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Aganactesis

Posted on January 7, 2022 | Comments Off on Aganactesis

Aganactesis (ag’-an-ak-tee’-sis): An exclamation proceeding from deep indignation.

John: You did it again! You did it again! You did it again! Damn you to Hell! I wasn’t put on earth to line things up! To make things right! To sweep it under the carpet. Damn you!

Jane: But there was an earthquake last night. Didn’t you feel it?

John: No! You liar, you want to tell me my best chocolate soldier, General John, was knocked off the fireplace mantle and broke off his head because of an earthquake? Ha ha ha. Once again, the wind blowing out your mouth cries Mary. But, there are imps in my attic because I’m a Voodoo Child, and you’re Mrs. Blue. You angel-faced liar. Poor General John. He was in charge of the chocolate soldier brigade I bought on the internet and has guarded our home and watched over you since I came home two weeks ago.

Jane: John! Look in the newspaper! The headline says: “Earthquake Rocks Bay Area.” That’s the truth. You need to calm down and have one of the bon-bons I picked up at CVS last week. They have a delicious cherry center and Dr. Rick says they’ll make every day feel like Valentines Day; our anniversary and your favorite holiday!

John: You eat one first.

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

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Allegory

Posted on January 6, 2022 | Comments Off on Allegory

Allegory (al’-le-go-ry): A sustained metaphor continued through whole sentences or even through a whole discourse.

“Oh dear, what shall I do now?” cried Mad Donald. His first thought was to ride his carriage to Royal Burger and assuage his sorrow with two Triple Beef Barges, a Great Sugar Croak, and two boxes of Flemish Tarts. “I lost” he sobbed. “Royal Burger won’t do—I want to win, not just eat myself into a stupor.”

Mad Donald called his loyal cut-throats, with Bathless Steve Bunion taking charge of coming up with a strategy. Bunion remembered when he was child. He lied to his parents every day, and he got his way every day because his parents loved him and were gullible. He loved to lie about lying. He liked it more than riding his donkey, or eating candy.

He told Mad Donald about his childhood success getting his way as a liar. Mad Donald enthusiastically agreed: “Yes! Why didn’t I think of that? I lie all the time. So, what do we do now?” “We lie!” exclaimed Bunion. “About what do we lie?” asked Mad Donald. “The jousting match you lost! Have you forgotten? If you had won, you would have been showered with riches and been declared a celebrity throughout the land.” “Oh, that’s right.” said Don, and they started to make a plan, based in lies, to make Mad Don a winner. In brief, this is what they came up with:

—George Sorenose drugged Mad Donald’s horse

—Mirrors made it look like Mad Donald fell off his horse

—Mad Donald’s lance was shortened

—Mad Donald’s gauntlets we’re poisoned and his hands fell asleep

Once word got out, Mad Donald’s fans went crazy and made a slogan: “Cheater, cheater, vegetable eater, Moe Biten didn’t beat you!” The slogan did wonders as a unifying chant, and also, to deflect peoples’ thoughts from the truth. They massed together and attacked the jousting grounds, burning them to the ground, but saving the championship trophy to give to Mad Donald, the true winner (as far as they were concerned).

Mad Donald and Bunion were arrested the next day for conspiring to rig the games, and thereby inciting a riot. Their lies had been revealed throughout the land. But still, to the puzzlement of Moe Biten, 68% of Mad Donald’s fans still believed him. But nobody else did. They attacked the jail, dragged the two prisoners outside, and impaled them on jousting lances.

This was a bad day in the history of the United Incorporated States. It taught us to keep jousting lances under lock and key, let the government kill bad people, and to try not to lie too much or you will get caught.

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

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Alleotheta

Posted on January 5, 2022 | Comments Off on Alleotheta

Alleotheta (al-le-o-the’-ta): Substitution of one case, gender, mood, number, tense, or person for another. Synonymous with enallage. [Some rhetoricians claim that alleotheta is a] general category that includes antiptosis [(a type of enallage in which one grammatical case is substituted for another)] and all forms of enallage [(the substitution of grammatically different but semantically equivalent constructions)].

The car was Donna’s. I could tell by the make and model, but also by them bumper stickers—“Eat More Cottage Cheese” and “Support Your Local Clown” and “No Swearing Allowed in Heaven. You Better Stop Swearing Now.”

She always told each of her friends to bring gas money if they wanted to ride with her. But here it was in the middle of the night —parked by the roadside—9:00 pm to be exact. I never would’ve seen it if I weren’t headed for Vegas. I had taken out a home equity line of credit for $20,000 and I was on my way to make it into $200,000 playing poker at the Flamingo Casino. I had bought a system on the internet that guaranteed a winning hand every time. I was ready to rip!

But now, I was flipping out. Donna was out there somewhere, walking around the desert. Then I heard a voice cry out: “Hey you got a tissue?” It was Donna! She was peeking over the hood of her car. “I had to take a wicked leak, and remembered I didn’t have any wipes in my car until it was too late. You’re a Godsend Nicky.” Lucky for Donna I had an unopened pack of Kleenex in my truck. I got them and handed them to her while she hunched behind her car.

The luck of crossing paths with Donna was overwhelming. I felt like it was a message from above. I had loved her since middle school, but she didn’t love me. We had kissed once, but that was it. Over the years, I’ve counted her boyfriends—27 to be exact. Maybe out here on this lonely highway, I might have a chance to try again. I grabbed her and held her close. She screamed and hit me in the face with her cellphone. My cheek was bleeding and I tried to apologize, but she jumped in her car and drove away, tires screeching.

I got to the casino around 11:00 pm. My cheek had scabbed up, but my ego was still bleeding. I decided to play keno instead of poker. By 4:00 am I won $40,000. I was ready to pack it in when I saw Donna! She was walking toward me smiling. She was holding my pack of Kleenex. “These are yours Nicky” she said as she held them out to me. “Yeah, thanks” I said as I took them and stuffed them in my back pocket. “I’m glad you stopped bleeding” she said. “Yeah” I said. “Let’s get a room” she said. I said “Really?” Donna said “Yes.” So we did.

We spent three nights at the Flamingo. I won $240,000.00. We were married on the third day at the Chapel of the Bells. That was ten years ago. And to think, I actually considered murdering Donna after she hit me in the face with her cellphone.

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

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Alliteration

Posted on January 4, 2022 | Comments Off on Alliteration

Alliteration (al-lit’-er-a’-tion): Repetition of the same letter or sound within nearby words. Most often, repeated initial consonants. Taken to an extreme alliteration becomes the stylistic vice of paroemion where nearly every word in a sentence begins with the same consonant.

Trucks, tracks, tigers. Triggers, Tootsie Rolls, Tambourines. Tacos, tattletales, tourniquets.

Bitter beverage. Big Ben. Better burger.

You may think “So what?” I say, “Ha!” Throughout history, many innovations have been initiated by the play of alliteration. The list is laboriously long. So, let’s take one example: buttered bread.

In 1620 Dunstable Clodwell was shivering by the meager little fire in his drafty little cruck. His cruck was plastered with wattle, manure, and hay. His cow, Holy Mary, took up a lot of room even though she was backed into a corner, however, she generated a lot of heat and helped warm the cruck. Outside the Black Death was raging. Dunstable had resigned himself to certain death, but he was hungry. The neighbor woman Sharona Pinkwinkle always had food—she took it in exchange for doing laundry, and, as she said, “Pleasing the boys.” Sharona was big and busty. As usual, she had set out a slice of bread and a blob of butter, anticipating Dunstable’s regular dinner time visit. He ate his bread separately from his butter as everybody did back then. He looked at Sherona as he prepared to bite into his bread. He was behind her and thought “big butt” to himself, and holding his bread still, he thought, “butt on bread” and laughed to himself. Then, looking at the butter blob, he thought “as I live and breathe, what ho, what can butter on bread be?” And that was it: he put his butter on his bread and took a bite. “Mmmmm” he exclaimed, “that’s good, and I only need one hand to eat it. If I had a flagon of ale, I could hold it in my free hand, gulping it down after each bite of my butter bread.”

Sadly, Dunstable died two days later from the Black Death. He was found on his corncob mattress clutching a piece of buttered bread in his cold hand.

So, even though Dunstable didn’t know what an alliteration was, the connected consonants “b” built a bridge and sparked a realization—from big butt to butter bread the die was cast, and made smearing substances on bread a widespread practice.

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

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Allusion

Posted on January 3, 2022 | Comments Off on Allusion

Allusion (ə-ˈlü-zhən):[1] A reference/representation of/to a well-known person, place, event, literary work, or work of art . . . “a brief reference, explicit or indirect, to a person, place or event, or to another literary work or passage”. It is left to the reader or hearer to make the connection . . . ; an overt allusion is a misnomer for what is simply a reference.[2]

I was floating in my hot tub, when I remembered once when I was in a bar in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Two men beat the crap out of each other in a dispute over what “four score a seven years ago means.” One of them actually believed “score” was a reference to Lincoln’s drug dealing, a sort of bookkeeping strategy for tallying sales for the past seven years. The other guy believed “score” was a cryptic message to the Freemasons, referring to the lines etched into bricks to break them neatly to size: four score referring to the four points of the compass etched in a sacred brick, and “seven years ago” as the last time the Freemasons had built a pyramid.

Even though it was clear that neither of the men had read the “Gettysburg Address” (that was clear from their interpretations) both of them developed, and fought over, the completely bogus and crazy opposing positions they took.

As he was being wheeled out of the bar on a stretcher with a swollen bleeding nose, a fractured elbow, and a neck brace, I asked one of the men where he got his ideas from. He snapped back, struggling under the stretcher’s restraints: “From my head, jackoff. This is America, I can believe what I want to believe. You, or nobody else can tell me what to believe!” At that point, I wanted to call Scotty and beam up, back to sanity land.

Anyway, the memory of the event scared me all over again. Is it true that the will to believe is all the reason that’s needed to believe—that the lunatics in the Harpers Ferry bar had a right fight it out over their conflicted interpretations?

I climbed out of my hot tub, donned my spa towel, and headed for the liquor cabinet. I filled a water glass with Johnny Walker Black, went to my bedroom, put on my pajamas, and picked up Umberto Eco’s “Interpretation and Overinterpretation” from the nightstand next to my bed. I had some reading to do, but would I get the meaning right?

1. Phonetic transcription courtesy of Miriam-Webster’s On-Line Dictionary: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/allusion <3/6/08>.

2. Definition courtesy of Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allusion <3/6/08>.

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Amphibologia

Posted on January 2, 2022 | Comments Off on Amphibologia

Amphibologia (am’-fi-bo-lo’-gi-a): Ambiguity of grammatical structure, often occasioned by mispunctuation. [A vice of ambiguity.]

My mother liked our dentist more than me. She sent him candy on his birthday and wore rubber gloves everywhere. She would get high on black market nitrous oxide in the basement in her “dental chair”—a swivel chair mounted on cinder blocks with a naked lightbulb hanging above it. She even wore a little bib, and spit on it.

I, on the other hand, thought our dentist was a sadistic monster captivated by other peoples’ pain. One time, he tried pull out one of my teeth with a pair of pliers. When it wouldn’t come out, he shattered it with a hammer, and collected the tooth fragments off the floor with a whisk broom and a dustpan. It took one hour to remove the tooth with no novocaine, or anything. After it was over he called me a good boy and gave me a silver dollar. I swore I would kill him after school the next day, but I couldn’t come up with a plan and I didn’t know where his office was.

So, you can see why my mother liked our dentist more than me!

Mom was finally institutionalized for her dentalphillia. We committed her when she started flossing our dog’s teeth and trying to make me and Dad wear bibs at the dinner table.

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

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Ampliatio

Posted on January 1, 2022 | Comments Off on Ampliatio

Ampliatio (am’-pli-a’-ti-o): Using the name of something or someone before it has obtained that name or after the reason for that name has ceased. A form of epitheton.

Before

Hey Genius! You’re going to be the smartest PhD ever. Astrophysics? Electrical Engineering? History. Math? Creative Writing? When you’re old enough to talk, we can figure it out. In the meantime, I’ve gotten you some toys: a rubber squeaky star, a big battery pillow for your cribby, an antique rattle, a toy calculator, and “The Three Little Pigs” book I can read to you: a great work of literature.

After

Hey Handsome! Pull your blubber butt up over here. I remember, back in the day you rivaled David Bowie for adoration. A new girl every week. You were something else. You even had hair and all your teeth. Too bad corn on the cob is on the menu. The reunion organizers should’ve thought of people like you. Our lives have morphed. I’m an artist—I paint in acrylics and pull in half a million per year doing portraits and landscapes around the world. I understand you’re a night manager at Burger King. I bet you smell like a cheeseburger when you go home. Too bad about your wife taking off with the exterminator.

Oh well, things change as time goes by. If you lost 100 pounds and got a hair transplant, maybe you could regain some of your cred. Oh, when did you get out of prison?

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

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Anacoenosis

Posted on December 31, 2021 | Comments Off on Anacoenosis

Anacoenosis (an’-a-ko-en-os’-is): Asking the opinion or judgment of the judges or audience, usually implying their common interest with the speaker in the matter [and illustrating their communally-held ideals of truth, justice, goodness and beauty, for better and for worse].

We are all here today for the same reason. We may have different feelings about it, but all of you can tell me why. We are here to support each other as we struggle with our loss. I lost my car keys this week. You lost your wedding ring two day ago. You lost your wallet this morning. You lost your battery charger last week. We could call each other losers, but that, in a way, ridicules our common problem: losing things, from little thing like Jane’s contacts, to big things like Ed’s truck.

We are tired of hearing “Why are you always losing things?” “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t fastened on.” “You give getting lost a new meaning.” “What’re you going to lose next, your mind?”

Do you know what I mean? Yes! Am I on the right track? Yes! What more can I say? Oh damn, I can’t find my notecard, but I’ll keep going. There are adhesive chips we can buy and put on everything we own. The chips emit signals that will lead you to a lost item through an app on your iPhone. Each chip has a distinct frequency, so you can trace and recover multiple items. Now, the only problem is if you lose your phone. However, there ‘s good news. Your phone has an app that will find your phone as long as it is turned on.

I lost the chip company’s internet address, but I am sure we can find it on Google. I think it may be called LoserFinder.

From now on, when asked where something is, we’ll never be at a “loss” again. Ha ha.

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

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Anacoloutha

Posted on December 30, 2021 | Comments Off on Anacoloutha

Anacoloutha (an-a-co’-lu-tha): Substituting one word with another whose meaning is very close to the original, but in a non-reciprocal fashion; that is, one could not use the first, original word as a substitute for the second. This is the opposite of acoloutha.

My face, my soul’s mask, blurts out the breaking promise I am about to throw into your life—broken before it is made, in pieces in my heart like shattered ice melting into clear water: a small reservoir of fate spreading its imperial hopelessness throughout my being.

Forever! I promise. Forever to be your bride even as the deadly spores may carry me to eternity’s unimaginable edge, where souls wait at the abyss for permission to cross over to the timeless shelter built of faith and hope.

And now, I know not whether forever is real. And there, my promise to you fractures—like a tree limb in a storm, a piece of China dropped on the floor, a glass of wine to the same fate. Dropped. Shattered.

And why do I make a promise doomed to be broken as it is made? It is born of love and desire. I love you. I desire an infinite future, and since we do not know the future, we are free to wander through it by the light of our own desire, not caring whether it is prompted by truth’s call. So, the promise breaks, as it is founded on imagination claiming to promise something real. But still, I promise. My promise is a compass to navigate the perilous journey presented by the future and the anxiety it drills into our heads.

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

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Anacoluthon

Posted on December 29, 2021 | Comments Off on Anacoluthon

Anacoluthon (an-a-co-lu’-thon): A grammatical interruption or lack of implied sequence within a sentence. That is, beginning a sentence in a way that implies a certain logical resolution, but concluding it differently than the grammar leads one to expect. Anacoluthon can be either a grammatical fault or a stylistic virtue, depending on its use. In either case, it is an interruption or a verbal lack of symmetry. Anacoluthon is characteristic of spoken language or interior thought, and thus suggests those domains when it occurs in writing.

The sun was setting, beyond Legos, beyond logos, beyond legible. There was this orange blot slowly sinking on the horizon like a round burning elevator headed for the ground floor of the universe. “Where is the truth in that?” I asked as I repositioned the funnel on my head so it pointed straight at the sky, held secured by the rubber band under my chin that I had threaded though the two holes I drilled on either side of the funnel and the knots tied at the ends of the rubber band.

This is what’s wrong with all of us, partially disguised platitudes wreck our concentration and ability to assimilate the grit of everyday life—like oysters unable to grind out pearls under the turbulent sea, we are gloppy and cold and undone. But all that is beyond me now. The stars are coming out. I point my funnel tip at Venus and put Dionne Warwick on my portable CD player: “The Look of Love” streams into my ears and the starlight beams through my funnel, directly into my brain. This is the “frame of reference” I drive, walk and run through life looking for as I eat the fried egg sandwich my Mom made me, with a hard yolk on white toast with butter, salt, and pepper. As I chew and swallow, I feel Eros drilling into my forebrain. Everywhere I look, everything I see, prompts love and affection— my car in the driveway, my lawn, the hollyhocks growing in the back yard: everything.

Dawn is breaking. The night sky has disappeared. The sun is headed up to the day’s top floor. I take off my funnel and put it back in its holster. I plug my portable CD player in to recharge on the back porch. In the kitchen, my hope is brewing fresh coffee. My Mom is frying two eggs, yolks hard. The toast is in the toaster. While in the toaster, the lights went out. Mom pounded on the outlet, and all is well.

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

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Anadiplosis

Posted on December 28, 2021 | Comments Off on Anadiplosis

Anadiplosis (an’-a-di-plo’-sis): The repetition of the last word (or phrase) from the previous line, clause, or sentence at the beginning of the next. Often combined with climax.

I bought a pair of cowboy boots. Cowboy boots on my feet made me feel like a man. A man who is home on the range, where “the deer and the antelope play.” My boots were made from dead anteaters. Anteaters are manly like grizzly bears or boar hogs. Boar hogs grunt like weight lifters. Weight lifters can hardly move with all their muscles. Muscles make you strong, but when you get old they look like flesh-wrapped Crisco puff pastries.

Wait! What am I thinking? Somehow it must all tie together. The man-making boots. The anteaters. The boar hogs. The grunting weightlifters. The muscles. The pastries. My cowboy boots are mixing me up. I was going to get spurs for them, but now I’m returning them to Zappos. If I knew what an antelope is, I might keep them. But I don’t, so I won’t. Instead, I’m going to get a pair of black cowhide wingtips with built-in lifts, like rich people wear. 2-inches taller, I’ll walk down the street like I have a big time job— maybe as a television producer or a car salesman. My shoes will lift my soul as well as my body—in both cases, giving me a new perspective. I will be lifted up. But the “manly” aura of the boots will be lost. If I can find wingtip cowboy boots, I can project a balance of masculinity and while-collar wealth.

I found a place that will custom-make any kind of boots you want. It’s located in Laredo, TX and it’s called “Nancy’s.” My custom boots would cost $900.00. I robbed a couple of convenience stores on 8th Avenue and sold 200 caps of Ecstasy at the train station. Now I had enough money to pay for the boots and fly to Texas to be fitted for my boots.

Well, I got busted for robbery and drug dealing before I could go anywhere. Now I’m wearing cotton slippers and sitting on my bed at Rikers.

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

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Anaphora

Posted on December 26, 2021 | Comments Off on Anaphora

Anaphora (an-aph’-o-ra): Repetition of the same word or group of words at the beginning of successive clauses, sentences, or lines.

There once was a time when my life flowed along like a cherry syrup river, with me sailing in a candy boat.

There once was a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth eating giant blades of grass and each other.

There once was a time when Vikings sailed around the Atlantic and their women and men were equals. They tried settling at L’Anse aux Meadows on Newfoundland, and they knocked the crap out of the city of Paris.

There once a time when I got married and had a beautiful, smart and talented daughter.

I’m still married. I still have a daughter.

Now is the time to quit the past-tense musing and celebrate what I have.

Now is the time to Zoom.

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

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Anapodoton

Posted on December 25, 2021 | Comments Off on Anapodoton

Anapodoton (an’-a-po’-do-ton): A figure in which a main clause is suggested by the introduction of a subordinate clause, but that main clause never occurs.

Anapodoton is a kind of anacoluthon, since grammatical expectations are interrupted. If the expression trails off, leaving the subordinate clause incomplete, this is sometimes more specifically called anantapodoton. Anapodoton has also named what occurs when a main clause is omitted because the speaker interrupts himself/herself to revise the thought, leaving the initial clause grammatically unresolved but making use of it nonetheless by recasting its content into a new, grammatically complete sentence.

I was. . . there was a quality of sorrow that I could hardly endure. All day, all night, I was wracked by the wretched sensibility. I tried to affect indifference, but the stabbing feeling wouldn’t go away. Sleepless, I stared at the ceiling and the wall. During the day I donned my bathrobe and watched TV and ate junk food—whipped cream from can to mouth, a jar of maraschino cherries, sour cream by the spoonful and the whole range of Little Debbie cakes. No shower. No toothbrushing. No looking in the mirror.

What the hell was I going to do? What the hell. I realized right then how easy it is to fall in love and how monumentally difficult it is to fall out of love, especially when you’re the dumpee. Somehow I had to find a way to stop caring and go on with my life. I’d heard the saying “time heals all wounds.” But it does not specify how much time. I’d been on this emotional escalator, going down, down, down for about two weeks. It was slow and continuous. I looked behind me to see if anybody else was riding the heartbreak escalator to the bottom of the pits. Nope. Just me. At that second I thought of the really cute woman at the office who always smiled at me and sometimes shared a piece of fruit with me—usually an apple from what she called her “mini orchard.”

The escalator stopped and reversed direction. The stabbing sensation started to go away. I wanted to take a shower and brush my teeth.

On Monday, there she was at her desk at the office. She smiled at me. As I walked toward her, I felt like I would throw up—but I didn’t. Instead, I made a croaking sound when I tried say hello. She looked down and then looked up again. She was blushing and smiling. I cleared my throat and asked if she wanted to go out to dinner on Friday. She said yes, but she was vegan. A red flag for me, but I didn’t give a damn. Flexibility was my new watchword.

It may be true that time heals all wounds. But in my experience, finding a new lover is a miracle cure.

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

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Anastrophe

Posted on December 24, 2021 | Comments Off on Anastrophe

Anastrophe (an-as’-tro-phee): Departure from normal word order for the sake of emphasis. Anastrophe is most often a synonym for hyperbaton, but is occasionally referred to as a more specific instance of hyperbaton: the changing of the position of only a single word.

He thought he was so funny. I asked him about his religious faith and he said “Well, that’s a deep subject.” He was one of those modern-day ministers seeming to take God lightly: on the walk of faith, for him, there was a place for tap dancing. When into his Bible he stuck his nose, his back turned, and he was beyond reach, he seemed like God himself.

Then, one day he fell down a flight stairs. Survived he did! But, while he lay at the bottom of the stairs in pain, waiting for the ambulance, half-conscious, he started muttering. “She was beautiful, an angel she was. Oh why God? Why did you take her from me? We were in love. We were going to be married. Why did it have to end that way? Why why why?” he sobbed and then he passed out.

I took a deep breath. I felt lighter. I was lifted and felt closer to God. I had read of agape in Paul’s letters and in Plato’s Phaedrus, but I thought it was an impossible hope. “Selfless” and “love” just seemed like oil and water. But, when Reverend Pillow mumbled out his pain and loss, a feeling rose up in me that emanated from a place between us, and a spontaneous uncalculated desire to assuage his pain, and his suffering to decrease. I decided then and there to hold this feeling, to embrace it like a child, and to live this feeling, to act this feeling as much as possible in every aspect of my life.

The suffering of a good man prompted me to find my spiritual compass. And now I realized why God sacrificed his own son on the cross. Rev. Pillow certainly wasn’t cruxified, but his suffering opened my heart.

Merry Christmas!

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

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Anesis

Posted on December 23, 2021 | Comments Off on Anesis

Anesis (an’-e-sis): Adding a concluding sentence that diminishes the effect of what has been said previously. The opposite of epitasis.

Ted was smart, good looking and articulate, but he smelled like urine. If you got within 3 feet of him the smell was there—like he was wearing a public restroom instead of underpants, or he just came from visiting a nursing home. Yet, somehow he managed to live a more or less normal life. You see, the urine smell did not come from urine-soaked clothing, it was his “natural” body odor. He suffered from soma urinosis, an extremely rare disease that allows minute amounts of urine to seep through the pores of the skin in such small amounts that it does not produce moisture, just the odor of urine.

After high school, Ted gave up bathing in diluted Old Spice aftershave and wearing a Canoe cologne wick in his underpants. This took courage. Everybody respected him for accepting his natural smell. He started going on Hinge looking for a mate. He wrote: “Wanted. Loving woman who smells like urine.” The responses he got were disheartening—angry women who called him a pervert, and perverted women who liked being wet on. But, he persisted. Then it happened. A message hit his inbox: “My name is Bettina and I smell like urine. I suffer from soma urinosis, do you?

Eureka! Ted dashed off an answer: “Yes!”

One day later, Ted and Bettina met outside in a public park, immediately fell in love and were married outdoors in the same park 2 months later. Ted kept working at Pine Tree Air Freshener Company and Bettina took a job at Mennen Company. They pursued PhDs in biology and chemical engineering, respectively. It was rough holding down full time jobs and pursing PhDs at the same time, but they persevered and succeeded, and landed research fellowships at MIT.

To make a long story short, working together Ted and Bettina discovered a cure for soma urinosis. They were too old for it to work on them, but it worked perfectly on their baby, Nell. Now, they live in a lovely old home in Boston with a special ventilation system they created, and manufacture, earning them millions.

Next time you hear somebody say “that stinks” think of Ted and Bettina and their angelic daughter and the heights of fame and fortune they achieved.

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

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Antanaclasis

Posted on December 22, 2021 | Comments Off on Antanaclasis

Antanaclasis (an’-ta-na-cla’-sis): The repetition of a word or phrase whose meaning changes in the second instance.

You don’t care if my head is killing me, you still want to head to Jersey. We’ll be driving 90 billion miles while you’re driving me crazy with your non-stop blabber about Frank Sinatra, Jon Bon Jovi, Martha Stewart, and all the other Malox memory-makers from the so-called Garden State. But I‘ll drive us there as long as you pay for gas and tolls and food— good food, not the crap they serve on the Turnpike.

Ok honey, we crossed the state line. We’ve made it to the Homeland. So! Wait an ef’n minute! Holy shit, it’s Bon Jovi standing there! I’m pullin’ over to see if he needs help.

Are you ok Mr. Bon Jovi? Something the matter with your steel horse?

Bon Jovi: I’m wanted dead or alive. I missed a payment on my motorcycle. They put sugar in the gas tank: they give loan sharking a bad name. I almost hit that overpass abutment when the engine cut out. Here, hold this .357 while I push the motorcycle farther off the road.

Just then a black Cadillac pulled up. Somebody yelled “Drop the pistol shit stain!” I dropped the pistol.

I ran for my car with Bon Jovi right behind me. My wife was hiding in the trunk screaming. I yelled, “Give me the keys dammit!” She gave me the keys and we took off like a bat out of hell. I figured they would blow us off the highway, but when I looked in the rear view, two guys in black cashmere overcoats were dumping gas on Bon Jovi’s wheels. I looked again as one of them threw a lit match at the motorcycle, and BLAM it went up in flames. I floored it and we got the hell out of there.

As we drove away, I asked Bon Jovi why he would borrow money from a loan shark. After all, he’s a millionaire. He told me he’d lost touch with his New Jersey roots and was looking for inspiration—for the kind of Jersey-cred he’s known for. At that point a State Trooper pulled up on our ass. I pulled over. As I stood there with my hands up, I was reminded of what it was like growing up in New Jersey.

Needless to say we missed my mother-in-law’s birthday party, but Bon Jovi smoothed everything out with the law, and we made it back home safely.

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

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Antanagoge

Posted on December 21, 2021 | Comments Off on Antanagoge

Antanagoge (an’-ta-na’-go-gee): Putting a positive spin on something that is nevertheless acknowledged to be negative or difficult.

The world is drying up, forests are in flames, packs of wild dogs roam what used to be streets. All the freshwater fish are dead and stinking up the air. The butterflies have vanished, cows have stopped producing milk. Inflation is 200%, and people all over world are whining about Armageddon. Wake up you weenies! These are the worst of times, but they are also the best of times.

Every day there are fewer people to compete with for food, clothing and shelter. Let that sink in. As long as you’re not dead, you’re winning. This is a time of great opportunity— I can hear it knocking! Whoops—that was machine gun fire. So what? FOX News is still on the air. If you have electricity you can watch them report from the secret bunker in Queens, NY. They’re showing reruns of Trump’s rallies and his unjust prosecution by a jury—an un-American vestige of so-called justice. Now, we’ve moved on to Kangaroo Courts—an Australian creation named after cute furry marsupials that kick and punch you to death.

Anyway, as your Supreme Dictator, I, The Pillow Man, will do nothing for you. All the talk of a Zombie onslaught can’t be true. Why? Because I don’t believe it. My mother told me not to believe in zombies and that’s the end of it, God rest her soul. Besides, if a zombie eats your brain you become a zombie: instant immortality. Let that sink in: instant immortality. I think that is a positive thing: immortality without having to toe some religious line or go all the way to heaven.

So, the world may be ending, but it’s a new beginning. Get on the gravy train while you still can! Lock and load and make something of yourself!

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

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

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Antenantiosis

Posted on December 20, 2021 | Comments Off on Antenantiosis

Antenantiosis (an’-ten-an’-ti-os’-is): See litotes. (Deliberate understatement, especially when expressing a thought by denying its opposite. The Ad Herennium author suggests litotes as a means of expressing modesty [downplaying one’s accomplishments] in order to gain the audience’s favor [establishing ethos]).

I am completely undeserving of this award. I’ve never done anything remotely close to the award’s intention. When I walked barefoot across Afghanistan, I wasn’t thinking about awards. I was thinking about saving my sorry ass from the Taliban who had stolen my shoes. They walked along with me, poking me with sticks and yelling at me through bullhorns. They did that for three days and turned around and left me as we approached an oasis controlled by coalition forces. They kept my shoes. The Americans thought I was hilarious. A Special Forces guy told me I was nearly “defeeted.” The medic bandaged me up. Suddenly we were under attack. The Americans jumped into their SUVs. One of them tried to carry me, but he was wounded in the leg and dropped me. I was stuck. And guess what? The attackers were the same Taliban who had stolen my shoes. Anyway, they let me go because I would die anyway. But I didn’t. I was picked up by a small Afghan circus troupe. They sold elixir as part of their act: Kabul Kaboom. It is a mixture of opium, juniper bark, rose petals, currants and the “No Name” ingredient, which was very special. The troupe made me work for my keep. Since my feet were a mess, they made work the “Hoister Chair.” They would hoist me into the air and then drop me on a pile of camel dung to the great delight of the audience who paid to watch. One night after being dropped into the dung nine or ten times, I took a swig of Kabul Kaboom which I had resisted doing up until then because I thought it might kill me. My feet healed the second I took the jug away from my lips. It was 2.00am, but I started walking anyway. By bare feet had turned into some kind of leather—I could walk across broken glass and feel no pain.

After walking for 3 weeks, I arrived in Kabul. I couldn’t get a ride along the way because the Kabul Kaboom had made my feet stink. I’d get into a car and everybody would start coughing and yelling, and I’d get shoved out the door. I’ve since gotten the stink under control, or I wouldn’t be here today to partake of your generosity and humbly accept this year’s Pedistench Award.

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

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Anthimeria

Posted on December 19, 2021 | Comments Off on Anthimeria

Anthimeria (an-thi-mer’-i-a): Substitution of one part of speech for another (such as a noun used as a verb).

He holly-jollyed his way into the office, red suit mistletoed from top to bottom and wearing one of those stupid red conical hats with a white pom-pom tassel. His black boots made of vinyl, with gold plastic buckles, made me sick. And I thought, the big wide black patent leather belt would work well to strangle him. When he said “Ho, Ho, Ho” he sounded like he was counting the prostitutes who hang out in front of our building. Then he threw a candy cane at me, hitting me in the eye. That was his idea of gifting. I wanted to kill him, but he was the boss. And besides, I would surely be caught.

Now we had to drink his disgusting homemade eggnog. I felt like I was in Jonestown. He poured two bottles of rum into the punch bowl to “enhance” the egg nog. In about 30 minutes everybody was drunk, slurring their words, and rubbing against each other. Truly weird as we tried to sing “Jingle Bells.” A couple of people were draped over their desks and Harry Little was passed out on the floor. Then I saw Marla Gino standing by an open window with her blouse unbuttoned beckoning the boss by moving her shoulders back and forth. As I watched the boss stagger toward her, I realized why the window was opened—we were 15 stories up. The fall would kill the boss. Everyone who could still stand, silently watched the boss stagger toward Marla’s hypnotic gestures.

Marla stepped away from the window at the last second and the boss tripped. He flew out the window without a sound. Everybody started singing “Jingle Bells” and Marla called 911.

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

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Anthypophora

Posted on December 18, 2021 | Comments Off on Anthypophora

Anthypophora (an’-thi-po’-phor-a): A figure of reasoning in which one asks and then immediately answers one’s own questions (or raises and then settles imaginary objections). Reasoning aloud. Anthypophora sometimes takes the form of asking the audience or one’s adversary what can be said on a matter, and thus can involve both anacoenosis and apostrophe.

A: Am I from planet Earth? No!

A: What planet am I from? No!

B: There’s such planet as No.

A: No? That’s where I’m from you idiot. No! No! No!

B: You sound like a toddler.

A: I turn green when I’m angry. Am I green now? Yes! Am I going to zap you now with my hand-held eco-friendly toilet-paper roll atomizer? Yes!

B: Don’t shoot!

A: Am I green?

B: Yes, yes, yes!

A: Liar! I’m not angry any more. What planet am I from?

B: No?

A: No? Yes! Well, not really. Am I actually from Jersey City? Yes! It’s a very small planet adjacent to New York. Earth is good distance away.

B: Oh well, let’s head to the New Years party & leave your atomizer here, ok?

A: I’m turning green.

B: Ok, bring your damn atomizer.

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

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Antimetabole

Posted on December 17, 2021 | Comments Off on Antimetabole

Antimetabole (an’-ti-me-ta’-bo-lee): Repetition of words, in successive clauses, in reverse grammatical order.

I look at my Facebook page, and my Facebook page looks at me. It has a consciousness of my life’s triviality, the causes I’ve championed, the countless memes I’ve posted: none of them truly loved, none of them striking a chord, none of them shared. Every day I ask”How do I get 5,000 likes?” “How do I go viral?” “Should do a Tik-Tok dance covered with Nutella, with a Roman candle firing out my ass?” Oh? Too cliched. Begging for attention. Not cool. Been done already by a Tibetan monk? Oh.

Then, there are all the hot-looking women who want to be my friend. Why? They’ll know I’m stupid and desperate if and when I friend them. Even though I am stupid and desperate, I don’t friend them. They are not friends, they are enemies, at least I can figure that out. They would ruin my marriage and bankrupt me if we became friends: How ironic that friends can be enemies on Facebook. And anyway, I don’t want to be their friends, simply because they are evil.

But on the other side, Facebook archives many positive memories and makes new experiences for me: family and genuine friends. Also, my news streams keep me posted. It is hard to believe that Trump got re-elected.

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

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Antimetathesis

Posted on December 12, 2021 | Comments Off on Antimetathesis

Antimetathesis (an-ti-me-ta’-the-sis): Inversion of the members of an antithesis.

Hope and fear: why do some people hope to fear and others fear to hope? With fear, I guess it is about anticipating excitement, which is itself exciting—the so-called adrenalin rush: sky diving, bungee jumping, observing sharks, roller coaster riding. You name it! It’s about taking risks—fear infuses a quality of excitement that is intense and very different from having a winning lotto ticket or watching your child be born. People crave excitement in all of its forms and hope and fear may work together to induce it. Hoping to fear spices the fear with anticipation.

On the other side, people fear to hope. This may be the result of previous hopes badly fulfilled and fearing the same hope as it may re-emerge. The pain induced by dashed hope can ruin your life, cause you to sell yourself short and build walls around yourself: you never want to hope again, and when you feel it you fear it, and you bury it away somewhere deep in your being so your reaction almost feels genetic—like some kind of survival mechanism that you’re wired to perform, when in fact it’s a habit, maybe based on a single bad experience. Hardly genetic, and probably surmountable—if you want to hope again.

Hope and fear. Both functional. Both not functional. Their proper play depends on a sort of practical wisdom, what the Greeks called phronesis: “wisdom in determining ends and the means of attaining them, practical understanding, sound judgment.” (Dictionary.com). As you can imagine, phronesis is one of freedom’s bulwarks. It’s cultivation should be one of the key aims of public education in a democratic society.

But I fear I’m going off point. I hope you don’t mind. Bye bye.

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

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Antiprosopopoeia

Posted on December 11, 2021 | Comments Off on Antiprosopopoeia

Antiprosopopoeia (an-ti-pro-so-po-pe’-i-a): The representation of persons [or other animate beings] as inanimate objects. This inversion of prosopopoeia or personification can simply be the use of a metaphor to depict or describe a person [or other animate being].

He’s a pimple. He’s a pile of shit. He’s an emotionally disturbed pile of shit with a pimple.

We were married 27 years and had 14 children because he couldn’t keep off me and he never used birth control. I didn’t either because I was pro-life. He’s been gone for five years. Seven of our children are in foster care, six are missing, and one is in prison for negligent homicide after he drunkenly veered off a rural road and collided with a farmer tilling his field. The farmer fell off his tractor and was sliced up like mortadella in a butcher’s window.

Now, I’m starting to think that pro-life is a misnomer. Of course, my children were born, but their lives have been sheer shit—abusive foster parents who’re doing it for the money, missing kids who may be dead or enslaved, a son justly rotting in prison. After all I’ve been through, and what I’ve suffered at the end of my husband’s penis, I am definitely not Pro-Life because I’m not Pro-Shit Life.

Wow, if I hadn’t had all those kids, I might’ve done something with my life—don’t get me wrong, having 14 children is doing something—but it was doing something wrong. Don’t tell me about self control and abstinence when a 225 pound jerk is on top of me, and I believe it’s my “marital duty” to spread my legs and let him pound away.

I could’ve been a flight attendant, a stockbroker, a bus driver, an actress, but instead, I’m a lump of shit all alone, living in Roach Land Fun Park, and cleaning toilets in New York subway stations. Somebody has to do it—it pays the bills and puts some food on the table. I haven’t had a hamburger in 3 months. I’m still wearing my flower-print polyester bell bottoms from the 70s. You can smell me coming 25 feet away. The up-side of slowly starving to death is keeping my figure.

Living with abusers, walking the streets, and spending ‘life’ in prison is not living. It’s having a heartbeat.

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

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Antirrhesis

Posted on December 10, 2021 | Comments Off on Antirrhesis

Antirrhesis (an-tir-rhee’-sis): Rejecting reprehensively the opinion or authority of someone.

A: You’re so full of crap your breath smells like a gas station restroom! There’s no way out you lying piece of flattened roadkill! You will never learn, you chunky puddle of vomit on a priceless Persian carpet! I think it might be time to call it quits with you, you overflowing urine bucket in a crowded jail cell!

What is “right” about what you’ve done? Bullshit! You wouldn’t know what’s right if it bit you on the butt. What can be “right” about going hunting at the zoo? You shot Hermy the popular and adorable sloth! Your reason for shooting Hermy? “All the other animals moved too fast.” That’s the kind of answer I’d expect from a psychopath, and you’re a psychopath. So, get out of here. I hope you get caught Mr. Pervert. I never should’ve bought that damn handgun for your birthday. All these years you held your malicious hostility toward zoo animals in check. I guess the gun prompted you to play out your perversion. I’m sorry, but not that sorry.

I’m going to the veterinary hospital to visit Hermy. I don’t ever want to see you again. Do the right thing: turn yourself in. What’s that? A sloth costume!! No, I won’t put it on! Ever! No! Never! No. . . .

B: Put it on very slowly.

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

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Antisagoge

Posted on December 9, 2021 | Comments Off on Antisagoge

Antisagoge (an-tis-a-go’-gee): 1. Making a concession before making one’s point (=paromologia); 2. Using a hypothetical situation or a precept to illustrate antithetical alternative consequences, typically promises of reward and punishment.

Who would’ve known? Who could’ve known glass wallpaper wouldn’t work? Ha! But, it was a great idea, the shimmering beauty! Maybe I should’ve done some research and found out more about glass. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have let everybody we know and their relatives and friends, and even their enemies, invest in Wall Glass. Just think, if I had succeeded with Wall Glass, we would have been fabulously wealthy, but I failed and we’re in debt for couple million. I should’ve realized that there is no such thing as Wall Glass already because it’s a stupid idea. Glass is brittle and you can’t manufacture it in rolls. And there’s glass tiles—that’s nothing new. If only I had taken five minutes to check the whole thing out more thoroughly before I took everybody’s money.

So, I went on Orbitz and bought two one way tickets to Mali with what’s left on the credit card. I’m going to put my military experience to work as a mercenary and maybe you can get a job in retail sales or as a mule moving small arms and drugs. Now we need to find a place on Hotels.com to stay while we’re hiding out. Ooh! Look at this: “Windowless bunker near airport. Walls one meter thick. Will deter small arms fire, up to RPG. No electricity. No water. No bed. $10.00 per week.” Here’s a review: “I am recovering in hospital from shrapnel wounds sustained while I was sunning myself outside the bunker. I didn’t see it coming. After I was wounded, I dragged myself into the bunker and grabbed the complimentary AK-47. I blew two of the attackers away. Unfortunately, the remaining assailants kidnapped my wife. Over a 3-week period, 27 ransom notes have been hand-delivered to the hospital where I am recovering. With each iteration, the ransom is lower. This has been a soul searching experience. I doubt if I’ll ever see my wife gain. I have learned an important lesson. Rating: ***** Highly Recommend.”

Let’s book it—five stars! Highly recommend! What a hideout! Bye bye to all the irate investors and the police. Oh. Do you mind being kidnapped?

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

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