Tag Archives: figures of speech

Aposiopesis

Posted on November 26, 2021 | Comments Off on Aposiopesis

Aposiopesis (a-pos-i-o-pee’-sis): Breaking off suddenly in the middle of speaking, usually to portray being overcome with emotion.

It’s Thanksgiving again and I’ve got to spend the day with the gaggle of morons called “my family.” There’s Roger my brother who is the most wicked farter in the United States of America. It’s so bad, the rotten egg smell follows him around like a miasma from the Edgar Allen Poe story: “The Murder of the Bellicose Butt.” Then there’s my sister Annette. At the slightest provocation she cries and pulls her hair and asks God to “kill them all.” The last time it happened was at CVS. She was looking at hair dye and I said in a dazzling pun, “Are you dying for a new color?” She went berserk—sobbing uncontrollably and yelling, “Hair I am. Hairs my life. I might as well commit hairy carry. You should. . .try to . . . God, kill them all.” I put my arm around her and we slowly walked out of CVS.

Are you getting an idea of the joys of Thanksgiving at my house? No? Then how about this:

There’s Aunt Venice. Her name should clue you in to her weirdness. She changed her name from Betty after she saw “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” which is set in Venice. I never understood it, but it is what it is. She thinks it’s funny to ask me about my penis: “How’s hangin?” is her favorite. But she has a repertoire: “Have you been letting you meat loaf, Clayton? You know Clayton, a hard man is good to find. You need to put some lead in your pencil, Clayton. When I frown she asks: “Do you have a boner to pick with me?”

You can imagine! This has been going on since I was seventeen. It was bad enough to be a little confused about my sexuality, but it was worse when Venice came for Thanksgiving from Miami and plied me with her dick sayings, and now she was coming again. I am 25 and I still dread the banter. I just hope she won’t ask me to move to Miami again, like she did last year. I was thinking about asking her about her vagina as a counter to her dick jokes, but I was afraid to and decided it was inappropriate anyway. She’s family (my father’s sister), but she has some serious problems.

There’s more to the story, but enough is enough. You don’t want hear about Mom and Dad and their ongoing kickboxing tournament, or my Grandpa’s tattoos.

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

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Apostrophe

Posted on November 24, 2021 | Comments Off on Apostrophe

Apostrophe (a-pos’-tro-phe): Turning one’s speech from one audience to another. Most often, apostrophe occurs when one addresses oneself to an abstraction, to an inanimate object, or to the absent.

There is a beginning and an end. Ends are beginnings and beginnings are ends. When one door closes, it is shut. What is the sound of one hand knitting? If a tree falls in the forrest with nobody there, who will help the squirrels? If a man tells you he is lying, may he be telling the truth? Who left the cake out in the rain?

Oh God, what’s wrong with me? Is anything actually wrong with me? You’ve got to help me stop asking the same questions over and over. Whenever I feel an upward inflection welling up in my voice I can’t stop it. Out comes a question—big questions, little questions, medium-sized questions. Why do questions have sizes? Oh no! See what I mean God? I did it again. Why? Oh damn (sorry God) I did it again. Why am I sorry? Yaaaaaa!

It started in Philosophy grad school. Questions are rewarded. Answers are punished. I became known as the Grand Inquisitor. I spoke with a Spanish Accent. My classmates hated me. I dropped out and got a PhD in Psychology. I counseled people by asking them endless questions.

Please God, can you give me some answers? Or, better yet: ask me a question. Can you do that? How about just a little question? Like, what I had for lunch? Or, what color is my shirt? Or, when will they let me out of here?

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

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Apothegm

Posted on November 23, 2021 | Leave a comment

Apothegm (a’-po-th-e-gem): One of several terms describing short, pithy sayings. Others include adage, gnome, maxim, paroemia, proverb, and sententia.

“If you can’t choo choo don’t call yourself a train.” Uncle Wizzer.

That’s what I’m telling you, and like any words of wisdom, they’re perfectly clear. Crystal clear, in fact. My uncle Wizzer taught this saying to me when I was eight years old. He’d gotten his nickname because he could run faster than anybody in Broken Hole Montana where I grew up. He was my mama’s brother and he never walked.

I’ll never forget the time I saw him running out of Best Buy with a flat screen TV. Ten people were chasing him and yelling. I couldn’t hear what they were yelling as Uncle Wizzer whizzed past me. Maybe I should’ve tried to tackle him, but as far as I was concerned, I told the police, “whoever he was” I thought he was probably in a hurry to get home and watch his new TV. Based on what I told them, the police decided I wasn’t an accessory. Also, “the perpetrator” wore a Goofy mask in the store and nobody could identify him. He tore it off when he came running out of the Best Buy entrance. That’s how I knew who he was. Also, he yelled “choo choo” as he ran past me.

The CCTV outside Best Buy caught Uncle Wizzer with his mask off. It was just a matter of time before the police caught up with him. Two days before he was arrested, he stopped by the house with a big rectangular package. I instantly knew it was the stolen TV. Uncle Wizzer handed it to me. We didn’t have cable TV, but I didn’t care because we had one broadcast channel from Billings. Every time I watched Captain Kangaroo, and Mister Green Jeans would say something wise, I would think of Uncle Wizzer and very quietly say “choo choo” to myself.

I couldn’t run as fast as Uncle Wizzer, but I could steal things, and I did.

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

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Appositio

Posted on November 22, 2021 | Comments Off on Appositio

Appositio (ap-po-sit’-i-o): Addition of an adjacent, coordinate, explanatory or descriptive element.

I was minding my own business—standing there alone, not caring, not the slightest bit curious. Then, I heard somebody yell: “Stop staring at me! What, do I look like a national monument?” It was Lincoln! He was sitting in his giant stone chair in the Washington, DC memorial named after him. He was yelling at me.

My God, I thought—this can’t be happening. When I decided to visit our nation’s Capitol, I thought it would be ok. Moreover, I took my medication that morning. And most significantly, none of the other monuments I visited that morning had yelled at me or even talked to me.

As luck would have it, I was alone in the Lincoln Memorial. No way to do a reality check. Then Lincoln asked “Do you know what ‘four score and seven’ means?” I told him I was afraid I had no idea. “You and everybody else! Damn it! It ruined my speech!” He yelled. I could see he was trying to stand up, but he couldn’t— his stone body made a grinding sound as he struggled, but he couldn’t get up from his giant chair.

“There’s a ladder and a can of black spray paint on the floor behind me. I want you to set up the ladder, climb it, and paint over ‘four score and seven‘ so nobody can read it—so nobody can be confused by it or make fun of it any more.

I looked behind Lincoln’s statue and was shocked to find a ladder and can of black spray paint standing there. I asked Lincoln how it got there and he told me not to worry about it right now. “Lean up the ladder, pick up the can, shake it real good, and start painting. I’ll make you a General in the Union Army.”

I did Lincoln’s bidding and was climbing down the ladder when I heard somebody yell “Stop what you’re doing and drop the can.” It wasn’t Lincoln—he pretended he didn’t know anything—mute and stock still—checked out. He just sat there staring straight ahead.

The Park Police handcuffed me. The Capitol Police took me to Med-Star Hospital. I was under observation in a little room when I heard a voice identifying itself as my mattress, who was quite sympathetic to my plight. He started telling me mattress jokes, like about going soft, sleeping on it, nothing else mattress, etc. Made me laugh! I knew I was going to be ok.

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available at Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu). Mattress jokes: upjoke.com/mattress-jokes.

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Ara

Posted on November 21, 2021 | Comments Off on Ara

Ara (a’-ra): Cursing or expressing detest towards a person or thing for the evils they bring, or for inherent evil.

You stole everything from me you goddamned piece of shit. My heart. My home. My savings. My self-respect.

You are such a spectacular liar, you’ve turned my friends, and even my family, against me. But, I do have character witnesses who will be testifying on my behalf at my trial. I met them here on Ward 12 and they all promise to take their medication before testifying.

I don’t know how it came to this. I still don’t understand how you took everything from me and said it was justified by my mental incompetence, the “horrible thing” I did to you, your “need for safety” from my “viscous madness” and your need to protect my wealth and property from my craziness (diagnosed by a quack friend of yours at the psychiatric hospital).

What the hell did I ever do to you you back-stabbing, sulfur-stinking spawn of Satan? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. My lawyer Fido will get me off and get me everything back. He’s a cute Airedale Terrier who went to Harvard and knows how to deal with so-called “people” like you. He visits me nearly every night in my room. My other lawyer, Mr. Nelson, is an idiot. He wants me to plead insanity and get me the lightest sentence possible. When I told Fido, he growled and wouldn’t stop barking. That’s enough for me! No deals Mr. Nelson.

See you in court devil man!

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

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available from Amazon under the title of The Book of Tropes.

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Articulus

Posted on November 20, 2021 | Comments Off on Articulus

Articulus (ar-tic’-u-lus): Roughly equivalent to “phrase” in English, except that the emphasis is on joining several phrases (or words) successively without any conjunctions (in which case articulus is simply synonymous with the Greek term asyndeton). See also brachylogia.

Articulus is also best understood in terms of differing speeds of style that depend upon the length of the elements of a sentence. The Ad Herennium author contrasts the the slower speed of concatenated membra (see membrum) to the quicker speed possible via articulus.

Left, right, left. Left, right, left. Marching, marching, marching, marching. Hup, two, three, four. What are we marching for? Courage? Redemption? Clarity? Connection? Where are we going? What’s the point? People die. Birds fly. People cry. Babies smile and say “Bye, bye.”

All the big questions can’t be answered with certainty, only with hope, fear, charity, cynicism, music, poetry; fervently, fearfully, recklessly. The game is rigged. The diseases rage. Injustice is rampant. Truth is flat on its back. Rittenhouse is free. What about you and me?

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

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available on Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Aschematiston

Posted on November 19, 2021 | Comments Off on Aschematiston

Aschematiston: The use of plain, unadorned or unornamented language. Or, the unskilled use of figurative language. A vice. [Outside of any particular context of use or sense of its motive, it may be difficult to determine what’s “plain, unadorned or unornamented language.” The same is true of the “unskilled use of figurative language.”]

1. The Red Fox jumped over the fence. He landed on the other side and kept going. He was hunting mice. The mice lived in the field. He caught a mouse and chewed its head off before he ate it. Then, he went on his way. I watched hm until he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the field. Then, I climbed over the fence to examine the mouse’s head. It’s eyes were glassy and it’s nose was dripping blood. I put the head in the plastic sandwich bag I carried on my country walks. When I got home I would boil the head until the flesh fell off. Then, I would add it to my skull collection. So far, I had a crow, a rabbit, a groundhog, a squirrel, a raccoon, a vagrant, and a chicken.

2. The Northern Lights looked like strands of colored spaghetti dangling overhead— the stars looked like twinkling flecks of Parmesan cheese, shaken from above, seasoning the display with their shimmering cheesiness. I had been in Iceland for two weeks waiting to spot the Lights. I was collecting dust like a tabletop in a sawmill. I was a tire waiting to roll. Finally, the Lights appeared. I was happy as a crayon rubbing around on a piece of paper.

It was time to go back to New York.

Iceland is pile of old lava with smelly steam coming out of holes in the ground everywhere. Iceland is a lava lullaby where it is either light or dark all the time. I had seen the Northern Lights. One more thing to erase from the list of things I want to do. Next, I will visit Liberty Park in New Jersey. After that, maybe the Tesla factory—it will be electrifying!

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

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Asphalia

Posted on November 18, 2021 | Comments Off on Asphalia

Asphalia (as-fay’-li-a): Offering oneself as a guarantee, usually for another.

You know me: Johnny Limbo. My motto is “How low can you go?” That’s what I ask my clients before I loan them money & we’re not talking about interest rates. Mike, here, will do anything to get a few bucks from me to support his La Bonnotte Potato habit. At $320 per pound you gotta have the money. Mike knows what he likes.

Sometimes it takes a little ‘prodding’ to get my loan payment from Mike, but he hasn’t left town or tried to kill me. That stub where his left pinky used to be shows what he’ll go through to keep his promises.

Extremely trustworthy. Kind of cautious. Got the eyes of a Potato. Ha! Ha! That was a joke.

Bottom line: Mike needs a job. You give him a job and I’ll make sure he takes care of business—mine and yours. Since he’ll be using his hands for work, I’ll start focusing my disciplinary measures on his feet.

Remember, this is Johnny Limbo vouching for Mike. My word is like a gun aimed at your head.

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

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available from Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Assonance

Posted on November 17, 2021 | Comments Off on Assonance

Assonance (ass’-o-nance): Repetition of similar vowel sounds, preceded and followed by different consonants, in the stressed syllables of adjacent words.

Standing all along the bakery windows in colorful rows were the famous “Sons of Buns.” They were bite size jelly donuts with glazed frosting in different pastel colors. I bought a half-dozen of blues and reds every Friday night so we could have them for breakfast on Saturday. This had been going on for fifteen years of marriage and two daughters.

As I dove into my donut, I felt a piece of paper between my teeth. I thought, what is this, a fortune donut? My family huddled around as I pulled the strip of paper out of my mouth. It had writing on it, but it was in Thai or Lao—I knew from my ‘activities’ in SE Asia during the war.

I couldn’t read either language, and called the donut shop. They didn’t know what I was talking about and I believed them. I was about to throw the slip of paper away when my daughter Katy reminded me that we had a neighbor from Laos who could probably read both Thai and Lao.

We knocked on our neighbor Phayvan’s door and she answered right away. I told her about the slip of paper and she asked to see it. As she read it, she inhaled sharply. “Uh oh” I thought. “What does it say?” I asked. Phayvan gave me a wild-eyed look, crushed the slip of paper, swallowed it, and slammed the door.

I was dumbfounded. My curiosity was peaking. My frustration was exploding. But really, there was nothing I could do. The next day a “For Sale” sign went up in front of Phayvan’s home. I saw her pull into her driveway in a brand new Maserati. That afternoon, in my mailbox, I found a $500,000 cashier’s check made out to me! The car, the house, the check: it had to be the donut note!

Phayvan had disappeared, but I didn’t care. I was happy with the money. I invested it in Bitcoins and doubled it in six short months. Things couldn’t have been better, but they could’ve been worse, as five years later I found out when I was charged, tried, and convicted of Phayvan’s murder. They found her in my back yard wrapped in decaying paper with Lao writing all over it. The police had it translated: “A tray full of money is not worth a mind full of knowledge.”

I guess this is some kind of lesson I’m supposed to learn. What a crock of shit.

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

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Assumptio

Posted on November 16, 2021 | Comments Off on Assumptio

Assumptio (as-sump’-ti’o): The introduction of a point to be considered, especially an extraneous argument. 

See proslepsis (When paralipsis [stating and drawing attention to something in the very act of pretending to pass it over] is taken to its extreme. The speaker provides full details.).

I do not want to hurt my Mommy and don’t want to talk about how she bought me an AR-15 for my birthday, even though I was underage to possess one in Illinois. I didn’t know why, but Mommy drove me to a riot with my gun. Before we left for the riot, she loaded the gun’s magazines and helped me get into my militia suit—black with a lot of cool camo buckles.

When we got to the riot in Wisconsin, Mommy told me to “Get the f*ck out of the car.” As I stood there she yelled, “Lock, load and shoot somebody Kyle. I didn’t buy you the gun so you could model it in the middle of the street!” I started to cry and the gun went off and somebody fell down. Through my tears I saw another blurry figure coming at me and the gun went off again. Mommy yelled “That’s only two you feeble idiot!” I was crying so hard I was afraid my camo buckles would rust, but I didn’t want a spanking when we got home. My gun went off again and there was somebody shot in the arm. Mommy drove off. I walked away and phoned Mommy. She didn’t answer so I walked back to Illinois.

I’m not saying that Mommy is to blame for everything. A son’s love for his mother is boundless. When you arrest Mommy, please don’t mention me. I’m just a teenager.

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

Paper and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available from Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Arteismus

Posted on November 15, 2021 | Comments Off on Arteismus

Asteismus (as-te-is’-mus): Polite or genteel mockery. More specifically, a figure of reply in which the answerer catches a certain word and throws it back to the first speaker with an unexpected twist. Less frequently, a witty use of allegory or comparison, such as when a literal and an allegorical meaning are both implied.

A: Hey baby, I’m gonna throw you a little kiss.

B: And I’m going to throw you your car keys so you can get the hell out of here. All I wanted was a ride home. I invited you in as a courtesy. I thought you could use some coffee. Why’d you put your keys on the table by the sofa, by me?

A: I was marking my territory, baby.

B: You are creepy. Your territory is out in the driveway. Time to go.

A: Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow at work. We can talk things over. Maybe you’ll see the light.

B: I’d rather stumble around in the dark.

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

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Astrothesia

Posted on November 14, 2021 | Comments Off on Astrothesia

Astrothesia (as-tro-the’-si-a): A vivid description of stars. One type of enargia.

I first learned the word “twinkle” when I learned the little poem “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.” Often, when I look at the sky at night, the childhood poem presents itself in my head. I’m in my mid-70s now and the poem’s still there.

I remember the night I taught the poem to my daughter—she was no more than 4 years old at the time. We were on the “point” by Little River, on the coast of Maine, years, and years, and years ago.

The sky was clear and black. There was no moon. No lights, just the sky full of twinkling stars. I pointed out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper and of course, the Milky Way. Then suddenly, a meteor shot across the sky—without a sound tumbling toward earth. My daughter clapped her hands. I smiled and felt at peace, as I still do beneath the night sky.

I look and see the vast number of uncountable twinkling stars—no matter where I am in the world—Argentina, Russia, Taiwan, Turkey—everywhere my travels take me. The night sky settles me and the twinkling stars, in their random brilliance, nurture my need for wonder.

As I stand alone and look at the stars, I think of my daughter who just turned 27. I wonder if she remembers like I do. “Why would she?” I ask. “Why wouldn’t she?” I answer.

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

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Asyndeton

Posted on November 13, 2021 | Comments Off on Asyndeton

Asyndeton (a-syn’-de-ton): The omission of conjunctions between clauses, often resulting in a hurried rhythm or vehement effect. [Compare brachylogia. Opposite of polysyndeton.]

A: Big, little, blue, green, warm, cold, hot. This isn’t a riddle. It’s the tattoo on my chest. Big: the tattoo itself. Little: the troop of ants spelling my name in a circle. Blue: the tattoo’s background. Green: the four leaf clover between the first and last letters of my ant-troop name. Warm: the cheeseburger in the tattoo’s center. Cold: the ice cube above the cheeseburger. Hot: the rays of the sun emanating from the tattoo’s blue background.

I would show you the tattoo now, but this is only our first date and Smudge’s Bar & Grill is hardly where I want to tear my shirt open. There would be screaming, fainting, moaning, crying and rolling on the floor. We don’t need that!

Where are you going? I’ve got a lot more to tell you about myself. I’m a genius, weight lifter, world class chef, artist, rodeo clown, astronaut. Come on! I bet you have a lot to tell me!

B: Yes: you’re crazy. If you try to contact me again for any reason, I’ll call the police and have you cited for stalking. Got it?

A: Yes, but I think you’d enjoy seeing me cloning at the weekly rodeo. Here’s a ticket.

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

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Auxesis

Posted on November 12, 2021 | Comments Off on Auxesis

Auxesis (ok-see’-sis): (1) Arranging words or clauses in a sequence of increasing force. In this sense, auxesis is comparable to climax and has sometimes been called incrementum. (2) A figure of speech in which something is referred to in terms disproportionately large (a kind of exaggeration or hyperbole). (3) Amplification in general.

I pulled and yanked, and tugged, and put my last ounce of strength into opening the massive iron door. This could be the biggest most amazing discovery in the history of the Anthropology Department, my university, my country, the world, and the entire universe!

I had been lowered 200 feet by a cable set up like a McGuire Rig. When I got to the bottom, I noticed iron rungs affixed to the wall and decided I wouldn’t have used them anyway. After I managed to open its door, my headlight shone into the stone vault. The walls were lined with neatly stacked cans of Dinty Moore beef stew (with potatoes and carrots). Also, there were two cases of cheap vodka, a case of tonic water, two cases of bottled water, one fork, one can opener, two cases of toilet paper, and one large cocktail glass.

This was supposed to be a late 17th-century pirate hideout used by Blond Beard, the not-so-notorious pirate cousin of Black Beard, not some kind of bomb shelter from the goddamn 60s. Suddenly the vault’s door slammed shut. I called to my helper, hoping he could hear me through the door. No answer. He was a local I had hired for minimum wage.

As my light dimmed, I saw a yellow glow coming out of the wall. The glow said “Harr looter—get out and promise to stay out, and I’ll let ye be.”

I promised and the door flew open. I ran through the doorway. Right then, I remembered, my helper had a blond beard. Coincidence? At that point I didn’t care. I yelled and yelled and nobody answered. My helper was nowhere to be found. I tried to open the door again, but when I touched it, it disappeared and was sealed over with stone. I climbed the iron rungs. As I emerged from underground and stepped away, the ground closed and became a perfectly camouflaged piece of earth. No trace. Gone. Erased.

If you are reading this I am dead. I honored my promise to the voice and have lived a happy and prosperous life, receiving a bag full of gold ducats in the mail every Easter.

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

Print and Kindle versions of The Daily Trope are available from Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Bdelygmia

Posted on November 11, 2021 | Comments Off on Bdelygmia

Bdelygmia (del-ig’-mi-a): Expressing hatred and abhorrence of a person, word, or deed.

There is one thing in the world I hate, and it’s you. Tricky was a good goldfish. You gave me a choice: yield, or you would stomp on the fish. I didn’t yield. You stomped on Tricky until he looked like orange mashed potatoes soaked into my bedroom rug. I cried so hard. You laughed so hard and made my world fall apart. Even after you stomped Tricky, you made me “honor” your request.

Today is a new day. I hate you more today than yesterday. When I told the guy at the gun shop what you did to me, and will probably do again, he actually gave the Beretta to me—he even loaded the clip. As he handed the loaded gun to me, all he said was “Self defense.”

So, here we are today with your pants down around your ankles and a Beretta pointed at your privates. You are scum. You belong in a landfill covered with rotting garbage. I should kill you, but get ready to have the clip emptied in your crotch. Stand up you wimp. Shut up!

Feel free to call 911 while I pump your privates full of lead.

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

An edited version of The Daily Trope is available from Amazon in print and Kindle formats under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Bomphiologia

Posted on November 10, 2021 | Comments Off on Bomphiologia

Bomphiologia (bom-phi-o-lo’-gi-a): Exaggeration done in a self-aggrandizing manner, as a braggart.

After I climbed Mt. Everest and then hiked around the world barefoot, my fame was inexhaustible. When I climbed up into the Cloud on a cyber ladder and looted it, and then bought the world’s oil reserves, I developed a aura of greatness shimmering around my head like a green halo sparking dollar signs. My foray into cryptocurrency saved the world: I amassed enough Bitcoins to pay the national debts of Brazil, Germany, China, India, the US, and the UK.

Now, in all my perfection, I have arrived.

I am the golden door to your heart, the stairway to your heaven, the top of your morning, noon, and night. How many other men would buy you, no questions asked, a $90.00 blender, a $600.00 electric scooter, and a not too cheap set of T-fal cookware? All I ask in return is that you be my eternal ray of sunshine, my inspiration, and my girlfriend.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae”

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Brachylogia

Posted on November 9, 2021 | Comments Off on Brachylogia

Brachylogia (brach-y-lo’-gi-a): The absence of conjunctions between single words. Compare asyndeton. The effect of brachylogia is a broken, hurried delivery.

Roy Orbison is whining about crying on the Sirius XM 60s channel. I’m driving like a bat out of hell to Phoenix, Arizona from Elizabeth, New Jersey. The sky keeps flashing with heat lightening and I’m driving with the windows down. When I first put them down, everything on the seat and dashboard blew out the windows and disappeared. I thought about stopping and retrieving the worthwhile stuff, like my lotto ticket, but a voice in my head was yelling in a high-pitched whine, “Drive. Go. Move. Speed. You sorry bastard. You broken man. You asshole.”

I didn’t know why I was out here on the road, but I didn’t stop and turn around to see if I could find my stuff. I listened to the voice, and I kept going—driving, driving, driving, driving, night and day, day and night, west.

The sun set in my face and I kept going. Then it was dark, and the full moon made the green and white road signs cast shadows: “Phoenix 500 miles.” 500 miles!? WTF? Why not 5,000, 500,000, 5,000,000, 5 billion!?

I looked in the rear view mirror and saw something moving around on the rear deck behind the back seats—between the speakers.

It was a goddamn coiled up snake! I didn’t know shit about snakes. So, I couldn’t tell what kind of snake it was, but it was big and striped, and looking at the back of my neck. I had driven over 2,000 miles with a damn snake in my car! This is ‘snakes in a car’ I thought, as I tried to figure out what to do.

Any normal person would’ve stopped, jumped out of the car, and called 911. But I’m not normal—I kept driving 100 mph toward Phoenix. Now, 40 miles to go. I had an address in a GPS. In a few minutes I’d find out why $600,000 had been deposited in my checking account, why I had been summoned to the address in my GPS, and why there was a huge snake in my car, and that, by the way, had disappeared from the rear deck between the rear seats.

“Your destination is on right” said the GPS. There it was—a five star hotel. Up I went. I banged on the room’s door. I heard somebody say “Jesus Christ it’s him—as usual he’s friggin’ early.” It sounded like Joey Ice, a hitter for the Elizabeth crew.

The door flew open and there was Joey holding a Glock and smiling. He lowered the gun. “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” “What the Hell is going on!?” I shouted. Joey smiled again and said “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” “What’s the money for?” I asked. Joey looked out the window and quietly said “Welcome to Phoenix shitbird.” No more questions.

I didn’t know whether I was in deep shit or Nirvana and Joey wasn’t going to tell me.

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

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Cacozelia

Posted on November 8, 2021 | Comments Off on Cacozelia

Cacozelia (ka-ko-zeel’-i-a): 1. A stylistic affectation of diction, such as throwing in foreign words to appear learned. 2. Bad taste in words or selection of metaphor, either to make the facts appear worse or to disgust the auditors.

Shit, shit, shit. Shit is everywhere. It is slippery. It is stinky. It is unsanitary. It is sloppy. It is lumpy. It is “just right.” But none of this is bad. Shit is a Dairy Queen without the cone. Kaka is it’s name. Merde is it’s name. Stront is it’s name. Scheisse is it’s name. Everywhere, in every language, shit has a name.

Along with pee, shit is something that all human beings know, understand, and have in common. We must remind ourselves of what we have in common every day. It will provide a bridge where we can meet in the middle with shit on our shoes and a song in our hearts. Accordingly, privacy will no longer be an option in public restrooms. Toilet stalls will be removed so we can “meet on the seat.”

Get ready for a kinder, happier world. Shit will save us.

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

An edited version of The Daily Trope is available on Amazon in paper and Kindle formats under the title Book of Tropes.

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Catachresis

Posted on November 7, 2021 | Comments Off on Catachresis

Catachresis (kat-a-kree’-sis): The use of a word in a context that differs from its proper application. This figure is generally considered a vice; however, Quintilian defends its use as a way by which one adapts existing terms to applications where a proper term does not exist.

My heart went beep before it took a leap. I wanted to wrench it around so it could see what I was doing to me. Unable to do that, I opted for an empty can of garbanzos with both ends cut out. I put the can on my chest. I bent my head down and listened. I heard a faint squeaking sound that troubled my thinking.

If these heart episodes persist, I will stop reading mystery novels and start reading high school biology textbooks with pictures of whales and reproductive systems with schismatic diagrams of their complexity. This will impact my life, and I’m not at all reticent to try it. First, I must have a convocation with my doctor. She’s really smart and will know what to perform.

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

Print and Kindle editions of The Daily Trope are available on Amazon under the title The Book of Tropes.

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Catacosmesis

Posted on November 6, 2021 | Comments Off on Catacosmesis

Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.

I thought I was a king. Then I thought I was a prince. Now I know I am a homeless man. I live on the street. I live in an alley by a restaurant. I rummage for food three times a day. There’s always something to eat, but it isn’t very good. I long for the days when I thought I was a king, or even a prince. I had a family. Now, I sleep under a tarp on the pavement.

I had friends. I was pretty happy. Then, this clicking sound started in my head. I couldn’t focus on work. I couldn’t focus on anything. I was driving my wife and daughter crazy. I quit my job. After a year, I ran out the front door with nothing but the clothes on my back. Now I hear clicking and static in my head. Oddly, the static helps me sleep. Tomorrow, I’m going to the free clinic to find out what’s wrong with me. Right now, I feel crazy. Tomorrow, I may feel sane, but I doubt it.

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

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Cataphasis

Posted on November 5, 2021 | Comments Off on Cataphasis

Cataphasis (kat-af’-a-sis): A kind of paralipsis in which one explicitly affirms the negative qualities that one then passes over.

He’s a liar, a cheater, an extortionist, a narcissist, and a misogynist. But, we all know this already. There’s something else, though, that may be more pressing that we need to immediately discuss and determine what action to take.

So, what’s new to his resume of wrongdoing?

Treason.

On 1/6/21, he used his position to urge his supporters to nullify the election he fairly lost. They stormed the US Capitol: people were injured, people died, property was damaged and stolen, and more. The election’s certification was temporarily halted.

There is ample evidence that he was involved in the planning of the insurrection, and with his speech that day, it’s execution.

At a minimum, because of what he knows, one way or the other, he must be subpoenaed to testify under oath to the Commission, and indicted to stand trial for treason, if his, and others’ testimony, and supporting evidence, determine it is warranted.

We can’t let this go. Our nation’s future is at stake. Free, fair, and open elections are the heartbeat of our democracy. If found guilty, his attempt to take the Presidential election by the force of lies and violence was treasonous and warrants a life sentence, without the possibility of parole.

Let’s get to work and put the traitor away. As long as he remains free, he makes a mockery of our Constitution and threatens the fundamental political values it embodies. As Cicero said, “Though liberty is established by law, we must be vigilant, for liberty to enslave us is always present under that very liberty. Our Constitution speaks of the ‘general welfare of the people.’ Under that phrase all sorts of excesses can be employed by lusting tyrants to make us bondsmen.”

We have our charge. Let us follow our solemn oath to protect and defend the Constitution. Let us diligently, openly, and passionately pursue truth and find justice for the American people; for the United States of America.

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

An edited version of 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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Cataplexis

Posted on November 3, 2021 | Comments Off on Cataplexis

Cataplexis (kat-a-pleex’-is): Threatening or prophesying payback for ill doing.

You cheated, you lied, but unlike the 50s song, I’m not “goin to keep on lovin’ you.“ I’m outta here. Remember the money you have (had) in your retirement account? At least half of it will belong to me, not to mention the equity in the house. I’m going to grab everything I can, you low-life scum ball. Oh, let’s not forget our children. I doubt if you remember their names. They call you by your fist name instead of “Daddy.” I’m taking them too.

The worst thing of all is the fact that you cheated with my sister—my sister! My God! How much lower can you go, destroying what has always been my wonderful relationship with her. I should’ve known when the two of you went “bowling” until 2.00 am while I stayed home and watched the kids. Or, I should’ve paid closer attention when you went “deer hunting” in the Adirondacks for two days.

I trusted you to the max. You were such a good cheater and liar. You should win an award, but instead I’m going to win a judgment against you in divorce court.

Don’t even try to bullshit your way out of this. My poor sister was showing me pictures of the two of you in the Adirondacks. Scrolling through photos on her phone together, a picture of the two of you naked in bed popped up. What can I say?

The end.

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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Charientismus

Posted on November 2, 2021 | Comments Off on Charientismus

Charientismus (kar-i-en-tia’-mus): Mollifying harsh words by answering them with a smooth and appeasing mock.

A: You can’t tell the difference between shit and Shinola.

B: At least I don’t eat it.

A: Are you saying I eat shit?

B: No, no! I’m saying I don’t eat shit. If you want to eat shit (or Shinola), that’s your business. It’s probably safer to eat shit than Shinola. Shinola’s loaded with harmful ingredients—definitely poisonous. Also, it will stain your teeth—a dead giveaway to Shinola-eating.

A: Ok. Let me put it another way: If brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your nose.

B: Thank God for that! I’d rather be unable to blow my nose than have my head blown off by my big knowledge-filled brain!

A: You’re hopeless. Let’s go to the pub and have a few beers.

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

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Chiasmus

Posted on November 1, 2021 | Leave a comment

Chiasmus (ki-az’-mus): 1. Repetition of ideas in inverted order. 2. Repetition of grammatical structures in inverted order (not to be mistaken with antimetabole, in which identical words are repeated and inverted).

Did I love my new shoes because they were so comfortable, or were my new shoes so comfortable because I loved them? They cost $600.00. They had better be comfortable, or is “they’re so comfortable” my line in the face of inquiries about my ridiculously expensive shoes? I tried everything to make them comfortable. I had to have a rationale for spending $600 on shoes.

Truth be told, no matter what I did I couldn’t make them comfortable like my other shoes. I used creams, sprays, rubber insoles, and saddle soap. I marched around my living room for hours trying to break them in. I wore thick socks.

I loved my shoes, but they didn’t love me. They actually became more uncomfortable, giving me a blisters on both heels. The shoes were making me crazy—reversing my life’s priorities and making me into a serial liar. Initially, I loved my shoes because they were expensive and would be a status symbol. I didn’t even consider their comfort until I wore them to work, and they hurt. Stupid me. My desire for a ready “comfort” rationale avoiding their status signification, and their ridiculous price, got in the way of truth—they became “comfortable” because it sounded better than $600.00 and a status boost as rationales for owning them. I wanted to seem innocent of status mongering. I wanted to represent their appeal to me as comfort, not class. “Class” would seem accidental—it was “really” about comfort.

I’m donating the torture shoes to Good Will where they’ll probably sell for $5.00 or less. This whole thing has taught me a lesson: You can’t make shoes be what they are not by saying that they are what they’re not. This lesson probably extends beyond shoes, most likely to relationships.

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

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Chronographia

Posted on October 30, 2021 | Comments Off on Chronographia

Chronographia (chro-no-graph’-i-a): Vivid representation of a certain historical or recurring time (such as a season) to create an illusion of reality. A kind of enargia: [the] generic name for a group of figures aiming at vivid, lively description.

Sunset. Pink, silver, red, grey with some clouds and blue sky in the background. Venus appears—steady in the sky, like a promise as the sun sinks—a promise of night and illuminated pumpkins, and kids in costumes loading up on candy.

I can’t stop thinking about you. Remember? We met at the Halloween Ball in the high school gym. I was dressed as a serial killer, with a hammer for a weapon. You were a shopping cart lady, with a cart filled with dirty laundry, an empty vodka bottle, and a one-eyed teddy bear. I got in the cart and you pretended to dance with me, pushing the cart in circles, zig-zagging, and doing wheelies (which was quite difficult).

We dated for awhile, but you made me ride in the shopping cart wherever we went. You said you only wanted to reenact the night we met. I thought you were crazy. And you were. On our anniversary, you pushed me and the cart into traffic. I was nearly killed and you were convicted of attempted murder and sentenced to ten years.

I asked the judge if I could keep the shopping cart as a part of my recovery plan. He assented.

The cart is bent and twisted. The one-eyed teddy bear is forever wedged between the front and back of the cart’s crushed plastic child seat. It is missing a wheel—it is totally unusable, except it can be dragged around with the piece of rope I tied to the frame.

Happy Halloween Suzy! I hope you are rotting nicely in prison. Are you wearing your orange jumpsuit costume tonight? Ha ha!

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

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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