Tag Archives: current-events


Paromoiosis (par-o-moy-o’-sis): Parallelism of sound between the words of adjacent clauses whose lengths are equal or approximate to one another. The combination of isocolon and assonance.

I look out my hard frosted window.

I take my eyes to the soft darkening glow.

I watch the tinted crust of weeks-old snow.

No man. No husband. No father. No lover. No daughter. No son.

Empty. Untrodden. Pristine. Untouched. He will not come.

What is done, is done.

I am a widow gouged by my loss.

You are the “grateful nation”

who “appreciate my husband’s service”

and see his death as a warranted cost.

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


Paromologia (par-o-mo-lo’-gi-a): Conceding an argument, either jestingly and contemptuously, or to prove a more important point. A synonym for concessio.

Ok Ok, so I’m wrong about Hillary’s boob job–it was a good boob job! In the past 10 years I’ve become a better judge of boob jobs. Hillary’s has withstood the test of time. It has aged wonderfully and currently fits her frumpy shape.  I guess you could say she had foresight, but 10 years–come on–we need to plan a little closer to the present to really make a difference.

Take my Mexican “Wall Job” for example. It actually has a completion date set.  Not only that, over time we can build it taller and taller–some day it may cast a shadow over all of Mexico, making us more competitive in agriculture, while at the same time keeping every illegal out of our sacred USA!

But that’s not all–we can plaster the wall with solar panels and make the United States of America the solar energy center of the world.

God bless America.

God bless you.

God bless me: Donald Trump, Wealthy Seer, Real Estate Mogul, and the next president of the United States of America!

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


Paronomasia (pa-ro-no-ma’-si-a): Using words that sound alike but that differ in meaning (punning).

Finally we have somebody who knows the difference between a paratrooper and a parasailor–US Army airborne and US Navy S.E.A.L.s. Just remember, though, S.E.A.L.s are generally not towed by speedboats until they float aloft–they are sailors, not sailers! Anyway, only God and WARCOM know all the ways S.E.A.L.s may be deployed! But one thing is for sure: air, earth, or water, they never para-diddle!

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


Parrhesia (par-rez’-i-a): Either to speak candidly or to ask forgiveness for so speaking. Sometimes considered a vice.

Joe: “I’m sorry, but you smell like you’ve been swimming in dog shit.”

Beth: “Don’t you know the difference between dog shit and cow shit?”

Joe: “Well, I’ve got to say ‘No’ and thank-god for that! Where I come from, Shit is shit. End of story.”

Beth: “Where are you from?”

Joe: “Stoner, BC.”

Beth: “Oh, I’m from Ding Dong, Texas.”

Joe: “Wow, cool! But, I hate to say it, you still smell like dog shit or cow shit or whatever the hell kind of shit you’ve been rolling in.  Why don’t you catch a quick shower, dump on some sexy cologne, and we can meet out by the pool?”

Beth: “Oh Joe–I think I’m going to be your cowgirl in the sand! See you at the pool.”

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


Pathopoeia ( path-o-poy’-a): A general term for speech that moves hearers emotionally, especially as the speaker attempts to elicit an emotional response by way of demonstrating his/her own feelings (exuscitatio). Melanchthon explains that this effect is achieved by making reference to any of a variety of pathetic circumstances: the time, one’s gender, age, location, etc

I closed my eyes, but the darkness made me more aware of the smell–unblended, sharply distinct smells squeezing through the sticky blood oozing from my nose–organic, inorganic: chalky dust from powdered plaster, rubber, blood (theirs), offal (theirs), burnt plastic, piss (my own), and through the ringing in my ears: unstoppable shrieks, droning groans: the sort of uncontrollable keening whining sound brain-injured victims make as they hover on the edge of comatose, and the tearful, angry, fearful, pain wracked, sorrowful, terrified yelling: “Help me” and “fucking hell,” “god damn it,” “my baby,””Jesus Christ,””shit,””fuck,” “I can’t see” and more.

Tractor trailer on its side–smoking. At least eight cars, and pickups and a FEDEX truck smoking and burning, leaking oil and gasoline, slickening and shining the pavement with rainbow pollutants. Among the dead, one teen-aged kid still clutches a blue and white can of America’s cheapest beer brand–the torn case crumpled behind her; cardboard soaking up her blood, cans strewn for fifty yards. Her legs are severed from her torso, below what used to be her hips. And she’s not the only one mutilated beyond belief, but there are others dead from crushed chests and skulls, others sitting sobbing bleeding grieving, others sitting cracked, fractured and broken, others are milling about. Still others, who escaped injury, trying to help what might be the handful of helpable victims: coats become blankets, blankets become shawls, flares are lit and cast their emergency-red glow and shadows of the fallen, the standing, the sitting, the kneeling awash in tangled metal, tires, mirrors, glass and chrome, scattered on the cold hard asphalt.

Broken car horns blare in competition with far off sirens singing “we are on are on our way.” “We are on are on our way.” “We are on are on our way.”

. . .

And the happy little nineteen-year-old student sits at the lunch table, staring at the old professor as he takes a sip from the third glass of  wine he’s had in the past 2.5 hours. She weighs 99 pounds; he weighs 265. She’s about 5.5 feet tall; he is 6 feet 3 inches. He has a beard. She has a smooth freckled face.

As it happens every once in awhile the old professor’s head has come alive with clogged-up Vietnam memory lanes, veins, and arteries. God only knows what triggers it, but there he is, fighting for his sanity while the happy little nineteen-year-old and the other five students chomp away on whatever they want! The old professor is generous. He thinks, “We could all be dead.” And then his stomach jumps and the happy little nineteen-year-old laughs and looks up at him from behind her fork. He fakes a smile. He wants to go to bed.  He wants to watch television. He wants to be asleep. He wants to be somewhere else, living in somebody else’s head. Sometimes he just wants to be dead.

“Time to go.” “Finish up,” I say. “Big day tomorrow.”

I drive them back to the hotel.

The next day, at lunch, the happy little nineteen-year-old tells me she feared for her life “last night” when I drove them all back to the hotel after “drinking.”

I am horrified. I am stung. I am worried. I say, “After all I’ve been through, do you think I would ever put you or any other student in harm’s way?” She says, “You are not allowed to drink,  and especially, drink and drive. I will not tell the Dean if you promise not to tell anybody we had this conversation.”

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


Perclusio (per-clu’-si-o): A threat against someone, or something.

If you don’t get the delegates you need for the nomination, when you get to Cleveland you better get ready to hear the RNC floor chant: Better call Paul! Better call Paul!  Better call Paul!

But we know this Paul guy’s no dummy.  A little pressure applied in the right places will keep his answer on target.

I’m not saying we’re going to harvest anybody’s thumbs, I’m just saying Ryan better start saying, “Don’t call Paul!” “Paul doesn’t want to talk to you!” or his DC glory days are done forever.

If he wants a bright future: if he wants to keep pulling out plums, Pauly Porgy better call Georgy Porgy and find out how to be a good boy for the next five years.

So, panic not, we have a plan!

We’re here for you Teddy-Ready-Bear. Unfortunately, though, Trumpster’s ass is going to get a free pass off of you on this one. BUT: Have no fear, we’ve got one waiting for Mr. T-rump and it isn’t his favorite scotch or an Eastern European supermodel. It doesn’t go ‘boom’ either–it goes ‘bust’ as in collapse, fiasco, scandal, financial ruin.  Ha! Ha!

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


Periphrasis (per-if’-ra-sis): The substitution of a descriptive word or phrase for a proper name (a species of circumlocution); or, conversely, the use of a proper name as a shorthand to stand for qualities associated with it. (Circumlocutions are rhetorically useful as euphemisms, as a method of amplification, or to hint at something without stating it.)

She’s pulling another Hillary!

Pre-Democratic Primary Election, she keeps talking about New York as if she’s been here since the 17th century! The “as if” factor is wearing thin.  I, for one am tired of listening through the vague repetitive references to aspects of Hillary that I, as a New Yorker am supposed to identify with.

The “Hillary” she’s pulling regarding New York is the “I was your Senator . . .” move. Yes, it’s a fact. She was my Senator, but without being reminded, I don’t remember anything that happened on her watch aside from the fact that everybody knew she was using her elected office as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. For all the time it’s taken her to step off the New York Senator stone, she might as well have made New York a hiking trail to the moon. But really, what the heck did she do for me when she was senator?

Oh–thank you Google!

Hillary sponsored 363 bills! Three became law. Perhaps the least memorable bill to become law was “A bill to designate the facility of the United States Postal Service located at 2951 New York Highway 43 in Averill Park, New York, as the ‘Major George Quamo Post Office Building’.” Just in case you’re wondering what the other two are:

Kate Mullany National Historic Site Act

A bill to designate a portion of United States Route 20A, located in Orchard Park, New York, as the “Timothy J. Russert Highway”

3 for 363! I think I may just have Bernied Hillary (look up all the stats)! I must admit though, I do like the Tim Russert Highway! Too bad Bernie.

Oh–I just thought of another piece of pre-primary Hillarying: Hillary’s trying to Hillary New York with her NY residency thing!

We’ve all heard the cliche “A house is not a home.” Even though it’s a mansion in Hillary’s case, I would like to know how many days per year she spends there chilling with The Billster. I know it can’t be less than zero, but I don’t whether it’s more than that.

Hillary: Is your “residence” in New York a house or a home? That is, shouldn’t  you call New York your House State rather than your Home State?

Hillary. Hillary. Hillary. It’s an innuendo crescendo! An allusion collusion! A salami tsunami! (I can’t think of a word that rhymes with “baloney”)

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


Personification: Reference to abstractions or inanimate objects as though they had human qualities or abilities. The English term for prosopopeia (pro-so-po-pe’-i-a) or ethopoeia (e-tho-po’-ia): the description and portrayal of a character (natural propensities, manners and affections, etc.).

Wisconsin has given Ted and Bernie a big thumbs up and Hillary and Donald two big thumbs up–up their  keisters! Ha ha!

Oh, and what did Wisconsin give Kasich? A greased flagpole? A barbed wire banana? A cheddar noose?

Maybe this isn’t funny. But this is Wisconsin, not Wyoming!

Cheese and crackers! Have a brewsky! Take a load off. Relax.

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


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)


Polysyndeton (pol-y-syn’-de-ton): Employing many conjunctions between clauses, often slowing the tempo or rhythm. (Asyndeton is the opposite of polysyndeton: an absence of conjunctions.)

Look, you took my words and you distorted them, and you broadcast them all over the world, and you wouldn’t shut up, and you poisoned so many minds, and you call it journalism. 

I call it unfair, unconscionable, unprofessional, and downright disgusting. 

You reporters should receive some sort of punishment for asking me questions when you know I haven’t been told the ‘best’ answer beforehand.  I don’t know how to deal with this complicated abortion crap, and you know it! Like I said, it’s unfair and disgusting.

Chris Matthews, you should be ashamed.

I just bought MSNBC and you’re fired!

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

Go ahead! Call me Donald Wall-nut!

I can build it. I will build the wall.

Too expensive? Nothing is too expensive. You get what you pay for!

Won’t work? Check out China and tell me their wall didn’t work!

Mexico won’t pay for it? Did you ever hear of the United States Army? The best damn bill collectors in the world!

Go ahead, call me Donald Wall-nut! It’s better than being called Hilary No-nuts, or Bernie Acorns, or Crushed Nuts Cruz!

Wal-Mart. Walnuts. Walgreens.  Who the hell cares?

Enough with the walls and the nuts!

I will make America great again! If you don’t believe me, check out Atlantic City, or my first wife, or these free hats!

I’m number one with the Poles! Krakow’s in the bag! On to Oshkosh!

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


Prodiorthosis (pro-di-or-tho’-sis): A statement intended to prepare one’s audience for something shocking or offensive. An extreme example of protherapeia.

I will begin what I have to say innocently enough, but I warn you, my words may drill holes in the bottom of your heart, provoke anger, and disgust you.

There is the “same” thing. There is the “different” thing. Same and different.  Different and same. Different times. Different places. Same intentions. Same effects.

Brussels. Paris. Haifa. Istanbul. Kabul. Iskandariya. And 100’s of other obscure and not-so-obscure places.

2014-2015: 17,041 wounded; 9,314 dead.

March 27, 2016. Easter Sunday. Lahore, Pakistan. 320 wounded; 72  dead–mostly woman and children.

Suicide bombers.

Different times. Different places. Same intentions. Same effects.

Nobody doubts that Lahore happened. Nobody doubts the intention and the effects.

But, there is a difference between not doubting that Lahore happened, and believing that Lahore happened, and I warn you, understanding the difference between “not doubting” and believing is where terror begins.

The truth produced by believing will not set you free.

It will terrify you.

It will drape dread in the background of your everyday life, like some sort of Satanic bunting celebrating your unexpected death: your slow bleed on the pavement, your eye torn from your innocent face, your ears ringing–the carillon of concussion colluding with shrapnel and your gaping socket, leaking out what’s left of your stupefied fate.

Why aren’t you terrified? Why aren’t you afraid?

Is it because you are strong and impervious and courageous and young and playing the odds and all the other reasons that keep you away from CNN and call to you seductively to go out, to act like everything’s NIMBY (and get mutilated with your buddies on a Saturday night)?

Well, there are Sirens and there are sirens. The Befores of not doubting, and the afters of believing.

Will you live the know the difference?

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


Proecthesis (pro-ek’-the-sis): When, in conclusion, a justifying reason is provided.

Do not call it a “terrorist attack.” Do not call them “terrorists.” “Terrorist” is too good a word for them. Call it a “shit stainer attack.” Call them “shit stainers.” For their actions make shit stains on the totality of Islam.

Their calls to prayer spew shit from minarets and stain the pathways to worship with unholy filth.

Their professions of faith spew shit on the Quran and stain God’s revelations with unholy filth.

Call them “shit stainers.”

Make your jihad the removal of the shit stainers from the face of the earth.


Restore the good name of Islam.

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


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.


Protherapeia (pro-ther-a-pei’-a): Preparing one’s audience for what one is about to say through conciliating words. If what is to come will be shocking, the figure is called prodiorthosis.

The world is fraught with change: from the beautiful blooms of breaking spring to the malevolent triumph of death over life, fear over hope, sorrow over joy, and eventually, perhaps, the triumph of indifference over everything.

Yet, the world is rich; and there are costs to pay–to pay for things that can be measured and weighed and priced according to supply and demand and intangible narratives of value–the words that sing them with poetries of luxury or mark them with hard-pressed deep-worn tracks of necessity.

Farther still, there must be wages earned to capture pleasures and to navigate ad hoc the uncharted urgencies of omnipresent necessity.

So, I must tell you.  I must warn you. Hear this and listen:

All that is valued and valuable, that exists and ceases to exist for better and for worse, cannot assuage your soul’s sickness: for yours is a soul immortally wounded; eternally falling for the promise of healing hailing it softly from nowhere as if it was Volition itself and not the sound of a storm drain endlessly flooding with the unbroken rush of the Saints’ wasted tears.

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


Pysma (pys’-ma): The asking of multiple questions successively (which would together require a complex reply). A rhetorical use of the question.

Yesterday, I lost the only key I have to my rental meat locker padlock. How will I get in? How long will it take to get a replacement? Can anybody tell if there’s anybody locked inside? How long does it take to freeze to death? Where is my wife?  Why are you looking at me like that? What are you doing with those bolt cutters? Will you please drop them? Do you think this meat cleaver is a toy? Who are you calling on your cellphone? Why are you trembling? Is that 911 I hear?

Uh oh!

Better look out out!

Oh dear!

Now, you’ve lost your head.

You naughty boy.

I have a confession to make.

I didn’t really lose my key, but it’s too late for you to care!

Honey? Honey? Can you hear me in there?

You always told me you wanted to get ahead, and that I was keeping you back.

Can you hear me? Or, you don’t want to hear me? Typical!


I have a surprise for you! You are going to get a head!

It has blue eyes, and I hope you’re not too dead to appreciate it!


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


Ratiocinatio (ra’-ti-o-cin-a’-ti-o): Reasoning (typically with oneself) by asking questions. Sometimes equivalent to anthypophora. More specifically, ratiocinatio can mean making statements, then asking the reason (ratio) for such an affirmation, then answering oneself. In this latter sense ratiocinatio is closely related to aetiologia. [As a questioning strategy, it is also related to erotima {the general term for a rhetorical question}.]

“To be, or not to be?”

Ironically (sardonically, cynically, pitifully, wistfully, blissfully, bashfully, shit in my pants fully) I (and we) already know the answer: we are all going to not be. We are all going to die.

So, if we are all going to “not be” and we know it, and we really want to show it, should we all just clap our hands, take out a life insurance policy, rest easy, and wait not to be?

Is it better to suffer the slings and crutches and bedpans of our withering biceps and sagging boobies, or turn on the gas?

I don’t know.

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


Restrictio (re-strik’-ti-o): Making an exception to a previously made statement. Restricting or limiting what has already been said.

I think his brother George made an interesting point about Jeb’s profile on LinkedIn, but jeez, George looks like a weatherbeaten little old shrimp boat when he stands alongside Jeb.  I would say, though, if he’s going to speak in praise of Jeb’s manliness and related leadership qualities, George should get a pair of bullhide elevator Ropers (sort of like like Marco’s man-me-up flamenco boots). Otherwise, who will believe him?

I hope nobody starts calling them “Mutt and Jeb”* on the campaign trail or in photos of them standing  together.

Mutt and Jeb



*Allusion: Mutt and Jeff Cartoon Characters c. 1909


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


Sarcasmus (sar’kaz’-mus): Use of mockery, verbal taunts, or bitter irony.

Yesterday was a stellar f***ing day! My subscription to The Economist expired, my pants fell down at the mall, I lost my wallet, I ran out of vodka, my cat froze to the back porch, I found out my neighbor gave me an STD, I slipped in the shower, I chipped a tooth, my hemorrhoids flared up, and I felt like I had a Serrano pepper stuck up my a**! To top it off, the  damn bald spot on the back of my head grew by another 1.16 inches!

Truly, a wonderful f***ing day–like having a stroke, being run over by a Fedex truck, going to Trenton, NJ being spread on a 12-foot long ebola sandwich headed full bore into a chipper-shredder.

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

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. 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.


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).


Sententia (sen-ten’-ti-a): One of several terms describing short, pithy sayings. Others include adage, apothegem, gnome, maxim, paroemia, and proverb.

My wonderful husband once told me, “I may be lying in the gutter, but I’m staring at the stars.”

Tonight, here in New Hampshire, I know what Bill meant. But tonight it is a little different! It is snowing like crazy and I can’t see the stars!

But seriously, if I were homeless, I’d just go to sleep and freeze to death in the gutter. But I am not homeless! I am not going to go to sleep! I am not going to freeze to death! Instead, I am going to South Carolina!

Before I board my campaign ambulence, I want to introduce my new Presidential Campaign Manager, Mr. Ben Gahzi!

In the coming months, Mr. Gahzi will . . .

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


Synaloepha (sin-a-lif’-a): Omitting one of two vowels which occur together at the end of one word and the beginning of another. A contraction of neighboring syllables. A kind of metaplasm.

I worry now more than ever.

Brazen sociopaths/seduce their victims: The Peter-Pannish boys that are ‘radicalized’ by the bearded worms that wriggle through the internet, that burrow into young hearts, that tunnel through common sense to gnaw away at conscience, sculpting the delusion they call ‘The Dream Come True.’

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


Synecdoche (si-nek’-do-kee): A whole is represented by naming one of its parts (or genus named for species), or vice versa (or species named for genus).

I hate the sound of a Kalashnikov on full auto.

Its clanking well-paced whack whack whack so succinctly enunciates a paean of terror, blood, and death.

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


Synonymia (si-no-ni’-mi-a): In general, the use of several synonyms together to amplify or explain a given subject or term. A kind of repetition that adds emotional force or intellectual clarity. Synonymia often occurs in parallel fashion. The Latin synonym, interpretatio, suggests the expository and rational nature of this figure, while another Greek synonym, congeries, suggests the emotive possibilities of this figure.

My time here is limited, short, and running out. It’s disappearing like a morning haze burnt away by the warmth of the sun.

There is no foretelling, predicting or calculating the future. All that we know is that it will be.

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


Synthesis (sin’-the-sis): An apt arrangement of a composition, especially regarding the sounds of adjoining syllables and words.

I struggle every day with this traumatic century. And sleep comes hard. Always vigilant, always on guard, I fear the unexpected because I don’t know what to expect.  Feeling vulnerable and unprotected I sleep with a brick beneath my pillow, six locks on my door, bars on my windows, and a pit bull on patrol; in control of mauling whatever picks my locks or chops down my flimsy apartment door.

Does anybody else live like me? Behind a tiny peephole with a deeply troubled soul, listening to random gunshots, barking sirens and a blind one-handed neighbor talking all night long? Alone, she babbles on. She longs for love. She longs for God. She longs for noisy war, and always near sunrise, she longs the most for her forever lost Victoria’s Secret thong.

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