutting tone. I took you literally when I should’ve known you meant opposite of what you said.And now you’re leaving me for Roman Gootvorm, the fat dolt who works at Cliff’s. He can’t even run a barcode scanner or bag things—he uses a giant paper bag for one scratch-off lotto ticket. And the truck he drives is a rusted, dented road hazard. The seats are worn to the springs, the passenger window only goes halfway down and the tires are nearly treadles—but he’s got a friend who sells him counterfeit inspection stickers. He’s been “working” on his GED for five years. Some day he might take the test,

And here I am. Award-winning used car salesman. I average 2 units per week. This week I sold a red 2019 Cadillac that Cuomo drove to secret meetings with Canadian espionage agents. Unfortunately, he was chucked out of office for his shenanigans. But still, I sold that baby to a bill collector from Albany for $3,599! That’s kind of high-end salesman I’ve always been. And oh, didn’t I get you that possum skin coat for Christmas last year, and a multifunction digital watch, as well as a box of 1 dozen BIC pens, with assorted color ink? And what about the wooden cane I bought for your mother or the pad for your father’s ride-mower seat? I am a good man. I don’t deserve to be abandoned for a stupid loser. So what if he won $6,000,000 in the lottery? It makes me think it was my money you were after all along. I guess he needs help spending his fortune. Well, you just go ahead.

I hate you more than I hate spinach. You have taken a toll on my soul. Maybe I made fun of your lazy eye more than I should have. I don’t know. After all I did, you’re leaving. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I will never talk to you again. We’re through.

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Exouthenismos

Posted on May 1, 2022 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

I hate you and and so should everybody else. My life was going so well until you came along and stole my heart and my baseball card collection. It took me 25years to put it together—25 years of riding America’s highways, byways, back roads, and dirt roads in search of cards. I spent nearly all of my annuity paying for the cards. It was my life’s work. People called me “Johnny Card” and they weren’t joking. My life was vested in cardboard rectangles with pictures of men in hats. I have enough bubblegum to give all the homeless people in North America a sweet treat.

And you—you, you, you—stole all my cards, not just a select few, but ALL of them. I thought you loved me. I welcomed you into my home. I cooked for you. I watched what you wanted to watch on TV. I am no fan of Julia Child reruns, or Cheers, or Wheel of Fortune, or Jeopardy, but I watched and didn’t complain. I should’ve been suspicious when you asked to see my collection before we’d ever talked about it.

I heard you were spotted in Las Vegas wearing an expensive fur coat. I hope somebody spray paints you and shoves the spray can down your throat. I hate you. My hopes for you are brutally painful. I could go into lurid detail, but I won’t, even though my therapist says it would do me good and help clear my head.

While I wait to hear about my baseball cards, I’ve started a new collection: seed packets from around the world. It is such a stupid thing to collect, nobody will want steal it. I’m not enjoying collecting seed packets, but maybe it’ll grow on me.

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Exouthenismos

Posted on September 2, 2021 | Comments Off

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

“There is a time to hate” and I hate you—not just now, but for as long as I live and beyond. People like you deserve to be worked over with a set of electric hedge clippers, giving your face a buzz-cut, and then, putting your privates on a tree stump and having at them with a dull hatchet. I know this is disgusting, and maybe psycho, but you’ve pushed me here with your own pathological behavior: taping an M-80 on my pet turtle’s back, lighting it, blowing Tuffy into fragments of meat and shell, and laughing and bragging about your sicko behavior to the dumpster dwellers you call friends, puts you in league with the criminally insane.

I am going to have you arrested, tried, convicted and put in prison. Wait until the other inmates find out what you did to get there. They will find ways to “enhance” your sentence.

I have managed to find enough of Tuffy in the parking lot to bury in this cigar box. I’ve taped his photo to the lid and painted a little pond around it. I am working on Tuffy’s eulogy. It is hard to keep my rage out of it—you have ruined something special and taken an innocent creature’s life. You are disgusting. You are sick. You will go to Hell when you die. If I am alive, I will come to your burial and spit on your grave, or, find a way to scatter your ashes in a porta-potty.

May eternity treat you with horror and pain.

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Exouthenismosexou

Posted on March 21, 2020 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

Words can’t express how disgusting you are! Oh wait–to some extent they can. You are a lying piece of shit. Your term of office as President of the United States has been like a clogged toilet–floating shit fragments, brown water and stained toilet paper waiting to be plunged out and sent to the septic tank where you and all your ideas, and actions, and advisors belong.

So, President Stench, go to hell. The sooner the better.

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Exouthenismos

Posted on August 22, 2017 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

Being near you makes me want to puke. I look at you close-up and think about what you’ve done to my country–the harm is palpable throughout the world. You are not well-respected by other world leaders (they make fun of you). You have shown your tacit support for racism. You have told huge whoppers, and much, much more. Why don’t you just get in a golf cart and drive into the sunset, pick up a cab, go to the airport, put on a disguise, and fly home to New York City?

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. There is also a Kindle edition available for $5.99.

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Tagged definitions, examples, exouthenismos, rhetroric, schemes, tropes

Exouthenismos

Posted on October 25, 2016 | Leave a comment

Exouthenismos (ex-ou-then-is’-mos): An expression of contempt.

You make me sick! You cheat on your wife. You cheat on your taxes, and you’re going to cheat the American people if you get elected. You make me sick.