Category Archives: procatalepsis

Procatalepsis (pro-cat-a-lep’-sis): Refuting anticipated objections.

“Stick a screwdriver in their eye. Quick. Clean. Lethal. Quick: one rapid thrust pushing the screwdriver all the way into the eye socket. Clean: the eyeball bleeds less than any other killing points on the body. You just need to wear rubber gloves. Lethal: this almost goes without saying. What else could a screwdriver plunged into an eyeball be—a portal to the brain and a fatal wound. If you like, you may leave the screwdriver in the victim’s eye for effect, making them a kind of scarecrow, warning rivals of what their treachery will reap.”

This is a passage of my lecture to students who want to be hit men and women. I teach at a clandestine college in Palermo, Sicily named Colpo U. (Whack U.). The college is hidden around the city, well-concealed from the carbonara. The last time a university building was raided, within one week the entire police force was murdered. That was in 1822. There has not been a raid since.

I got my PhD in Mortality Sciences while I was in Ne York in the 1970s. I studied by mail with the University of Maryland. My dissertation was titled “Murder at a Bus Stop.” I sat across the street from a bus stop every day for a year in NYC, in Brooklyn, waiting for a murder. If there was no murder in a given week by Friday, I would murder somebody waiting for the bus and observe how the other passengers reacted. It had the effect of driving ridership down on New York’s buses in keeping with the organization’s aims that had awarded me the internship and financial support.

During this period, I learned to be a hit man. My internship was invaluable. With this experience and my PhD I was awarded a tenure track job at Whack U.

When you look at what I do for a living, it is important to realize there is a time and place for everything “unto heaven.” So, as you begin to rattle off your objections to what I do, be advised, I work for the natural order of things like yogurt culture, cheese mold, or fermentation. Consider me as a plague with a purpose. I am fatal. I make victims out of people like you. I am necessary to the order of things. Murder will never cease to be a solution to interpersonal and institutional problems. It is quick, cheap, and easy. Like I tell my students, the first murder in recorded history happened 430, 000 years ago. So, go blow it out your ass.

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

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Procatalepsis (pro-cat-a-lep’-sis): Refuting anticipated objections.

Dad: I know you’re going to say “I’d rather spend a week in the basement,” or, “I’d rather sit on a Porta-Pottie for a week,” or, “I’d rather be dead.” We go through this every year. It’s my vacation, and I choose where to go. End of story, so shut up and quit whining.

You’re going to like our home state—what I’ve got planned—who wants to go to Disneyland or Epcot when we can travel around our home state soaking up its culture and developing a deeper appreciation for our forebears’ experiences. I have our itinerary set out in a circle that will take us one week to travel, exploring a new wonder every day.

Lucinda: Dad?

Dad: Yes, Lucinda?

Lucinda: Where’s Mom?

Dad: She went on her own vacation.

Lucinda: Where did she go?

Dad: Never Mind. Shut up.

Day 1: Our first stop will be the “Grand Can-Bin.” They are the world’s largest processor of empty cans—over 10 million cans per year. The cans are crushed into metal cubes and sold to countries around the world to be used in the manufacture of cars, guided missiles, and drones. Their two biggest customers are China and Iran. We are proud of the contribution they make to our state’s economy.

Day 2: “The international Refrigerator Museum.” The museum tracks the evolution, and cultural foundations of the refrigerator. As far as we know the refrigerator was invented by Eskimos who actually lived in their refrigerators! The first modern day refrigerator was called the “ice box.” It was a box filled with ice and insulated by cats tied to the outside to keep out the heat. It was cruel and it was quickly banned by the lobbying efforts what were called “cat ladies.” Currently, the state of the art refrigerator is called”The Nordic King.” It will preserve a slice of baloney for a year and offers a beautiful display of the “Northern Lights” when you open the door.

Well, there’s a preview of what’s in store. We’re staying at a different motel every night! Our first night out we’re staying at “Coroner’s Rest.” Google says it’s “a cut above” the other local motels.

Little Bill: Dad, can I stay with Grandma instead of going on the trip?

Dad: What? After all the planning I’ve done? No way you ungrateful little pest! Shut up, or you’ll go where Mom went.

Little Bill: I want Mom!

Dad: Ok, you little twerp.

They went outside and Dad popped open the trunk of the car. There was Mom, She was gagged and bound with duct tape and writhing around, trying to get loose.

Little Bill: Gee Dad, Mom didn’t get far.

Lucinda was looking out the window and saw the whole thing. She called the police while Did was wrapping duct tape around struggling Little Bill’s head. The police arrived in minutes, freed Mom, and arrested Dad.

Dad (holding up his handcuffed wrists): We’re never going on vacation again you ungrateful bastards!

POSTSCRIPT

Mom and the kids went to Disneyland. Dad went to prison. He got four years for false imprisonment.

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.

Procatalepsis (pro-cat-a-lep’-sis): Refuting anticipated objections.

I know what you’re going to say: get the hell out of here. You make us sick. I know that “sick” is a feeble metaphor employed because you have no real reasons for me to leave. You are jealous—jealous of my genius and how far it eclipses your feeble attempts at inventiveness that end their days on the landfill one or two days after you present them to the world, like the foot pedal powered toothbrush that required a level of hand-foot coordination that nobody could achieve without falling down.

So, if it’s greatness you want, I’ve got a few things to show you that will assuage your nausea. I don’t suppose you gave any thought to the cardboard box beside me—so unobtrusive. So easily overlooked and forgotten. Behold! The “Secret Agent Box.” It holds one secret agent and electric gizmos and operates as a functionally invisible listening post. It was tested in the Men’s and Ladies’ rooms of British Embassy. The biggest piece of intel collected centered on the Ambassador’s chronic constipation. We discovered that he spent an inordinate amount of time on the toilet, leaving his office vulnerable to being searched. I’m revealing this to you because the operation was compromised. Our agent was making a tomato and mayonnaise sandwich. When he sprinkled on the pepper, some went up his nose and he sneezed. Now, the box has been thickly insulated so no sound escapes.

What? No applause? Well, I’ve got one more for you: the rearview front view mirror. This one’s simple. No more quick glances in the rearview mirror, looking back out the windshield so you won’t crash, but not sure you saw what you needed to see in the rearview mirror. The “Front/Back Mirror” solves this problem. It consists of of a “split screen” mirror . One half looks to the rear. The other half looks forward through a dash-cam. Once you become accustomed to it, you can drive solely using the “Front/Back Mirror.” In its test, there were some minor “incidents.” However, nobody was killed or seriously injured, except for some people who got the front and rear views confused. One person collided with a bridge abutment and another backed over a cliff.

Well, there you have it. “Paving the way into the future.” Our company’s motto, and clearly, exactly what I’m doing.

Stop booing and let me finish!

Ask yourselves: How did I pave the way into the future today? Ok, the vaccine for Malaria is important. I’ll grant you that. The remote controlled snow shovel? Ok. Pretty good. But the sockless shoes I invented last year have revolutionized the walking industry.

Ow! That hurt! If you’re going to throw things at me, I’m leaving. Ow!

POSTSCRIPT

Jerry was so unpopular with his colleagues that he was often beaten up in the Men’s Room. Nobody knew why he was so unliked. Maybe it was his unwarranted arrogance. He was reassigned to an administrative position where he constantly bragged that it was jealousy that landed him there. Eventually, he quit and went to work “selling dreams” for a brokerage firm.

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.