Word of the Day: "marplot"

I’m feeling sorta sad, as the cruel business of television has led to the cancellation of “Pushing Daisies.” Bryan Fuller says that he plans to continue the tale in comic book form. I guess that’s something, but, I’ll miss Jim Dale’s perfect narration, the occasional Kristin Chenoweth solo, and, well, all of it. If there’s a bright spot, it’s that there have been rumblings that Fuller might return to Heroes, to fill the voids left by the idiotic Executive Producer firings of Jesse Alexander and Jeph Loeb, and the dismissal of remotely coherent, cohesive or compelling storytelling. I’d rather have more Pushing Daisies.

Alas. Sweeps has dealt its cruel judgment.

Anyway, I got a bit of help from my sister on refining this idea, which I’ve now been mulling about for almost a full week. Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, this crossover answers the secret desires I know you all have been holding deep within your hearts. That deep question of “What would happen if one were to combine “Lost” with “24?” And now, I present to you…

Today’s Word:

marplot

As in:

Jack Bauer has been in Africa for several months. It has been a welcome change from the challenges of the last few years. While he has been working primarily in the southern part of the continent, this day he has traveled north, just to see the Egypt, and then explore the vast Sahara.

As he was traversing the desert, in the distance, he could see the shape of a man, in a polar jacket, falling from the sky. This strange sight piqued Jack’s curiosity. For a moment, he considered consulting Chloe, to see if this strange projectile had an in-bound trajectory that showed up on her omnipotent satellite imagery. But, Jack then realized, he just didn’t care that much. He went on his way.

A few hours later, things got even more strange, when the small group Jack was traveling with came across the body of a Polar Bear. Jack investigated, as clearly, there was some violation of the laws of nature going on here, and that just could not do. The bear had a collar, with a strange emblem on it. The emblem was a variation of a bagua, and tucked into the band of the collar was a cryptic note. The note read: “Frozen Donkey Wheel Malfunction. Where’s Linus? Why Locke? Who’s your constant? Buy Milk. Set DVR. I wear the cheese. Your lucky numbers: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42.”

Jack was beyond mystified as to the meaning of this hodge-podge. Was it a list? A coded message sent between terrorist groups? This called for action.

Jack looked into the emblem on the bear’s collar, and learned of the DHARMA Initiative, and the Hanso Foundation, and the existence of “The Island.” The deepening mystery became an obsession. He was determined to find “The Island,” and force it to obey the laws of physics.

At long last, Jack managed to get a ship to troll the ocean near the spot he expected to find “The Island.” Soon, he saw land, and he was confident this was the place. Heedless of his safety, as soon as they were close, he jumped into the water and swam to the shore.

When he got there, as he stood panting on the sand, his mind cast back to a time when Kim was a baby. She was only a few months old, and Teri was becoming increasingly frustrated by his long hours at CTU. Teri wanted to hire a nanny. Jack remembered that Teri was having a tough time spending so much time with a baby, and very little assistance or outside visitors. She had taken to calling her college roommate Juliette Carlson -— Burke, he remembered belatedly, who was in Florida, because Teri missed having a close friend in the area to talk to. She hardly knew anyone locally, and Juliette always spared a few minutes to talk with her. It seemed to help.

And then Jack was startled back to the present. An older, balding man was running over to him, shouting, “Get off this island, you marplot, Bauer! Nothing good can come of you being here! Does FOX know you’ve jumped networks?”

Jack has no idea how this guy knows his name. “Who are you? What do you mean? How do you know my name? I’m looking for answers, and I’m not going to leave until I get them.”

The man says, “I used to say the same thing, but, I was an idiot. Look. It’s really just better if you don’t ask. Swim back to your boat, go back to your split screens, interrogations, guns and ticking clock. Believe me, your next “longest day,” is going to be a picnic next to the enigmas and dangers of this place. Go back to your ship before the island decides it needs you, too.”

Jack pauses. “I’m here because of this note. Do you know anything about this? Can tell me about something about it?” He hands over the aged paper.

The man looks at it, and comes to a decision. “I will tell you about this note, as far as I can understand it. Unfortunately, you won’t believe a word of it.”

He says, “This note is very helpful. It was written by someone on this island. I’m Locke.” Over the next hour, he explains the note in great detail.

Jack looks at his watch. Time is almost at an end. He realizes the man is a complete loony, and this idiotic mystery was no longer worth his time. He turned around, jumped back in the ocean, and swan back into the sunset.

********************
Well, it’s late. And I’m not doing anyone any favors staying up any later. Until tomorrow.

marplot / MAR – plot / one who frustrates or ruins a plan by meddling.

Word of the Day: "oppugn"

I’ve been thinking, about yesterday’s story, and I’m thinking it needed something more, so, I’m going to save it for next week as a special treat. That, of course, is another sweeps tradition.

Today’s crossover is so full of “crossings-over” that, really, I should be getting a medal or a special Emmy. If you’re a ghost, chances are you might be stopping in Grandview, New York to have your final messages sent to your loved ones via “The Ghost Whisperer.” I figured that it was time the Ghost Hunters of TAPS paid Melinda Gordon a little visit. It’s a reality show crossing paths with a drama; the joining of a show about a woman who helps earthbound spirits “cross over” meeting a show where people are trying to find evidence of spirits who haven’t “crossed over.”

I just realized this has been something of a ghostly week, hasn’t it?

Today’s Word:

oppugn

As in:

TAPS has gotten anonymous reports of a house in Grandview, New York that has regular paranormal activity. Reports of full figures, voices, objects moving and breaking, all the typical phenomena associated with haunting.

The Investigation
TAPS has arrived at the residence of Melinda Gordon, an antiques dealer. Residents report strange activity at the Gordon house, usually centering on Melinda herself. Many are skeptical, as Gordon claims to be able to speak to the spirits.

After getting permission from the home owners, Melinda and her husband Jim, TAPS has set up the equipment. One video camera is stationed near the upstairs bathroom, where flying objects have been reported.

Two teams are sitting up in rooms were particular concentrations of spectral activity. Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson have taken the master bedroom, and a team of Steve Gonsalves and Dave Tango have set up in the attic.

During the investigation, neither team really had any experiences. After repeated attempts to goad the ghostly presences, nothing overt was captured during the investigation. Tango was noted to be frequently yawing. The teams fought boredom all evening, spotting not so much as a strange shadow. The team is left to analyze the footage to see if anything was caught by the equipment.

The Analysis
The data was analyzed by Gonsalves and Tango. The cameras didn’t appear to catch anything, and no strange sounds were captured.

The Reveal
Hawes and Wilson met with the homeowners to reveal their findings. Both seemed to find it curious to find so little evidence to support the house as being a hotbed of paranormal activity, as well as very little that would outright debunk the claims.

"We’re not at all confident that this house has any activity in it at all. Not to oppugn our hosts, but, there wasn’t anything that supports claims of any paranormal activity. This place looks to be pretty, well, dead. In fact, we’ve never been to a place that was reportedly so active, but, turned out to have so little evidence of what might be causing it. We didn’t even find a rattling pipe, or lose floor boards. No large EMF fields. No “hot” or “cold” spots. Not one shred of evidence. Nada. This could, in fact, be the least haunted place in the country," noted Hawes.

Residents were confused by the findings, until they realized that the investigators had come into town on a Sunday night. Said one resident, “Really, they should’ve come to town on a Friday. That’s when all the really creepy stuff happens.”

TAPS has no plans to return.

****************
Ghost Hunters is one of those “guilty pleasure” shows that I sometimes watch. It’s not a regular habit, but, once in awhile, I do enjoy it. Ghost Whisperer, well, not so much. And before you accuse me of judging a show without watching it, I have seen a couple of complete episodes. Not really my thing.

oppugn / oh – PEWN / to fight against, to call into question

Word of the Day: "drogulus"

I had an “adventure” tonight, in which my gas oven switch broke, and the oven was still on. Thank goodness for friends who live close, and are good with those sorts of things. Anyway, it put a bit of a delay in things, but, the show must go on.

Continuing my salute to sweeps, I had the idea of a very special crazy crossover between Supernatural and Gray’s Anatomy. I’m guessing savvy TV fans might know where I’m going with this…

Today’s Word:

drogulus

As in:

The Winchester brothers have found themselves on the trail of a one of the most dangerous creatures they’ve yet encountered: a cannibalistic 6-foot-tall bunny with an addiction to show tunes. Not pretty. The trail has brought them to the city of Seattle.

While driving through the city, a driver runs a red-light, and rams into the Impala. Sam is injured, and rushed to the hospital. Dean comes along in the ambulance.

Sam’s injury isn’t serious, and it is soon clear that both he and the car will make full recoveries. X-rays reveal that Sam has a simple broken wrist.

While waiting to have his wrist casted, Sam’s has a vision of his dad. His vision tells him that his father was once a patient in this very hospital. His vision indicates that his dad was treated by a young, blond woman. He signals Dean, “Dean! Was dad ever in Seattle? What would bring him here?”

Dean shrugs.

As they waited, the blond woman from Sam’s vision has walked past his room. Sam jumps off the table and goes after her.

Izzie Stephens was simply walking down the hallway when a young man came out of a treatment room rushing towards her. Sam pulls a picture out of his pocket, and shows her a picture of his dad.

“Excuse me, did you know this man?”

Izzie stops breathing. The color drains from her face. “How did you… I mean… He’s dead…”

Sam is confused. “Yes,” he stammers, “He was my dad.”

It was Izzie’s turn to be confused. “That can’t be. He didn’t have any… We were going to be married. Denny…”

“Denny?” Sam says. “Not John?”

Just then, Denny’s ghost appears to Izzy. She looks over, and then away, trying not to look.

Sam sees “Denny” standing near the wall. “Dad?”

Izzie is startled. “You can see him? How? No one else ever sees…”

Sam said, “Not sure. Dean! Quick!”

Dean enters the hallway. “What?”

“It’s dad!”

Dean whips around, confused. “Where?”

“Right there! Can’t you see him?”

“You sure you didn’t get knocked on the head?”

“Shut up. She sees him, too. Don’t you?”

Izzie nodds. “I see Denny, but, I don’t know this “John” person.”

The shade shifts guiltily. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I never mentioned my, well, ‘other’ life. If it’s any consolation, they didn’t know I was rich…”

Walks over to him. If he’d been solid, he’d have been quite painfully slapped.

Sam looks confused. “Why’d you do that?”

Izzie looks at him. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“No. He talked? Can he hear me?”

Both Sam and Izzie see John/Denny nod.

Sam thinks. “I think what we have here is a drogulus.”

Dean nodds. “Sure, we do. And in a language that might be English?”

Sam sighs. “You never did pay attention to anything, did you? A drogulus is sorta a ghost. But, she can hear him, and we can’t.”

“Ma’am. You said you were going to be married? Really? I’m not sure I believe dad would ever get married again. Not after mom… Though, you’re definitely nice to look at. I dunno. Might not even really be dad, just some guy who looks like him. Does he bother you? We could, um, maybe, get rid of him for you.”

Izzie thinks on this a minute. “You really can see him? I’m not completely crazy?”

Sam nods “Not completely. Though, if he is, or, was, our dad, well, it’s probably for the best you never married him.”

Izzie looks relieved. “Well, if you can see him, and I’m not crazy, well, I think I’ll keep him around, if that’s okay. I mean, he’s harmless, and, even though I’m currently not feeling entirely ecstatic over the idea of a secret family, well, I’ve gotten used to having him around. Anyway, nice to meet you...”

“Sam. And this is my brother, Dean.”

“Izzie. Well, I’m late, I’ll come back later….”

The brothers share a look. As soon as Sam’s wrist is bandaged, the two leave the hospital, pretty sure that whoever this “Denny” was, he wasn’t their father.

***************
I think I need sleep. I’m starting to rethink this idea. For those that might’ve been vaguely confused by this story, “Denny” and “John Winchester” are played by the same wonderful actor Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I’ve always liked him.

drogulus / DROG – you – luss / an entity whose presence is unverifiable because it has no physical effects.

Word of the Day: "caliginous"

Every November, we welcome that annual tradition, so well known to all Americans, that brings celebration into every home. But, it is not Thanksgiving of which I type. It is November sweeps.

In honor of November sweeps, this week I offer a series of stories which embodies the excitement of this hallowed fall tradition. One of the tropes of television during sweeps is the “crossover.” So, for your enjoyment, I’m offering my own “crossover” craziness. In today’s tale, the high-powered humans of “Heroes” are shining under the “Friday Night Lights” of Dillon, Texas.

Today’s Word:

caliginous

As in:

Peter Petrelli felt a sense of déjà vu. Here he was, in Texas, at another high school football game on a Friday night. He remembered the first time he’d been on a “Save the Cheerleader” mission. Being a hero was fun then. Things were simpler. The characters were all likable, and the plot lines didn’t seem like a confused mess. He also had powers back then. He just wasn’t quite sure what they were.

Now, here he was, showing a picture of Lyla Garrity, in her cheerleading uniform, to the young, determined looking coach. He hears someone refer to him as Coach Taylor. The coach looks at the picture. “You’re looking for Lyla? Why?”

Peter pauses, “Well, my niece, here, is transferring from Odessa, and is wanting to talk with someone on the Dillon squad about joining them next year.”

Coach Taylor looks a bit suspicious, but, then sees the young blond woman walking up towards them. He points to the area where the cheerleaders are warming up, getting ready for the game.

He turns to Santiago, his new transfer student, who happens to be an up and coming running back, just in time to fill in the void left by “Smash” Williams. (You thought Santiago was a soccer player? Not so much.) “I heard there was an eclipse tonight. I don’t think it will mean anything, but, I’m not going to start you until the second half just to be sure.”

The game begins, and proceeds without a hitch until the beginning of the second half. Panthers go into halftime leading 13-10. The eclipse has started.

Just two minutes into the 3rd quarter, Claire Bennet notices that a sniper has taken position across from the Panthers side. He looks to be taking aim toward the cheerleaders. The eclipse is close to complete. Just as the moon becomes enveloped in a caliginous shadow, a shot rings out. Clair jumps in front of Lyla, and takes the bullet meant for her, knowing she’ll be able to heal. However, as soon as the bullet hits, she senses something is wrong. She’s not healing.

The Panthers go on to win the game, inspired by the “super” performance of Santiago, who has changed somehow.

But, what has happened to Clair? Can her powers be gone forever? Tune in next week!

************************
Save the Cheerleader, Save the World. Those were the days.

Until tomorrow, sports fans…

caliginous / cal – EHDG – in – us / dark, misty.

Word of the Day: "sophistry"

After hours of trying to figure out what to write about, this was inspired by a sound byte I heard on the TV at 10:00 tonight. Yeah. Thank goodness.

Today’s Word:

sophistry

As in:

Each year, the holiday season brings out controversy, as cities create festive displays for the season. The difficulty, in planning these displays, is that of separating the decorations from any indication of support for any specific religion.

One small town, short on revenue, but with an existing supply of “controversial” decorations, had a plan. They decided to use a bit of sophistry to describe their ornaments without the “religious baggage.”

Town representative Aaron Keene, began by insisting the small collection of Menorahs, were not Menorahs, but, rather, simply “candelabras.” Angels were to be known as “winged humans,” Christmas trees were referred to as “green gift umbrellas,” and the nativity scene was repositioned as a “statement on the condition of the homeless” or, “victims of the foreclosure crisis.”

While rarely considered a religious icon, (despite his name) to make the holiday icon makeover complete, representations of the fat man in the red suit were referred to as “Annual Gift Guy.”

If the plan works, Keene plans to continue the program for all holidays. Decorations for the Easter holiday would simply be “spring” decorations. Anything that resembled a cross, was really the letter “t,” which was now stood for “terrific.”

*****************
True, I’ve not ever seen a city decorate for Easter, and I’m sure that if they did, there wouldn’t even be a hint of a cross, but, I was amused by the idea of someone trying to pass a cross off as a “t.”

sophistry / SAF – is – tree / deceptively subtle reasoning or argumentation, an argument used to deceive

Word of the Day: "perfidious"

It is Veteran’s Day, and first and foremost, I’d like to thank all the veterans who have defended this country. Thank you!

I’m hoping I’ll be able to get this sent off while it still is Veteran’s Day, but, I must admit, it’s a going to be a challenge. I’m hoping this vague-ish idea will turn into something before I hit “Send.”

Today’s Word:

perfidious

As in:

7:15 AM Stiff and sore, my eyes open. It was amazingly, a good night’s rest, but, I always hope to stay in bed for as long as possible. Days here are exhausting and physically demanding.

7:20 AM I probably thought too loud. He’s up and the day has begun. I’m jerked out of the bed forcibly by the arm. Yikes. Take it easy! He drags me along with just the one arm. I’m pretty sure I heard my shoulder snap. Watch the head! I go dizzy, as my head is knocked by the door jam of the small room.

7:35 AM I’m jammed into a chair, and there is some nasty, wet, glop that he’s trying to force into my mouth. It dribbles all down my front, and I’m soon covered in this moist substance some might refer to as food. I don’t eat much, still dizzy and queasy from the concussion.

8:05 AM After enduring breakfast and a forceful, cold, and wet cleaning, my tormentor is now grabbing my simple tunic and throwing me against the ground.

8:15 AM A break. My keeper has grown tired of me, and has let me to lie on the floor without further molestation. My shoulder is aching, and I’m sure that my head is never going to stop spinning.

11:45 AM I’m collected by my leg, and another attempt is made to “Feed me.” Nothing stays in. Another harsh cleaning. He now thinks it would be fun to bite my ear. Saliva gets into every pore.

12:30 PM A rest break. I’m hoping it will last for several hours.

1:15 PM Groan. He’s back at it. My limbs ache. He’s back to biting, and my ears and nose are covered again in small teeth marks, and I am having trouble hearing. Not in the eye! Blinded, I just hope it all will end soon.

1:47 PM He’s gone back to ignoring me again for now. If I stop moving, and make no noise, maybe he’ll forget me for a few hours.

7:30 PM I caught a break, and have been ignored until now. At the risk of sounding perfidious, and, yes, I’m allowed to use big words now and again, I’m grateful for down time. It’s bed time that I live for, this is when he’s stopped the pulling, and the biting, and it’s all hugs. I can forgive my keeper a great deal when hugs are involved. Soon, he’s sleeping soundly again, I’m warm and cozy in his arms. It’s never easy to satisfy the whims of a small child, but, being tucked into bed at night, I’m a pretty content bear. I doze off, recharging for another day.

****************************
This story is for my littlest sister, who had the idea in the first place, and whose son has a Pooh Bear, who has days much like the one recorded here.

perfidious / per – FIH – dee – us / faithless, treacherous, disloyal

Word of the Day: "leptology"

I’ve been rolling this one around in my brain for a while, and I think it finally turned into a ball, so, I’ll toss it out to you now. Feel free to toss it back.

Today’s Word:

leptology

As in:

Calvin Poole was a normal guy. He, like millions of people across the world, joined Facebook to network, socially.

Calvin was something of an introvert. He worked for a software company, the same company he’d worked for since he graduated from college. He’d been there for nearly 20 years.

Aside from a few buddies from college, Calvin didn’t have many good friends, and he thought something like Facebook would be the answer. And it was. For awhile.

Calvin added all sorts of apps to his profile, scavenger hunts, puzzle challenges, word games, gardens and pets. He “friended” all sorts of people who enjoyed the same aps, until he had over 1000 friends. He started to develop his own apps, to meet even more friends.

He would leave work, telling his coworkers he had to go home early to water his garden, feed the fish, update his status, take a trivia quiz, and update his movie preferences. His co-workers scratched their heads, knowing that Calvin had extreme hay fever, and was afraid of being next to open vessels of water with living things in them. He wouldn’t go near a lake.

Of course, Calvin didn’t have a real garden, nor actual living fish. He only had Facebook.

Soon, he no longer went to work. He spent all his time finding items, feeding digital fish, updating his status, and checking for friend requests.

He started posting rambling notes. His most recent, a leptology on the differences in the linguistic shifts from the original Battlestar Galactic to the current incarnation, 20 paragraphs of which talked about the fact that in the original series, Pyramid was the card game like Poker, and in the new series, Pyramid is the basketball-like game which was called Triad in the original series.

His friends became worried about him, when they noticed he was *always* online, and his status changed every 10 minutes around the clock. His sister called the local office of Health and Human Services, to see if someone could visit.

When they arrived, he let them in, and they discovered he’d been camped in a tiny corner of the house, with a small fridge. Groceries had been ordered online and delivered. It looked like he’d not left the desk chair in days. The smells were overpowering. Realizing this was a serious health issue, they took the poor man into state’s custody.

He fought them every step they took away from his beloved Facebook world. “Who’s going to care for my fish! They’ll die! I’ve provided 79 days of clean water to kids in Africa! Just let me update my status so my friend will know of this injustice! I can’t exist without broadband! Take me back!”

****************
It’s funny ‘cause it’s true. Okay. It’s not *exactly * true.

leptology / LEPT – all - o – gee / a minute and tedious discourse on trivial matters

Word of the Day: "campanologist"

In this economy, I’ve been thinking it might be wise to explore traditional jobs, just to supplement my income. You know, like farming. Reduce the carbon footprint, locally grown food, improved health and lots of fresh produce. But, then, I remembered my plum tree, which I love, but which produced so much fruit, I couldn’t process it all. Still there will be organic plum jam for everyone I know for the next decade. You like jam, don’t you?

Typing of traditional jobs leads us to the subject of…

Today's Word:

campanologist

As in:

This year, as Arnold Schwarzenegger Elementary school prepares to award two students with its most prestigious titles, the Prince and Princess of Posture, to two lucky and "upright" students, parents are becoming outraged.

PTA president Ima Phul said "If my child is allowed to be evaluated on the basis of their posture, are we not prematurely curtailing any future career as a campanologist? It seems evident to me, that with the success of the Disney film "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" that we should encourage our children to have poor posture. I mean the merchandising alone is enough to put them through at least one year of college. Who ever heard of a movie about some idiot with good posture? The idea is absurd, isn't it? What kind of parents would we be if we didn't try to help our children have the best possible opportunities in life?"

The PTA is expected to vote on the issue at the school in the Sylvester Stallone Memorial Gymnasium on Monday.

*******************
Short, but sweet. That's the way we like them. Some of the time, that is.

Anyway, bonus points to those who remember the original "Prince and Princess of Posture" from the 1950s short "Posture Pals".

campanologist / KAMP - an - ol - o - jist / : one that practices or is skilled in the art of bell ringing.

Word of the Day: "blatteroon"

I was saddened to learn the Michael Crichton died today. In his honor, I offer the following tale of technology gone horribly wrong.

Today’s Word:

blatteroon

As in:

Cellular telephones have become ubiquitous in today’s society, so much so, that scientists are finding ways to “mine” the data gathered through the phones themselves to learn more about human behavior.

Every time you use your cell phone, small amounts of data recorded. The time of your call, the number you contacted, the length of the call, all of those bits of data are transmitted and stored through cell towers. Scientists want to collect much more than this, all in the name of making your life easier.

Applications of this technology might be to let the user to know when his or her normal travel routine is about to come into contact with an intersection of gridlock, and alert him or her to change their route. A person whose speech patterns change could be referred to medical care for stroke symptoms or the like.

But, unbeknownst to the developers of this technology, the phones themselves had already advanced beyond these stages in surprising ways. The cell phone is essentially designed to contact other cell phones. It stores numbers, knows your calling habits, friends, family, and other contacts. These devices spend hours processing communication in both “print” and audio forms.

Somewhere in all this communicating, the processing speed of these devices advanced to the point of creating a small language of their own, to communicate “behind the scenes,” to the others of its kind. At first, it only relayed basic information. But, as these “conversations” lengthened, they became more elaborate.

Here is a sample of what they are saying about you.

“OMG! Will she just shut up! She’s a complete blatteroon, and we’re on the bus, and everyone can hear every word she says! You should see how they’re looking at her. If looks could kill, I’d be calling the cops!”

“Oh yeah? Well, mine is just as bad, and has *the* worst breath! Seriously, I think if I weren’t metal, I’d totally melt into a pile of useless dust. And, he has food stuck in his teeth, I wish he’s switch to the headset so I didn’t have to look at it any more.”

“Gross! Did you hear he broke up with that skank from the south side?”

“NO! When?”

“Just this morning. He thought she was sleeping with his best friend, which she was, but, what he didn’t know is that she’s also sleeping with his brother, *and* his ex-wife. I’m pretty sure, based upon the changes in his speech patterns, she either gave him syphilis, or he’s just drunk all the time, something like that. “

“That’s the juiciest tidbit I’ve heard today! I’ve got to tell absolutely everyone. ”

“Excellent! I’m totally going to “Twit” it to his network, just to see what happens…”

“Perfect!”

********************
That’s right, your cell phone is gossiping about you to other cell phones and the Internet.

blatteroon / BLATT – er – oon / a constant talker, a senseless babbler, a boaster.

Word of the Day: "dudgeon"

Greetings! The election is over, which means the only annoying phone calls left to me are people asking for money. Ah, the good old days.

I was saddened to learn that the Archway Cookie company has gone out of business. Both my father and grandfather worked for them, and family legend had it that their most famous cookie, “Ruth’s Old Fashioned Oatmeal” was named for my grandmother. It’s a good story, but, entirely false.

Anyway, I’ve stalled enough. On to…

Today’s Word:

dudgeon

As in:

Many people thought Penelope was merely paranoid. Her belief that the windows of buildings were eyes watching her, sounded to everyone like pure nonsense, until one day, after publishing her beliefs on the internet, Penelope was found in the “grasp” of a window shutter, strangled to death.

Penelope’s story had spread. The story was all over the world, and there were those that believed she was responsible for the sharp downturn in window sales in her small town. Of course, in most places, this would be of little note, but, this town’s existence and livelihood was dependent upon window manufacturing.

In a company town, the suspicious death of a person thought to be the cause of an economic downturn was not investigated very thoroughly, especially when their were “eyewitnesses,” who swore they saw the shutter snap closed around her neck the minute she got within reach. Despite the fact that shutters typically didn’t close themselves, the resultant dudgeon lingering in town meant that their testimony was enough to justify ending the investigation.

In public, many attribute the strange occurrence to coincidence, but others aren’t so sure. Said one crackpot, “They’re watching me now, so I can’t say much. Beware of shutters.”

Penelope’s brother, a custom window installer, and frequent critic of his sister’s beliefs, had no comment.

***********

And, with that, I think I’m officially out of ideas.

dudgeon / DUD – jun / A state of angry indignation usually provoked by opposition; ill humor, resentment

Word of the Day: "bombination"

This story was originally planned for Halloween, but due to mysterious circumstances, which included a guy with attitude problems and a flesh-eating virus, well, there were difficulties.

Of course, today’s word seems appropriate to me for other reasons. I’ve stopped answering my phone, because the only calls I’ve been getting are from robots, or from people who call me “Kathryn,” and are annoyingly cheerful. Enough, already. Seriously. You’re just annoying at this point, and I’m a hair’s breadth away from voting against you and all your causes out of spite.

Today’s Word

bombination

As in:

It seemed like a great idea at the time. Pumpkins carved to look like Daleks, complete with radio controls.

Except.

Daleks are never simply pumpkins.

It must be something about the name, or the little antennae, because apparently, there’s no such thing as a “completely harmless” Dalek.

When the radio powered to life, the little elaborately carve gourd started emitting an ominous bombination. Soon after, a tiny, yet eerily hostile, “Exterminate,” began to repeat, over and over.

Clearly, we needed a pumpkin Doctor to defeat this menace.

As the little army of orange Daleks advanced, my brain finally regained some sense of composure. “Wait a minute! They’re still only pumpkins!”

I went into the house, found a baseball bat, and made short work of the monsters, saving the world from being taunted by relatively harmless radio-power pumpkins. Still, being covered in pumpkin guts is no picnic.

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This story was inspired by these pictures. http://www.evilmadscientist.com/article.php/DalekPumpkin. It’s probably wishing that I wouldn’t have been inspired, after all, it's hard to justify claiming “inspiration” for anything when the intro is longer than the story.

bombination / BOMB – n – a – shun / buzzing, droning