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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on December 1, 2025 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

“Big Buffalo prairie cabal.” That’s what I called it. The massive herd was slowly moving toward me, heads down, except for the alpha Buffalo “Shaggy,” head up with a dead rabbit impaled on one of his horns.

The buffalos picked up the pace and soon were galloping full tilt toward me. Did they want to kill me? I answered “Yes” in my head and jumped behind a large boulder.

The herd came streaming by—hundreds of buffalo. They smelled like unwashed underwear. They made a mooing sound like a car with a dead battery—ruh, ruh, ruh, ruh, ruh—only louder. It was a nightmare. I tried praying but I couldn’t remember how. So, I just yelled “Help!” There was a naked guy riding a white buffalo wearing a buffalo horn hat and thick eye shadow. He yelled “Stop!” And the herd stopped on his command. He looked at me and said “I am the Buffalo God. Go now! Go back to your family. Go back to your friends. Go back to MTV if it still exists. Or, you can ride the plains with me.”

I took him up on his offer, stripped naked and climbed on the buffalo he pointed out. “Her name’s Pandora” he said. I asked what we do in cold weather. He told me we fly to a nudist colony in Florida for the winter and that he was able to make us invisible for the flight.

We rode the plains all summer long. When it came time to go south naked, we took an Uber to the airport. We were arrested for public nudity at the airport’s entrance. Something had gone wrong with the Buffalo God’s invisibility spell. I was shocked and disappointed.

Under questioning, the police told me he was a certified nutcase. But then, he disappeared from his cell. Nobody could find him. Then, the police station’s entrance door opened and closed by itself. The Buffalo God had fixed his spell! The next thing I knew, I disappeared too!

We did a reprise of our trip to the airport, boarded a United Airlines flight to Miami, and then, took a bus to “Nudy, Nudy Nudist Colony.” We swam. We fished. We para-sailed. We water-skied. We ate the best food. We drank the best cocktails.

We both looked forward to returning to the buffalo.

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

The Daily Trope is available in an early edition 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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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on May 1, 2025 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

Big bluebird! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I dropped my binoculars and got out my bird identification guide: “Bill Birdwood’s Guide to Every Bird on Earth.”

This was no normal bluebird. The only thing it had in common with normal bluebirds was its blue body and an orange patch on its chest. I couldn’t find him in my “Guide,” so I Googled with a description: “Huge bird with bluebird plumage. He looks like a feathered basketball and makes a growling sounds like an angry dog. I haven’t see him fly, and given his girth, I’m not sure he can. He is eating discarded cigarette butts off the ground. This is an especially good place to do so—we’re at the designated smoking area for employees of the adjacent life insurance company.”

I hit return on my keyboard and got an almost instant response. It was Bill Birdwood himself! He told me the name of the bird “Blue Ball Giganticus.” He didn’t list him in his guide because the Blue Ball is considered a mythological bird—like the Phoenix. He wrote, “But, if you’ve got a live one in your sights, you better run away faster than you’ve ever run before!”

So I ran. To my horror, with much wing flapping the Blue Ball slowly took off straight up like a helicopter with a frightening growl. I tripped and fell and the Blue Ball swooped down over me, dropping a cigarette butt on my outstretched body. It landed on my chest. I sat up, grabbed it off my pant leg and threw it as far as I could—about five feet. Then, the big fat Blue Ball landed on my shoulder—which was just wide enough for him to fit on. I was terrified.

Then, he leaned toward my ear and asked: “What’s the capital of Montana?” I told him I didn’t know, and that I’m really bad at state capitals. He said “Ok ok. What is an isosceles triangle?” I didn’t know. I told him I pretty much didn’t know anything. He kept asking me similar questions for about a half-hour. I couldn’t answer any of them. He gave up and called me a “bird brain” which I thought was really weird. After all that, he asked me if my refrigerator was running.

I knew that one! I said “Yes.” Then he told me I better go catch it. He asked if I wanted a cigarette butt. I told him I didn’t and he flew away grunting and straining. Now, I could add to my list of Blue Ball characteristics: can talk, eats cigarette butts, takes off like helicopter, and is boring to spend time with. I wondered why Bill Birdwood told me to run.

I found out when I started developing a taste for cigarette butts and began picking them up off the ground and storing them in my briefcase “for later.”

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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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on August 22, 2024 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

Green camo, brown cam, grey camo, yellow camo. Blah, blah, blah. What is everybody hiding from? I see people posing as bushes, in bushes and under bushes. Great way to spend a Saturday afternoon—underneath a bush wearing clothes printed with photos of bushes. I can see these people because they don’t know what they’re doing and have never really needed camouflage except for turkey hunting, and maybe, deer hunting with a bow and arrow. Beyond that, it might as well be a fashion trend enabled by people who like to “blend in,” but that’s hard to do when you’re leaning against your truck or in the produce section of the grocery store. Standing by a bin of avocados, or in the bakery, you still don’t blend in. It is so funny to see a person squatting by a picnic table trying to blend in. But it’s not funny.

“Blending” is the result of a spineless desire to go with flow and conform, and especially, not stand out. As the Blending movement has grown, it has taken root in social reality as the norm—if you don’t blend in, you run the risk of being ostracized and put in the “Federal Camp for Hippies, Poets, and Anarchists.” Outside the camp, things go smoothly, everybody gets along, but there’s no creativity—nothing new, bold, or revolutionary. When I was a kid, something new and revolutionary came to market almost every week.

How did this happen? It was the 3-D movie “Camouflaged!” it was about these three kids who were skinny dipping and had their clothes stolen by the class bully. To get home without getting in trouble, they had to camouflage their private parts with sticks, and vines, and mud, and grass, and moss, and leaves. Naked and camouflaged, nobody noticed. The kids just walked down the street barefoot. Then Dexter, the smart one, noticed something: “You are all naked and camouflaged, acting differently from what you feel, using euphemisms, even lying, to hide yourselves.” Instead of seeing that as a bad thing, the people saw it was a good thing: no risk, no blame, a tranquil trajectory to the grave.

So, “blending in” has become the highest aspiration. If you can’t or won’t, bye bye. As the movement has gained momentum, the scope of camouflage has been been expanded, and the sphere of blending in has widened—you can be the real quarter panel of a pickup truck, a light pole, a door, a shopping cart, a refrigerator, and a million other things. Life has become complicated. For example, yesterday I sat on the couch and injured my sister’s wrist. She was so well-blended I mistook her for the couch! This quality of blending in is admirable, but, you have watch out what you blend into. Two weeks ago an 80-year-old man camouflaged as a white pine tree was sawed in half by a logger. The logger was wearing mandatory ear protection, so he didn’t hear the man’s screams.

Someday, this madness will come to an end. Until then, I have adopted a clever ruse: I am camouflaged as a person who isn’t camouflaged. I am camouflaged as myself.

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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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on January 12, 2024 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

Big dreams. Piled promises. Cautious optimism Why? “Because, because, because, because, because.” I learned this wise saying from being a scarecrow, looking for The Wizard of Oz with loony. Dorothy and the crew. She’s trying to provide a justification for going to Oz to see the Wizard. Dorothy, our leader, is still high on opium poppies so it takes her awhile to disclose the foundation of the justification. Her crew, the Scarecrow (me), Tin Man, and the Lion are immune to the effects of opium, but we are hesitant to speak over her due to her singleminded commitment to going to Oz. The Scarecrow (me) has some brains and could probably fill in the blank, but I know Dorothy would admonish me for being a know-it-all, which as a matter of fact Dorothy was. If she had’t rescued me from crows pecking at me in a corn field, I would’ve taken off days ago. The Tin Man and Lion were too stupid to realize that Dorothy had snagged them when they were down and out, and like a good cult leader had pumped up their self-esteem by making empty promises—courage for the Lion, a heart for the Tin Man. Absurd! She promised me a brain. I knew I already had one. I knew Dorothy was full of shit and just bossed the three of us around to serve her obsession to go to Oz to fulfill her self-absorbed fantasy of getting back home to Kansas. I considered sabotaging her by cluing in the Tin Man and the Lion that the real reason for going to Oz, and following the Yellow Brick Road, was all about Dorothy’s selfish desires.

So, as we’d just emerged from the poppy field and could see Oz in distance, Dorothy snapped out of her daze and began to sing:

“If ever a wiz there was
If ever, oh ever a wiz there was

The Wizard of Oz is one because
Because, because, because, because, because
Because of the wonderful things he does
We’re off to see the Wizard
The wonderful Wizard of Oz”

“Oh my,” she yelled. So now we knew, it’s “because of the wonderful things he does.” I asked Dorothy: “Can you give me an example?” She told me to shut up and keep walking. I did.

We got to the Oz city gates and headed to the Wizard’s palace. He was drunk and had a hot-looking munchkin on each knee. They were singing an off-color song about lollipops. The Wizard said “What do you sorry looking stooges want?” “I want to go back to Kansas,” said Dorothy, pulling the lollipop out of the Wizard’s hand. “What do I look like United Airlines?” The Wizard asked. Dorothy yelled “You bastard! You’re nothing but a con artist.” “So what? This is Oz. Get used to it—you’re not in Kansas any more, baby.” Said the Wizard with a scornful look on his face.

That was that. We had to get jobs. I found a field where I could set up a scare crow operation. The Cowardly Lion joined a small traveling circus. The Tin Man became a mime performer in Oz Square. He would chop wood and oil himself and have his picture taken by tourists. Dorothy didn’t do too well, as a “normal” human, she had trouble finding a job. She worked as a towel dryer in a car wash. Then she worked pumping septic tanks. Her last job was working in the emerald mines where she met the millionaire munchkin Yelson Popchick and married him. She still wants to go back to Kansas, but alas, it will never be. She has started a movement to impeach the Wizard of Oz. She will fail because, because, because, because, because.

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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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on June 1, 2023 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

“There was only so much I could do.” Gross failure. Losing again. My favorite excuse relieved me from responsibility. It made it sound like I tried, but whatever it was, was beyond my limits. Then, I would become an object of pity instead of scorn. I got so good at it, no matter how trivial a given failure event was, “there was only so much I could do” got me off the hook every time.

It all began when I fell out of my car in my driveway followed by an empty clanking vodka bottle.

I had hit my mailbox pulling into my driveway, drunk on my ass. A police car pulled up. An officer rolled down his window and asked me if I was ok. Out of habit I said “There was only so much I could do.” He said, “Ok. Take care.” and drove away. I woke up in my driveway the next morning with wet pants and a headache. My head had slammed into the concrete. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred. There was my car, sideways with the mailbox under the front wheel. I couldn’t believe the cops had bought my excuse. It was basically unbelievable. What had happened? Was it an anomaly, a one-off, a stroke of amazing luck?

After the driveway episode, I had a theory. I went to the mall. I went to the cookware store “Cook It” and picked up a $200.00 saucepan, held it over my head and walked toward the exit saying “There was only so much I could do” over my shoulder. As the alarm went off, the clerk smiled and made a waving gesture, like she was pushing me out the exit. The security guard tipped his hat and said “Have a nice day sir.” “Indeed!” I thought as I headed to “Blingo’s Jewelry Store.” I was looking at a tray of diamond rings—in the $10,000-$12,000 range. I scooped up a handful and said “There was only so much I could do.” The clerk nodded her head and said “I understand sir. I hope you have no trouble fencing them.”

I understood now, that for some reason my excuse applied to anything untoward I wanted to do. It enabled my “victims“ to accommodate my wrongdoing and smooth it over with deference to my feelings. It was like having a desire license and it was open season on whatever I wanted.

Next stop, politics. I had run for mayor several times but was always defeated. There was an election for mayor coming. If I played it right, I couldn’t lose. But how could I reach everybody with my spellbinding excuse? I had learned early that I had to say it for it to work. Brochures, billboards, or campaign buttons wouldn’t cut it. So, I rented a truck with four giant loudspeakers on it and drove it up and down every street in town at least five times blaring my eloquent excuse, followed by “Vote for me, Carl Prontor.”

I was sitting at home watching the returns on TV. I was losing—losing by a lot. Then, there was a flash of light in the hall closet like a bulb blowing out. A squeaky voice said “Our experiment is over.” That was it. I wanted to cry as I watched the election slip away. I opened the closet and nothing was there. I was losing my mind. Everything was collapsing. I had no idea what to do. I went to my campaign headquarters to give my concession speech. I began by saying, “There was only so much I could do.” Somebody threw a folding chair at me. Another person yelled “if that was all you could do, no wonder you lost, shithead.” It went on like that for 20 minutes. I left.

Experiment? It must’ve been a failure, given how it ended up: my life more or less destroyed. I suspect the experiment was conducted by space aliens, and that’s my new excuse: “I’m sorry, but it was the space aliens.” It’s not too successful at building bridges after I’ve burned them, but presently it’s all I’ve got, although the voice in my closet actually sounded a lot like my therapist. I’ve come to realize that some things are meant to remain mysteries, like the past five years of my life.

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.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on October 3, 2022 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

Footballs. Bowling balls. Basketballs. Soccer Balls. Tennis balls. Golf balls. Soft balls. Croquet balls. Handballs. Paintballs. The world of sports is a world of balls. In fact, balls are probably the most prevalent pieces of equipment in the sporting world. Without balls, we’d be down to darts, and archery, and horseshoes, and curling, and badminton, and skiing, and skeet shooting, and chess. But that’s beside the point when you consider the tiny country of Vestigial.

A favorite competitive sport in Vestigial is called “Pine Pulling.” The game takes place on a Christmas Tree Farm near the sea. “Pullers” are ranked in accord with how long it takes them to uproot a tree. “Pine Pulling” harkens back to a time when Vestigial was a poor nation and it’s citizens couldn’t afford saws or axes, so they tore 6-8 foot tall spruce trees out of the forest earth, ripped off their branches, and used them for firewood—for warmth and cooking. The pine wood is rich in pitch so it was easily lit. Since they had no saws or axes, they shoved their wood straight into the fireplace—perpendicular to its walls. In addition, as a sideline, they made toothbrushes out of the branches and sold them to neighboring Norwegians, until they were invaded and annexed by the Norwegians in 1602. Nevertheless, the persistence of “Pine Pulling” as a sport is testimony to the resilience of Vestigial culture.

Then, in Stuckland, a microscopic state in South Africa that hardly anybody realizes exists, there is “Ant Whispering.” Stuckland has formidable ant reserves. In fact, there are easily more ants than human in Stuckland. The region is dotted with gigantic ant mounds, some of which are over 100 feet high. The annual games take place on the ant preserve in central Stuckland called Devil Ants Den and use the “Ant Tower” as the staging ground for the competition. Called “Vuur Mier” in the local dialect, the ants are almost identical to the Fire Ants introduced into the US from South America. “Ant Whispering” is played by single players scaling Ant Tower, sticking their face in the hole at the top, and yelling “Stay down!” for 15 seconds. The competitor with the fewest blisters on their face wins the competition, and the first prize: a free visit to the emergency room of the nearby hospital. Of course, the competition is undertaken to prove the hardiness, bravery, and resilience of the Stucklanders.

Competition. Sticking it out. Pride. Practice. Perseverance. Every culture has its games that exemplify its character and commitments, but there is a common thread: Winning and Losing. Inevitably there are more losers than winners. There are far more frustrated and angry competitors who lost than happy, smiling winners. Losers may be beaten up by their backers when they get home, lose their wives and husbands to winners, or become despondent drug users. Nobody likes a loser. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel!

I abstain from playing sports. Abstinence is a higher virtue than playing because it colors over winning and losing with “neither.” You put yourself out of play and no longer endure the ups and down. However, there is still a place for winning and losing in my life. I have become a “lottotarian” specializing in $1.00 scratch-off lotto tickets. Since there is no skill involved in scratch-off lotto, winning and losing are not attributed to me and do not involve me in a tangle of egotistic back-slapping or guilt-laced self-recrimination.

New York’s lotto motto says it all: “Hey, you never know.” This is a life-lesson that’s worth spending one dollar on.

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.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on February 10, 2022 | Comments Off on Scesis Onomaton

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

Speeding Cars, roaring trucks, whooshing bicycles, squeaky scooters, rolling roller skates, clunking big wheels, chugging trains. I know this is crazy, but I’ve been thinking about wheels for the past couple of weeks. I ran over a grey squirrel with my truck. I can’t stop thinking about rolling along, and then suddenly a squirrel ran out of some bushes right by my truck. He was under my front wheel before I could even hit the brakes. I pulled over and looked out the back window. He was flatted and his eyeballs had popped out. I was nearly sick to my stomach. I got out of my truck and kicked him into the gutter so he wouldn’t get run over any more, or cause somebody to swerve and get into an accident. I picked up some leaves from the road shoulder and covered his corpse, which was steaming in the late October chill.

That night, I had a nightmare. I had befriended the dead squirrel and named him Nutty. He was alive. We were riding down the street in my truck when, all of a sudden, Nutty jumped out the the truck window. I heard the rear tire go budda-bump. “Oh my God it’s Nutty. I’ve run him over again!” I stopped and jumped out of my truck, only to be sickened by what I saw: A little girl with a tire track across her stomach and blood trickling from her mouth. I called 911, but I kept getting the same message over and over: “You have killed a little girl with your big truck. You had better call Triple-A.” I called Triple-A. I got a recording: “We are unable to dispose of any corpses right now. Please call back later.” I woke up screaming. I was terrified. I was totally freaked out. I was fear itself!

That’s when I started thinking about wheels. I’m not sure why. I got a thick notebook and started writing down everything I could think of that has wheels. I organized it alphabetically A-Z. Airplanes were my fist entry. When I got to an alphabet letter that I couldn’t think of a wheel for, I drew a frowny face and moved on. Then, one evening there was a knock on my door: “Girl scout cookies.” I opened the door. It was a little girl and what I assumed was her mother. I was startled. The little girl looked almost identical to the little girl I had run over in my nightmare! It was weird. I tried to hold back, but I was so glad to see her that I took a step toward her with my arms open wide. She backed up and fell down my porch steps. Luckily, her mother was there to help her up. As she limped away holding her mother’s hand, she turned and said, “I’m glad you didn’t call 911. It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

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.

More fun: Rational Enquirer The subtitle is “Fake News You Can Use” I hope you can check it out.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on May 31, 2021 | Comments Off on Scesis Onomaton

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern). 2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Life good, death bad, high good, low bad, happy good, sad bad. Vexed opposites. Vexed insofar as the qualities of the oppositions are seemingly steady. But it isn’t so. Today, on Memorial Day it is good to be sad: indifference to our military’s sacrifices would be criminal and dancing on their graves would be worse. We are left with gratitude: a sort of sadness (in this case) accompanied by a realization of the goods preserved by their deaths as well as the sorrow felt by families and friends that testifies to their love: the struggle with absence and the unavoidable question: What would they be doing now?

2. Where’s my water pipe? I can’t find my toker stoker. Definitely disappeared. Check the cat’s toy basket. It won’t be the first time that something lost has turned up there. Remember my sock and my car keys?

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.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on November 7, 2019 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Whistleblower, federal employee, Lindsey Graham. Truthful. Truthful. Liar.

2. They lied. They prevaricated. They stretched the truth. They fibbed. They were full of shit. They were Trump’s most stalwart supporters.

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.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on May 18, 2017 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Russians. Elections. Trump. That’s all you need to know.

2. They went to the rally. They stood in the crowd. They included themselves in the audience. They applauded. They cheered. They went home with signed hats.

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.

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on February 11, 2016 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Primaries. Contraires. Attack ads. Back stabs. Führer Trump. Colonel Sanders. More debates. More disasters.

2. They parked their camo-covered butts in a bird sanctuary. They sat their patriot hineys down next-door to Sandhill Cranes. They chattered on their cellphones.  They drank coffee. They seemed sort of insane.

One got killed, some went home, some went to jail.

Why?

Something about cows or free-range chickens or gun control. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know.

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

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on February 21, 2014 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Political problem. Violent solution. Civil war. Revoltion.

Riots. Fire. Bullets. Death. Broken nation. Torn apart. Broken promises. Broken hearts.

Ukraine! Today we feel your pulse again–revived by the hard pressure of vilolence and protest, and currently sheltered by a political deal, perhaps, now, there is a way to heal.

2. Don’t forget to write! Remember me in letters! I hope to hear from you soon!

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

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on July 17, 2013 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. My age. My gender. My height. My weight. My hair color. My race. My marital status. My license plates. My IPS. My email. My cellphone. My account numbers. My credit history. My prescriptions. My DNA. My retinas. My fingerprints. My face.

My God!

I am information, therefore I am.

2. Wherever I go, somebody’s watching. Wherever I am, somebody knows. Whatever I do, somebody sees it. Whomever I’m with, somebody records it. Toll booths. Traffic lights. Sidewalks. Parking lots. For public safety and law enforcement, ok.  But not you–you information-sucking market research leech! Get my permission! Pay me a commission!

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

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on February 7, 2013 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Wild nights, bleary mornings, sunburned days. Spring break !

2. I have your best interests close to my heart. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. The sky’s the limit. Just ask.

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

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on April 15, 2010 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Fast cars, big boats, tricked-out trucks, and private planes!

2. We’ve reached our final destination. This is where we were headed. We’re finally here!

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

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Scesis Onomaton

Posted on March 10, 2008 | Leave a comment

Scesis Onomaton (ske’-sis-o-no’-ma-ton): 1. A sentence constructed only of nouns and adjectives (typically in a regular pattern).  2. A series of successive, synonymous expressions.

1. Truthful, honest, straightforward friends!

2. This road is long.  This road is wide.  This road is narrow.  This road leads  everywhere.  And we’ve been on this road–we’ve been riding this road–we’ve been walking this road–we’ve been traveling this road.  And we’re taking our message of hope wherever it leads us–to the large houses, to the farm houses, to the apartment houses, to the cabins, and the condos, the mobile homes and the developments–big and small–to the homes of the free and the homes of the brave, to the tired hungry undaunted souls on the streets and under the overpasses.  To all of you: The future is wide open. Change is on the road. Change is headed for Washington, D.C. Hope is moving to the White House!

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

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