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.

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.

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.

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.

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.