Gadzooky!

Hmmm...

2007-08-18T08:37:00.001-05:00

Haven't posted in a while, have I?

The Anoiconometon of Homer

2006-08-27T21:26:00.000-05:00

For centuries, rhetoricians have used quotes from the classics to illustrate how the masters used the tools of language to persuade, inflame, and thrill their audience. Exemplars of the art of rhetoric are such immortals as Plato, Cicero, Marcus Aurelius, Shakespeare, and, of course, Homer. No, not the blind dude... Homer Simpson, the bard of the third millennium!

Yes -- It Figures, the Web site of modern-day rhetorician Figaro (a.k.a. Jay Heinrichs), uses quotes from "The Simpsons" to help teach readers about figures of speech. For instance, when Homer says: "Homer no function beer well without," that's an example of anoiconometon: a jumbled-up figure, in which the words are grotesquely out of order. And when he says: "Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try, " that's diatyposis: recommending useful precepts or rules of conduct to someone. There are other "Simpsons" quote sites out there, but few quite so darned educational.

Just think... by sitting on your can, watching an animated sitcom, you can learn all sorts of impressive things about language arts. But be careful. As Homer says: "Every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain. Remember when I took that home winemaking course, and I forgot how to drive?"*

It Figures is at http://www.figarospeech.com/homerisms/

*Martyria: A figure that recalls the speaker’s own experience.

Adding New Stuff...

2006-08-08T21:48:00.000-05:00

I've added a "Boing Boing" RSS feed script to this blog template so that the updated story links appear on the right hand column. Neat, huh?

Arthur Ganson: "Wishbone"

2006-02-13T20:56:00.000-06:00

This is strangely compelling... I think I saw this kinetic piece (or one very much like it) at the Chicago Public Library/Cultural Center a few years ago. It was fascinating to watch! I was thrilled to see this video, which a co-worker clued me into.

Revamping Underway...

2006-02-11T23:51:00.000-06:00

Just doing a little experimentation lately, trying out a few new things. Attempting a new endeavor is challenging enough, but I've upped the ante by trying to do it all on the cheap. Free, that is. I'm messing around with a Joomla content management system that is not only open source (read: free), but also hosted for free. Of course, this creates some limitations that must be worked around, but it's interesting to see what can be done for no further investment (other than my valuable time). This Blogger site is free and my new Flickr photo site is free. The trade-off is a rather less-than-seamless integration of the sites and a limited capacity for customization, but whaddya want for nothin'? Rubber biscuit? Besides, I haven't really figured out exactly what I want to do with all of this, anyway. Somehow, blogging just seems to be the thing to do, and I'm nothing if not trendy.

The Dissolv-O Variety Hour

2005-07-23T19:36:00.000-05:00

[Music swells; audience applauds.]

ANNOUNCER: Coming to you live from the glamorous Alben Barkley Auditorium in Big Bone Lick, Kentucky, it's the "Dissolv-O Variety Hour!" Brought to you by Industrocorp, makers of Dissolv-O and other fine industrial solvents. Yes, Dissolv-O, that miracle solution that can eat through even the most stubborn chemical accretions, yet is gentle on hands. And nine out of ten doctors agree that Dissolv-O's fumes are easier on the lungs than the other leading brands, without that acrid odor than can sear sensitive nasal passages. So for a gentle, mind-freeing high that leaves you mellow, try Dissolv-O today! And now, here's your host, Serge Powers!

HOST: Thank you, thank you. Welcome to the "Dissolv-O Variety Hour." Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, it's my privilege to welcome to our program one of the great comedy teams from the Golden Age of Podcasting, Gordo and Slim!

[Applause]

SLIM (in a gravelly voice): Thanks, Serge. Thank you, folks. It's good to be here.

GORDO (in a childish voice): Yeah, Slim, it's like the sailor said when he was crawling through the desert.

S: What's that?

G: Long time no sea!

S (slaps Gordo): Why, you...

G (Loudly and childishly) WHY YOU SO MEAN TO ME ALLA TIME?!

[Audience screams and laughs, recognizing Gordo's catchphrase]

S (slaps Gordo): Now, come on Gordo, why do you want to insult our audience with a terrible joke like that?

G (sheepishly): I don't wanna insult nobody.

S (slaps him again): Well, then, fatso, give the audience a proper salutation.

G: A what?

S: A salutation! Go on.

G: But I ain't never been in the Army.

S (slaps): No, that's just an idiom.

G: Idiom? How come you wanna call me names just because I couldn't get into the Army?

S: No stupid, an idiom is like a metaphor. You know what a metaphor is, don't you?

G: Lunch, maybe?

S: No, you dope!

G: Well, how should I know what you met 'er for? It's none of _my_ business!

S (slaps): Oh, you ignoramus! Didn't they teach you anything in school? Didn't you learn the "Three R's?"

G: You mean argyle, armadillo, and Arm & Hammer?

S: No, dimbulb, Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic!

G (laughing): Ha, ha!

S: What's so funny?

G (to audience): He thinks Reading starts with an "r!"

S (slaps): You must be some kinda moron!

G: I'll have you know I got into Yale!

S (suspiciously): Yeah? How'd _you_ get into Yale?

G: I was caught yaywalking!

S (slaps): All right, you, settle down! Now, look, if you're so smart, then who was the first President?

G: Lincoln!

S: Abraham Lincoln was the first President of the U.S.A.?

G: No, Lisa Lincoln was the first president of my first grade class! (Sighs) Whatta cutie!

S (slaps): Oh, you bonehead! Now look... there must be some area of knowledge you know something about. How about sports?

G: Oh, goody! I love sports! I'm the best tiddlywinks player in my _whole_ neighborhood!

S (slaps and punches): Be serious! Now you know, these days, ball players have some really odd names -- strange names. Take our home team, for instance.

G: Oh yeah?

S: Yeah. How's on first, Which's on second, and Damifino's on third.

G (breaking character): Uh... come again?

S: I say, How's on first, Which's on second, and Damifino's on third.

G (sotto voce): What are you doing?! That's not how it goes...

S (nervously): Um... ah... I mean, Where's on first... uh... When's on third... I mean, second... I mean... uh...

G (cheerily): Those _are_ strange, Slim! (Sotto voce) What the hell's wrong with you?

S (nervously): I'm sorry, Gordo... I... I...

G (sotto voce): Hit me!

S: Um... ah... what?

G (sotto voce): Hit me, you dumbass!

S (slaps Gordo): Um... you stupid....! Er...

G (sotto voce): Harder! Harder! (Loudly and childishly) WHY YOU SO MEAN TO ME ALLA TIME?!

[Music swells; audience applauds weakly; Gordo & Slim are heard walking offstage]

G: Twenty-five years. Twenty-five freaking years we've been doing this stupid routine! And now, we finally get a chance to make our big comeback, and you freeze like an Eskimo's nuts in a blizzard! I mean, if I hadn't yelled out that idiotic catchphrase...

S (tremulously): Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Gordo...

G (slaps Slim): Chiam yankel! What is it this time? The sauce? Horse? I swear to God, if you're on crank again, I'll --

S: No, no, Gordo, it's just that... my wife... she's so very sick, and I was up all night at the hospital...

G (slaps): So, what, you blow our big chance because you're Florence fricking-Nightingale all of a sudden? So, how much chemo can you buy working the Skank-hole Inn on Highway 9, huh? Answer me that!

S: Oh jeez, Gordo...

G (slaps): I thought you were _professional_, dammit! I mean, Jolson did twelve shows in one weekend hepped up to the oygen on goofballs, and _he_ never missed a beat! Cantor skipped his own daughter's funeral so that he could do his radio show, and you never heard so much as a whimper out of him on air! And when Sophie Tucker knocked 'em dead at the Orpheum, she had such a bad case of the clap that --

S: You're right... you're right... (weeping) I'm... I'm weak, Gordo...

G (slaps): Damn right, you little pansy... You gotta be strong! The audience can smell blood, Slim! They're heartless bastards! If they see a chink in your armor, they'll rip you to shreds! That's why you gotta kill the audience, Slim! Slay 'em! MURDER 'EM! MURDER ALL THE SOULLESS BASTARDS!

S (Dazed): Yes... you're right... murder them...

[Gordo & Slim walk away, their voices fading out. Gordo is still yelling: "I coulda worked with Jackie Vernon! Or Shecky Greene! Norm Crosby begged me to team up with him!" Slim is muttering: "Kill them all. Murder. Slay. Death to them all.")

STAGEHAND #1: What a meltdown. I can't believe that Gordo & Slim used to be so popular on the radio.

STAGEHAND #2: Well, radio was perfect for them. Slim is a _terrible_ ventriloquist.

HOST: Now, it's my honor to present fabulous Hollywood stars Harry Citron and Marla Slattering, who have a very important message to impart to all Americans.

HARRY CITRON: Thank you. In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed -- but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love. They had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. Yes, the biggest, deadliest cuckoo clock the world has yet seen, spreading terror and destruction throughout Europe.

MARLA SLATTERING: That's right, Harry. For centuries, the wily Swiss selfishly maintained their neutrality, awaiting the moment when the civilized world had exhausted itself in conflict. Now they have unleashed their nefarious plan for world domination.

H: Now the United States of America is the only nation that stands between the insidious Swiss and what remains of the free world. Please do what you can to support our fighting men and women. Buy American cheese rather than Swiss. Burn your yodeling CDs. Deposit your illicit funds in Caribbean banks. Replace your Helvetica typefaces with Avant Garde Gothic. Adhere to the teachings of such Christian reformers as Philipp Melancthon or John Wesley instead of Huldreich Zwingli and John Calvin.

M: Only by pulling together can we defeat the Alpine menace. Our freedom is too precious to imperil by turning a blind eye to the dangers that face us. That's why we must be prepared to sacrifice. Our armed forces are laying their lives on the line... the least that we can do is to meekly submit to the authority of our government. Only by the suspension of our basic rights for an indefinite period of time can we ensure our freedoms for future Americans.

H: Precisely, Marla. So buy war bonds. Don't hoard rationed goods. Report any suspicious persons seen in possession of lederhosen, fondue pots, fine chocolates, or handcrafted timepieces. And if questioned by the police, please don't waste their time asking for legal counsel or for a writ of habeas corpus.

M: Uncle Sam wants you... to give 'til it hurts! If we do all we can, then pretty soon... "There'll Be A Hot Time In the Old Town of Berne!"

[Patriotic music swells]

The Secret of "Nym:" And Other Words about Words

2005-04-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

The Secret of Nym: and other words about words

Accismus: Pretended refusal of something desired.

Acrolect: The variety of speech that is closest to a standard prestige language, especially in an area in which a creole is spoken. For example, Standard Jamaican English is the acrolect where Jamaican Creole is spoken.

Acronym: An abbreviation formed from the initial letters of a series of words; e.g. NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organisation), NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration). • Also called protogram, initialism.

Acrophony: The use of a word starting with a letter of the alphabet as the name of the letter.

Acrostic: A poem or series of lines in which certain letters, usually the first in each line, form a name, motto, or message when read in sequence.

Adianoeta: An expression that carries both an obvious meaning and a second, subtler meaning.

Adnominatio: Assigning to a proper name its literal or homophonic meaning; also, paronomasia or polyptoton. Same as "prosonomasia."

Adynaton: A declaration of impossibility, usually expressed as an exaggerated comparison with a more obvious impossibility. "I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one of his cheek." -- William Shakespeare.

Alliteration: Repetition of the same sound beginning several words placed close together, usually adjacent. See also: assonance, consonance, parechesis, paroemion.

Allonym: The name of another person, especially that of a significant historical figure, assumed by somebody, especially a writer. Also, the name of another actual person assumed by one person in authorship of a work of art; e.g., when ghostwriting a book or play, or in parody, or when using a front such as by screenwriters blacklisted in Hollywood in the '50s, '60s, and '70s.

Ambigram: A word, phrase, or sentence written in such a way that it reads the same way upside down as right-side up.

Amphibology or amphiboly (from the Greek amphibolia): A verbal fallacy arising from ambiguity in the grammatical structure of a sentence, sometimes intentionally equivocal. E.g.: "At our drugstore, we dispense with accuracy!"

Amphigory: Nonsense writing, usually in verse.

Anacoluthon: A change in a grammatical construction within the same sentence. "And these socks -- are they mine also?" See also: synesis.

Anacronym: An acronym where few people remember what each letter stands for (anachronistic + acronym). Example Citation: "Words such as radar and laser began life as acronyms, but now they're 'anacronyms' because few people can recall what their letters originally represented."

Anadiplosis: Rhetorical repetition of one or more words, particularly a word at the end of a clause. "Men in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or state; servants of fame; and servants of business." -- Francis Bacon. See also: anaphora, epistrophe, symploce.

Anagram: A rearrangement of a group of letters, especially a word that can be formed by rearranging the letters in another word.

Ananym: A pseudonym that has the letters of the name arranged backwards (Salguod: Douglas).

Anaphora: The repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive phrases, clauses, or sentences. "We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France; we shall fight on the seas and oceans; we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air; we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches; we shall fight on the landing grounds; we shall fight in the fields and in the streets; we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender." -- Winston Churchill. See also: anadiplosis, epistrophe, symploce.

Anastrophe: Transposition or inversion of normal word order; a type of hyperbaton. "Once upon a midnight dreary..." -- Edgar Allan Poe. "The helmsman steered; the ship moved on; yet never a breeze up blew." -- Samuel Taylor Coleridge. See also: hyperbaton, synchysis.

Anatonym: A part of the body used as a verb (toe the line; face the music; foot the bill).

Anonym: A person whose name is not given, who remains nameless.

Antagonym: A single word that has meanings that contradict each other ("bad" for "good").

Antanaclasis: Repetition of a word whose meaning changes in the second instance. "Your argument is sound...all sound." -- Benjamin Franklin.

Anthroponym(ic): A person's name, especially a surname.

Anthimeria: Substitution of one part of speech for another, most often a noun used as a verb.

Antigram: An anagram in which the new word or phrase is the opposite of the original. Example Citation: "The converse of the aptagram is the antigram. In antigrams, a word or phrase gets rejuggled into another word or phrase that bears a meaning opposite to that of the base. Thus, astronomers/moon starers is an aptagram while astronomers/no more stars is an antigram." — Richard Lederer, "Looking at language; Check out this ever-changing parade of antigrams," The Patriot-Ledger, April 12, 1997

Antiphrasis: The use of a word or phrase contrary to its normal meaning for ironic or humorous effect. "A mere babe of 60 years."

Antisthecon: The substitution of one sound, syllable, or letter within a word for another, frequently to accomplish a pun; a type of metaplasm. See also: metaplasm.

Antistrophe: The repetition of words in an inverse order. "The master of the servant and the servant of the master."

Antonomasia: The substitution of a title or epithet for a proper name. "Yes, Your Majesty." Also, the substitution of a personal name for a common noun. "You're a Benedict Arnold." See also: honorific.

Antonym: Either of a pair of words that have opposite (or near-opposite) meanings; e.g. slow and fast are antonyms of one another, also dead and alive, wife and husband.

Aphaeresis: Loss of the initial portion of a word. For example, cause from because; specially from especially. See also: apocope.

Aphesis: Mispronouncing a word by dropping one or more initial, usually unstressed syllables. "'cept" instead of "except." See also: aphetic.

Aphorism: A tersely phrased statement of a truth or opinion; an adage; a brief statement of a principle.

Apocope: Loss of the final portion of a word. For example, info from information; cinema from cinematograph. See also: aphaeresis.

Apophasis: Mentioning something by declaring that it shall not be mentioned. Same as "paralepsis" and "preterition." "I need not remind you to get your Christmas shopping done early." See also: autoclesis, parasiopesis.

Aporia: Expression of doubt, usually feigned, about what the speaker should say, think, or do. "Oh no! Whatever shall I do now?"

Aposiopesis: A halting or trailing off of speech caused by the speaker seemingly overcome by an emotion such as excitement, fear, or modesty; a form of brachylogy. "When your father finds out...." See also: brachylogy.

Appellation: 1. A name, title, or designation.
2. A protected name under which a wine may be sold, indicating that the grapes used are of a specific kind from a specific district.

Aptagram: An anagram in which the new word or phrase has a similar meaning to the original word. Example Citation:
"But it is even more fascinating when we reconfigure words into other words that bear a meaningful relationship to the base. These significant tandems are called aptagrams—words that anagram into their own synonyms." — Richard Lederer, "Looking at language; Check out this ever-changing parade of antigrams," The Patriot-Ledger, March 22, 1997

Aptronym: A person's name that matches its owner's occupation or character very well (either in fiction or reality); e.g. arctic explorer Will Snow, hairdresser Dan Druff.
• From apt (=suitable); coined by Franklin P. Adams.

Archaism: The intentional use of a word or expression no longer in general use, for example, "thou mayst" is an archaism meaning "you may." Archaisms can evoke the sense of a bygone era. Sidelight: Spenser's The Faerie Queene contains a number of archaisms. Syntactic inversions such as the hyperbaton can also provide an archaic effect.

Aristonym: A surname used as, or derived from, a formal title of nobility, e.g. Thomas Harold Andre Le Duc

Assonance: Repetition of the same sound in multiple words placed close to each other, often adjacent. See also: alliteration, consonance, parechesis.

Asyndeton: Lack of conjuctions between coordinate words, phrases, or clauses; a form of brachylogy. "But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground." -- Abraham Lincoln. See also: brachylogy, polysyndeton.

Autoantonym: A word that can take two (or more) opposite meanings; e.g. fast means "moving quickly" or "fixed firmly in place", overlook means "to watch over carefully" or "to fail to notice". • Also called contranym, contronym, antilogy, enantiodrome, Janus word.

Autonym: 1. A word that describes itself; e.g. noun is a noun, polysyllabic is polysyllabic, abbrv. is an abbreviation, word is a word.
2. A person's real name; the opposite of pseudonym.
3. A name by which a social group or race refers to itself.
• Also called self-referential word, or autological.

Back formation: The creation of a new word from an existing form assumed, incorrectly, to be its derivative. For example, the word edit was actually formed by dropping the suffix "-or" from editor, not the other way around.

Bacronym: The reverse of producing an acronym; taking a word which already exists and creating a phrase (usually humorous) using the letters of the word as initials: e.g. Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anybody (BANANA), Guaranteed Overnight Delivery (GOD). • From back(wards) + acronym.

Blurb: A short description of a product written for promotional purposes. Invented for a meeting of the American Booksellers Association in 1907 by the American illustrator and humorist Gelett Burgess.

Brachylogy: An abbreviated or condensed expression, often by omitting words that can be determined by the surrounding context. See also: aposiopesis, asyndeton, zeugma.

Bromide: Hackneyed phrases (such as “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like”) uttered by boring and predictable people. Coined by the American illustrator and humorist Gelett Burgess after the then-familiar sedative, potassium bromide.

Cacemphaton: An expression that is deliberately foul or ill-sounding.

Calque: An expression introduced into one language by translating it from another language. Same as "loan translation." "Superman," from the German word "Ubermensch." See also: loan translation, loanword, Wanderwort.

Camouflanguage: Language that uses jargon, euphemisms, and other devices to hide the true meaning of what is being said.

Capitonym: A word which changes its meaning and pronunciation when capitalised; e.g. polish and Polish, august and August, concord and Concord.

Charactonym: The name of a literary character that is especially suited to his personality (Mr. Scrooge; Marcus Welby).

Chiasmus: A figure of speech by which the order of the terms in the first of two parallel clauses is reversed in the second. "Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure" --Byron

Chronogram: An inscribed phrase in which certain letters can be read as Roman numerals. "ChrIstVs DVX; ergo trIVMphVs," which is the motto of a medal struck by Gustavus Adolphus; the capital letters, when added as numerals, indicate the year 1632.

Clerihew: A humorous verse, usually consisting of two unmatched rhyming couplets, about a person whose name generally serves as one of the rhymes. E.g., "Daniel Defoe / Lived a long time ago / He had nothing to do, so / He wrote Robinson Crusoe."

Clipping (or truncation): A process whereby an appreciable chunk of an existing word is omitted, leaving what is sometimes called a stump word. When it is the end of a word that is lopped off, the process is called back-clipping: thus examination was docked to create exam and gymnasium was shortened to form gym. Less common in English are fore-clippings, in which the beginning of a word is dropped: thus phone from telephone. Very occasionally, we see a sort of fore-and-aft clipping, such as flu, from influenza.

Cognomen: A name, especially a descriptive nickname or epithet acquired through usage over a period of time. E.g., Pope Gregory the Great, King Edward Longshanks, Emperor Charlemagne, King William the Conqueror. Originally, the third and usually last name of a citizen of ancient Rome, as Caesar in Gaius Julius Caesar.

Colloquialism: An expression not used in formal speech or writing. Colloquialisms can include words (such as "gonna" or "grouty"), phrases (such as "ain't nothin'" and "dead as a doornail"), or sometimes even an entire aphorism ("There's more than one way to skin a cat"). Colloquialisms are often used primarily within a limited geographical area.

Consonance: The repetition of consonants or consonant patterns, especially at the ends of words. Same as "consonant rhyme." See also: alliteration, assonance, parechesis.

Consonym: Words that have the same pattern of consonants (eTHNiC: THeNCe; SPoNGe: eSPioNaGe).

Contronym: A word which is its own opposite. "Cleave," meaning "adhere" and "separate." See also: autoantonym.

Cranberry morpheme: A word that exists only in one bound form, such as the "cran-" of "cranberry". It is unrelated to the word "cran" meaning a case of herrings, and though it actually comes from "crane" the bird, it is not at all clear why. Phonetically, the first morphemes of "gooseberry" and "raspberry" also count as cranberry morphemes, as they don't occur by themselves, but the spelling gives an obscure clue to their origin. Compare these to "blackberry", which has two obvious unbound morphemes.

Creole: A language that originates from two other languages and has features of both. See also: acrolect.

Cruciverbalist: A constructor of crossword puzzles; also, an enthusiast of word games, especially crossword puzzles.

Cryptogram: a short piece of text encrypted with a simple substitution cipher in which each letter is replaced by a different letter. To solve the puzzle, one must recover the original lettering.

Cryptolect: A secret language. Example Citation: "Unlike modern slang the ancient cant approaches the notion of a...'cryptolect,' as described by Ian Hancock. Altered by time, it retains a degree of currency in the British Isles and North America among Travelers, a traditionally itinerant people including the Roma (Gypsies) and other groups." — J. E. Lighter, Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, Volume I

Cryptonym: A private or secret name (Agent 007).

Deictic: Characteristic of a word whose reference depends on the circumstances of its use; also, a deictic word. "This," which means nothing outside of context.

Discourse particles; Elements of spontaneous spoken language that are not crucial to the referential meaning of the message, but that fulfill other important functions. Such functions may be called pragmatic functions, and are related to the relationship between the speaker and the listener in a dialogue, the relationship between the speaker and what she is saying, etc. Some of the elements in the language that carry these functions are often called pragmatic particles. Some English words and word-like elements may be said to function as discourse particles, e.g. well, actually, like, I mean, innit (BrEng., derived from the tag question isn't it).

Domunym: Literally "home name," is a word used to identify people from particular places (Philadelphians; Annapolitans).

Dysphemism: Substitution of a mild expression with a harsher one; opposite of "euphemism"; cacophemism. See also: euphemism.

Dystmesis: Inserting a word in the middle of another in an unlikely or unexpected place; a form of tmesis. "Unbe-freaking-lievable." See also: tmesis.

Ellipsis: a rhetorical figure of speech, the omission of a word or words required by strict grammatical rules but not by sense. The missing words are implied by the context.

Enallage: Substitution of one part of speech, gender, number case, person, tense, mode, or voice for another. The royal "we," as a substitute for "I." See also: nosism.

Enclitic: A word or syllable which is joined with the preceding word in such a way as to lose its own independent accent. "Prithee," which is a shortening of "pray thee," and "'em," in, "Get 'em!". See also: proclitic, synaloepha.

Epanorthosis: Immediate rephrasing for emphasis, intensification, or justification. "You, young lad, are most brave! Brave, did I say? No, heroic!"

Epexegesis: When one interprets what one has just said, often signaled by "that is to say...."

Epistrophe: Repetition of the same word or phrase at the end of successive phrases, clauses, or sentences. "In 1931, ten years ago, Japan invaded Manchukuo -- without warning. In 1935, Italy invaded Ethiopia -- without warning. In 1938, Hitler occupied Austria -- without warning. In 1939, Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia -- without warning. Later in 1939, Hitler invaded Poland -- without warning. And now Japan has attacked Malaya and Thailand -- and the United States -- without warning." Franklin D. Roosevelt. See also: anadiplosis, anaphora, symploce.

Epithet: A descriptive word or phrase. "The Great Emancipator," as a substitute for Abraham Lincoln. Also, an abusive or contemptuous word or phrase; a slur.

Epizeuxis: Repetition of a word with vehemence or emphasis. "Alone, alone, all all alone. Alone on a wide wide sea." -- Samuel Taylor Coleridge. See: palilogy, ploce.

Eponym: A name from which another name or word is derived; e.g. Romulus giving rise to Rome, the word sandwich coming from the Earl of Sandwich.

Ethnonym: A proper name by which a people or an ethnic group is known.

Euonym: Lucky or auspicious name (Celeste Holmes; Harry Truman).

Euphemism: The substitution of a harsh, offensive, or unpleasant word with one that is less so. "When the final news came, there would be a ring at the front door -- a wife in this situation finds herself staring at the front door as if she no longer owns it or controls it -- and outside the door would be a man...come to inform her that unfortunately something has happened out there, and her husband's body now lies incinerated in the swamps or the pines or the palmetto grass, 'burned beyond recognition,' which anyone who had been around an air base very long (fortunately Jane had not) realized was quite an artful euphemism to describe a human body that now looked like an enormous fowl that has burned up in a stove, burned a blackish brown all over, greasy and blistered, fried, in a word, with not only the entire face and all the hair and the ears burned off, not to mention all the clothing, but also the hands and feet, with what remains of the arms and legs bent at the knees and elbows and burned into absolutely rigid angles, burned a greasy blackish brown like the bursting body itself, so that this husband, father, officer, gentleman, this ornamentum of some mother's eye, His Majesty, the Baby of just twenty-odd years back, has been reduced to a charred hulk with wings and shanks sticking out of it." -- Tom Wolfe. See also: dysphemism, eusystolism.

Eusystolism: Use of initials, instead of full words, as a euphemism, often to avoid speaking harsh words. E.g., "S.O.B." for "son of a bitch." See also: euphemism.

Exergasia: Repeating a point by using different figures of speech to give the impression of saying something new.

Exonym: A place name used by foreigners that differs from the name used by natives; e.g. Londres is the French exonym for London, Germany is an exonym because Germans call it Deutschland.

Filionym(ic): A name derived from that of a son.

Fillers: Words and phrases commonly used in conversational English to give the speaker time to think or to modify what he/she is saying. These "padding" words and expressions can be divided into two groups. The first group is made up of "meaningless fillers." They do not add anything to the meaning, and people often use them to give themselves time to think or if they can't express themselves clearly. The most common are the following: well, um, er, I mean, sort of, really, actually, you know how it is, you know, or something, basically. The second group of fillers are padding words and expressions that show the speaker's attitude, so these are words which we often throw in to reinforce and indicate our attitude to what we are saying (i.e. if we feel it strongly or we're not sure). E.g., "the fact is," "I mean let's face it," "if you ask me," "that's how I see it," "let me see", "as far as I remember," "to be honest," "I was just thinking," "one possible idea might be," "or something like that," "what do you think?"

Genericized trademark: A trademark or brand name which has become synonymous with a particular type of product or service, to the extent that it often replaces the formal term for the product or service in colloquial usage. E.g., Allen wrench, aspirin, bikini, cellophane, escalator.

Glyph: A symbol, such as on a public sign, that imparts information without words, especially a figure or character incised or in relief.

Hendiadys: The use of a conjunction rather than the subordination of one word to another. "I will try and arrive promptly this time," instead of "I will try to arrive promptly this time." Also "nice and warm" instead of "nicely warm."

Heteronym: One of two (or more) words that have the same spelling, but different meaning, and sometimes different pronunciation too. (Heteronyms that are pronounced differently are also heterophones.) E.g. sewer, row, entrance, wind. A heteronym is a kind of homonym. • Also called heterograph.

Hieronym: A surname that is based on a sacred name; e.g., Joseph Saint John

Hinky-pinky: A clue, definition, or riddle, the answer to which is a pair of rhyming words. For instance, the clue "a Norseman on wheels" could be answered "biking Viking." The phrase "hinky-pinky" is part of the clue; it declares that the words of the answer are each two syllables. Other phrases are used for other lengths: "hink-pink" indicates one-syllable rhyming words, "hinkety-pinkety" is for three-syllable rhymes, and "hinketius-pinketius" denotes the rare four-syllable rhyming phrase. (But the game is generically known as "hinky-pinky.") Answers usually comprise an adjective followed by a noun, but not always.

Holalphabetic: A phrase, clause, sentence, or other sequence of letters which contains every letter of the alphabet at least once. See also: pangram.

Holograph: A document written wholly in the handwriting of the person whose signature it bears.

Holonym: A concept that has another concept as a part. A house is a holonym of a room. See also: meronym.

Holorime (or holorhyme): A form of rhyme in which the rhyme encompasses an entire line or phrase. A holorime may be a couplet or short poem made up entirely of homophonous verses. E.g.: "In Ayrshire hill areas, a cruise, eh, lass? / Inertia, hilarious accrues, he'las!"

Homonym: One of two (or more) words that have the same pronunciation or spelling, but are different in meaning. (Homonyms which have the same spelling are also heteronyms; homonyms that have the same pronunciation, but different spelling and meaning, are also homophones; and homonyms that have the same spelling but are different in origin, meaning, and pronunciation are also homographs); e.g. sewer, row, write and right, way and weigh.

Honorific: A title or phrase conferring respect, especially when used in addressing a social superior. See also: autonomasia.

Humpty Dumpty language: An idiosyncratic or eccentric use of language in which the meaning of particular words is determined by the speaker. From Lewis Carroll's "Through the Looking-Glass."

Hydronym(y): Names of bodies of water.

Hyperbaton: Deviation from normal or logical word order. See also: anastrophe, hysteron proteron, synchysis.

Hyperbole: Exaggeration for emphasis or rhetorical or dramatic effect. See also: meiosis.

Hypercorrect: Characteristic of an incorrect linguistic construction in which the error is produced from a mistaken effort to be correct. "Between you and I," which should be "between you and me." See also: hyponym.

Hyperlect: Accent intended to differentiate the speaker from the lower social classes.

Hypernym: A word that has a more general meaning than another; e.g. in the relationship between chair and furniture, furniture is a hypernym; in the relationship between horse and animal, animal is a hypernym. • Also called superordinate term, generic term. Also, hyperonym.

Hypocorism: Use of pet names, diminutives, baby talk, or terms of endearment. "Comfy" instead of "comfortable."

Hyponym: A word that has a more specific meaning than another; e.g. in the relationship between chair and furniture, chair is a hyponym; in the relationship between horse and animal, horse is a hyponym. • Also called subordinate term.

Hypophora: Asking a question, often one it is anticipated readers or listeners will have, and subsequently answering it. See also: procatalepsis.

Hysteron proteron: Reversal of the normal order of terms; a type of hyperbaton. "Gentlemen and ladies." See also: hyperbaton.

Iatronym: A medical term or medical nomenclature.

Idiolect: The speech of an individual, considered as a linguistic pattern unique among speakers of his or her language or dialect.

Illeism: The practice of referring to oneself in the third person. See also: illeist.

Informalism: A word that is meant to reproduce improper spoken English. E.g., "yeah," "dunno," "dammit," "gonna," "uh-huh," "gotta," gimme," betcha." See elision.

Initialism: An abbreviation formed by using the first letters, or initials, of a series of words, for example "BBC", or "IBM". The term initialism is often used by those who make a sharp distinction between an initialism and an acronym; they reserve the term acronym for cases when the letters form a pronounceable word, like "NATO" or "AIDS", and use the term initialism when they do not, being pronounced instead by sounding out the name of each constituent letter. (Thus, by this definition, BBC ("Bee Bee See") is an initialism, while NATO ("Naytow") is an acronym.) Others do not make this distinction, and use the terms interchangeably (though the term acronym is used much more frequently in this case).

Inner-capped: Describes a word that includes one or more uppercase letters within the body of the word. (The word "intercapped" is also sometimes used.) Example Citation: "I used to think this trend started with companies that affected computer lingo—CompuServe, DigiCash, WordPerfect, HotJava—but lexicographer Richard Weiner, who I suspect coined inner-capped on the analogy of the mafia's knee-capping, reminds me of the 1959 TelePrompTer." —William Safire

Interjection: A phrase consisting of exclamatory words such as oh, alas, and ouch. They are marked by a feature of intonation that is usually shown in writing by an exclamation point.

Invariant tags: Discourse markers, interactional in nature, involving some sort of hearer-orientation. They serve to involve the hearer in some way or other although they do not always ask for or even allow for his contribution in the discourse. E.g., "eh," "okay," "right," "yeah," "you know," and "innit."

Isogloss: A geographic boundary line delimiting the area in which a given linguistic feature occurs.

Kenning: Replacement of a common noun by a colorful compound. "Information superhighway" instead of "Internet."

Lipogram: Writing composed of words lacking a certain specific letter or letters. See also: univocalic.

Litotes: Understatement by negating the opposite; a type of meiosis. "I was not disappointed with the news." See also: meiosis.

Logogram: A written symbol that represents an entire word without expressing its pronunciation. Same as "ideogram" and "logograph." The numerals 0-9 are each logograms.

Malapropism: (from French mal à propos, "ill to purpose") An incorrect usage of a word, usually with comic effect. The term comes from the name of Mrs Malaprop, a character in Richard Brinsley Sheridan's comedy, The Rivals (1775), whose name was in turn derived from the existing English word malapropos, meaning "inappropriately". Here are some examples from her dialogue: "He's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile." (i.e., alligator); "He is the very pineapple of politeness." (i.e., pinnacle); "If I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of epitaphs!" (i.e., apprehend; vernacular; arrangement; epithets)

Malonym: A humorous homophone or sound-alike mistake: "Our menu is guaranteed to wet (whet) your appetite."

Meiosis: Understatement for emphasis or rhetorical or dramatic effect. "When my wife left me because I'd been fired and crippled in an accident on my way home, I was a little saddened." See also: hyperbole, litotes.

Merism: A grouping of words that means something other than the combined meanings of each of the words individually. In rhetoric, a merism is a figure of speech by which a single thing is referred to by a conventional phrase that enumerates several of its parts, or which lists several synonyms for the same thing. Merisms also figure in a number of familiar English expressions. When we mean to say that someone searched thoroughly, everywhere, we often say that someone searched high and low. The phrase lock, stock, and barrel originally referred to the parts of a gun, by counting off several of its more conspicuous parts; we use it to refer to the whole of anything that has constituent parts.

Meronym: 1. A word that refers to a part of what another word refers to; e.g. in the relationship between leg and ankle, ankle is a meronym; in the relationship between brim and hat, brim is a meronym.
2. A term midway between two opposites; e.g. flat between convex and concave, present between past and future.

Metallage: A word or phrase treated as an object within another expression. "A lady's 'verily' is as potent as a lord's." -- William Shakespeare.

Metanalysis: The act of breaking down a word or phrase into segments or meanings not original to it. The term was coined by the linguist Otto Jespersen, from Greek elements meaning "a change of breakdown". Examples: Metanalysis across words: "an adder" was originally "a nadder," and "an apron" "a napron," but the initial n was metanalyzed as belonging to the article instead of the noun. This appears to be the most common popular use of the term. Metanalysis of words: Folk etymology: reading history as his story (and coining herstory in reaction) is an example of metanalysis. Similarly, asparagus is sometimes metanalyzed as sparrow-grass. Back-formation, such as taking -holic from alcoholic and forming compounds such as workaholic. Junctural metanalysis: confusion over boundaries of words produces new words. Some examples of clipping, such as alum from alumnus (whereas in Latin the original morpheme division is alumn-us).

Metaphasis: Transposing sounds or letters in a word or phrase (e.g., "stits and farts" instead of "fits and starts"). A.k.a. a spoonerism.

Metaphor: Implied comparison between two things by calling or implying that one is the other. See also: catachresis, simile.

Metonym: A word designates something by the name of something associated with it; e.g. "the Crown" referring to the monarchy, "the bottle" referring to alcohol, "the White House" for the US executive branch.

Metronym: A name derived from the name of one's mother, or another female ancestor. Also, matronym.

Mondegreen: A series of words, often humorous, that result from mishearing a statement or song lyric. Also, holorime. See also, oronym.

Monepic: Comprising of one word, or of single word sentences.

Mononym: A term consisting of one word only.

Mononymous: Describes a person who uses only one name. E.g., Madonna, Pelé, Cher. Also, uninomial.

Neologism: A recently created (or coined) word, phrase or usage which can sometimes be attributed to a specific individual, publication, period or event. The term was itself coined around 1800.

Netcronym: An abbreviation that consists of the first letters of each word in a phrase and which is used when discussing a subject in a chat room or when writing an e-mail. Netcronyms are a quick way of telling people what you think; for example, IMO is a netcronym for “in my opinion”.

Nickname: A short, clever, cute, derogatory, or otherwise substitute name for a person or thing's real name (for example, Nick is short for Nicholas). See sobriquet, epithet.

Noa word: A word free of any taboo in the languages under consideration, usually signifying that it may be employed without reservation in the creation of an international commercial name.

Nonce word: A word coined “for the nonce”—made up for one occasion and not likely to be encountered again.

Nosism: The practice of referring to oneself as "we"; a type of enallage. See also: enallage.

Numeronym: The name of a number or names of numbers.

Numeronymous: Describes a phone number where the numbers also spell out a word or phrase (e.g., 1-800-GO-FEDEX).

Nymrod: A person who insists on turning every multi-word term into an acronym.

Onomastic: Of, relating to, or explaining one or more names.

Onomastician: A person who studies the origins and forms of proper names.

Onomatopoeia: A word that refers to a specific sound and whose pronunciation mimics the sound. "Bang! Zoom!" -- Jackie Gleason.

Onymous: Having or bearing a name; of a writing. Bearing the name of the author; of an author who gives his/her name. The opposite of anonymous, and usually explicitly contrasted with it.

Organonym: The technical name of an organ.

Oronym: A string of words which is homophonic with another string of words; e.g. ice cream and I scream, mint spy and mince pie. More examples here. See also, mondegreen.

Orthography: The study of correct spelling according to established usage. See also: heterography, homography.

Oxymoron: The juxtaposition of incongruous or contradictory terms.

Paedonym(ic): A name derived from one's child (Althea Meleagris, mother of Meleager).

Palilogy: The repetition of a word or phrase in immediate succession, for emphasis. See also: epizeuxis, ploce.

Palindrome: A word, phrase, clause, or sentence that reads the same regularly as it does when its letters are reversed; a type of palingram. "A man, a plan, a canal, Panama." See also: palingram.

Palingram: A word, phrase, clause, or sentence that reads the same backwards after rearranging segments. "Workmate did teamwork," is a palingram, because the sentence can be rearranged into four four-letter segments, with one three-letter segment in the middle; by reversing the order of the segments and, when necessary, rearranging the letters within each segment, the sentence reads the same backwards. See also: palindrome.

Pangram: A sentence that uses all the letters of the alphabet; a holalphabetic sentence. See also: holalphabetic.

Paradiastole: A figure of speech in which a vice is portrayed as a virtue. "He is confident," said of a proud man.

Paragram: A pun. See also: antisthecon, equivoque, paronomasia.

Parechesis: The repetition of the same sound in words in close or immediate succession. "Veni, vidi, vici." -- Julius Caesar. See also: alliteration, assonance, consonance.

Paronomasia: Wordplay involving the juxtaposition of similar sounding words; also, punning. See also: adnominatio, paragram, polyptoton.

Paronym: A word from the same root, and usually a similar pronunciation, as another; e.g. beautiful and beauteous.

Patronym: A name derived from the name of one's father, or another male ancestor.

Periphrasis: Roundabout wording. "The person to whom I am married," instead of "my spouse." See also: circumlocution.

Phonaestheme: A word with a phonetic likeness to other words of similar meaning. Crush, crash, clash, bash, mash, smash, and smoosh are phonaesthemes of each other. See also: phonaesthesia.

Phonaesthesia: The phenomenon by which associations arise among groups of similar sounding words, which may have close, distant, or no etymological relations to each other. Same as "klang association." See also: phonaestheme.

Phytonym: The name of a plant, e.g. rosebush

Plastic words: Words or phrases with meanings that shift depending on the person hearing or reading them. Example Citation: "The core is that words like 'process', 'development', 'system', 'information', and 'communication' are now often used without real meaning, without substance, but nonetheless to lay claim to authority — the authority of science and expertise, the appearance of competence. ... Plastic words are extremely general." — Gerald Owen, "Plastic words: the tyranny of a modular language," Books In Canada, May 1996. Also, amoeba words.

Pleonasm: The use of a superfluity of words, often deliberately, for emphasis. "I've never seen anything more obscene in all my 80 years on this Earth."

Polyonym: Each of a number of different words having the same meaning (Jupiter: Zeus: Oden).

Polysemous: Characterized by having many meanings. See also: polysemy.

Portmanteau word: (Also called a blend, portmanteau or frankenword.) A word that is formed by combining two or more words. This meaning of the word was coined by Lewis Carroll in Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. An example of a portmanteau is "smog", a combination of the words "smoke" and "fog."

Protonym: The first person or thing of the name; that from which another is named (the space shuttle Enterprise's protonym hangs in the museum).

Pseudoantonym: A word that appears to mean the opposite of what it actually means (unloosen; inflammable; ingenious; despoil; impassive).

Pseudonym: An assumed name, especially by an author; e.g. Eric Arthur Blair wrote the novel "Nineteen Eighty-Four" under the pseudonym George Orwell. There are many kinds of pseudonyms, taken for a variety of reasons.
Alias is a term used in legal proceedings to connect the different names of any one who has gone by two or more, and whose true name is for any cause doubtful; as, Smith, alias Simpson. This term is often associated with criminals who assume different names to avoid exposure and capture.
The pen name, or nom de plume, is a pseudonym used by authors. Authors may use pen names to experiment with a new genre without the risk of upsetting regular readers. This use of pseudonyms is especially common if the new genre is of a somewhat risqué nature. Occasionally, a pseudonym avoids overexposure. Robert Heinlein often had two and sometimes three short stories in one issue of a magazine; the editor created several fictitious authors so that readers would not realize this. In other cases, a pseudonym protects its user from persecution for publishing unpopular opinions.
The nom de guerre is a pseudonym adopted by resistance fighters, terrorists and guerrillas for various reasons: to make enquiries more difficult, to seek and create an aura of mystery, to protect their families from reprisal, etc. Noms de guerre were frequently adopted by recruits in the French Foreign Legion as part of the break with their past lives. Pseudonyms used by some members of the French resistance were integrated into their last names after World War II; for instance, Jacques Delmas, alias Chaban, became Jacques Chaban-Delmas. Some of the more famous noms de guerre include: Che Guevara, Mata Hari, and Carlos the Jackal.
Stage names, screen names or professional names are pseudonyms used by an actor, performer, or model. Actors—and others in show business—rarely use a pseudonym to disguise themselves. The new name is intended to build a distinct, visible, and improved persona, in most cases. In some, it will help to separate the public persona from the private life. John Wayne, building a reputation as a tough guy, felt that his given name, Marion Morrison, did not connote the image he sought to assume. In many cases, a screen name was constructed simply because a studio executive did not like the actor's real name. Today, the most common reason for a performer to adopt a pseudonym is that someone else has already achieved fame with that name. Most hip hop artists prefer to use a pseudonym that represents some variation of their name, personality, or interests. Prime examples include Ol' Dirty Bastard (who is known under at least 6 aliases), Ludacris, LL Cool J, and Chingy.
"Nom de art" is sometimes used when referring to visual artists better known by their pseudonyms. E.g., El Greco (Domenico Theotocopoulos), Le Corbusier (Charles Edouard Jeanneret), Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti).
On the internet, pseudonymous remailers utilising cryptography can be used to achieve persistent pseudonymity, so that two-way communication can be achieved, and reputations can be established without linking a physical identity to a pseudonym.

Pubilect noun. A dialect unique to teenagers (puberty + dialect). Coined by Marcel Danesi, a professor of linguistics and semiotics at the University of Toronto.

Purr word: A word with positive connotations and therefore desirable to use in building and sustaining good public relations. See also: snarl word.

Rebus: A representation of words in the form of pictures or symbols, especially when presented as a puzzle.

Recursive acronym: A hackish (and especially MIT) tradition is to choose acronyms and abbreviations that refer humorously to themselves or to other acronyms or abbreviations. The classic examples were two MIT editors called EINE ("EINE Is Not Emacs") and ZWEI ("ZWEI Was EINE Initially").

Reduplicative: A word or phrase formed by the doubling of a syllable or other part of a word, sometimes with modifications. E.g., "so-so," "helter-skelter," or "beriberi." Many languages use reduplication for grammatical purposes or to form more complex words from less complex ones. Sometimes a reduplicated root is so modified that it is no longer recognizable. Hunky-dory is one of these drastically modified reduplications. If the repeated elements are modified, they're called ricochet words; if the repeated elements are the same, they're called tautonyms.

Reification: To regard or treat an abstraction as if it had concrete or material existence.

Retronym: An adjective-noun pairing generated by a change in the meaning of the base noun, usually as a result of technological advance; e.g. watch became pocket watch due to introduction of wrist watch, pen became fountain pen due to introduction of ball-point pen; coined by Frank Mankiewicz.

Rhinestone vocabulary: Words or phrases chosen only because they appeal to a particular person or group. Example Citation: "Politicians employ a rhinestone vocabulary in which key phrases such as 'family values', 'equal rights', and 'lower taxes' are substituted freely according to the audience." The rhinestone's chief quality, that of being an imitation stone, gives this phrase its underlying meaning.

Rhyme: Correspondence of terminal sounds of words or of lines of verse. "No more rhyming now, I mean it! / Anybody want a peanut?" -- "The Princess Bride."

Ricochet word: A word or phrase formed by the doubling of a syllable or other part of a word, which involves modification of the initial or middle or final element of the root. E.g., mish-mash, higgledy-piggledy (probably a reduplication of "pig"), "hanky-panky," "honky tonk," "criss-cross." See reduplicative.

Sesquipedalian: Of a word, having many syllables; of a person, tending to use long words.

Shibboleth: A word or pronunciation that distinguishes people of one group or class from those of another.

Sideronym: A pseudonym consisting of the name of a celestial body (Madam Altaira).

Simile: An explicit comparison between two things using the word like or as. See also: metaphor.

Slanguist: A linguist who specializes in slang words and phrases.

Slurvian: A variant of English that is characterized by slurred pronunciation. Examples include "gimme" instead of "give me," "d'jo" instead of "did you," and "Tronno" instead of "Toronto."

Snarl word: A word with negative connotations and therefore not desirable to use lest good public relations be undermined. See also: purr word.

Soubriquet: A nickname or a fancy name, usually a familiar name given by others as distinct from a pseudonym assumed as a disguise. Also, moniker.

Solecism: A mistake in the use of language; also, an offense against good manners or etiquette.

Spoonerism: The interchange of the initial letters of two words, usually as a slip of the tongue. "I think I'll go outside and get a freth of bresh air." Also, metaphasis.

Sprachgefühl: A feeling for language; an instinctive appreciation for words and idioms that are linguistically appropriate. (From the German word sprachgefühl, "language feeling.")

Stump-word: A word formed by shortening (clipping) another word. E.g., "math" from "mathematics," "gym" from "gymnasium," or "ad" from "advertisement."

Stylometrician: A person who uses statistical analysis to study the style and content of text or speech.

Syllepsis: Use of a single word that applies to two or more others in different senses. "He was deep in thought and in debt." Also, "We must all hang together or assuredly we will all hang separately." -- Benjamin Franklin. See also: zeugma.

Synecdoche: Referring to something by just a part of it. "New York won the World Series," instead of "The New York Yankees won the World Series." See also: metonymy.

Synonym: One of two (or more) words that have the same (or very similar) meaning; e.g. big and large, error and mistake, run and sprint.

Tautology: Repetition of an idea in different words. "With malice toward none, with charity for all." -- Abraham Lincoln.

Tautonym: 1. A word composed of two identical parts; e.g. pawpaw, yo-yo, tutu, bye-bye.
2. In biological nomenclature, a taxonomic name in which the genus and species names are identical; e.g. puffinus puffinus (manx shearwater), apus apus (common swift).

Technopropism: A technical malapropism. The humorous misuse of a technical word or phrase (e.g., "We'll release the product once it passes the fault infection test.").

Teknonym: The practice among certain primitive peoples of giving to the parent the name of the child. Naming a thing by substituting one of its attributes or a term it suggests (Chief Sitting Bull)

Theophorous: Having the name of a god; derived from the name of a deity.

Tmesis: Inserting a word in the middle of another. "Hoo-bloody-ray" and "un-freaking-believable." See also: dystmesis.

Toponym: 1. A place name; e.g. London, Mount Everest.
2. A word derived from a place name; e.g. champagne from Champagne in France, cashmere from Kashmir in India.

Trope: The figurative use of a word or expression.

Univocalic: Writing that contains just one vowel. "Left rebel 'Red Ken' elected." See also: lipogram.

Unpaired word: A word which is the negative of a word whose positive form is now obsolete or rare. E.g., "He spoke with a certain what-is-it in his voice, and I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled." -- P.G. Wodehouse. We can say someone is unkempt, unruly, disconsolate or uncouth, but we can’t normally say that he is kempt, ruly, consolate or couth unless we are exploiting the unfamiliar word for humorous effect. Also, we can say ineffable, unscathed, indomitable, innocent or innocuous but not the inverse. Another group of unpaired words are those ending in the negative suffix -less for which the corresponding antonym in -ful do not exist. Examples are ageless, countless, hapless (formed from the obsolete Old English term hap, “fortune; chance”), leafless, peerless (based on the old sense of peer as “one’s equal in standing or rank”), toothless and voiceless.

Verbicide: The destruction of the sense or value of a word.

Vernacular: The language or dialect of a country; the everyday language of ordinary people.

Wanderwort: A word that is similar in several presumably unrelated or distantly related languages yet whose origins are unknown. "Wine." See also: calque, etymon, loanword.

Weblish: A form of English peculiar to some online documents and communication, the characteristics of which include the use of all-lowercase letters, infrequent punctuation, errors in spelling and grammar, and an informal tone. Also, netspeak.

Word burst: A rapid rise in both the frequency with which a word is used in a particular context, and the rate at which the word's usage increases over time.

Wordfact: A label that, when applied often enough to a particular group, eventually becomes accepted as fact. "The perception that Generation Xers are 'slackers' is inaccurate; it is a mere wordfact."

Wordnap: To apply a new meaning or usage to an existing word. (Word + kidnap; coined by Richard Lederer.)

Wordrobe: The words and phrases that comprise a person's vocabulary.

Xenoepist: One with a foreign accent.

Zeugma: Two words linked to another, which only applies to one of them; also, a syllepsis. See also: syllepsis.

Justin Martyr

2005-03-12T10:02:00.000-06:00

Justin Schimmel stood for a moment staring blankly through St. Blaise's sacristy window. His nerves twitched and jangled. Then with a deep breath and a muttered prayer, the young priest finished putting on his vestments. This was to be only his second wedding ceremony. He reassured himself by remembering how smoothly his first had gone. He hadn't fluffed any words, nor forgotten any part of the ceremony, nor tripped over his chasuble. True, the mother of the bride had been beaned by a falling plastic column at the reception, but that hadn't been his fault. And besides, a few stitches later Mom was out on the dance floor doing the Chicken Dance with the rest of the revelers. Another deep breath. Much better.

As Justin turned to walk towards the mirror, he nearly stumbled over an overstuffed trash bag. "What in the --" A head popped through the sacristy door. "Sorry, Father... I'll take that." It was one of the groomsmen. Justin was still new enough to the priesthood to be slightly uncomfortable with someone nearly his age calling him "Father." He smiled weakly. As the
groomsman lifted the bulky bag, a roll of toilet paper and some sort of noisemaker popped out and landed at Justin's feet. Blushing, the groomsman gathered them up. "Sorry, Father. Just a few, uh, wedding gifts. You know, to make sure that Steve and Annie drive off in style." He flashed an awkward smile, and the tuxedoed youth and his contraband disappeared through the door.

After the prerequisite chaos -- frantic bridesmaids, hungover groomsmen, weeping mothers, and fathers cursing at cummerbunds -- the ceremony finally began. Once the proceedings were underway, all of the anxieties miraculously vanished. Cameras clicked and whirred; the singers warbled Whitney Houston tunes; the wedding party hit their marks; the flower girl and the ringbearer stopped throwing rosepetals at each other; the fathers quit tugging angrily at their bowties. The groom looked a bit queasy and wobbly, but managed to keep his churning stomach in check. The bride was
radiant, having thrown up several minutes before the ceremony began. Justin performed the sacraments flawlessly. He even managed to sneak in a quote from St. Augustine in his homily without getting too many befuddled stares. All in all, the wedding went off like a well-choreographed Broadway play.

Soon, the wedding party and well-wishers were standing in the St. Blaise atrium, squinting at the hot July sun. The atrium was a glass and steel box connecting the church to the elementary school. It contained a large gathering room, several offices, and a modern bathroom. Aesthetically, it was as perfect a non-match to the neo-Romanesque church and the 1950s-style school as could be imagined. But it was functional, practical, and best of all, relatively cheap. Even so, Father Herrmann, the pastor and Justin's mentor, had labored for nearly a decade trying to convince the tight-fisted Dutchmen of St. Blaise Parish that it was a worthy use of parish funds. Now, incongruous at it seemed at first glance, it was an integral part of
St. Blaise, and Father Herrmann's proudest achievement.

Steve, the groom, stood in the atrium beneath an elaborate arch of plastic flowers and crepe paper. His eyes moist, he sighed dreamily, "Isn't she beautiful!" He was not referring to his bride. He loved Annie, no question, but he was gazing through the glass at his first love, a cherry red 1978 Pontiac Firebird. He had bought it when he was in high school,
with his own hard-earned money. All the weekends and summers spent flipping burgers and detasseling corn had been worth it the first moment he'd slid into its faux-leather seat and heard the hoarse roar of its gas-guzzling engine. He and his dad had spent many hours together diagnosing the Firebird's many problems and figuring out the hard way how to fix them on the cheap. The paint was still faded. It still made strange noises, even several minutes after the ignition had been switched off. It still left puddles of fluids each place it stopped. The t-tops still leaked, and the upholstery was still held together with duct tape. No matter. To Steve, each problem was a welcome challenge; an excuse to spend quality time with
his beloved. In fact, what had really attracted him to Annie in the first place was not so much that she had been impressed with the Firebird, but that she had accepted it as a member of his family. It was part of the total package; she couldn't marry him without marrying his obsession. So when Steve had suggested that he and Annie "drive off into the sunset" in
the Firebird right after the reception, she had resignedly agreed. No matter that it wasn't insured. It was only two miles from St. Blaise to Steve's apartment. Besides, the Firebird wouldn't go much further than that without developing some major mechanical malfunction; his Civic would get them to the airport tomorrow. Steve found himself wishing that the reception would be over quickly. The Firebird was waiting, patiently passing the time by making new puddles.

The guests had been coralled from the atrium into the school cafeteria. There they waited for a seeming eternity, growing hungrier by the moment while the wedding party posed for an interminable series of photographs. Finally, the mother of the bride appeared, barked a few orders, and the reception got underway. Justin put away his vestments and liturgical paraphernalia and took his place at the head table. Toasts were made; speeches were stammered; fried chicken was served; the fathers gratefully downed beer. Justin gave a brief blessing, and the meal began. Justin
finished eating and began to work his way around the cafeteria, greeting guests. He noticed out of the corner of his eye the groomsmen, still clad in their rented tuxes, scurrying out the side door with the giant trash bag. They returned a half-hour later drenched in sweat and wearing silly grins.

The reception was a tame affair by German Catholic standards. By eight o'clock, the deejay had already played "Rocky Top," "Wind Beneath My Wings," and "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll," and guests were edging towards the doors. Steve's father took the microphone and announced that the happy couple wished everyone to see them off as they drove away into their new life
together. Dutifully, the guests filed through the atrium and into the still-blazing hot parking lot.

There, awaiting them, was a giant, fluffy mound of toilet paper, crepe paper, newspaper, bows, signs, balloons, and assorted doodads that vaguely resembled a 1978 Pontiac Firebird. Steve had removed the t-tops for the occasion, so his friends had also filled the interior to the brim with toilet paper and leftover decorations. Steve and Annie chuckled good-naturedly and posed beside the papery mess. Cameras snapped, and Steve gallantly opened the passenger door for his bride. Annie jumped a bit as a muffled pop! burst from a Chinese noisemaker the groomsmen had rigged to the
door. She smiled and wagged a finger at the laughing wedding party, then disappeared into a cloud of paper. Steve hopped into his side, tossing out paper products so he could see through the windshield. He started the engine (first try!) and the Firebird slowly pulled past a row of whirring videocameras.

Justin smiled and waved -- and then froze. Was that smoke coming from the passenger door? The other well-wishers froze, too. "The car's on fire!" screamed a frantic aunt. Sure enough, the noisemaker, a leftover from last weekend's Fourth of July celebration, had ignited a bit of toilet paper taped to the door. It was only smoldering at first, but several tuxedoed
men rushed forward to beat out the small but growing flame. The car stopped suddenly, and the bride tumbled out amidst a flood of smoke and paper. As her father drug her away, the panicked groom threw the car back into drive. "I'll blow it out!" he yelled, and began to drive the Firebird in a slow, wide arc. Naturally, this only fanned the flames. Soon, a fiery scrap of
paper floated straight into the air, and gently came to rest in the Charmin-filled back seat. Justin watched helplessly as the car, back seat aflame, coasted through the parking lot, followed by a running mob screaming advice and clutching at the burning paper.

The blaze grew unabated, and soon Steve knew that he had to bail out. He rolled out of the car, T.J. Hooker-style, and landed at the feet of a shocked groomsman (who nonetheless still had the presence of mind to keep taking pictures). The groomsman dropped his camera, helped a singed but unhurt Steve to his feet and rushed off to find an extinguisher. Meanwhile, the driverless car sailed on.

Justin stared numbly at the Firebird as it rolled straight towards him. His first instinct was, of course, to get out of the way. The car was moving fairly slow; it would be easy to move out its path. But almost instantly, a terrifying realization struck Justin's brain. He was the only thing between the auto and the atrium. Father Hermann's atrium. His pride, his joy, his
glass and steel legacy. What would Father Hermann say when he returned from vacation only to find the product of a decade of cajoling, begging these damned hard-headed Germans smashed like a child's piggy bank? Surely the parish's insurance would cover it, but still... Justin had been entrusted with keeping things in order. Father Herrmann loved order. This would kill him.

So Justin stayed where he was, hands out, as if his thin body could stop this flaming phantom Firebird from Hell from careening into the atrium. It made no sense, and Justin knew it. Still, he held his ground, planted his feet firmly, and kept his eyes shut tight, ignoring the cacophany of shouts and screams around him. His mind flashed back to fourth grade at Holy Word, giving a report on his patron saint. It was St. Justin Martyr, a pagan who had converted to Christianity at a time when Christians were a persecuted minority. St. Justin defended the faith by word and by deed, earning his sobriquet after he was scourged and beheaded by the authorities. Little Justin Schimmel had wondered if he would ever have the courage to face martyrdom. Now Father Justin Schimmel faced a sort of martyrdom, not by beheading but by runaway sportscar, and not in defense of the Church, but of a church atrium. Not the sort of thing that got a person canonized, but Justin hoped that there was an absurd nobility to it.

His eyes still squeezed shut, Justin heard running footsteps coming towards him, then a yelp of pain, then a loud thud. His body was tensed, waiting for the blow, but it didn't come. He opened one eye, and saw the father of the groom nursing a wounded hand and the burning car sitting motionless a few yards away. Steve's dad had run up to the Firebird, grabbed the melting steering wheel, and turned it hard enough so that instead of plowing into Justin, it had smashed into the best man's Toyota instead. A groomsman ran out of the atrium, holding aloft a fire extiguisher in triumph, and soon had the fire put out. Justin suddenly felt a bit silly. He looked up to see a sobbing bride, stunned guests, and embarrassed groomsmen exchanging guilty glances. The groom was on his knees, his hands on his head, his face horror-stricken. No one said a word.

The whole thing had only taken a few seconds, but it had seemed like an hour. Justin felt something wet on his neck, and looked up as the sky, bright and warm moments ago, suddenly burst forth with a torrent of rain. Justin put his arms around Annie and her mother, and escorted the bawling women back into the atrium. He asked if everyone was okay, and opened the parish office to get a first aid kit for Steve's dad. As he walked out of the office, he looked up to see Steve, all alone, standing in the rain next to his Firebird, ashy black water pouring out of its doors and onto Steve's rented shoes. Justin was startled as someone pressed something into his hand. "Got it all on video, Father," said a grinning old man. "I'll make
ya a copy. Something to remember today by."

Some Hero

2005-03-12T10:01:00.000-06:00

The last embers of the fireworks display fluttered down to the broad, swift river. The crowd, which stretched from the downtown esplanade all the way upriver to the waterworks plant, was beginning to break up. Scattered pops of firecrackers echoed along the gloomy banks and blended with the rattle of folding chairs and the muffled shouts of children. At first, the commotion by the waterworks seemed only to be horseplay, and Victor hardly noticed. He had been giving only slightly more attention to the conversation he was having with Joe, just enough to show a polite interest. Only when Joe stopped in mid-sentence did Victor become fully aware that he had been speaking. Victor's eyes automatically flicked towards the spot that Joe was now suddenly facing. They both stared through the murk at a small clutch of people hollering and waving their arms by the river's edge. Several swayed rather drunkenly, and it was impossible to make out what they were yelling, or to whom. Most of the spectators were now gone from the grassy ridge where Victor and his friends still sat. Victor was certain that whatever was going on at the shore was best ignored. He was about to communicate this wise counsel when he realized that the rest of his group were stumbling down the rocky levee towards the commotion. Reluctantly, he followed.

Keith and Joe's brother Jerry were already at the scene and had joined in the hollering and waving. In a flash, the whole group was running downstream along the muddy bank. Victor was still unable to make out what the panic was about, but Joe filled him in. "I think that someone fell in the river and can't get back to shore." Victor squinted past Joe's pointing finger to a white blob several yards from shore. The only lights on the river came from a handful of small boats along the opposite bank and from the distant esplanade. The wriggling blob was speeding downriver. Victor heard a dull splash, then a yell. "Jerry!" Joe vanished in an instant. Victor grabbed a large blanket that lay at his feet and tried to catch up with the other runners far ahead.

Running along this steep embankment would have been difficult even in daylight. As it was, the moonlight, filtered through thick clouds, only barely illuminated the large rocks, weeds, and flotsam. Several runners discovered that running close to the water's muddy, weed-choked edge was nearly impossible. Victor stayed towards the rockier middle. His bobbing head tried to follow the white blob. He could scarcely believe how swiftly the river was moving. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flailing dark blob approaching the white blob. Another one appeared nearer the shore. Victor knew at once that the dark blobs were Jerry and Joe.

The crowd of runners began to thin out as the rocks and debris tripped them one by one. Victor somehow managed to leap and dodge the obstacles as if by radar. He had never been athletic, and his newfound grace surprised him. Even Keith, who was in far better physical shape, stumbled several times. Victor was puffing hard, unused to such a burst of activity, but at least he remained on his feet. In fact, as he now realized, he was out in front of the pack. Still, the three blobs continued to pull farther away.

A pang of guilt shot through Victor's stomach. Jerry and Joe were in real danger. What good was dodging stones and broken bottles? But the only swimming stroke he knew was a rather half-assed dogpaddle. He would drown if he leapt in; a brave but foolish act. Victor suddenly felt the blanket clutched in his fingers as if it had just been handed to him. He would use it as a lifeline. Now, he alone could bring them back to shore. Whether by reason or rationalization, Victor began to feel better. The exact details of his bold plan remained hazy, but Victor was sure that they would soon make themselves evident. Still, the three blobs continued to pull even farther away.

The bright lights of the esplanade grew closer. If Jerry, Joe, and the victim could make it there, surely there would still be plenty of people who could help. They'd see them in the light, and they'd figure out some way to pull them to shore. But the esplanade still seemed a long way off. Victor felt a wave of panic wash over him as he continued to weave his way around the jutting rocks.

As he ran, Victor's eyes frantically skimmed the river's gray-black expanse. The blobs were gone. Victor could see only weird ripples cutting across the glassy surface. He stared harder. Still, nothing. A jolt of pain in his right toe barely registered, but his legs flew from under him as he toppled forward. Victor fell hard, but the blanket he held in front of him cushioned the impact somewhat. A rustle and shout to his left caught his ear, and he scrambled to his feet. A small, scraggly tree reached out over the rushing water. Its leaves rustled again, and Victor could see and hear splashes. He could make out Joe's silhouette clinging to a low-hanging branch about five feet from shore. A couple of feet further out, at the very end of the branch, Jerry desperately gripped the branch with one arm and a sobbing young woman with the other. Water swirled angrily around them.

Victor sprang into action. Holding one end of the blanket as tightly as he could, he tossed the other end towards Joe. It became tangled in the branches. Victor yanked it free and tried again. This time the blanket hit the water and quickly pointed downstream, far from Joe's reach. By the time Victor reeled it back in for a third attempt, Joe had already drug himself to shore and was yelling encouragement to Jerry. With considerable effort, Jerry pulled himself and the woman along the branch. While Victor was still fiddling with the muddy, soaked blanket, Joe waded back out to Jerry. Victor gave up on the blanket heroics and carefully followed Joe into the water. Here, the river was not deep, but the current made it difficult to walk. Joe managed to grab Jerry by the shirt and towed him and the woman to shore. Victor grabbed Joe and helped him out of the water.

Jerry and the woman sat in a couple of inches of water and mud. The woman bawled uncontrollably in between gurgly coughs. Jerry rested his head on his knees and vomited gray water. Everything smelled like rotting wood and feces. Joe tried to calm the woman, and Victor sat in the water beside Jerry. Keith and the rest of the runners now arrived. The young woman's friends crowded around her, cooing sympathetically.

From out of the gloom came a booming voice. "GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WATER!" A police officer stomped towards the little crowd. A confused chorus of voices rose up in response. "I SAID, QUIT F*****G AROUND AND GET OUT OF THE WATER!" Victor stood up and began to tell the tale. The excited shouts all around him made an impenetrable din. The bleary-eyed cop was in no mood. With a weary but firm gesture, he motioned everyone away from the river. Before Victor knew what was happening, the crowd was dispersed and order restored. The young woman was ushered away, and Victor, Keith, Joe, and Jerry were admonished to head home. Wet, bleeding, and bewildered, the heroes walked silently to their car.

Real-World Graphic Design Tips

2005-02-08T17:48:00.000-06:00

As a mild-mannered designer for a major metropolitan newspaper, I am often asked, "So, what does it take to break into the glamorous field of newspaper graphic design? Do I need a college degree?" I always chuckle at the naîvete of these folks. I went that route. I took classes at a respected university, where I studied stuff like color theory, principles of design, and typography. Turns out, those things almost never come up in my day-to-day job. They might be handy if you plan on working at some high-toned magazine like "Newsweek," "Wired," or "High Times." But here in the trenches, struggling with the grind of churning out a medium-sized daily rag, printed on paper that's just one step away from Charmin, you need to learn different skills. So here are my pointers, based on ten years of hard-won experience. If someone had told me this years ago, I could have saved a lot of tuition. Or, better yet, changed my major.

First and foremost, always please the advertiser, not the consumer. Subscribers be damned; this is an advertiser-driven business, and the advertiser is paying your salary. Of course, the consumer is paying his, but let's not quibble. So what if the ad is confusing, misleading, or just plain fraudulent? Every advertiser secretly (or not so secretly) believes that he is a much better designer than you are. He made flyers for his niece's 10th birthday party last year, and everyone agreed that they were wonderfully done. Pick a few cool fonts, steal some photos from the Internet, slap on a funny clip art cartoon of an anthropomorphic... well, anything, and you're done. What's so hard about that? All you have to do is take that fax of a photocopy of a layout he'd scribbled on a dirty napkin, and reproduce it. Sure, he made it a completely different size and shape that the actual ad will be, and he didn't include all of the information that he wants to fit in it (that's on a separate five-page fax that he plans to send you an hour before deadline), but otherwise, it's pretty close. Most of that information will be of great importance to the advertiser, yet precious little of it will be anything that a likely consumer would care a flying fig about. That is not your concern -- just make sure you squeeze in that cute photo of the advertiser's grandkids.

White space is the ENEMY. I cannot stress this enough. If you don't fill every square micron of the ad with photos, clip art, copy, or exclamation points, then the advertiser is not getting his money's worth. That's like stealing, you know. For instance, far too often I see ads in which the spaces in the O's and zeroes are completely wasted. Fill them with tiny starbursts that contain the words "NEW," "REAL CHEAP," or something to that effect. Some designers worry that this will make the ad hard to read, and the consumer will therefore skip it and read "Funky Winkerbean" instead. Nonsense. For one thing, "Funky" has sucked for years. For another, every advertiser knows that consumers live to read densely-packed newspaper ads full of useless misinformation. That is, until their bill comes due, at which point the advertiser will protest that no one ever reads the ads at all, which is entirely the newspaper's fault. Anyway, the upshot is that if the ad doesn't come off the press dripping wet, oversaturated with ink, you haven't done your job.

You can't have too much color. A typical four-color press can print something like, oh, I don't know, 18,000 distinct color variations. Use all of them. If you don't, then, again, the advertiser is getting ripped off. Well, on second thought, don't use ALL of the colors. Pastels show weakness. The colors ought to be as bright as can be -- fluorescent, if possible. True story: an advertiser once complained that the background color in his ad wasn't bright enough. It was 100% yellow. Apparently, he wanted something that would cause readers permanent retinal damage. I hear that scientists are working on a method to embed tiny LEDs into the newsprint. Until that plan comes to fruition, just be sure not to skimp on the ink.

Mix many different fonts in each ad; it gives it a classy look. I like fonts as much as the next designer... why be tied down to Helvetica and Times New Roman when Berthold City and Minion Expert beckon from the font manager? However, I used to make the mistake of using only two or three font families per ad. What a fool I was. Now I happily use six, seven, even eight -- within a single sentence! Much better. Occasionally, the advertiser will helpfully supply his own preferred fonts, which are always A.) unreadable; and B.) incompatible with your RIP software. No problem. Replace them with Courier. Actually there are some fonts that you can do without -- anything that contains the words Light, Regular, Book, or Demi. It's Bold, Heavy, Black, or Extra Black, pal... and make sure that's in all caps, too. The exception to this rule is when you're typesetting disclaimers. There, I recommend Wispy Ultra Ultra Ultra Thin, set at 3 points.

A basic understanding of the rules of English spelling, grammar, and punctuation is unnecessary. Consumers don't care about such things... we're grateful that they can read at all! You could rely on spell check, but why bother? It won't pick up on misused homophones, anyway. If you don't know how to use apostrophes, just sprinkle them randomly through the copy. One of them's (or is it thems' ?) bound to be right. Grammar won't be needed, either, since advertisers prefer to use Tarzan-like fragments and run-ons, as in: "RUNS GOOD, NO $$$ DWN. MAKE BEST OFFER." This way, they can fit in more exclamation points and balloon clip art. For these reasons, today's budget-conscious newspapers have eliminated proofreaders from the advertising departments. Harried salespeople, semi-literate advertisers, and apathetic designers ought to be able to catch any mistakes that may creep in. (Be sure to end sentences with prepositions, too.)

Those are the main points, but let me add a just a few more golden nuggets of advice. Beware the phrase "camera-ready." This is a cruel lie. Deadlines are merely helpful suggestions; don't take them too seriously. The advertiser doesn't. When presented with several ad designs, the advertiser will always choose the most hideous. When the advertiser supplies a logo, it will be on a poorly-printed business card or taken from a low-resolution GIF on their Web site. It will be ugly and it will be a weird shape that resists all attempts to fit it nicely into the ad. If an advertiser supplies a printed piece from another company and says that he wants his ad to look "just like this," he is lying. What he really means is that there is some intangible "vibe" about it that he likes, but can in no way express. All attempts to discover just what it is that the advertiser likes about it will fail.

That should about cover it for now. Don't be discouraged, my paduwans. Newspaper graphic design is a richly rewarding profession that in no way leaves you bitter, wondering why you squandered your talent and precious youth in exchange for a 401(k) plan. Not at all.

Invading the Blogosphere

2005-02-07T21:37:00.000-06:00

Gadzooks! Here I am, a newly-minted blogonaut! I'm ready to join the legions of bloggers who are reshaping the Information Age. I can't decide what to do first -- kickstart a grassroots Presidential campaign, bring down a once-respected television news anchor, or blather on and on in a futile attempt to bring meaning and order into my pitiful life. Oh well, I can figure it out later. For now, it is enough to dip a toe into that limitless ocean of infotainment that is the Web. Brrr... kinda chilly.

Tonight, on "Biography..."

2005-02-07T21:09:00.000-06:00

For the benefit of the potential billions of visitors to my humble blog who must wonder from whence I came, I respectfully submit the following brief biography (reprinted with permission from "Who's Who of 19th Century American Animal Husbandry"):

Gadzooky was born the son of poor sharecroppers in Newark, NJ. As the eldest of forty-three children (forty-two if you count the conjoined twins only once), Gadzooky dreamed of one day escaping the toilsome tenant farms of Newark. Despite being almost completely illiterate until the age of four, the young Gadzooky began compiling a scrapbook composed entirely of clippings about a glittering, faraway Xanadu where the stores stayed open until nearly nine p.m. and the restaurants served bendy straws with every meal. This was, of course, Evansville, known throughout the world as "The Paris of the Southwestern Indiana Part of the Ohio River Valley, Not Counting Tell City." At the tender age of nine-and-three-quarters, Gadzooky ran away to join the circus, until he discovered that it was the kind that has clowns in it. Gadzooky HATES clowns, and he's never even read "It." And so he began his perilous and arduous trek eastward to the fabled city of Evansville. Perhaps it wouldn't have been half so perilous or arduous had Gadzooky realized that Evansville is actually WEST of Newark. Nevertheless, after a series of extremely interesting adventures that I'm far too lazy to think up, Gadzooky arrived in Evansville none the worse for wear. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "It's more lovely than I ever could have imagined! It even smells far lovelier than Newark!" Then, after leaving the sewage treatment plant, Gadzooky found that the rest of the city was even BETTER! But the big city holds many dangers for a naïve sharecropper's son. Gadzooky began indulging in self-destructive behavior, such as chasing his Pop Rocks with Double-Cola and holding his nose when he sneezed to see if he could make his ears whistle. Finally, after hitting bottom (one should always make certain that the elevator car is really there before stepping into the shaft), Gadzooky vowed to make a new start. Disguised as a mild-mannered graphic designer for a great metropolitan newspaper, he now fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and some way to fill every micron of white space in used car dealer ads with bursts containing words like $AVE!!! and SUPER SHARP SUVS!!! Eh, it's a livin'.