Tag Archives: epizeuxis

Epizeuxis: Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for palilogia.

“Milkweed! Milkweed! Milkweed! Milkweed! No mow! No go! Milkweed! Milkweed! Milkweed!”

We were protesting and protesting hard! We were throwing rocks and stomping our feet. “Beltway Boomers” were poised to mow a field of milkweed. As far as we were concerned it was a crime—a crime against the Monarch Butterflies who came here every year to eat milkweed leaves, mate, and lay their eggs underneath the leaves.

Hundreds of Monarchs descended on the field every year. It was a beautiful sight—the fluttering orange wings dancing above the field, but now they were to be destroyed by “Beltway Boomers” for the sake of a “flat and tidy field.” After they mowed the field, they planned on soaking it with herbicide—totally destroying it and replacing the dead Milkweed with gravel and flowering shrubs.

The “Monarch Club” viewed “Beltway Boomers” as a criminal enterprise. Their business model was oriented toward eliminating endangered species from properties before the properties could be declared refuges. Then, they could develop the properties without fear of legal injunctions from environmentalists.

The Monarchs started arriving. The mower operators were struck by their beauty and refused to mow the Milkweed. “Beltway Boomers” went ahead and hired helicopters to spray the field with herbicide. Like the mowers, the helicopter pilots were struck by the butterflies and refused to spray. Subsequently, “Beltway Boomers” decided to soak the field with gasoline and torch it.

Boomers’ CEO, Stan Statan, showed up to “help.” He was carrying 5-gallon can of gasoline to the field, to be the first to saturate it. After all, he was the boss. He set down the can. The field’s geology littered it with flint. When CEO Statan set down the can, it’s steel bottom threw out a spark. The can exploded and set CEO Statan on fire. He looked like a big candle wearing an expensive suit. He burned to a crisp and the fire quickly burned itself out with little damage to the field.

Needless to say, the plans for the field were cancelled and it was made into a Monarch refuge. Ironically, it was named the “Stan Statan Monarch Butterfly Refuge.”

The “Monarch Club” is now protesting the mowing of all milkweed fields in the state of New Jersey. They are making some headway in the legislature on a bill that prohibits milkweed mowing everywhere.

The “Monarch Club” success has spawned a number of other anti-mowing environmentally-grounded initiatives. “Kill the Klover Kutters” (KKK) is the most radical. It includes residential properties and advocates planting land mines in lawns’ clover patches. Their theme song is a bawdy tune titled “Roll Me Over in the Clover.” One of their mines blew up a dog doing its “business” on its neighbor’s clover patch. This is being referred to as “collateral damage” by “Kill the Klover Kutters.” They sent their “thoughts and prayers” for the loss of their clover to the owners of the lawn, ignoring the loss of the dog.

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

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.

Epizeuxis: Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for palilogia.

“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit.” I was elated. I had gotten a “standing bullshit” from my fellow “Bullshit Club” members. We met once a week and we’re prohibited from telling the truth more than 5 times per meeting. Otherwise, everything had to be bullshit—obvious bullshit, not lies we tried to get away with. Things like “I have four penises.”

We just took turns dropping bullshit bombs. We believed our club activities made our lives outside the club more tolerable. In the club we crafted UPPER CASE BULLSHIT, which made our everyday bullshit more effective by seeming to exhibit a degree of veracity that pushed it into the truth zone. It was good exercise. Plus, my fellow club members were great friends, even though all we did was bullshit each other. Here’s a sample of my bullshit from last week:

When I lived in Utah, I had four wives: one that cooked and took care of the kitchen, one that did the laundry, one that cleaned house, and one that rode my hooter once a week. I gave them all nicknames as a symbol of endearment: “Cookie” for cooking. “Soapy” for doing the laundry. “Dusty” for cleaning house. “Hooterbumper” for riding my hooter once a week.

I was tempted to change Hooterbumper’s nickname after a few incidents out in public. Sometimes, when I introduced her to people, they would noticeably flinch, like they knew her name had a sexual connotation. This was especially the case with my male friends. The crazier ones would respond with things like: “Yeah pleased to meet you too. My nickname is ‘Boxopener.’ I used to work in a grocery store.” Or, one time I introduced her to a female friend and she slapped me in the face and yelled “Shame on you!”

After about a year, I couldn’t take the responses to Hooterbumper’s name any more. I vowed to change her nickname to something less suggestive. After weeks of brainstorming, I just shortened her nickname to “Bumper.” It was ambiguous—it could refer to a car bumper, a bumper crop, bumper plates, and a variety of other “bumper” variations.

Problem solved!

Now, the other wives wanted new nicknames too! to keep the peace I capitulated. I changed Cookie’s name to “Fry.” I changed Soapy’s nickname to “Agitate.” I changed Dusty’s nickname to “Moppy.” And, of course, Hooterbumper became “Bumper.” Peace reigned and public introductions smoothed out.

POSTSCRIPT

Well, this is a classic bullshit story. None of it is true. Many bullshit stories convey a moral. In this case it has to do with bowing to peer pressure. Did changing his wives’ nicknames really change anything but the nicknames? We think they did. We should nickname him “Nick” in recognition of the excellence of his project.

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

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.