Word of the Day: pliskie

It has been a long week for me, and I'm very much looking forward to the weekend. My brain needs a break in the worst way. I hope you enjoy today's tale.

Today's Word:

pliskie

As in:

Today in Asilleeplacein, Iowa, another school yard was the site of a tragic school shooting, when twelve-year-old home-school student, Peter McEllen Jr., opened fire on his second grade class. Fortunately, McEllen, an only child,
did not hurt anyone.

According to Tommy Tomlinson, a witness and sometime associate of "Stinky Pete" (a nickname of the gunman), McEllen was mad about being suspended from school the previous week for bringing a gun with him to the breakfast table. His mother, Nancy McEllen, has a strict "no- tolerance" policy about school violence.

"We can't have kids bringing guns into our classroom, it detracts from the learning environment. Backyard violence will not be tolerated."

After confiscating the gun from her son, Mrs. McEllen put it "right back in his father's gun cabinet, where it belongs," and "grounded/suspended the naughty young man to his room" to "think about what he had done."

A statement issued from the McEllen household indicates that Pete was "tired of being called 'Stinky' by all the neighborhood kids, especially the insufferable pranks of Tommy Tomlinson, who was known to have played a pliskie on the junior McEllen the previous day. Tomlinson, who is noted as being an athlete, and is regarded as a "jock" by his public school cohorts, was likely McEllen's target, according to local authorities.

Witnesses claim that McEllen, as he shot wildly around the yard looking for a target, complained that he'd "have a target at a public school." These witnesses also claim that McEllen, as he was led away by police for discharging a firearm in a residential area, commented that he "would've gotten away with it in public school."

**********************
The notion for this story partially came from a conversation I was having at work with a co-worker. Of course, it was not a notion that was completely implicit in the conversation, but it popped into my warped little brain at the time for some weird little reason.

pliskie / plis-KEY / practical joke, trick.

Word of the Day: bantingism

It's Friday Eve, and we have snow on the ground, and chilly temperatures. I hope that this will translate to a comfortable temperature in the room where I've been training all week, which has been hot and uncomfortable, which makes staying awake an especially challenging task.

For those members of the class that couldn't hear from the back of the room, about the origin of yesterday's word. The word was used to describe a clan of Greeks, and the hero Achilles was one of them. He was the leader of the myrmidons. It also refers to two sub-families of ants.

I'm not sure what else to write here, so, I leave you with...

Today's Word:

bantingism

As in:

The newest war for equality entered a new level this week when six people, who were booked on a smoke-free Carnival cruise, were kicked off the ship for smoking. Passengers sign an agreement that they will not smoke on the ship during the cruise, and if they are caught, the signed agreement allows the passengers to be removed and forced to find a way home at their own expense. Carnival recently stiffened the penalties to include a $250 "fumigation" fee to those caught lighting up on smoke-free ships.

Experts following the recent developments and the strong "antismoker/smoking" sentiment in the U.S. feel that such occurrences will become increasingly common, until the smoker becomes a despised minority. Several people feel that growing number of nonsmoking policies are a form of discrimination.

"This is the beginning of a war," says one smoker. "First they take away our fundamental right to pollute our lungs, and then where will it end? Once they rescind our right to breathe as we wish, what will they take next? Our freedom of religion? Of speech? What about our right to eat what we want? Our freedoms cannot be stifled in this manner. It goes against everything that this country stands for."

Nonsmokers are readying their offensive campaign against smokers, which involves lots of quick "sneak" attacks where smokers are known to congregate, and then a quick escape -- on foot. "With our functioning lungs, the smokers don't have a chance of catching us."

And, since the completion of the huge tobacco settlement and the recession, smokers have been placed under severe economic sanctions by the nonsmoking world. The economic sanctions are proving quite disastrous to smokers, as the average price of a pack of cigarettes has risen to over $5.00, with highs of over $7 in New York and New Jersey. Those sympathetic with the plight of the smokers are encouraging that sanctions be softened and are suggesting a "food for smokes" program, which will allow food to be exchanged for the needed carcinogens.

This plan will reduce the amount of food consumed, and is hoped to be a kind of forced bantingism, decreasing the number of obese smokers, thus contributing positively to the health of the individual.

********
Okay. That's all for today. Type to you tomorrow.

bantingism: / BANT-ing-ism / a course of diet for reducing corpulence adopted and recommended by William Banting, a London merchant.

Word of the Day: myrmidon

I hope no one was permanently damaged by yesterday's story. I'm not sure I will recover, but, that's a whole different story. Currently, I've decided to blame the fact that I've been doing training all week this week, and in conjunction with backwards stories, my brain is feeling more than a tad wrung-out. I'd really like to get some of that brain juice back, thank you. If anyone knows a wholesaler or has a good hook-up, I'd be much obliged.

Today's Word

myrmidon

As in:

As the number of users on Facebook continues to grow, so do the number of people who report strong feelings of guilt every time they log on to the social networking site.

"When did Facebook become such a nag?!" says Heather Walsh. "All those hints to reconnect with Joey, or say what's on my mind? They're worse than my mother!"

Walsh says that logging into the site used to be a really fun. She played a few of the games, and loved seeing what was going on with old school chums, but, now, all she gets is what she calls “the guilt.”

"Facebook keeps suggesting I be friends with a bunch of really pathetic people from my high school, like I would ever even hover over the link to their name with my mouse pointer. Does Facebook think I'm in the habit of giving charity? Because those people are complete charity cases. Now, every time I login, all I see is those sad people. It's like looking at those commercials for abused animals or people in Africa. I just can't look at them. It makes me feel bad. The worst one is the picture of my mother. Like I'd ever be her friend. I'd have to, like, stop posting pictures from wild parties and stuff. No way!"

Another frustrated Facebook user noted that "I used to be the perfect myrmidon. When Facebook suggested I write on Jaimie's wall, or suggest friends for Pete, I did. And then, Pete un-friended me, and changed his phone number, and Jaimie thinks I'm stalking her. I'm not doing that any more. Besides, I have more important things to do. Like hiding in the bushes outside of Jaimie's house."

A few users are thinking or giving up on the system all together. "I heard that Facebook is going to start charging, and that they're selling all my information and possibly driving the planet into the sun. That sounds pretty scary to me, and I don't want to be a part of it. I tried to join all the groups that would force Facebook to change it all back to the old design, and add a 'dislike' button, and they didn't even say anything. I'm totally going to delete my account. Well, maybe after I level up in Farmville."

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

myrmidon / MUR - mid - on / a loyal follow; esp: a subordinate who follows orders unquestioningly or without mercy. Ten points to anyone who can remember the Greek origins of this word and share them with the class. Anyone? Bueller?

Word of the Day: swivet

swivet / SWI - vit / a state of extreme agitation, a tizzy

It took a while to figure out how to do this story. If I'm being really honest, I thought about it far too much. So much so, that the story itself was the last thing I thought about, which might also be noticeable. I further suspect that I might've developed a case of "toilet on the brain," with all of these commode-centered stories.

******************
The assembled crowd gasped, and glared at the butler, who jeered, "It's the oldest dodge in the book. In formula fiction the one everyone suspects is the least likely to be the actual killer. I thought you all knew this, no one would ever suspect that I would be involve due to the simple fact that I was the obvious choice! Only I knew that Lady Penny had changed her will, leaving me the sole beneficiary. I just had to play dumb for a few weeks and take my just desserts. If it weren't for that meddling investigator, I'd have gotten away with it all!"

"The killer is none other than Malcolm Jeeves, Ms. Penelope Crapper-Connor's longtime lover and capable butler!"

There was silence in the large ballroom, where those assembled pondered these cryptic words.

"Perhaps it was her spurned lover, who arrived in a swivet, and strangled her in a moment of anger. Possibly, it was a member of her household staff, fed up with her constant, belittling attacks. Or, perhaps it was both..."

"Could it be her spoiled children? Unlikely. Each of them was far too absorbed in their own existence to entertain thoughts of murdering their mother in her bathroom, where she might be naked. Such a condition could not be observed by her spoiled offspring, who would not risk such a horrifying sight."

"I am glad you all accepted my invitation. I know you all are eager to learn the truth of not only dear Penelope’s demise, but the death of her husband, Thornton. Unless, of course, you are the killer."

As the dinner ended, and the nervous chatter grew in intensity, Polaski addressed the room of suspects. The butler fetched a microphone, so that everyone could hear.

The motley crew was assembled for a scrumptious dinner at the estate. Hosting the cast of dozens was left to the capable hands of K.C. Polaski, who promised to reveal the name of the murder.

Was Ms. Crapper-Connor's death an accident? Was she the victim of matricide, or perhaps she decided a life as a toilet heiress was too much to handle?

Finally are the dark horse candidates, a gallery of household employees, including a much-put-upon cook, who endured the daily abuse of her employer's biting critique of every morsel of food, a driver who had been fired for failing to stock the limo's mini bar with cherries of sufficient size to fit on the end of Penelope's nose, and a gardener who had been denied multiple raises over years of faithful service.

In the second tier of potential murderers is Penelope's former lover, who had been strung-along for many years, waiting for Mrs. Crapper-Connor to accept his marriage proposal, and keep him in the manner to which he'd like to become accustomed.

The pool of suspects is Olympic-sized. In the shallow end are Penelope's three surviving children. Ever since their father's mysterious and unsatisfactorily resolved death, the three privileged and wasteful youths would benefit greatly from their mother's untimely demise. True to stereotype, the eldest is known to have significant gambling debts, the middle child, an addiction to fashionable narcotics, and the youngest a knack for trusting scam artists, and had been "cut-off" from her trust fund.

Ms. Crapper-Connor was found dead in her bathroom, strangled by the long chain pull which activated her toilet's flush. She had a number of bruises, suggesting that perhaps she had slipped and gotten caught in the cord. Such suggestions were made primarily by the main suspects in the case.

The bizarre murder of Penelope Crapper-Connor, heir to the enormous Crapper family fortune, has been puzzling detectives for nearly two weeks, but, one cunning Private Investigator claims that she will soon reveal the culprit, likely in at a dinner party to be held at the Crapper Compound.

As in:

swivet

Today's Word:

As a side note, tomorrow (Jan 27) is National Crapper Day, the anniversary of the death of Thomas Crapper, the plumber most widely associated with toilet. He didn't invent it, but, he had many innovations which made it more sanitary, and as the installer of the Royal privies, his fixtures became world renowned, and are not much different than the ones we know today.

In keeping with the Obscure holiday tradition, this story was inspired by today's holiday, which is "Backwards Day." I have a feeling you'll notice. If you have ever felt disoriented, or that something was really out of whack, chances are, it wasn't you, it was Backwards Day. Now you are forewarned.

Word of the Day: confabulate

Weekends are over far too quickly, and we find ourselves back at Monday. I was going to say something really wise and thoughtful about the passage of time, but, my brain isn’t cooperating, and it seems to think that the word “cooperating” is awfully long and far too much to think about this morning. So, instead, I’ll just jump ahead to…

Today's Word

confabulate

As in:

When channel 12 news reporter Anya Lopez arrived at the Sunshine Bakery for a story on their discovery of a skeleton in their basement, she had no idea that she would find herself in the middle of a completely different kind of story.

The bakery had hired contractors to expand the basement for improved storage and workspace, and, in the process, uncovered a skeleton.

The proprietors called the police. Then they called Lopez. Lopez arrived at the bakery just after their morning rush. She was led into the basement to see an excavated area, with its newly exposed human skeleton. The police had not yet arrived.

While the proprietor and Lopez confabulate in the basement, a masked gunman appears. The man is agitated, and demands that the proprietor hand over the restaurant's money.

The proprietor is stunned. "The money is upstairs. Why did you come down here?"

The gunman is confused and annoyed that his request is ignored and that he had to come downstairs.

"There is no one up there," the man complained. "Where is everyone? This place is always packed! I thought it would be a real easy hit, you know, and really profitable."

"It's after our rush. Pretty much goes dead after nine. Maybe we should just talk about this."

"Talk? I'm here to rob you!"

"I'm sure you have a very good reason for that. Here, why don't you sit here and tell me all about it."

The poor gunman, confused collapsed to the stairs and cradled his head. "I don't know what to do! I've been unemployed for 13 months, and I'm about to be homeless, I can't pay my bills, I've stopped answering my phone because all I get are creditors calling to get money. I need this money!"

"Look, I feel for you, buddy, but, this isn't the answer. You should really go. The police are on their way. Come back tomorrow, without the mask, and I'll try and find you a job here."

"Why would the police be on their way? No one's called them. You can't fool me. You just want me to leave. You don't understand at all."

Just then, the police came down the stairs.

The gunman, shocked, dropped his gun and threw his arms in the air. "I give up! I can't win! Take me away!"

The police are marginally confused, and asked "Where's the body? What the heck is going on?"

The gunman groaned, "Body?! I didn't shoot anyone! This isn't my fault! You can't pin this on me! I've been framed! This is not fair! I want my lawyer!"

*************
I had originally imagined this would've been more of a hostage crisis, but, then things took turns that I'd not expected, and the story got out of hand, and it sorta defeated me.

confabulate \ con - FAB - you - late \ 1. to confer 2. to talk informally, chat Can also mean to fill in gaps in memory by fabrication.

Word of the Day: novitious

I'm something of a sucker for obscure holidays, in large part because they offer such a wealth of material for the Word of the Day. And today's story is evidence of this. Today is National Answer Your Cat's Questions Day. Seriously. I could not possibly make that up. Well, maybe. But, why would I?

Today's Word:

novitious

As in:

In observance of National Answer your Cat's Questions day, a novitious and obscure holiday invented for reasons that are unlikely to make any sense, an "Answer Fair" will be held downtown today. The fair will have booths selling catnip, mice on a stick and balls of yarn, as well as cat whisperers, cat translators, and other cat-related paraphernalia for cat owners to spend vast sums of money.

The booths of cat whisperers and translators will see cats so that their owners can gain an insight into what their cat might be thinking, and possibly what their questions might be so that they might be able to provide answers, thus fulfilling the letter of the holiday's observance.

After strolling the stalls and seeing a wider selection of merchandise for cats and with pictures of cats than any human ever imagined existed, Nora Rosen was filled with anticipation, ready to wait in line to learn more about her cat than she had dreamed. She wasn’t sure if she believed that these people could glean the questions hidden within the mind of the mysterious feline, but, it would be interesting to see if anything they said made sense. She had brought her cat Schrödinger to the fair to learn what was behind that Mona Lisa smile of his, but, more than that, she hoped she could just get him to stop shredding furniture and spraying things As much as she loved her cat, sometimes, his destructive tendencies were not only frustrating, but costly. If she could find a way to prevent the worst of his habits, it would be worth it. Secretly, she was also excited to be able to know what her cat thought of her.

She set the feline in front of the panel of experts. Moments passed. The cat whisperer spoke, in the words only a cat would speak.

"Why are you bothering to answer my questions? As if you could understand them. Don't you people have better things to do than trying to talk to cats, or putting captions on cat pictures? We don't give a rotted bird carcass for your stupid cheeseburger. They're all cooked and gross. If we wanted to talk to you furless monsters, we would, and we'd spell correctly using the paw-adapted keyboard we designed but you can't see. What makes you thing we'd demean ourselves and use your filthy language anyway? Enough. Stop with the yarn. We demand catnip, and tuna."

*******************
Getting what we think we’d like can be disappointing. Especially in the case of cats.

novitious / no - VISH - us / newly invented

Word of the Day: perspicuous

This is another story that was inspired by the real events of today. The nugget of the story was really funny when it occurred to me, and then, as I started typing, it sorta became too obvious, and a bit stupid to me. As I write this, I'm hoping that I find enough of something to make it more of a story and less of a one-liner. The prospects aren't looking good.

Today's Word:

perspicuous

As in:

A suspicious parcel caused a Lafayette, Colorado, school to suspend classes yesterday. The questionable item was a stuffed Kermit the Frog, with a spray of what appeared to be blood. The area was evacuated, and the area locked down. The item turned out to be harmless.

The person responsible for sounding the alarm said "It was the whole package, and its threateningly sinister demeanor seemed more than perspicuous to me. Disguising a bomb or other malicious item as a toy to be picked up at a school is not an unheard of tactic used in many places throughout the world. I do not think reporting the problem and closing the school was a irrational over-reaction, as some people have said."

The fall out from this even might be serious, as school children across the country purchase red paint and stuffed animals to send to their schools in hopes that they can get a day off of their own. Schools can expect daily attempts to thwart the opening of school with parcels of mangled toys.

"In my wildest dreams, before this day, I never thought of such a brilliant way to close the school," said Ashley Knott. "I always imagined that to get the day off, I'd have to set off the fire sprinkler's or something. This worked much better. Maybe I'll try and get like, one of those Cabbage Patch dolls and put a noose on it or something. That’d be more disturbing, and I wouldn’t mind ‘killing’ one of them."

Others are more interested in who might've left the Kermit doll, speculating that perhaps the real message is still unclear. "I think maybe it's an anti-French sentiment. I mean, 'frog' and 'dead.' That seems an even more obvious message, and frankly, while I'm no Francophile, this disturbs me."

Another suggested that maybe there was no hidden message at all. Matt Crowley, a teacher at the school, noted, "Maybe some kid just left his or her play-thing lying around. It's not like it would be the first time."

Most of the faculty remain unconvinced. "It *has* to mean something. No one would get red stuff all over a Kermit doll. Maybe it's voodoo. Could it have something to do with Haiti?"

The suggestion that the doll is some sort of "Weird Haiti thing" has triggered a wave of popular support amongst the faculty. They are guessing that maybe it's a curse, and that the school must remain closed indefinitely, until an expert can be called and consulted on the matter. Other suggest that the school take special pains to give the toy a proper funeral to be sure that it doesn't become and un-dead monster, killing anything in its path. Kermit should not be turned into an evil plaything. After all, it's not easy being green.

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

I think I can live with that. Hope you all have a wonderful Thursday.

perspicuous / per - SPEH - que - us / plain; obviously stated because of the clarity and precision of the presentation.

Word of the Day: advertent

I had originally intended a different story for today, but, a breaking news story caught my attention so, I wrote this instead. It means that I'm already storing up stories for next week. Yay!

Today's word

advertent

As in:

The "Poe Toaster," a mysterious gentleman who has annually visited the grave of writer Edgar Allen Poe to deliver a half-bottle of cognac and 3 roses, failed to make an appearance this year.

Perhaps the tradition died with the stories circulating that the whole thing was a hoax designed to bring attention to the derelict cemetery in Westminster Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, where Poe's remains were laid to rest. Since the creation of the mysterious stranger, said to have been visiting since 1959, Poe fans have gathered to wait for the stranger's arrival.

And, year after year, since the story was set into motion, a visitor has appeared. Until this year. No one is certain whether this means that last year was the final visit, or if someone will be taking up the tradition in years to come.

The tradition has been very valuable to the cemetery itself, bringing in preservation dollars and attention to the churchyard, which has been cleaned-up and made safer. None of this preservation activity would've been possible without the "Poe Toaster."

Now cemeteries across the nation have been trying to create their own traditions, hopeful that the newly advertent visitors will bring money into their own preservation coffers.

Recently, at Ellsworth Cemetery, the last resting place of Francis Johnson, a story has started circulating that visitors have had twine disappear from their pockets as they visit Johnson's grave. Johnson, who died in 1989, is the man who built Darwin's only tourist attraction. It is the Biggest Ball of Twine Built by One Man. It is also said that Johnson himself appears on the anniversary of his death, and can be seen working those stolen bits of twine into a ball.

Other cemeteries are simply telling people that they are haunted to get people to visit on Halloween for their "haunted" tours. As soon as these tours began, visitors reported seeing strange lights, person-shaped misty blobs, and feeling ghostly fingers on the backs of their necks.

Some cemeteries that have long-documented paranormal occurrences are angry that others are now "inventing" tales to steal their visitors. They also feel it's dishonest. "How is the average cemetery-visiting public going to separate the made-up stories from the real ones? This is simply going to lead to a distrust of all stories having to do with cemeteries. No one will be spending their money, and we'll all pay for these types of deceptions. It's going to set cemetery preservation back at least a year."

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

The "Poe Toaster" has always reminded me a little of the story of John Cameron, a dashing bachelor who died in Central City on November 1, 1887. There are tales that the place is haunted. And that every year on the day of his death, a young woman, in Victorian garb, arrives and leaves flowers on his grave, and then disappears. He was well known as the area's most eligible bachelor, and died young after a town social event. For more information on this cemetery, you can visit Colorado-Cemeteries.com. In the interest of full disclosure, I am the proprietor of the site.

Also in the spirit of full disclosure, while there is an Ellsworth Cemetery in Darwin, Minnesota, I've no idea if Mr. Johnson is buried there. There is at least one other cemetery in the area, and for all I know, he could be buried in another state.

advertent \ add - VERT - ant \ giving attention; heedful

Word of the Day: truculent

I’ve been having some rather odd network problems, which, granted, are small in the scheme of things, but, which have forced me to do some very odd things. Yesterday, I had to look something up, and since I couldn’t go to Google, I had to use a book. Horrible. I’m glad, at least, I had a book that contained the information I needed. Hopefully I’ll get that solved soon.

Today's Word:

truculent

As in:

The bathroom, once a center of quiet reflection, has now become a frequent scene of terror. Lurking in the waters of that most important of bathroom fixtures is a danger once thought to be benign, attacking when people are most vulnerable. He remains out of sight until it is too late, navigating the "waters" of the plumbing, and sailing his craft from house to house, rising from the depths to deliver a deadly harpoon attack to anyone who tries to pollute his waters.

This toilet water sailor, once an icon of clean bowls everywhere, seems to have gotten tired of being "dumped" on, and furious that his efforts to maintain a "tidy bowl" are thwarted multiple times every single day.

Once a source of light-hearted humor, the former pitchman realized the indignity and futility of his situation and turned from the tidy toilet talker into a truculent terrorist.

People are becoming afraid to even enter the bathroom, for fear of their very lives. Attacks seem to occur most frequently at night, when fatigue reduces vigilance and increases the likelihood of an easy to surprise target, and heightens the impact of the horror for the other persons in the household and around the nation. No one wants to discover their loved one, murdered in such an undignified fashion.

Far worse than the legends of crocodiles in the sewer, the fact of a rampaging toilet bowl man is creating unprecedented panic. No one appears to be safe.

The National Guard has been working to secure the nation's toilets against this foe, but, he continues to avoid capture. The terror alert level has been placed on red, the highest level, and citizens are asked to be vigilant for signs of this monster, and report suspicious swirling immediately.

No one is lingering while doing "their business." Reading material has been banished in bathrooms across the country. Subscriptions to the "Reader's Digest" have plummeted.

In related news, the country is facing a shortage of adult diapers, as people avoid using their plumbing. Environmentalists are torn between celebrating the reduction in water usage for toilets, and bemoaning the rise in landfill waste devoted to diapers.

A few entrepreneurs are thriving in the atmosphere of terror. These people have developed Kevlar toilet tank blockers to prevent access to the toilet bowl from the plumbing. Sales are soaring, and the company is struggling to meet the demand, while being concerned about what they will do once the crisis passes.

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

The tidy bowl man on a murder spree? Why not? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

truculent \ TRUH - cue - lant \ 1. deadly or destructive 2. displaying ferocity

Word of the Day: febrile

I've been trying to shift the word of the day from a nightly post to an early morning post, but, wanted to wait until I'd gotten ahead enough with my story supply and could start on a Monday, to do that. I think that the having the Word of the Day first thing in the morning is a great way to start the day, something to get you out of bed in the morning, and make getting out of bed a little less painful. I've been wrong before.

Today's Word:

febrile

As in:

Dateline: San Francisco. Just when you thought the saga of the baby found in the secret graveyard laboratory of Doctor Horrible couldn't get any strange, the story has taken a new, even more bizarre twist.

The child, now being referred to as "Truman," has been adopted by a group of documentary filmmakers.

The group had formed when Chase Klein, a documentarian who gained acclaim with his nature film "The Egrets Regret," was diagnosed with a form of brain cancer. He realized that the process of undergoing treatments for his disease was a good subject for a film, and contacted fellow documentary filmmaker Erin Copperfield to help him.

After a few months, Erin herself was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. At times, this made it difficult for her to hold a camera or other equipment, so she contacted her cousin to move in with the duo and help with the project, which now included documenting her own deterioration.

News about their project spread, and soon, they had been joined by every documentarian with a deadly or debilitating disease in the country. The project now includes a gentleman with Huntington's Disease, a lady with MS, several people with various cancers, a delighted hypochondriac and an ignoramus stricken with the heartbreak of chronic halitosis.

This group, now living in a large communal living complex, heard about the orphan discovered under strange circumstances, and decided that there could be no better place to raise the child than amongst the sick and dying.

While there was resistance to the idea, arguing that there were plenty of healthy couples looking to adopt a child, the group invited the other prospective parents to join them in their community, to make sure little "Truman" would not be abandoned should all the members of the community become unable to care for him as he got older.

"Mr. and Mrs. Poole are technically the adoptive parents, as they had already been registered as foster parents. They were very enthusiastic about their dream of having a child, and they also saw the advantages our community offered." noted Copperfield. "We already look out for each other, and it's a very creative and supportive environment, despite all the ills."

"The nurturing environment will be more than enough to erase all traces of Truman's horrible beginnings. Even better, should he ever feel remotely febrile, he has a wealth of people with experience in caring for the sick at his doorstep."

The child will also be given the benefit of having every minute of his life documented, and is surrounded by his very own village of idiots.

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

Probably I'm the only one who remembers "The Egret's Regret" from the first season of Family Ties. It was the documentary for which Mr. Keaton won a Murray award. Yes, I actually have thought about that fictional film since 1982. Yes, I am that sad.

febrile / FEE - brill / feverish.

Word of the Day: omasum

Grand schemes are taking shape in the strange world of my mind. It's moist and pink and gushy, with some drippy clocks and a guy holding a plate of American cheese slices. He also wears one on his head.

You don't really want to go into the strange world of my mind. And now, I'm not so sure I do either.

At any rate, I thought I'd share this story with you tonight. Look for exciting new developments next week. You might not see them, but, looking for them will keep you out of trouble.

Today's Word:

omasum

As in:

In New Mexico last week, a young man reported that he had discovered the truth about what he described as "the most terrifying and disturbing plot in the history of mankind." The man, 32 year old Perry Coleman, made his announcement at the annual gathering of the Society Obsessed with Recognizing and Revealing alien Yearnings (SORRY).

Coleman, a software engineer from California, was presenting his findings from what he calls an "alien autopsy." Coleman claims that he became curious about the mechanics and programming behind the Furby toys, and set out to "reverse engineer" them. But, as he cut into the device, he was quite surprised to find that the "toy" was not what it appeared to be.

"At first, it seemed like a normal stuffed toy. But then I came to this casing just inside the fur, and it turned out to be fleshy, and, when I cut into it, it well, it bled, or oozed or something. I grabbed my old anatomy lab book, and quickly realized that I had cut directly into the omasum. Then, the alien spoke to me. It told me of its race's plan to take over the planet Earth. Not long after it told me of its plans, it died. That's when I started to take pictures of the weird alien anatomy."

Coleman concludes by saying that he has "autopsied many Furbies," and that they "are all aliens, and are all preparing for the annihilation of the human race."

Hasbro, the company that "makes" the Furby toys, was unavailable for comment.

*********************
Okay, I apologize for "SORRY." It is reaching a bit much, even for me.

omasum / oh-MASS-um / the third of the four stomachs of a ruminant (i.e. a suborder of even- toed hoofed animals that chew their cud, and have 4-chambered stomachs. Sheep, camels, and deer fall into this category.).

Word of the Day: cinerarium

Happy Friday Eve, everyone! I've had a weird week, and I'm hoping Friday will bring great things. I'm trying to work on a bunch of projects, which I'm feeling sorta excited, and I think you'll see some of these ideas starting next week.

This is a shortish story, but, any longer and it's be like one of those Saturday Night Live sketches that just go on so long that people have forgotten there was supposed to be a joke in there somewhere.

Today's Word:

cinerarium

As in:

Amid the controversies surrounding the influences of violent and "vulgar" media images on America's youth, the National Association of Theater Owners (NATO), has begun to develop a plan to more strictly enforce the Motion Picture Association of America's ratings guidelines.

NATO forces will be enforcing the already existing guidelines by replacing the existing ticket clerks with armed guards who will check the identification of every movie patron. If any ticket holder is under the age requirement for a movie, and is without the companionship of a parent or guardian, they will be penalized with "significant economic sanctions."

Further violations of NATO's resolutions will result in large-scale bombing campaigns and the potential of an invasion of armed ground troops. While some feel that the measures are necessary to curb the rise of youth violence,
others feel that the plan will "go too far," and has the potential to "turn America's cinemas into cinerariums."

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Does anyone else find it weird that NATO is *both* an organization of countries and of a group of theater owners? Just me then. Well then.

cinerarium / SIN-er-air-ee-um / a place to receive the ashes of the cremated dead.

Word of the Day: archibutyrophobia

It's really only Wednesday? I think I got my tech issue fixed, and I'm looking forward to getting my productivity all beefed up. I think you'll appreciate the results. I'm looking forward to sharing new stories, more content and all sorts of other tricks with you all.

Today's Word:

archibutyrophobia

As in:

As the craze for "extreme" sports continues to grow and to "inspire" thrill-seekers to invent new and more risky forms of recreation.

The trend has even crossed-over into the drug scene, where drug users, tired of the "tame" range of "recreational" drugs are enticed to use substances far more dangerous than the typical fare.

Among the new substances garnering attention from the drug-scene is liquid nitrogen, which is being inhaled or "snorted" by the "aficionados" of "extreme drug-use." Participants, who often end up with severe frostbite, liken the experience to climbing Everest without proper environmental gear.

Other "extreme" substance abuse activities include "chugging" pure capsiacin oil, gargling flaming alcohol and competitive eating contests. This area of abuse had contributed to an upsurge in archibutyrophobia, as people engaging in this extreme "sport" try to consume the greatest number of peanut butter sandwiches liberally coated with a nasty mixture of alum and phenolphthalein.

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Bonus words: capsiacin and phenolphthalein. Capsaicin is the stuff which gives hot peppers their "bite." In pure, undiluted strength, it can peel your skin right off (and give you severe burns, blisters, etc). Phenolphthalein is
a compound often used in laxatives in small amounts. In larger amounts, it is recognized by the body as an extremely potent poison, and the body responds to its presence by expelling it from the system in a violent fashion. Nasty
stuff.

Oh yes, and for those that don't know what alum does, basically, it's a hydrophilic substance used in baking powders. If you put it straight on something which is then put into someone's mouth, it immediately "sucks" all the moisture out of their mouth, drying it out. It works really effectively, and try though they might, saliva glands are no match for the drying power of alum. So that's why the mixture is so nasty, and why this "sport" would be
considered "extreme."

archibutyrophobia: / ARCH-i-butte-RO-phobia / the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.

Word of the Day: hie

The great late night war of 2010 is in full swing, there was a massive earthquake in the Caribbean the stock show is underway. I'm feeling better, but ran into an odd technology snag today when I tried to sequester myself in my room to write tonight, so, I wasted a bunch of time running around trying to solve it, until I had to again do some punting. Oh well.

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.

***********

hie / HYE / Rhymes with "fly". It means, to go quickly, or hasten. Now you'll all start saying "hie, fly" instead of that cliche "shoo fly" nonsense, won't you? Of course you will.

Word of the Day: eleoptene

I'm feeling not so great tonight, so I came home and took a nap after work, which didn't help so much, but, I wanted to post something before going back to bed. A resolution's a resolution, after all.

Today's Word:

eleoptene

As in:

Scientists last week proved the the Earth is not, as widely believed, filled with a creamy or a liquid fruit-flavored substance after all, but that the core is, in fact, solid.

The belief, that the Earth has a delightful sweet creamy filling under its colorful outer crust, is held by several thousand people, most of whom are not scientists at all. In fact, within this segment of the populous, there raged a great debate about whether the filling was creamy nougat, fruit, or a sweet cordial. A few believe that the center of the Earth is not filled with anything pleasant at all, but merely the fatty, runny eleoptene that comes from oil that's been sitting to long. A small percentage of people believed that the filling was actually more like a nut, and these people are claiming that the findings about the Earth's core support their theory.

"Isn't a nut a solid? Sure those scientists say it's solid iron in the core, but have they been there? Do they know? I think not. They're just like those "fruit-filled" theorists. They think they know which planets are filled with nougat and which ones are filled with cordial just by looking at the "cosmic chocolate sampler diagram". Well, you can't. Those things are never right. You have to bite into things to see what's inside them. And if you don't like the filling, you can't put them back. And it's just too bad if you happen to be allergic to nuts, and that's what you get, because you're just asking for it. Some planets are just full of nuts. Period."

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Hope you all have had a good Monday.

eleoptene: / EL-ee-AP-teen / That part of an essential oil which does not become
solid.

Word of the Day: oligophrenia

It's been a long week, and I'm really, really, grateful for Friday. I've got the turkey out, and I'm cutting out circles, and writing an intro to this story which has now become something of a non sequitur. I'm hoping to get ahead enough with the Word of the Day to send it out in the mornings in the not-too-distant future, because I think my brain will thank me. Maybe yours will thank my brain, too. Clearly, I've got brains on the brain. I think it must be a Dollhouse night.

Today's Word:

oligophrenia

As in:

Deep in the urban underground of cities across this country, a new threat has emerged. This new threat is a unique breed of gangster, plucked straight off of Sesame Street.

These cunning criminals have moved out of Mr. Roger's neighborhood and into large-scale organized crime. The great crime families now look to these newcomers, whose business threatens the bottom line of crime syndicates all over the nation. But this new breed of gangster has a powerful disguise: everyone of them is under the age of 18. These
under-aged mobsters look like ordinary kids, which perfectly shields them from the attention of adults.

Too many times officers have mistaken their fresh faces and seeming immaturity for innocence. Worse, their youthful appearance makes police believe they suffer from age-induced oligophrenia, an assessment which leads these poor officers to grossly underestimate their cunning opponents.

The first indications that these gangs were operating came when FBI agents tracked a shipment of stolen super-soaker rifles to a heavily armed, remote camp. To the officers' surprise, the camp was guarded by 50 pre-teens, equipped with sniper rifles, powerful automatic weapons, grenade launchers, and surface-to-air missile platforms. The "harmless super-soakers" were filled with cocaine, plastic explosives and powdered drink mix.

Investigators soon discovered that this facility was but the tip of the iceberg. Organized kiddie crime, which investigators suspect has been around for decades, has been connected to 10 assassinations, child pornography, 5 Pokemon card counterfeiting operations and hundreds of intimidation and extortion cases in the last five years. Investigators guess that the money laundering operations, typically disguised as mere lemonade stands, school fund raisers, and Scouting sales events have made billions of illegal funds legitimate.

And today, the first big break into these "Kindergarten Criminals" came when 6-year-old Joey "the Whiner" Himple, a known hit man for the powerful Black Ranger crime syndicate, was caught showing his gun and mini shoulder harness to a friend. The two were observed by a classmate, a known tattle-tale, and Joey, remembering his hit squad training, fired on the girl. Joey, of course, had been taught that dead witnesses are silent witnesses.

oligophrenia /oh-LIG-oh-frin-ee-a / feeble-mindedness, extreme mental retardation.

Word of the Day: klepht

This is an attempt at a bit of a noir-ish story, that has held up fairly well. I'm working on the infrastructure for some things, and working on ornaments for this weekend's festivities. Sleep's over-rated, right? You can lie to me.

Today's Word:

klepht

As in:

The young woman strode through the dimly light bar. She looked all at once out of place and warily comfortable with the surroundings, as if she was stepping into a familiar haunt, but one that had endured three decades of traffic since she last graced the door with her striking silhouette. She was the kind of woman that demanded the attention of every male in the room, and yet, she could easily ignore every glance without the slightest comment. She was the type of woman who could break a guy's heart, and make him enjoy every minute of it. She was trouble.

And even though she was going to break me heart, there was something in her determined, yet vulnerable face that meant there was no way I could possibly resist her, no way I could prevent myself from the agony I knew she would bring. Well. That was the life of a PI in the middle of an extremely contrived and formulaic piece of short detective fiction. There could be no mistaking the signs of a desperate writer, milking a wisp of an idea,in the off chance that an original and marginally humorous story would miraculously appear.

And the woman, with the glint of danger hiding in her angelic face, spoke.

"Have you seen the klepht?"

"The cleft?" said I.

"Yeah. Some knucklehead out in Washington with the look of a drowned rat and teeth to match. They say he comes in here, and I want him. He's the one that caused all the problems, and I've had enough. When I'm through with him, he'll think the Justice Department was friendly."

"Look, lady. Out here in San Francisco, everyone looks like that. Look, let me buy you a drink, you can give me some more clues, and I can track this guy down for you. I am, by trade, a private investigator. Name's Sam Spade. 'Fraid it's not really original, but what do you expect from formula fiction?"

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Spade. I was hoping I'd find you, though I guess a women like me couldn't help but stumble into one of your stories. I want you to find this weasel man, and kill him. He's committed horrible crimes against humanity, and I'm afraid the law won't stop him. Think you could do that? There's 100 grand in it for you, more if you don't get caught."

"Uh, huh. And what's this guy done to you that's worth whacking him about?"

"He's the most evil man to walk the earth. He wants to take over the world through inferior technology and unfair business practices. I can't get through a single day without his diabolical equipment breaking down, taking with it all my creative output, my livelihood and my resolve. It's a nightmare Mr. Spade. And I've had it."

"I see. And what's this drowned rat's name?"

"Bill Gates."


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klepht: / kleft / a robber, brigand. A member of the Greek patriot bands who held out after the Turkish conquest of Greece.

Word of the Day: apotheosis

Today is Twelfth Night, the 12th day of Christmas, and I tried to think of some appropriate story for the occasion. This isn't that story.

Today's Word:

apotheosis

As in:

A group of grade school students in Massachusetts have convinced their state representative to sponsor a bill making the number "6" the state's lucky number. The students assert that the number six has "figured" prominently in the state's history, and as such, deserves recognition. For instance, Massachusetts was the sixth colony. It is the sixth smallest state. It has six main minerals mined for export, and Boston Celtics great Bill Russell wore number six on his jersey.

Supports of this bill contend that the number six, far from being a boring integer, is really quite remarkable. Says spokesman Sextus Optimas, "Truly, the number six is amazing. It is the apotheosis of integers, the jewel of arithmetic expression and the pride of the set of real numbers. Think about this. If you don't count four, six is the first positive, non-prime number. Oh, and how many apostles were there? Not 12, nooo, there were six times two apostles. How many days did it take God to create the world? Six. Plus one to rest. Coincidence? Of course not. Why, the power of this number is glimpsed when you remember that three sixes, in succession, is the number of the Beast. It's truly a magical, powerful force in the universe. Why do you suppose that intuition, is always called the "Sixth" Sense? Think about it."

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

apotheosis: / a-POTH-ee-oo-sis / 1. The act of raising a person to the status of a god, deify. 2. the glorification of a person or thing. 3. a glorified ideal.

Word of the Day: ventripotent

I think today's story speaks for itself, which means that I'm completely wasting your time by typing this. I suppose you could just skip this part.

Today's word:

ventripotent

As in:

Banking on the common wisdom that "Hunger makes the best sauce," a California firm has launched a line of sauces simply called "Hunger." The product is completely free of all allergens, calories, preservatives, fat, nutritional content or, for that matter, ingredients.

The packaging is clear, and the contents appear to be transparent. They weigh next to nothing. The brightly colored labels feature preparation instructions. The directions are simple: Use Hunger after waiting a minimum of 8 hours between meals. Apply contents to any prepared food. For best results, avoid snacking after a meal and before using Hunger. For maximum effect, wait 24 hours after previous meal.

The product is targeted at the wealthiest Americans, and is priced at $100 per bottle, which translates to a cost of about $10,000 per ounce. The maker acknowledges this is a steep cost, but, insists that this is not a problem because the bottle never runs out. However, they are also quick to point out that they this will not limit their repeat business, as the bottles themselves will be collector’s items, with new fashion-conscious labels every month. the company also as they expects to launch a line of desserts with the name "Just," and "Revenge," a line of cold dishes, ready to eat straight from the package. She also notes that you could use Hunger with any of these products to enhance the flavor.

One satisfied customer talking about the product said, "It's really a fantastic sauce. I've never tasted my food so distinctly. I really appreciated my food for the first time ever! I'm becoming downright ventripotent!"

A journalist at the press conference announcing the product couldn't hide his flabbergasted amazement that such a product would even exist. He remarked, "This product can only exist in the U.S., a country so rich, you have to *buy* hunger. Or, worse, where you'd consider it a choice or a *privilege* to have hunger. Unbelievable."

********************
Aren't you glad you skipped the introduction and jumped straight into the story? Me too.

ventripotent / ven - TREE - poh - tent / gluttonous, taking a greedy delight in eating

Word of the Day: chrematophobia

Good Evening, everyone. I had a story idea all ready for tonight, but, I ran out of time to type it up, so, I'm punting again, a bit. I suspect the condition described in this story might be on the rise in the current economic climate. I'm going to try and get it done for tomorrow instead.

Today's Word:

chrematophobia

As in:

Knowing that socks are the immature forms of coat hangars, two brothers decided to go into business selling coat hangars to local dry cleaning establishments. The two purchased inexpensive socks, and put them into the dryer and waited for the transformation to occur. When they opened the dryer, the two found that they had half as many socks as they had put into the dryer, with each pair missing its crucial other half. Upon opening the closets of their house, they were delighted to find that their store of hangars had, in fact, grown by exactly the same number as the number of missing socks.

Joyfully, the two fed the dryer more socks, until the eldest, who had severe chrematophobia, set fire to the dryer and ruined their opportunity to become wealthy business men.

**************************
Of course, you have all probably realized that socks, even inexpensive ones, are much more expensive than hangers, so, it's clear that the chrematophobe had nothing to worry about.

chrematophobia / shrem - AT - o - foh - be - ah / fear of money.

Word of the Day: peripatetic

In my head, I made a New Year's resolution that I would send out a story every Monday thru Friday, starting today. It's a resolution that is, frankly, a bit intimidating, but, I want you all to keep me going after this goal, which is why I'm typing it right here.

Today's Word:

peripatetic

As in:

In February of 2001, a new theme park opened in Orlando, Florida. The park, called "The Holy Land Experience," recreates famous Holy Land places and scenes from the Bible. Visitors can tour exhibits such as the tomb of Christ, Harod's Temple and Qumran caves.

The park has several exhibits which are a source of controversy between the park's creators and the Jewish community. The park's founders says the goal of the park is to spread Christianity, but critics are at issue with the manner of the presentation.

One of the more controversial exhibits is a recreation of the Wilderness Tabernacle. The attraction features a multimedia presentation with Jewish songs and prayers. The park prominently displays Jewish symbols, and Jewish leaders are concerned that the park is creating false links between Judaism and Christianity.

Another controversial exhibit recreates the modern city of Jerusalem. In predominately Jewish settlements, visitors must avoid possible sites of terrorist violence, including cafes and public transportation. Visitors get special door prizes for correctly identifying peripatetic suicide bombers. In predominantly Palestinian areas, guests are invited to throw foam rocks at actors in Israeli anti-terrorist uniforms, and are invited to try there luck at evading identification and capture as a suicide bomber.

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Happy New Year! See you on Monday.

peripatetic / pehr - uh- puh -TET -ik / walking about from place to place, pedestrian, itinerant