Word of the Day: "claudication"

As I prepare to go to a conference of my own, I was reminded of this story which I've had tucked in the corner of my brain for a good long time. It's a sad, sad little corner, but, it's the only thing I have for...

Today's Word:

claudication

As in:

It looked like any conference. Ordinary people in casual clothing, with name tags hanging from lanyards milled about the convention center. Some consulted the schedule, others talked with new acquaintances, and still others walked around staring at room signs looking lost.

The only hint someone from the "outside" might have that there was anything unusual about the gathering might come from studying the signs posted outside doors, or making a study of the schedule.

Sessions titles ran the gambit of much needed, but highly specialized skills and research in one of the world's oldest professions. Highly anticipated sessions included "Picking the most Profitable Signs, Maladies vs. Social Soft Spots," "Choosing your Territory, Foot Traffic, Curb and Shoulder Space," and "Maintaining your Persona: The Key is Consistent Claudication."

In these sessions, attendees learned which cardboard signs tended to earn the holders the most cash from passersby. Does a misspelled sign earn more cash? Does a "Homeless Diabetic" find more sympathetic and generous benefactors than a "Homeless Single Mother?" Does honesty "sell?"

Said one attendee, who refused to give her name, "I've learned so much at this conference! All of the speakers are so knowledgeable, and so generous with their experience. I've learned how to invest all the donations I receive, to retire comfortably, and I now know what to put on my sign to increase my earnings by 30%!"

Many attendees shared that they are worried about the storms of economic woes sweeping across the country.

"If the foreclosure crisis continues, I'm worried that competition might seriously cut into my bottom line. I don't know if I can compete with people who are *actually* homeless. Some of these people really do have children! They might bring them on the job. How can I compete with that?"

********************
Is it wrong of me to think that this story might actually reflect more truth than any of us is willing to admit? My sister and I used to ponder many of these very questions after watching the guy who "worked" a very busy intersection on our route to work. He wasn't out everyday, but, his "limp" switched to the "upstage" leg as he paced up and down the shoulder of the road. This story is dedicated to him, whose sign was stored from a curl in the guardrail with several others. He occasionally had a different sign if someone had gotten there before he did. Most of the time, he was simply "Homeless Diabetic."

claudication \ clod - ICK - a - shun\ the quality or state of being lame: limping.

Save Our Words!

In response to this contest, I'd like to offer the following submission. All the words are included.

Cassandra pleaded with the officer.

“A fubsy female with griseous hair is captive in an olid oubliette! She’s in an agrestic region, covered in recrement! She’s donned a jade periapt! Heed my fatidical words! She’s in peril!

The officer looked confused. “Ma’am, you seem to be upset about something. If you’ll stop the hysterics, and talk slowly, maybe we could see what’s the matter.”

“Officer, my intention is not to embrangle, and I assure you, I suffer no caducity. My apodeictic vaticinations do not deserve disdain. My sesquipedalian speech is with veracity compossible! I am typically the very portrait of mansuetude.

The officer sneered. “Look, if you can’t speak English, don’t waste my time.”

“Do not vilipend me, sir. If your niddering attitude stems from my muliebrity, I may yet become oppugnant. There is a woman in need of abstergent, she's petrified, huddled in caliginosity, awaiting avail! I beg you, please, ignore the malison of obfuscatory language!”

The officer signaled for assistance to remove the unintelligible woman.

Taking the hint, Cassandra started to leave the station. If the police would not help her save the unfortunate woman, she would go alone.

“I will leave you and your netid environs. Your disregard serves as roborant to my resolve.”

With that, she left the station, as pigeons scattered in a skirr before her purposeful stride.

Word of the Day: "desipience"

Our story today was inspired by true events. In the TV world, "Inspired by true events" is often a signal to change the channel as quickly as possible. On the internet, it means read every word very carefully and tell your friends all about it. Well, that's what I think it means.

Today's Word:

desipience

As in:

No one would claim the glass of wine which sat in the fridge for long weeks. It had been poured, half drunk, and then placed on the bottom shelf to remain chilled until an errand or task was completed. And then, forgotten, the wine remained and faded beyond conscious memory.

As it stayed there, no one knew to whom it belonged, no one remembered to whom it owed its current station, and none would removed it for fear of facing the wrath of the unidentified owner of the glass and its contents.

And, as the tenure of the glass on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator lengthened, those who opened the fridge would continue to insist that the presence of the wine had meaning. "Certainly," all thought, "someone would claim the wine. Surely someone would miss it if it were moved." And no one was willing to test the attributed value of the tiny glass, whose contents had long since turned to vinegar and had started to become cloudy with life.

And because of the convergence of meaning attributed and responsibility forsaken, the life, growing in the chalice, clouding the once bright liquid, had been born a new creature. The wine was no longer wine, it was something greater, something more. And within those cloudy depths could surely be found the secrets of the universe. All could be discovered in the microcosmos of activity evolving in the cool, pleasant place of the bottom shelf.

And then, defying the sacred Mystery of that which the wine had become, thinking it not a matter of transcendence, but rather a matter of desipience, someone finally asked, "Whose wine is this anyway? Can I throw it out now?" And, in a splash, the universe, once created, was gone.

***************

desipience: / des-SIP-ee-ance / foolishness, silliness. 2. Relaxed dallying in enjoyment of foolish trifles. Like the WoD itself, eh?

Word of the Day: "hebetate"

After the story about the return to school for all the boys and girls, I had this pleasant thought about leaving the working world and returning once again to the safety of the ivy-covered walls of learning. I can almost smell the office supplies.

Today's Word:

hebetate

As in:

It was a dark and stormy night. Lurking in the shadows of an eerily immaculately maintained greenbelt and obscuring the portal of an immense and foreboding building, was the nightmare of the waking world. It guarded the threshold between the world of light and the world of dark, and its existence was to serve but one purpose: to assure that all who passed wore the mark.

The bearers of that mark were subject to the laws of its domain and the penalties of disobedience were severe. Many of those that entered that black domain, its vastness filled with rows of partitioned spaces and machinery, its air filled with the stench of despair and desolation, would begin to allow themselves to hebetate, and in so doing, would lose the edge of sanity and intelligence that once they knew. The rules that governed this dimension often held no corollary with those outside, and all political boundaries became warped beyond recognition.

For you see, this place is no realm of fantasy, it is real, it is: The Office Building. And the warden of this domain is none other than the evil more commonly known to many of us as: The Student Loan Officer.

***************
Perhaps more frightening than funny.

hebetate / HE - bah - tate / : to grow dull or stupid.

Word of the Day: "siccative"

I'd like you to thing of these stories as a welcome reprieve from the stories about the economy, or the election. I know that it's a nice escape to write them.

Today's Word:

siccative

As in:

Three ponds near a Peruvian town have come to international attention for their healing properties. The ponds, known as "The Twin Maker," "The Miracle Maker," and "The Enchantress" are said to grant healing and special benefits to those who bath in their waters.

The locals claim that the curative properties of this water are the result of alien intervention. The village, called Chileca, is known throughout the region for having a high incidence of UFO spotting and "extraterrestrial disturbances."

A sign located on the outskirts of town even proclaims the area is "The Preferred Site for Interplanetary Ships and Beings."

People who bathe in "The Twin Maker," expect to increase their fertility. The muddy, sulfurous pond is also said to cure impotence. To take full advantage of the pond's properties, visitor often sit in the mud, covering themselves with it. Some even find herbal siccatives growing nearby to quicken the process of drying, and create a "coat" of "miracle mud." Several believe this regimen is the "Poor Man's Viagra," and since the time the comparison was made, visits to the area have increased markedly. Some claim that it is this dry, hardened mud and the herbs which provide the cure to fertility problems, rather than the water. Others strongly disagree, insisting that the powerful stench of sulfur in the dried mud could never increase the likelihood of having twins or curing impotence, and would, in fact, be a detriment instead.

***********
Like I said, I bet you were hoping for more at the end. So was I, but I'm happy to settle for *something* as opposed to *nothing.* Until tomorrow...

siccative: / SIK-eh-tiv / a substance that promotes drying; a drier. (related, of course to "desiccant")

Word of the Day: "quaquaversal"

When I started this one, I'm not sure I knew what the ending was. But, eventually, I found it.

Today's Word:

quaquaversal

As in:

In a town where time had no measure, and all was silence, a lone child set out to find something greater than all he had ever known. The basic sense of contentment and serene confidence that possessed this small town had never occurred to the youth, and he could never understand his community's calm acceptance of all that was.

The youth wanted to know the source of everything. He wanted to know how everything worked and why the rain nourished the land and how people came to the peaceful valley at the bottom of the mountain, which his people held sacred. He wanted to know why the mountain was greater than his people, and why they accepted it as the center of all things.

So the boy set out from the village with but one thought: to climb the mountain. Such things were not done, his elders had all said, but when he asked them the simplest of questions, merely seeking to know "why" such things were not done, they could give him no good answer. And so, with determination, and little else, the boy began his quest.

As he climbed, higher and higher, struggling with the treacherous terrain and poor climate, he knew, that should he reach the top, he finally would find the answers to all of his questions. And then the summit loomed closer. Seized with anticipation of the fulfillment of his dreams, he forced himself to push for the top. And then, as he stood on the peak, with its quaquaversal vantage point, he saw, for the first time in his life, the world outside. And, in a flash, it came to him that while many of the things he had once asked were answered, the attainment of the summit only fostered more questions, and his hopes to find the same serenity as those in his village were gone.

As he stood there in near desperation, staring into the vastness of the world, he heard a voice. He turned, and standing not far from him was a man, strangely dressed, wearing clothing made of the smoothest ski imaginable, and seeming to the lad very discomforting. the figure wore trousers, which matched his overcoat exactly, and from his neck, there was a brightly colored piece of cloth, which resembled the tail of an animal. The boy laughed at such a thought, and then the man spoke again.

The man said, "You have come a great distance to find the answers to important questions. I will tell you that in your life, there will always be uncertainties. But, perhaps I can help. Have you ever considered purchasing life insurance?

*********************

quaquaversal: / kwa - KWA - verse - all / pointing or facing in every direction. In relation to rock formations, the term specifically means sloping down in every direction from a more or less central tip.

Word of the Day: "cerumen"

As many a geek knows, Sept. 22 is the birthdate of both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. In honor of that auspicious day, I have a story which borrows liberally from the Lord of the Rings, and from a realization that today's word, which isn't one of the most obscure words I've used, has a very story-worthy homophone (For those of you who have forgotten what a homophone is, it is a word which is pronounced the same as another word, but has a different meaning or spelling).

Many of you might recognize this word, and then wonder, what could possibly be the homophone for...

Today's Word:

cerumen

As in:

And so, Gandalf and his companions made their way up to the Pinnacle of Orthanc, where dwelt Saruman the White.

"Saruman may have been defeated, but he is still dangerous. Beware his voice!"

Silently each pondered the nature of the wizard's advice as they continued up the long passage way. All too soon, it seemed to the party, they had come to the door, and now it was time to enter and face the enemy inside.

"So, Gandalf. You come again. Have you not yet caused enough suffering? You have no friends in the West. Shouldn't you be meddling in the affairs of the little people? Indeed, it is your way to meddle in the affairs of every business, whether it concerns you or not. And, it seems today your business is to torment me in my own house."

"Silence, Sarumen! Your place on the Council is forfeit. I have no patience for your lies. Once, you were great, Saruman, but now you will surrender your staff. You no longer merit it."

"Merit? Merit! You stand in my house as invaders and thieves, and yet you speak of merit! I had once thought, Gandalf the Gray, that you were more noble than all those of our order, that you were one of the great. Now you show your true color! You are no greater than Radagast the Brown, Radagast the bird tamer! Show now your color to
Sudoriferous the Blue! He will not aid you now. Nor will your deeds avoid the wrath of my apprentice, Cerumen the Yellow! You know his power to corrupt the words you speak within your listener's ear!"

"Then he follows well his master's talent for deception. I will take your staff, Saruman. Behold! I am the White Rider!"

And as he revealed his face to Saruman, a flash flew from Gandalf's staff, and his eyes grew small and menacing. Suddenly, from across the room, Sarumen's staff leapt up, and landed in Gandalf's waiting hand.

***************

Saruman, (the homophone of today's word) is, of course, one of the bad guys in the Lord of Rings trilogy. And, of course, this isn't quite the scene Tolkien created. I tried to be faithful to his style, and still throw in my own brand of randomness. I always wanted to know about all the other wizards, so I made a few up, to go with the
story. Sudoriferous, of course, means "producing or conveying sweat," which matches well with cerumen.

Of course, I didn't actually do a very good job of clarifying the meaning of the word in the story. I apologize. I figured the word had a fair chance of being previously known by a high percentage of my readers, who are well-read and have exceptional vocabularies.

Yes, I'll stop typing now.

cerumen / seh-RUE-man / Ear wax. Cerumen is thought to repel insects. Of course, I'm pretty sure it is fairly repellant to people, too. Most of you probably remembered this one from some biology class.

Word of the Day: "janizary"

I'm staring the think I might be a bit bird brained lately.Or, maybe it's just the bird flu.

Today's Word:

janizary

As in:

This is the tale of two friends, one a chicken, and one a turkey. For many years, the turkey followed the chicken around, through the farm yard, around the coup and across the road. The chicken, a retired member of the Chinese Chicken Army, who was used to having at least one janizary, didn't mind at all, and eventually, the two became friends. In fact, the chicken's tales of his days in the Chinese Chicken Army began to inspire the turkey, and soon, he decided it was time that the turkeys, like their fowl cousins, take to beak against their oppressors.

So the turkey, under the direction of the chicken, began to train his fellow coup mates for the defense of the common bird. Within months, the newly empowered turkeys were ready to strike at their oppressors and present their manifesto of poultry rights. The turkeys were fighting for the right to be again considered for the prestigious post of "National Emblem of the United States," freedom from the annual Thanksgiving dinner craze, voting rights, guess spots on Budweiser commercials with other "cute amphibian animal stars," and the chance to personally peck the eyes out of Martha Stewart.

**********************

This story is dedicated to my sister Beth, as it was inspired by her goofy Thanksgiving joke:

Why did the turkey cross the road?
It was stapled to the chicken.

Type to you all tomorrow.

janizary: \JAN-eh-zehr-e\ a very loyal follower.

Word of the Day: "aeaeae"

This word is especially cool as it is the only 6-letter, all vowel word. Ah, the English language, surprises around every corner.

Today's Word:

aeaeae

As in:

The People's Republic of China, not fully comprehending the folly of entrusting non-mammalian creatures to tasks best left for creatures higher on the food chain, recently began to train chickens to eradicate swarms of of insects that had, to this point, survived the attempts of humans to successfully contain the insect population. The Chicken Army of the People's Republic, which numbers 10,000, was provided with sophisticated western weapons of destruction and advanced training, specially designed through the use of aeaeae to enable the chickens to effectively seek out and destroy tiny pests.

Unfortunately, after eradication of the insect hoards, the chickens, now empowered beyond the capacity of normal domesticated barnyard fowl, were prepared to strike back against their human oppressors.

With powerful beaks and sharp claws, the chickens quickly dispatched their human officers, including their pioneering military commander, Col. Sanders. The chickens, now mobilized, well-trained and gifted with magical properties, set on a course, which would, in time, allow them to rule the world.

*********************
I, for one, welcome our new chicken masters.

aeaeae / eye - EYE - ay / Magic.

Word of the Day: "fulsome"

With this story, I thought I might make a parody of a certain author's well-known style, but, I'm not entirely certain if I was anywhere near the gold, as I've not really read much by this particular author. So, I'm going to let you all guess which author I was aiming for (or, possibly, at). Much more fun that way.

Today's Word:

fulsome

As in:

It was Wednesday. Not any particular Wednesday, but the kind of day that everyone distinctly remembers as being a Wednesday-like day. Outside the glass window, Edgar stood, watching. The wood frame was beginning to be covered with snow, which was just starting to fall. The snow was light, like the fluffy kind of snow one remembers from childhood. A good kind of snow, snow that would pack easily into icy weapons, imposing forts, and stoic men of snow. Yes, thought Edgar, It was a good snow.

But Edgar's thoughts were elsewhere. Into the quaint stillness of the snowy scene, a shot rang out. Not the shot of a small child hurling a friendly projectile of ice, but a louder one; a sound that could only be described as a gun shot.

And then the siren came. Loud and red and full of anger. It was a fulsome sound; reverberating in Edgar's ears as he watched the falling snow. And then it was everything: Sound, light, heat, violence. Everything was that siren. And then, as suddenly and abruptly as it boomed into existence, it stopped. The two men in the vehicle emerged, and quickly moved into Edgar's house. "Stop!" he wanted to say "Stop, this is my house, you can't just barge in," but the words wouldn't come. They just burbled and choked in his mouth, and then he saw her, standing there, with the smoking gun, and waiting with a look of intense satisfaction.

"I told you I could shoot a gun," she said.

***************
I'm pretty certain this missed the mark, but, I've decided that I don't think I care. I think I like this story.

fulsome / FUL-some / excessive; cloying through surfeit.

Word of the Day: "eolian"

I'm writing an introduction to this story, but, I'm not even sure why. I think it must simply be a habit.

Today's Word:

eolian

As in:

The wind blew. It was a windy day. True, not the sort of day you wanted to watch the Particulate Matter Parade, but, well, the timing was always one of the parade's weak points.

The parade, which was started to celebrate the often poorly represented types of floats that threw candy or other treats to the spectators, is a tradition that few miss. The planners of this event have but one requirement—all entries must shower the parade route with particulate matter.

Normally, such floats as the "Elephant Spray," "Woodchuck Sawdust Shower," "Ebola Eruption," and "Shrapnel Surprise" were quite popular, however, on a windy day, the eolian particles were downright uncomfortable. As the exhibitors continued to produce a flurry of floating flotsam, spectators were rushed to the hospital with severe eye traumas, multiple lacerations and the early warning signs of massive viral infections.

*******************
Yes, I do know the Ebola would not survive long enough to infect a parade-goer from a float. And, I also know that the incubation period of 3-10 days, so the people wouldn't have the signs of a viral infection that quickly.

At least it's now Tuesday.

eolian / ay – OH – lee – an / borne, deposited or eroded by the wind.

Word of the Day: "sciolism"

I've been thinking about many things in the last few weeks, and this story occurred to me a few days ago, as all of the nation's children returned to the hallowed halls of school.

Today's Word:

sciolism

As in:

Mrs. Wright's third grade summer school class had just finished its special July 4th history section, and as a learning exercise, little Bobby Taylor, aged 15 and a half, and nearly a three time graduate of Mrs. Wright's class, was assigned to present his learning over the last few months. As you will see, his presentation was something of a sciolism.

"Over two hundred years ago, before Samuel Adams was a brewer, and Ben Franklin a kind of day planner, the great nation of the North American Continent, the corporation of the United States of Canada Part II: The Shooting Starts, was founded by a shot herded around the world. It was in the seventeen hundreds that these revolting people, who lived on the east coast and had slavery and rum and mosquitoes, fought against the British and the French and Indians to get free tea. Paul Revere was also there making pots and teeth and proving he was a lousy friend who lets the horse he borrowed get captured by the British in the middle of the night.

******************
Until tomorrow...

sciolism / s - EYE - low - is - m / : superficial knowledge, especially a show of learning without any substantial foundation.

Word of the Day: "hie"

Many is the time when a germ of an idea will pop up into my brain and it comes out better in execution than it was when it started. And sometimes, the idea starts out brilliantly in my brain, and then is lame when it's all typed out and sitting in front of an audience all naked and ashamed. I'll let you be the judge as to which category today's story falls.

Today's Word:

hie

As in:

The twelfth annual "Rodent Rodeo" was about to get underway. Over fifty contestants had trained and prepared for the grand event, and they were all assembled in the arena for the day's contests. Cricket cowboys rode bucking rats until the timers went off. The mouse roping events, always an impressive sight, were won by last year's champion, a beetle named Chuck. The Beaver Riding exhibition, dangerous as always, was completed, and the only injury was to the rodeo clown, who was bruised by a swing of the great beast's tail.

But the events that drew the largest crowd were the fly races. These were sponsored every year by a beer company, and a large crowd lined the race course. The flies were on the starting mark, and after the signal was given, they were off. Amid shouts of "hie, fly" from coaches and fans, the flies buzzed around the arena.

But then, just before the flies reached the halfway point, tragedy struck. Somehow, through the security gates, past the arena fencing, and over the tiny bleachers, two frogs hopped onto the scene. With a few quick snaps of their deadly tongues, the contest was over, and the athletes consumed. Panic erupted in the arena, and several small insects were trampled by spectators fleeing the scene.

***********
I suppose that was vaguely odd, wasn't it? I'm not quite sure where it came from, but it did come, and it's now resting in cyberspace and in your mail. I think I'll stop now.

hie / HYE / Rhymes with "fly". It means, to go quickly, or hasten.

Word of the Day: "xanthous"

One of my not-so-secret-after-I-type-this "geek" pursuits is, well, the yo-yo. I've been know to carry them with me on errands, play with them while standing in line at the bank, and entertained children and coworkers with tricks of various sorts. Yes, go ahead, point and laugh. I can take it.

Today's Word:

xanthous

As in:

In yet another example of the losses of rights and freedom in our country, a member of the International Yo Society was sent to jail for doing nothing more than engaging in his "God given right to Yo."

Homer Frederickson, 28, was put in jail for two days when a judge spied Frederickson "Shoot the Moon" with his xanthous Duncan Hyper-Imperial Yo-Yo. Frederickson was jailed for contempt.

Judge Moore explained, "I saw this yellowish thing zip by my head, and I have to admit, it just about scared me to death."

When released, Frederickson expressed his anger at what many have described as a "grave injustice to the people." Frederickson declared "I didn't do anything wrong. I was merely expressing myself. The Yo, and by extension, being in the State of Yo, should be regarded as a freedom alongside life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We will longer stand idly by while our rights are violated! The Yo and happiness for all!"

Frederickson was in the court room for the trials of several members of the International Yo Society who are accused of inciting riots over the "Yo Manifesto," which identifies the tenets of Yoda, the Great Master.

The violence between the anti-Yo faction and the "non-violent" Yo Masters has continued to escalate, despite repeated attempts at peace. Many of the Yo Masters continue to claim human rights violations have been committed against their peaceful society by various anti-Yo factions, and demand that the guilty "shatterers of the serenity of the string" be brought to justice.

******************

Have you seen the Mountain Dew commercials with the yo-yos as weapons? I love that commercial. There are quibbles about whether yo-yos would make an actual weapon, but, I won't bore you with the minutia I happen to have a link...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZr2nlOQiks

xanthous: \ ZAN-thes \ yellow, or yellowish.

Word of the Day:"lazaretto"

Usually, the intro is the easiest part of the story to write. Sometimes I use the intro as a stalling technique to think of an idea for the story, but, not this time. This story practically wrote itself.

Today's Word:

lazaretto

As in:

Patients at Eastside Memorial Children's Hospital eagerly awaited a scheduled visit from the Teletubbies today. The brightly colored characters, "stars" of the popular television show, are taking a tour of pediatric wards across the nation, cheering up sick children and their families.

But the tour was sadly ended after this afternoon's visit to Eastside, a lazaretto in the Polnthy district of the city of Remoput, when the "cuddly, colorful, and oh-so cute" Teletubbies became violently ill, and were themselves hospitalized.

Apparently, the beings, who are from another planet and have no immunity to terrestrial maladies, contracted a disease from one of the tykes, and suffered from instantaneous tissue meltdown, and each lost approximately 95% of their upper skin layer.

"The skin literally melted off of them. It was awful. They left large puddles of primary colors all over the floor of little Tommy Anderson's room. Yuck. They'll be cleaning that place for days," related one witness.

Little Tommy Anderson, now undergoing psychiatric care for shock at seeing his heroes melt in front of him, is not expected to every fully recover from the trauma.

The Teletubbies are currently in the NICU at Eastside. They were placed in separate in sterile environments the size of coffee cans awaiting treatment from their own physicians.

***************

You know, I think I enjoyed that just a bit too much.

lazaretto / LAZ-eh-RET-oh / a public hospital for poor people having contagious diseases, esp. for lepers.

Word of the Day: "malison"

This idea, was "fleshed out" with help from my sister, so this one's for her. Anyway, here's...

Today's Word

malison

As in:

As the population of the Earth falls deeper into sedentary lifestyles, a new super hero has emerged from the ashes of a laboratory disaster to fight the evils of heart disease, poor diet and improper eating habits. He is "The Digestinator."

While working on an arterial plaque reduction agent, Dr. Mark Hastings, famed nutritionist and fanatic defender of arteries and digestive health, was the victim of a bizarre accident. An accident which rendered the upper layers of his body completely and totally invisible. Because of this accident, the only remaining visible parts of his corpus were his digestive system, his kidneys, liver and his spleen.

Realizing that his new situation put him in a frighteningly powerful position. A position which gave the passionate nutritionist a unique method of fighting the things he had always fought. As a startlingly visible digestive model, "The Digestinator" continued his quest. Consuming food guaranteed to insult the senses of the couch potatoes of the world, he uses his "super digestive strength" to illustrate the folly of poor eating habits.

And though he must live with this strange malison for the rest of his life,
he continues to hope that the power of digestion will allow some fulfillment of his dream of a world freed from heart disease.

***************
Yes, that's right, a new twist on the invisible man notion. And a bit gross, maybe, but, hey, wacky weird ideas have their place as well. Until tomorrow.

malison / mal-EH-son / curse, malediction.

Word of the Day: "culicide"

Today, I have reflected on things, and really, I've been enjoying most of what this year has proffered. Not everything is perfect, of course, like the continued existence of brussels sprouts, but, hey, it just might be that those nasty green vegetables serve a greater purpose. Maybe they keep the world safe from fascism, or promote the cause of down-trodden roasting chilies. Who knows? For me those little miniature green cabbages have served as nothing more than the introduction to...

Today's Word:

culicide

As in:

In secret, violence always continues. In far-away lands, a never-ending war is fought in jungles and swamps. The victims, with tiny faces and eyes, are, if one bothers to look, recognizable to each and every member of the human race.

Of course, no one is bothered to look at these nameless creatures. Nobody bothers to protest their demise, not one cry of anger is raised against the dark enemies of all that they are. And as innocent blood continues to be spilled, and the populations of defenseless civilians become decimated, there are no sanctions placed upon their brutal antagonists. No NATO force is convened to defend their land, and no court convened to punish those who participate in their extermination.

And amidst a worldwide complacency, the culicide spread by men in gas masks continues. Poison clouds rise from the atomizers of the destroyers, killing in the name of their God, eliminating that which they do not attempt to understand.

Sadly, this destruction will continue if you do not pledge your support. Friends, I urge you to stop this madness. You can end help end the violence. You can prevent the senseless slaughter of innocents. Join the movement to put an end to the slapping and the swatting! Stand up now and defend the common, the helpless. Become one of the thousands who refuse, every single day, to kill the lowly mosquito. You too can become a friend to them.

Become a member of this growing movement, and get a free "I'm a Mother to a Mosquito" T-shirt, just for pledging your support. It's easy, and -- it's the right thing to do.

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In the spirit of full disclosure, there isn't a free t-shirt. And, there's not really a movement to protect mosquitoes, as shocking as that must be to you, my gentle readers.

culicide / CUL-eh-side / a poison that kills mosquitoes.

Word of the Day: "zenzizenzizenzic"

When I think of how much of my life I spend not knowing today's word, well, I feel as though I'd been seriously deprived of oxygen for all my life until this moment.

Didn't fool you, did I? Oh well. Maybe this world will fill a whole in your life that you didn't know you needed filled.

Today's Word:

zenzizenzizenzic

As in:

"Well, if you remember that the zenzizenzizenzic of 2 is 256, (which is, of course 16 squared) then you have to realize that the purchase of an Infinity would not be wise until after the 12th."

"But, dear, I can't understand why you're refusing to take into account the obvious implications of the fact that it's Sept 2, 2008, a sum of 21, which is 3 times 7, which obviously means your seventh car should be a KIA, which also is a 21."

"Pshaw. A KIA? Not with my 106. Don't forget that. But if we buy the car on the last day of the month, we could either take the cube root of 216, which, even you will remember, is 6, and then buy a Legend, or a Taurus, unless that conflicts with the fifth root of 243, which is three, and we will have to settle for a Dodge Neon."

"Well, that tears it. I'm never again letting you talk me into buying a car using numerology. A Neon? Where are we supposed to put the kids' car seats? Forget it. We're getting a minivan."

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Okay. That's what happens when I get tired. It's an amusing notion when you're really tired and marginally punchy. Oh well. Type to you tomorrow.

zenzizenzizenzic: / ZEN-ziz-EN-ziz-en-zic / the eighth power of a number. Had to do it. Not only because of the "z's" but, well, math words are cool, as math is cool. So says I.

Word of the Day: "caducity"

It is seldom wise to reveal a lady's age, especially if that lady is a famous fashionista. However, I am willing to risk it in this case. I think, probably, I could take her.

Hey! If I get involved in a "chick fight" with a famous fashion diva, would you all buy tickets, and invite your friends? Please?

Today's Word:

caducity

As in:

Next year, Mattel celebrates the 50th anniversary of the top-selling and widely recognized icon of girlish playthings, the Barbie doll. To celebrate, Mattel is releasing a new line of Barbie products to reflect the changes in Barbie's world, which has, as even Mattel has finally admitted, an element of caducity.

Certainly, this was part of the plan, after all, a fashion doll could not have the same clothing year after year. By making Barbie's clothing and accessories expire quickly, each item could, itself, become scarce.

Mattel's carefully management of each item in its Barbie arsenal not only kept Barbie in the current fashions of the day, it also meant that parents were forced to return to the store regularly to buy the latest glamorous items to outfit their child's precious plastic plaything. To Mattel's delight, this insured a steady income stream year after year.

Competition, especially from the "Bratz" line of dolls, has increased dramatically. Barbie, once easily the Queen, has had her reign challenged, so Mattel decided it was time to take aggressive action, and reposition Barbie as a more realistic model of femininity.

First, there's the "Wrinkled and Graying" Barbie, a model which adds character lines to her famous face. This Barbie has accomplished much in her 50 years, becoming a highly successful lawyer, surviving Ken's numerous extra marital affairs, which culminated in him leaving her for G.I. Joe.

Another special 50th anniversary doll has a slightly curved spine, indicative of long years of supporting the Barbie-proportioned chest for all these years. This model also has a mild paunch, which Barbie earned after having three kids. Of course, age and trauma induced caducity means that Barbie isn't really sure who the father of these children is, nor does she have any memory of ever having any children at all.

Of course, Barbie, the doll no one ever expected to age, much less, age gracefully, will not be expected to go into middle age alone. A whole product line of aging friends will be joining her.

There's "Propecia Ken," a model of Ken without his full plastic coif. Barbie's friend Skipper fills the shelves with a new look. She's had several hundred dollars of "plastic" surgery, and looks perkier than ever. Other Barbie accessories include a car with one rear light continually blinking, and a dream house with the heat turned up to 80 degrees.

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caducity / CAD-u-city / the quality if being transitory or perishable; senility.

Perhaps you noticed that I have managed to pull into the story all the possible meanings of the word. Of course, Barbie is *only* forty-nine, so the car blinker and the dream house heating was probably a bit much. But, if world-wide recognition adds years, Barbie's probably the oldest almost 50-year-old out there.

Word of the Day: "galeanthropy"

Can you believe this blog is four days old? Me neither. It feels so much older than that. I hope you're not getting tired of me yet. Maybe it's time for...

Today's Word:

galeanthropy

As in:

It was the beginning of the end. No sooner had the tiny hamster returned from an extended visit with the strange, unshaven man, Bob, that the small rodent began to manifest the symptoms of his terrible condition. Within a few days of falling under the influence of Bob, the small creature once known as Lenny, became known to most as the cat-beast. To Bob, he was known as Fluffy, a moniker which feigned innocence and belied the creature's true spirit of aggressive malevolence.

As the symptoms of Fluffy/Lenny's galeanthropy deepened, his behavior became more erratic. Soon Fluffy/Lenny was rapidly alternating between states of pure contentedness and extreme agitation. He took to chasing mice, rats and others of rodent kind. Bathing became an obsession, and Fluffy/Lenny was constantly observed to be simultaneously arrogant, nonchalant, reserved and commanding. Fierce and organized were his attacks on insects, rodents and even floating leaves or bits of lint.

But, one day this fierce and evil creature happened by a mirror. Seeing a hamster in the mirror, Fluffy/Lenny bristled and showed his fangs. And then, Fluffy/Lenny saw a most unusual sight: a fierce hamster, bearing its flat rodent teeth and looking as if it were ready to pounce.

The sight of a fierce hamster resisting the attack of the mighty Fluffy/Lenny, unnerved Fluffy/Lenny greatly. The small creature backed up a step. Seeing the hamster opposing him likewise retreat, Fluffy/Lenny became confident again, and, with a swift motion, pounced toward his opponent. At that same instant, the hamster also leapt. Anticipating the colossal midair collision, Fluffy/Lenny's heart, in a state of shock and fear, remembered that it was encased in the body of a hamster, gave out and Fluffy/Lenny fell, dead.

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When I started typing this story, I actually had no idea what I was going to write about. So, I started with the opening sentence. Interesting, but, still no clue. I typed the next sentence. And then I found the word. And then, I had a story. A story about a fierce hamster who scares himself to death. Yes, quite satisfying. Until next time.

galeanthropy /Gal-ee-ANT-roe-pea / The delusion that one has turned into a cat.

Word of the Day: "facinorous"

Of course, when I originally wrote yesterday's story, I had no intention of finishing it, and so, I had no ending for the story. But, following the success of the story, there came something of a mandate to finish it. At first, this I received with a great deal of consternation, because it meant that I had to figure out what the ending would be.

After a mild bit of strain, I was able to construct an adequate ending, and present...

Today's Word:

facinorous

As in:

The tree paused.

"Yes," he said, it was my greatest downfall. No sooner had I discovered aposiopesis then I began to use it. I got to the point where I never once completed a story, or speech. It became so bad, that I found it difficult to even finish a sentence.

And then I met the witch. She was all that you know about witches and more, since she was really and truly a wicked witch. She was easily the cruelest person to ever inhabit this world. She liked to spread rumors about the adulterous habits of world leaders, distribute Ebola to fast food distributors, and spread ground up children on her toast. She was pure evil. I met her at a symposium on ancient Celtic magical cures, where she was preparing a countermeasure for all the good herbal remedies offered in every book of healing.

We began to talk, and I began telling her a story. It was an especially long, complex story, and was well loved by all. Right at the climax of the story, my aposiopesis kicked in, and I couldn't continue the story.

As punishment, the facinorous witch turned me into a tree. She reasoned that my particular verbal malady was a true form of cruelty, in which I forced a willing audience to listen raptly, knowing all the while that I was not going to be able to reveal the ending of the story. Since this cruelty was worthy only of one as facinorous as she, she gave me the form of a tree, and allowed me to keep my
voice. She felt that a person who gave "stump speeches" for a living, should instead be a stump. And that is why, dear friend, that I am a tree gifted with a voice."

The woman was silent for a moment and then asked,

"But, how did you ever get over your aposiopesis?"

"Well, I forced myself to speak in complete sentences, then in complete thoughts, until finally, I could complete a story once again. I realized how often I alienated those who would be my friends by leading them down a false trail that promised a complete story. Now, though I am a tree, I have friends."

And with that, the tree grew silent, and the woman return home along the dusky path.

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I think I'd rather not have had an ending to the story.

facinorous / fa – sin – OR –us / exceedingly wicked.

Word of the Day: "aposiopesis"

As the newest blogger on the block, it is my duty to inform readers of the nature of this blog. First, be forewarned that on any given day there is a good chance that there will be violence, obscure words, rampant pop-culture references, satire, possible nudity, and most distressing of all, there might even be the occasional pun. Like all bloggers, I expect that on occasion, something I write will prove controversial. Don’t be alarmed. Such tactics exist only to increase readership, and should not be taken personally. They should, however, be entertaining. With the possible exception of the puns. Just skip over those.

Now that that’s out of the way, I bring to you…

Today's Word:

aposiopesis

As in:

There once was an old lady that lived in the middle of a dark forest. It was her habit to rise early in the morning to gather the ripened goods in her garden and prepare her meals for the day. After eating breakfast, she would journey into the quiet forest and pick wild berries, mushrooms and assorted herbs. In the fall, she would tap a few maple trees to make syrup.

It was on one of these trips, she noticed a large maple that she’d not noticed before. She reckoned that such a large tree might hold enough sugar sap for her to produce enough syrup for the year. She started to make a hole in the tree for her tap.

Just as she placed her bore into the tree’s bark, she heard a voice.

“Please don’t tap me.”

The woman was startled. “Hello? Who said that?”

“I did,” said a voice that sounded as if it came directly from the tree.

“Are you a dryad, or some sort of forest spirit?”

The tree made a sound like laughter. “No. Don’t be silly. Those creatures aren’t real. But, I am.”

The old woman was lonely, and soon she and the tree became great friends. Each day the women looked forward to her trips to the forest and the time she would spend with her tree friend.

One day, the tree asked the women, "we have often talked," he said, "but you have never once inquired how a tree such as myself should have the gift of speech. As much as I honor you for your kindness, have you not once wondered as to this strange occurrence?"

And the woman thought about this a moment and said, "I have often wondered about this strange gift you have, but I was more interested in what you had to say then how you came to be a tree with the voice of a human."

And the tree said, "Then today I will tell you the reason for my voice. I was once the most famous orator in the world. I traveled far and wide, making speeches. Usually, some patron would give me great sums of money to mention their products or services, and I was happy to do so, and I became quite wealthy. Soon I started to become complacent. My skills were fading. I forced myself to study arcane literary theory to sharpen my skills. I devoured old texts, studying the powerful words and thoughts in each. Some claimed to be able to turn straw into gold. Others outlined the process to bring life to inanimate objects and even revive people who had died. That was when I discovered aposiopesis...

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aposiopesis / AP - oh - see - OH - pey - sis / breaking off in the middle of a story or thought, especially suddenly. A rhetorical or literary device.