Category Archives: meiosis

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


“God is mud.” Most people would believe I’m belittling God. But what I’m doing is reminding them that God is ubiquitous—that God’s infused in the sum of His creation. It is blasphemous to think otherwise. This is hard for most people grasp, but I am an “Evertrhinganarian.” We are a sect that was established in Rhode Island in 1699. The founding fathers were disgusted with the prevailing religion’s separation of Being into Godly and Ungodly, as if anything in the created universe could not be God’s doing. How foolish they were. How biased they were.

Things earned the title “Ungodly” pretty much randomly so they could be boycotted and fall into disuse. For example, prostitution was designated as ungodly as if whoring wasn’t invented by God.

You can see how the “Everythinganarian” stand may put some people on edge. But, there’s no way around it—God is everywhere. Our task is to find a way of understanding prostitution that aligns it with God’s will. “Impossible!” you say, especially as it may abet adultery. Well, adultery is God’s creation too! Adultery is usually one of the first steps toward getting out of a failed relationship, here, the failed relationship and turning to a whore is a godsend, prompting you to find a new life—perhaps a husband or a wife, by the grace of God, by divorce’s blessing.

Morality is like a hinge on a swinging door. No matter which way you’re going, it’s aways opening. In, or out, it doesn’t matter—“in” can be out and “out” can be in—it’s a portal of interpretation that allows it to open or close on anything you choose it to be, not in itself, but as it intersects your hopes and dreams. It can appear to be an exit or an entrance, but it is actually both—an “extrance.” Once we see its multiple likelihoods, we are ready to choose what it is by focusing on its end as its end intersects our desires. So, what is”good” is always a matter of interpretation. As Stanley Fish tells us, “One person’s hope is another person’s fear.” This goes for material objects as well: One person’s cherished artifact is another person’s pain in the ass.

So, as long as we’re going to be free range individuals, we must honor morality’s swinging door. I am not obliged find my place in your life along the path of your preferences. If I do, it’s solely my choice. So, shut up and accept me as one of God’s children.


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


“He may be tall, but he’s small. That’s why we call him ‘Little Man’—a man with a shrunken soul.” That was an insult I had to endure because it was true. I was a tall bastard, a son-of-a-bitch, and a dickhead all rolled into one. I was proud of it. When I walked down the street, I hoped a homeless person would come up to me ask for money so I could push them down into the gutter where they belonged. I kept a record of my “push downs” on my cellphone. In the six months since I started keeping track, I’ve got 18. I go to the places where homeless people hang out so I can build my numbers. When a victim hits the gutter, I take a picture and post it to “Scrooge’s Circle” a social club with an ant-social agenda—Ha! Ha!

“Scrooge’s Circle” was founded in the 19th century soon after Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” was published—a smarmy, ham-fisted story of Scrooge’s redemption. A perfect capitalist, he goes through a series of bullshit fairytale visitations from sniveling Christmas spirits, ending with the grim reaper scaring the shit out of him and making him into a compassionate human being—the opposite of what he was before. He’s been castrated by Christmas and converted by his own hallucinations.

When I saw “A Christmas Carol” for the first time, as a child, I LOVED the early unrepentant Scrooge. He didn’t give a damn about cripples and orphans—or crippled orphans: blind orphans or orphans with one foot or no hands. He didn’t give a rat’s ass if his employees froze to death at their desks as long as he could save money on coal to heat their workplace. He loved to evict his tenants during the holiday season to compound their grief. He also enjoyed watching penniless starving widows walk up and down the street looking for “dates” with cheating husbands so they can feed the family their husband left behind by dying or running off.

Then, the Christmas Eve disaster happened and he was transformed. He bought a giant goose for his office manager Bob Cratchet and paid off the mortgage on Bob’s hovel. He made a huge donation to the widows and orphans fund. He bought seeing eye dogs for all the blind orphans and found decent jobs for all the widows. He agitated for women suffrage and the abolition of slavery. He worked tirelessly to bring an end to child labor. What a loser!

I really felt betrayed by the changed Scrooge. He went from my idea of “The Perfect Man” to a back-stabbing ninny-nanny nambi-pambi bleeding heart weakling. He became shamelessly kind and charitable, anathema to the Capitalist ethos of British social order. Selfishness is the primal virtue along with survival of the fittest. I am not a nursemaid to the weak and feckless! I am a general, calling on my troops to beat the competition into the ground, to trample the weak and chide the helpless—to tell them to shut up if they’re whining, and to “put a stopper in it” if they’re crying. There are only winners and loser in this world. Let the losers lose!

“Scrooge’s Circle” meets once a year on Christmas Eve. We watch the first part of “A Christmas Carol” before Scrooge is wimpified. We turn off the TV and share our favorite “early Scrooge” things we’ve done over the course of the preceding year. For me, it was stealing a homeless man’s shoes. He had foolishly left them outside his cardboard box while he slept. They had a note leaning against them saying: “Put donations in shoes.” One shoe had $2.00 in it. I took the $2.00 and put it in my wallet, and then, threw both of the shoes in the Hudson River. Also, I bribed an OSHA inspector, and then, blackmailed him for taking the bribe. I got this idea from an episode of “Columbo.” I was toasted by my fellow “Circle” members. I felt good about being a greedy, uncaring, lying, cheating, morally bankrupt wildly successful businessman. Go ahead and call me “Little Man.” Maybe I’ll have you evicted—it’s almost Christmas.


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


They called me “Shorty.” I was 6’ 8” tall. I think it was my father who gave me the nickname when I was a baby and wouldn’t fit in the basinet. My feet hung over the end and made my ankles sore. So, my dad hung out at the grocery store until they threw away a box I could fit in. My dad glued the box to two saw horses, and that was it. I had grown so much by the time I was four, I started wearing adult clothing. I loved my blue suede shoes with gold buckles, and red sharkskin bell-bottoms. It couldn’t last forever. As I aged, my clothing became more age appropriate. Now, I have to wear long and tall pants and shirts. I have to go all the way to New York to find them.

I wanted to be a railroad engineer, but that wasn’t meant to be, even though I had had a summer internship with the Erie Lackawanna line. I sat on my seat with my arm hanging out the window as the wind blew through my hair. I loved blowing the horn as we’d pass kids pumping their arms up and down. But, given my height, I was being pressured to play basketball. The first time I picked up a basketball, I dropped it. I started wearing basketball clothes. I lived in Chicago now, so I wore Chicago Bulls garb. I looked the role, but I couldn’t play it.

There was a Bulls coach who I met on the Chicago L, he encouraged me to come to a practice, given my height. I told him I had no athletic ability. He said, “Let me be the judge of that.”

I showed up for practice. After about ten minutes he told me I was right—I had no athletic ability and to quit wasting his time. He gave me cab fare. I cried all the way home. I told my dad and he clenched his fists. My Dad was “Notorious Nick.” He is deceased now, but then he was a Capo commanding an extortion crew. Dad said, “Don’t worry son, I’ll take care of that slime.”

Two days later they found him hanging from a basketball basket with his pants pulled down, and “Slime” written on his forehead in red lipstick. He didn’t die, but he became nicer. My dad asked me: “You want to play basketball?” I said no, “I want to be a railroad engineer,” Two days later, I was a railroad engineer. I had a few mishaps, but I learned. The worst was the woman duct-taped to the tracks. I stopped before I squished her, but I found out it was a college fraternity prank. I told Dad and, in lieu of arresting them, he had them all drafted, assigned to the infantry, and sent to Vietnam. They’re all complained to their congressional representatives. They were all ignored.

So, guess what? I fell in love with the girl duct taped to the tracks and she fell in love with me. She was studying pipe fitting at BOCES. We have a two-year old daughter. We couldn’t decide whether to name her “Choo-Choo” or “Wah Wah” so we named her “Piper” or “Pipe” for short.


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


I called my dirty room “the dust mote bar and grill” making it seem less of a mess than it actually was. I’ve never been to a bar & grill but I liked the idea of eating and drinking at the same time. I was 12 and I had “borrowed” 2 beers at the last 4th of July family gathering and had eaten four snappy grillers. I was half-drunk when I asked my Aunt Betty to take walk to the lake with me. She called me a naughty boy and laughed and patted me on the head. I continued to the lake by myself. Frustrated. As I neared the lake, I started to remember. It was difficult, but I couldn’t push it out of my head.

I was 7 years old. After a year of promising “next weekend” my father was finally going to take me fishing at Lake Hoppaclang—one of Central New Jersey’s most beautiful lakes. It even had an amusement park on an island. The only condition for dad taking me fishing was that my little brother Don be allowed to come along. Don was what we called “a piece of work.” One of our biggest hopes was that he would learn to tie his own shoes some day and stop shuffling around inside the house saying he was a cha-cha train, and each room in the house a stop on his railroad line. For example, he would say: “Arriving at the kitchen. Next stop, downstairs bathroom. Watch your step.” This went on all day. It made my mother crazy. I heard my parents talking one night about how to suffocate a person in bed with their pillow. Dad was in favor, but mom wasn’t. She ran the show so Don got a reprieve.

We got up a 4:00 am. There was Don with his stupid looking overalls and dirty stuffed bunny that he said he was going to marry when he grew up. There was a half-bottle of rum on the kitchen table and dad looked like he was going to have a heart attack—he looked sort of gray and he was pounding on his chest. He said “Jesus! Let’s get the goddamn show on the road.” We had bought kids cheap “Donald Duck” fishing poles, hooks, bobbers, and sinkers at Walmart, and a cardboard quart container of worms at the gas station.

We got to Lake Hoppaclang just as the sun was rising. It was beautiful and quiet. There was a long dock with small 12-14 fit boats chained to it. As dad got out of the car he said “Hand me those bolt cutters on the floor.” Dad took the bolt cutters and walked down the dock like he was shopping. He settled on a nice looking aluminum boat. He knelt down and “liberated” it with one stroke of the bolt cutters. He motioned me and Don out onto the dock. We jumped in the boat and he pulled the rope on the outboard motor. It started right up and we headed out onto the lake. Don said “I am a fish.” He was about to jump overboard when I grabbed him by the leg. He threw a handful of worms at me and my father called him a moron, and my dad was right. He was a moron. He started punching his stuffed bunny and calling it a moron until my father handed him a fishing pole and told him to “catch a a friggin’ fish” and called him a moron again.

We drifted around the lake and caught at least 75 sunfish. They covered the bottom of the boat—dull-eyed and drying out in the sun. All-of-sudden dad stood up and said “Look at this!” He had a dead sunfish in his hand, holding it like a skipping stone. He threw it and it skipped at least six times. He picked up another one, tripped over Don and fell out of the boat. Dad could doggy paddle, but not for long. He was way overdue for a heart attack. We had no life-jackets or any other kind of flotation devices. The boat was drifting away from dad. Don was clapping his hands and saying “Dad will have big drink of lake and go bye-bye.” I told him to shut up and called him a moron—I was in charge now.

We had drifted around 50 feet from dad. He had taken all of his clothes off, but he was still starting to sink. I pulled the rope on the outboard motor. It started, I pushed the lever on the side forward and we started moving. I twisted the motor’s handle and we started speeding toward dad. He was waving his arms and yelling “No, no, no!” Don was throwing sunfish overboard and making a barking noise.

As we neared dad, I saw we weren’t going to hit him, but we were going to come really close. I told Don to throw the boat’s tie-up chain at dad as we went by. He said “Ok” so I thought he might have understood me. When we went by dad, Don threw the chain. It hit dad in the head and wrapped around his neck. Dad managed to loosen it enough so it wouldn’t strangle him. We were towing dad to shore. We were lucky because I didn’t know how to steer the boat. We drove up on shore and dad stood in the waist-deep water. He ran to the boat and picked up the fishing poles and told me to grab the bolt cutters. We ran to the car and burned rubber as we sped away. That was the last time we ever went fishing.

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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


Cod Almighty created the heavens and the earth in seven days and seven nights. Cod Almighty took a rest on day seven and looked in the mirror. “I am not a halibut,” He proclaimed. Nevertheless, he was netted and found himself on the deck of a trawler. He tried to flop over the side before they shoveled him into the refrigerated hold along with his brethren. He failed. He became part of the pile of squirming fish, shiny silver in the gloom of the refrigerated hold. Slapped in the eye by a cold fish tail, and sliding deeper into the panicked pile, he thought, “I am Cod, I created all of this. It is not supposed to be like this. It is supposed to be a good world, filled with peace, love, and happiness, not a wild world filled with war, hatred, and clinically depressed humans: the clam mourns the depredation of its richly scented mud flats, the elderly man lives in a cardboard box, the lobster—consider the lobster—cramped in a supermarket tank, waiting to be boiled, cracked open, and eaten.”

Cod decided to make it right. He would remake the world, and recreate it right—universally brimming over with love, peace, and happiness. He closed his eyes and imagined the world he hoped for. Nothing happened, except he sank deeper into the fish pile. Then, he thought there may be other Cods and Coddesses in the pile who envisioned what he envisioned. He cried out. There was no answer. The pile was closing in, almost crushing him with its increasing weight. Then, He remembered he was omnipotent. Because of this insight, He thought, “I can reestablish myself as Cod,” and shimmied His way to the top of the pile, shot out of the hold, flopped across the deck and dove deep into the sea, where He was netted by another trawler and dumped into its hold. “Cod-damnit!” He cried, bubbling at the mouth. One of the hold’s shovelers looked at Him and asked “Did you just swear?” “Yes!” He cried, “Things are not the way they’re supposed to be.” The shoveler threw Cod in a corner and covered Him with a tarp. He told Him he got to keep one “catch” from each fishing trip & he was keeping Cod. When they got back to the Harbor, he took Cod in the tarp to the Fisher of Men Study Center. Cod rode in the back of the shoveler’s pickup truck flopping with joy. The Lab scientists put Cod in a beautiful tank. It was small, but comfortable. Cod told them He was grateful, but that “I am Cod Almighty and something got totally screwed up after I made the heavens and the earth.” The scientists looked sympathetic, and one of them offered to help Cod “sort things out.”

Now, Cod tells us: “I work when I can for the Study Center, dictating my memoirs to the scientist sitting on the rock at the end of my tank, where it is very foggy most of the time. Every once-in-awhile I hear somebody say, ‘Focus mister Bender, it’s time for your medication’ and a human hand pokes through the fog and feeds me a little blue pellet. I think there is a shark in the tank next to mine. I can’t see him, but he makes me nervous.”


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


You know, I’ve been biting into these things, eating all kinds of cakes and pies, drinking their juice and alcohol made from the juice. They make a big part of my state’s economy profitable, but still, I think they are way overrated. It isn’t popular, but I call them “crapples” for what their cultivation does to us. “Huh?” you ask.

You’ve heard of Adam & Eve, right? The story of what happened in the Garden of Eden should be enough to prompt the outlawing of crapples. Satan hangs out in apple orchards and the fruit section of grocery stores. Every time you eat an apple you are doing Satan’s bidding and will probably become a prostitute, bank robber or heroin addict, scraping the bottom of life’s barrel, catching diseases, going insane, and going to prison. You may say “I’ve partaken of apples all my life and I’m not a prostitute, bank robber, or drug addict.” To that I say, Satan is clever— just wait—keep consuming crapples and you will fall. Believe me: it is inevitable. Look at Jeffery Dahmer—he loved crapples and ate them all of his life. And then, one day he became a serial killer and switched over to eating people. Satan rejoiced. Or look at Charles Manson: he religiously followed Satan’s apple a day dictum. Satan rejoiced.

So there. You risk damnation every time you bite into a beautiful red Cartland, a crisp Red Delicious, or a bright green Granny Smith. Do not please Satan. Stop consuming all crapple products and you will help thwart his plan. Save yourself! Put down that apple and pick up a nectarine or an avocado!


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.


You can take your engagement ring and shove it. It’s a cigar band for bozos. After what you did to me, I’m outta here.


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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.

What happened to the United States of America–that little blip on humanity’s radar screen? Was it actually swallowed whole by a grotesque, fat, blond man who was happy to see it disappear so he could replace it with the The Disjointed States of Confusion that we’re living in now?

Well, I for one miss the good old USA. I hope enough other people do too, so on Election Day we can get our country back from fatso.

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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.

That so-called “Presidential Executive Office” is looking more and more like a “Used Car Sales Office” that’s failing to meet its quota. 

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.

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.

Imagine, calling a string of commonplace cliches “plagiarism.” Melania was simply stating truisms–the kinds of things that common sense dictates when you’re talking about your parents’ advice and influence, raising children, and being an American. It’s like saying “I love you” is plagiarized because it’s been said countless times before!

What do I have to do now, think of a new way to say “I love you” because there’s a Valentine’s card that already says it?

I’ll tell you what! Nobody’s going to make me find a different way to say “I love you,”even if you call me a plagiarist! I love you is I love you. How else do I say it?

Speaking from the heart is not plagiarism, no matter how much it may sound like what other people say when they speak from the heart.

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

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.

It was time to pan fry the catfish I caught in the river across from the “Jack and the Beanstalk” fertilizer factory!

This was no ordinary catfish and pan frying was not exactly what I was going to do. The fish was so big that I had use my front loader to scoop it up and drive it home from the river. As soon as I got it home, I built a huge bonfire, laced with petrochemicals to get it going fast. I cleaned the fish with a chainsaw. Then, I lowered the front loader’s bucket into the roaring flames. When it was red hot, I raised it out of the fire, backed up and scooped up the fish. Then, with my mouth watering I pulled forward and lowered little kitty-kitty-fish into the eight-foot flames.

The explosion blew apart my front loader. I woke up in a drainage ditch across the street from my home. All of its windows were shattered.

I was soaking wet. I was covered with wriggling mosquito larvae and blown up catfish parts.  My ears were ringing, my nose was bleeding and a charred pectoral fin the size of a canoe paddle was sticking out of the left cheek of my bashed up butt.

I felt a pang of hunger. It triggered the first thought that squeezed through my swollen brain: “Beaver Brand Tatar Sauce.” Inspired, I dragged myself across the street, over the curb, over the broken glass, into the smoking double-wide, toward what was left of my kitchen. “Beaver, beaver, beaver” I moaned.

The next thing I knew, the angel with the black and yellow stun gun . . .

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

Meiosis

Meiosis (mei-o’-sis): Reference to something with a name disproportionately lesser than its nature (a kind of litotes). This term is equivalent to tapinosis.

We’ve got to cross those mountains to get to California?  Hey–they’re just a couple of snow-capped bumps on the trail. Right?

  • Post your own meiosis on the “Comments” page!

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