Category Archives: hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.


I am going to the mall. I’ve been locked down for a year. I was unable to go out for fear of catching the virus. I have been dividing my time between bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room and laundry room. I don’t answer the phone. My kids annoy me. I don’t answer the door for the same reason. I used to think the internet is a curse. Now, I think it is a blessing. I give my kids 1 minute on Zoom every three days. I buy everything I need on Amazon. The other day I bought a Beagle puppy. I need the company. I named him Peloton after the ad on TV. The only thing I can’t get on Amazon is a haircut, and it shows. That is my first stop at the mall—at Hairport where a recent high school grad will cut my hair for $8.00 and yap the whole time. Then, I’m going to Boscov’s to look at all the shiny chrome appliances and cheap t-shirts. Last, I’ll go to Pet Hutch to get Peloton a leash and collar. In a way, I feel like I’m being unfaithful to Amazon, and I am! It’s exhilarating.

Postscript: I caught the virus at the mall. Or, maybe I got it from the Uber driver who took me to the mall when my car wouldn’t start. He was wearing a mask, but it was one of those cheap cloth ones with Jesus’ picture printed on it. Anyway, at least I am not dying. The vaccine and booster I got when all this started helped. Last night, I stumbled across a gentleman on Zoom. He was just as surprised as I was. We had a very intimate conversation and I slept like a kitten afterwards. The next day I was supposed to meet him again. This time, I was dressed for ‘success’ with my newly purchased “toy” (named Big Richard) in my hand. I turned on Zoom and there were my children! Jaws dropped. My second oldest threw up. My son started laughing. I killed it as fast as I could and started thinking of an excuse. I couldn’t think of one. I am going to tell the truth. They’re mature adults. But, will they understand? Probably not.

It’s late. I pick up Big Richard from the nightstand. He cost $95.00 on Amazon. I am determined to get my money’s worth. I plug his charger into the electric outlet by the closet. His red “I’m charging” light glows, casting a lurid hue over the darkened room. I will wait for Big Richard, like I used to wait for my former husband. I wonder if Big Richard will be a disappointment too.


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

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Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.


They said I was morally bankrupt. Actually, I bet on a losing concept of the good. Aristotle or Socrates, or some other philosopher (maybe Augustine), wrote that people do what they do because they think it’s good, not bad. Why else rob a convenience store unless you think it’ll benefit you? When we thwart a criminal we keep her or him from obtaining a hoped-for good—quick cash, drugs, a plasma TV, food. I think it was Stanley Fish, or somebody like him, who proclaimed “One person’s hope is another person’s fear.”

By the way, this gun is WAY LOADED—17 rounds of sweet little 9mm hollow points. And I have a hope! I hope your toupee goes up in flames. Now, you’re going to stand still while I dribble this lighter fluid on your head, otherwise I’ll shoot you in the stomach and watch you squirm around and bleed on the floor. Ready?


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. A Kindle edition is available for $5.99.

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

I went out toward my backyard. I trudged through the snow. I arrived at my swimming pool. It was filled with ice, looking like a giant snow cone with no flavor. I looked at my iPhone and saw that it was 52 degrees. I am standing here waiting for spring, like I’m waiting for a bus filled with bluebirds, watermelons, and lemonade that’s going to pull up and spray my yard with warmth and sunshine. I can almost hear its gears grinding, coming up the hill.  But no, it isn’t going to happen.  It will snow 10-15 more times before spring arrives. It will go down to below zero one more time, and I’ll just have to keep wearing this stupid orange ski mask, these worn out old black boots, raggedy mittens, and cheap coat stuffed with duck feathers and covered with cigarette burns that I’ve had since I checked out of the VA facility nearly eleven years ago. But, like every year, I’ll still be around when the Bluebirds do arrive, the fruit trees begin to blossom, and the ramps start springing up all over the woods–that’s why they call it spring–things spring up and begin their journeys  toward fruition. I will till my garden boxes. I will plant seeds. I will wait.

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. A Kindle edition is available for $5.99.

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

I arrived at the grocery store. It was around 4.00pm. The vegetables were in the process of being misted. I wondered why eggplants needed misting. Well, I guess the person who tends the vegetables knows the answer. So I asked: “Why do you mist the eggplants?”

“The quick answer is they are related to tomatoes. I know that’s not a very good answer, but nobody would ever question the propriety of misting tomatoes.”

“I would” said the man standing behind me wearing a Burpee Seed hat and dirty overhauls.

“Uh oh” I thought to myself, there’s going to be some kind of misting showdown in the produce section!

I grabbed an eggplant and took off for the seafood section before something regretful happened.

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. A Kindle edition is available for $5.99.

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

I opened my eyes, got out of bed, made coffee, turned on the TV and watched my second wife making a sock puppet on the knitting channel. She finished the sock puppet and put it on her hand. It looked like me thirty years ago. Swinging my sock puppet mullet back and forth she made the sock puppet me say, “The hell I will!” The screen went blank and up popped an ad for Pagan Mingle, “We make the sacrifice, you get the partner.” I felt a tickling sensation in my lips and . . .

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

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

As Lincoln said, “If we could first know where we are, and whither we are tending, we could better judge what to do, and how to do it.”

Last night, President Obama gave a speech on Syria, the pundits yelled at each other, Chris Matthews went nuts, and I turned off my TV.

The House is divided. Whither are we tending?

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

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

Last night the sweaty Indiana campaign crowd cheered, the winning candidate smiled and waved, and Lugar’s legacy was demolished, flattened, paved over.  And today, on that great flat expanse, the fleet of shiny new 2013 Conservative Avengers (made in USA) is lined up in a row in accord with the giant red, white, and blue sign at the entrance:

Park to the Far Right or Be Towed

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

Hypozeuxis

Hypozeuxis  (hyp-o-zook’-sis): Opposite of zeugma. Every clause has its own verb.

The driver sipped coffee, the passengers yacked, and the van rolled on through the night.

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