Tag Archives: Bernie

Polyptoton

Polyptoton (po-lyp-to’-ton): Repeating a word, but in a different form. Using a cognate of a given word in close proximity.

There you go again. Your cautious optimism is optometry gone wild.

You’re so far gone that going your way is like going back to Karl Marx, Vermont–AKA Burlington–home of the vast left-wing conspiracy that is winging its way toward Washington on the carbon monoxide clouds of your eye-watering hot air.

I’m wondering Bernie: Where’s the beef?

You are no Jack Kennedy.

Why don’t you go back to your plume-filled back room down in Foggy Bottom and hatch plots with your vape-huffing cronies?

Even if I or anybody else inhales the juice you’re vaping down there, you’re making a giant sucking sound and your voodoo economics and your vision thing look like a thousand points of light shining out your ass toward New York.

Have you no sense of decency, sir?

Bernie, why don’t you just close your eyes and disappear until it is morning again in America and your socialist poison has been purged from the air?

I would remind you that moderation in defense of the status quo is no vice.

To all you doubters out there, I say “Read my Email, no new ideas!”

Ich bin ein Berliner!

Sie sind ein Spargel!

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

Prolepsis

Prolepsis (pro-lep’-sis):  (1) A synonym for procatalepsis [refuting anticipated objections];  (2) speaking of something future as though already done or existing. A figure of anticipation.

1. Hilary Clinton reminds me of a bored queen bee lounging in her jive hive supported by sycophantic worker bees and serviced by groveling drones.

Donald Trump belches brimstone like some kind of satanic steam-shovel digging itself deeper and deeper into its own little hellish trench.

But you disagree?

Hey, I see it in H-woman’s baggy eyes, and in the Mussolini grimace on Don T-boy’s puffy face.

But I know what you see–the eyes of the brave; the face of the free!

Ha ha!

What you see is what you want to see, but it’s not what you’re going to get! What you’re going to get, either way you turn, is a USA bouncing up and down on a fart-anchored circus trampoline (Hilary), or a head-on fatal crash with truth that finishes off once and for all the American Dream; making America great again with bigotry, imperialism, xenophobia, and free ice cream (Donald).

And then, there’s Bernie, John, Ted, and Marco!

We’ve bottomed out, flat-lined, bought the big one, sold the farm, cashed our chips, and headed for the last roundup.

Blue velvet on Frank Buck’s face. Red sails smoldering in the sunset. Bye bye American pi-outline-th. We’re batting .000.

2. See you in hell, Hilary-belle and Don-don.

See you in hell when the lights come on.

Who’s red? Who’s blue? Not me. Not you. We’re all boiling in a purple Hieronymus stew–bubbling flesh, bones, blood, and snot: a 21st-century melting pot.

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