Category Archives: syllepsis

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


My truck is a piece of antiquity and a piece of crap. If you looked close enough, you could see where the reins had come out from under the hood before motors were invented. It smelled like a horse’s butt inside and it’s top speed was 50 mph, fast for a horse-drawn carriage, but slow for a delivery truck. The wheels have wooden spokes, like wagon wheels. There are spear racks on the roof and the headlights run on kerosene. It has running boards. It’s brand name is “Pax Deus.”

I had bought it on E-bay. For some reason I was drawn to the piece of crap. It was like there was a voice in my head urging me to buy it. I bought it from some guy named Priscian. He said he taught grammar at a special school somewhere in Kansas. He said the truck was as much a cart as it was a truck. He said he had to sell it “because they were starting to suspect things.” I should have pressed him for more information, but in the picture posted on the internet the truck looked pretty much like a normal panel truck, except for the wooden-spoked wheels, but I thought I could have them changed, and the voice in my head was nagging me, “buy it, buy it, buy it.” The truck was $500.00, so I went for it.

I took a train from Asheville to Codex, Kansas. I had to change trains three times and ended up walking at least five miles to the place where the truck was garaged in a wheat field outside of Codex. The garage was disguised as a brush pile—but out there in the flatlands, it stuck out like a sore thumb. Priscian was there waiting for me. He was dressed oddly—a full-body green leotard, a black cape, a black beret, and some kind of weird soft leather black boots. He was wearing a huge gold cross around his neck with a Latin inscription I didn’t understand. He looked like a character out of “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I was apprehensive.

He held out a leather bag for me to deposit the $500 in. Then, he signed the title over to me—the bill of sale was written in ink, in beautiful script on parchment. Then he handed me the keys. They were made out of ivory! He walked behind the truck and disappeared. That was the last I would ever see of him. I threw my luggage in the back of the truck and got in, behind the giant wooden steering wheel. I inserted the ivory key and the windshield started to glow, then a man that looked like a Medieval monk popped up. He said “Thou shalt deliver us from evil.” I was completely weirded out, but I started the truck and took off anyway. When I got up to top speed, I looked in the rear view mirror. The truck was being pursued by a band of imps on tricycles, hooting, with spears strapped across their backs. The looked like clowns from a horror circus. There was no way they could catch me rolling along at 50 MPH. Maybe they were a hallucination. I had taken a lot of acid in high school, and had seen a couple of imps before. I could cope.

Anyway, I drove back to Asheville without further incident: I guessed I had “delivered us from evil,” but I had no idea how or why. Although the truck is a piece of crap, I can’t give it up. Whenever I turn the key the monk-looking guy comes on the windshield and says “Thou shalt deliver us from evil.”

I tell them about it, and try to show my friends the talking windshield, but they tell me I am crazy when they hear or see nothing.

I went to the Salvation Army store and bought a pair of green tights, a white smock, a wide belt, and a pair of light-brown Uggs. This is what I wear when I drive my truck. For some reason the clothes soothe me and make me feel like driving my truck is some kind of mission—that me deliveries serve a higher purpose.

This week, I’m delivering a load of Bibles to the local Catholic Church. Last week, I delivered stained-glass windows to the Presbyterian Church. Next week, I’m lined up to deliver pew cushions. This morning, I tried to load some pin ball machines destined for a topless bar, but I couldn’t get the truck’s doors open, and the horn started honking.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

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Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


When I met with the Dean, I never raised my expectations for what he would have to say, or my estimation of his right to be sitting there in his ostentatious leather swivel chair. My chair, in the Rhetoric Department, was squeaky, and uncomfortable, and it’s wheels had been stolen when I was off-campus on leave. One week after I returned from leave, and was sitting on a bench eating lunch and watching people on the quad, I saw my chair-wheels attached to a skate board rolling past me. I yelled “You thief! Give me back my wheels!” Without even looking at me, the thief gave me the double finger and continued to roll wherever he was going. I yelled “You little shit!” as he headed down the hill. There was an audible “gasp” from the people sitting near me when I said “shit.”

I am here in Dumbo Dean’s office because of what I yelled. According to University Regulation 2.2 under “Prohibited Judgment-Words,” faculty are barred from using “shit, poop, steamer, Lincoln Log, Snake Charmer, Groaner or any other name connoting or denoting a bowel movement and/or fecal matter to refer to and/or demean a student, their family, or their friends.”

Well, I thought, we don’t even know whether this kid is a student. Then I noticed there was a kid sitting outside Dean Numbnuts office. He had a skateboard on his lap—with my chair-wheels screwed onto it. He was the little shit. I recognized him. It was Puster Twupe. His ancestors had paid for and built the university at the beginning of the 19th century. The university charter said all Twupes would be admitted to the university, attend free of charge and be immune from disciplinary charges for their behavior. This last provision was included because the Twupes had a predisposition for misbehavior, up to, and including the fatal bell tower accident in 1888. Many university presidents had tried to have the immunity clause removed from the charter. One President was beaten to death with a field hockey stick, and another was killed when a Bunson burner was stuck up his rectum and turned on. The gas blew him up like a balloon, and then, he exploded in flames.

Bozo the Dean told me if I apologized to “Mr. Twupes” we could forget the entire incident, and, I may get my chair-wheels back. Otherwise, I would be terminated from the university, my pension would be rescinded, and my campus burial plot would be returned to the university. Puster made a little snorting sound when Diaper Dean got to the bit about my burial plot. I didn’t care.

As Chair of the Rhetoric Department for the past 40 years, I had embezzled nearly $2,000,000 from operating funds with fake equipment purchases, trips to nowhere, fake guest speaker fees, and “miscellaneous” supplies. I had also actually purchased a departmental sailboat, “intended” for departmental bonding actives, but really, for my eventual getaway to the Caribbean. I had named it “Freedom.” So, I told Dean Dud to go fuck himself with the apology. Puster said “Wo dude,” as I walked out the door and into the rest of my life. I wanted to murder the little shit, and I thought I had a plan.

We agreed to meet up in the bell tower that night at 11.00. I told him I had an ounce of crack I needed to unload before I disappeared forever. He said “Righteous” which I assumed meant yes. Standing by the tower rail, he told me with a smug look on his face that he wasn’t really a Twupes, and I had been totally duped by him. But I was going to push him into oblivion no matter what. “What’s your mother’s name?” I asked. He said “Marcia Rocnkburg, she was knocked up by a professor, who got away with it because back then faculty and students were allowed to have sex. The University granted her child Twupes status to shut her up. My name was legally changed and I’ve been living as a Twupes ever since. ” “I knew it. You’re my goddamn son!” I yelled as I pushed the little shit over the tower railing and listened for the dull thud when he finished his fall.

As I untied “Freedom” from the dock, and the wind pushed into her sails, I thought about Marcia Rocnkburg, who had disappeared a few days after giving birth, and had been missing for nearly 20 years.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


I smelled roses as I walked through the arboretum, and danger. It was summer and I was surrounded by blooming flowers and idiots throwing frisbees. Why did I feel this way? Why did my life go on in anticipation of occurrences that never occurred? As I walked along, I remembered years and years ago when I had taken acid and gone to the arboretum. I was accosted by a talking sunflower. The sunflower told me to pick him and him take home with me. He looked like standing liquid, flashing shades of green. His giant yellow head actually looked like the sun! I cut his stem with my Swiss Army knife (everybody had one back then—mine was pink). The sunflower whimpered as he was cut. I almost stopped cutting, but the hapless flower insisted that I go on. If I got caught liberating a flower from the arboretum, there would be a $200 fine, and my mother’s wrath. I hid the sunflower in my Grateful Dead T-shirt, nearly crushing it. I slowly walked home and put it in a vase. It had stopped talking, and that was ok. I petted the flower and it wiggled and cooed. I just stood there for what seemed like an hour (or two). When I became “normal” again I needed herbal tea, to take a shower, and a session with my shrink.

Well, here I am again. Back in the arboretum. I came to the same stand of sunflowers and to my senses. “There is nothing to fear but too much beer!” I yelled at the sunflowers. It was characteristically stupid. There’s so much beyond too much beer to fear; like wearing adult diapers, or forgetting your phone number, or losing things. The arboretum hadn’t changed in 50 years, but I had. That was the danger I had sensed as I walked down the arboretum’s path. I carried the cargo of time.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

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Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].


He caught the high fly ball and a glimpse of his emerging prowess as a ball player. He heard the umpire yell “ouuut” with his stretched out voice. He knew then that this was his home—his life, his fate. Baseball. He carried high hopes and the equipment bag back to the locker room. Could he do it? Could he make it as a baseball player? He would try.


Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You have terminated your National Security Advisor, White House Chief of Staff, White House Communications Director, Secretary of Health and Human Services, and soon, countless people who can’t afford health insurance because of you and your sadistic colleagues in the US Senate.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Buy The Daily Trope! The print edition is entitled The Book of Tropes and is available on Amazon for $9.99 in paperback and $5.99 in Kindle format.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You anointed yourself, your wife, and your press secretary. To what we are not sure, but from where I’m sitting it looks like the Three Stooges, with you taking on the persona and appearance of Curly?

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

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.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You blew up yourself, your local KFC, and your dream of being a meat-loving martyr.

You have besmirched our cause, betrayed Colonel Sanders, and dashed our hope of obtaining endless complimentary $20 Family Fill Ups and XXL soft drinks.

Dr. Bronner’s army of inveterate vegetarians, vegans, sproutarians and other meat-haters will never be defeated by such acts of gross incompetence.

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

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You wrecked our car, the garage door, and my day.

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

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech {most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun} governs two or more other parts of a sentence {often in a series}].

You opened my heart, my front door, and my wallet–now it’s time to open my eyes and see you for what you really are: a teabag filled with sawdust.

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

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.

Syllepsis

Syllepsis (sil-lep’-sis): When a single word that governs or modifies two or more others must be understood differently with respect to each of those words. A combination of grammatical parallelism and semantic incongruity, often with a witty or comical effect. Not to be confused with zeugma: [a general term describing when one part of speech (most often the main verb, but sometimes a noun) governs two or more other parts of a sentence (often in a series)].

You broke my heart and my i-phone–what’s next, my leg?

  • Post your own syllepsis on the “Comment” page!

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Bracketed text added by Gorgias.