obeisance

It's the first of March, which is St. David's Day. St. David is the patron of Wales. Wear your leeks proudly!

As you might've guessed, St. David is a bit of a distraction while I try to come up with something to write about for one of the five remaining Best Picture nominees. I think the Academy ought to be feeling a tad guilty themselves. I don't know that their choices are any more relevant or deserving of praise than in previous years, that has always been part of the whole Oscar game, but with 10 of them, it certainly feels harder to justify all the selections.

But then, what do I know?

I spent a good part of this weekend converting the Word of the Day site to WordPress. All of the content has been migrated, with the exception of the comments, which I don't think can be moved. I have some tweaking to do still, but, on the whole I think it's in good shape. Please note, if you are using RSS you may need to adjust your feed.

Ok. I've dallied more than long enough. I'm going to be dipping into The Blind Side now.

Today's Word:

obeisance

As in:

Ever since Michael Oher became a professional football player, a spotlight has been pointed in the direction of his adoptive parents, Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy. The spotlight has drawn a great deal of attention to the family, and left them with a problem they had never anticipated.

Hidden amidst the accusations of ulterior motives on the part of the Tuohys and suggestions that the message of the book and movie is ultimately racist, is a much more profound statement, one which people have started to act upon.

This "message" has been a very difficult one for the Tuohy family, and they are afraid that there is no escaping the repercussions of this strange interpretation of the film's meaning.

Desperate families from all over the country, convinced that the Tuohys have been given the gift of bestowing professional caliber football talent upon people, have started to bring their children to the Tuohy's Tennessee home in the dead of night, leaving the youngsters in the Tuohy's driveway, with nothing more than their football equipment. Some of the children have been as young as 9 months old.

The family matriarch, now referred to in reverent tones by the football faithful as St. Leigh Anne, has started to have football miracles attributed to her activities.

One family, whose child was on the high school team with Oher, claims their child went from an average of one reception a season to 6 each game ever since being touched by Leigh Anne at a booster club event. Football pilgrims from as far away as Montana have been inspired to new heights of achievement after simply watching Leigh Anne shop for decorating supplies. Another family drives 50 miles out of their way to drive past the Tuohy house before morning practice, in a unique type of obeisance.

The family tried to appeal to those searching for football blessings, telling them that they hold no particular gift or special powers, and asking that they keep their children and stop abandoning them on their driveway. Their appeals have had no effect, if anything, the activity and claims have increased.

All are hopeful that the hoopla surrounding the book and the movie will subside soon, and they can go back to being a normal family with a son in the NFL.

********************
Mondays are painful, aren't they? Type to you tomorrow.

obeisance / oh - BEE - sense / 1. a movement made in token of respect or submission: bow 2. acknowledgment of another's superiority or importance: homage

Word of the Day: fastuous

It is Friday, and I am grateful. I've been debating which story to finish and send today, and I finally settled on doing the story for "Up." I think "Up" is my favorite movie of all the nominations this year. Those Pixar folks sure know how to tell great stories.

Today's Word:

fastuous

As in:

Adventurer Charles Muntz learned a great deal as he was falling through to the ground. First, he learned that he *really* didn't like falling. Second, he learned what his faithful dogs had experienced when they had plummeted to the ground, and it wasn't the least bit pleasant. Third, he learned that he really didn't care much for Kevin anymore, and she could just disappear off the map. Fourth, his obsession with capturing Kevin hardly mattered any more. His fastuous temperament evaporating in the winds of free fall, Muntz became a much more humble and grateful person.

Usually, a "death fall" epiphany and repentance would be a short lived achievement, and the story would end here. However, as a person who lived in an airship, Muntz already knew that gravity is a harsh mistress, so he always wore a parachute, which he opened at the appropriate time. It also meant that the lessons he learned as he was falling would actually be of some use.

As he arrived safely on the ground, he resolved that forever forward he would wear the cone of shame as a visual representation of his guilty conscience. He decided he would devote his remaining years to helping all canines, to repay the heroic loyalty of the dogs that had served him.

He refined his doggy speech translator collars, and found a way to bring them to the mass market for a very reasonable price. He founded a free vet clinic for all dogs and dog owners to get competent medical care at no cost. He also has founded a canine college to teach dogs to read. So far, the dogs have been unable to read a complete sentence, due to the unfortunate number of windows in the building, which faced a squirrel infested grove. Contractors would be replacing the windows next spring.

Muntz's current projects include inventing a way for dogs to use hand tools, including writing implements, and a design for a flushing dog toilet. These projects are not going well. Despite this, Muntz was happier than he had ever been. He was surrounded by canine companions and his passion, tempered into moderation, was achieving real results that they were positive and satisfying to all parties.

True to his word, Charles Muntz never removed his collar of shame, even though he admitted it was a problem at night when he tried to sleep. And, sleep is where death finally claimed him, at the age of 102.

***************
Have a great weekend, everyone.

fastuous / FAST - you - us / haughty, arrogant; ostentatious, showy.

Word of the Day: sacrosanct

I've been trying to postpone working with James Cameron's opus to white guilt until next week for a few reasons, the biggest of which is this; I know it's likely the movie most of you have actually seen which means I need to have a good idea for it.

But an idea came to me via an article I read, and I had no better ideas for any of the other nominated movies, so, here it is, a look at the power of guilt in the movie Avatar.

Today's Word:

sacrosanct

As in:

Movie-goers have been flocking to see the movie Avatar for many months now, breaking box office records and being one of the most talked about movie experiences in decades.

Many of these same people, when exiting the movie, indicate that after seeing the film, they are feeling depressed and even suicidal as they leave the theater.

Viewers have so identified with the Na'vi, who live on Pandora in harmony with the natural world around them, that they want to start their own Na'vi tribe, and try to find a more meaningful existence.

One group of people is doing just that.

"I know I am really a Na'vi. I feel spiritually connected to them, and I know Eywa (the mother goddess of the Na'vi) will welcome me. I want to live a meaningful life, not one where all I do is destroy the planet in the name of wealth," commented Peggy Joslin, one of the founders of the Na'vi in Exile. "We have an obligation to Eywa to nurture our world and bring it back into balance. This is a tall order for our world, but, I must try. Our planet is sacrosanct, and we cannot defile it any further."

Some members of the group have been attempting to turn their skin blue through the intake of high doses of colloidal silver. Some of the more scientific among the group are trying to find a way to create the "genetic fiber optics" that the Na'vi have in their hair stalks. "I'm really looking forward to have an "always on" connection to the world." says Matt Trathien, one of the Na'vi in Exile.

Critics of the group have wondered how people from our technological world will cope with the "natural world" as it really is. "I bet most of them will be back at their homes with their running water and flushing toilets within a week. It's not easy to go from our world, with its stores filled with pre-killed meat, and ready to eat produce. These people are as unprepared for a 'native' lifestyle as a baby is ready to drive."

****************
Happy Friday Eve everyone. Have a good day.

sacrosanct / SAK - row - sangkt / most sacred or holy.

Word of the Day: irenic

One thing I have learned from this set of stories: Guilt is just not funny. You all are probably right to think me insane, or at the very least, idiotic, for picking this theme. I'm thinking I'm probably both. But, as I've gotten myself into this mess, I'm going to continue attempting to make guilt funny.

So, on that hopeless note, I bring you Inglorious Basterds, now with more guilt!

Today's Word:

irenic

As in:

The year is 1941. SS Colonel Hans Landa has just paid a visit to dairy farmer, Perrier LaPadite, and, in his charming and insidious way, forced him to reveal that he is hiding the Dreyfus family, his former neighbors, who are Jewish. Landa assassinates the family, hiding under the floor boards. All except their teenage daughter, Shosanna, who escapes the house, and Landa allows to flee.

After completing their act of murder, the Nazis leave the LaPadites with a floor filled with bullet holes, a bunch of bodies, and the lingering guilt over trading their lives for the neighbors.

The farmer stacks the bodies of the Dreyfus' together in the cellar, to bury the next day. He weeps for failing them, and hopes Shosanna is able to survive. He tidies up his home as best he can, and retires for the night.

In the morning, before the family has gotten up to milk the cows, they hear sounds from the cellar. Fearing the Nazis have returned, Perrier grabs a pitchfork, and goes to investigate.

He finds more than he had imagined.

The Dreyfus family was no longer stacked neatly in their corner of the cellar. They were at the door, pounding to be let out. They rushed past LaPadite as soon as he opened the door, which meant he had time to attempt a conversation with them.

"You're alive?! How can this be?"

They rudely ignore him, and shamble towards open air. LaPadite calls again. They continue to ignore him and walk at a below-average pace toward the direction Colonel Landa had vacated the premises.

If LaPadite had ever heard of such a thing as a Zombie, that would be what he would've called the Dreyfuss family. But, if had known about zombies, he would wonder why they didn't stop to eat his, or his family's brains. But, instead, he was just pleased he didn't have to bury them, and silently wished them well.

The Dreyfuss' had bigger goals than brains. They wanted Landa. So, with their new-found zombie focus, they pursued him as quickly as their shambling feet would take them.

For three years they pursue him across Europe, never quite reaching their prey. As the summer of 1944 arrives, and the signs become more irenic, the family's single-mindedness becomes alerted to a significant change. Their inexplicable homing signal, drawing them to Landa, has radically changed direction, and became much weaker.

Being zombies, this simply meant a change in direction, and a trans-Atlantic walk under the ocean toward the U.S., where one day, perhaps they would meet Landa again, and take care of his particular brand of evil.

***************
Zombies are always funny, right? I'm sure you are tired of them, but, today, the Zombies saved me, and I'm grateful.

irenic / eye - REN - ik / favoring or conducive to peace, or becoming more peaceful.

Word of the Day: videlicet

It's Tuesday, and that means I'm trying to figure out which Oscar nominated Best Picture to do next, and also caught in the Tuesday-ness of life, which means I'm behind. With nine nominees to pick from, you'd think it's be an easy choice; a so-called "target rich environment." Alas, the choice is not easy. So, I think I'll just go with aliens. Tuesday is good for aliens.

Of course, there are two alien movies nominated in the Best Picture category this year, so, which one should I pick? I decided on District 9.

Today's Word:

videlicet

As in:

It has been nearly 3 years since the "perspective reassignment operation" which altered Wikus van de Merwe. He has spent the time enjoying cat food, and struggling for survival in District 10. He is wondering if he will ever be reunited with his wife.

All around him he sees the piles of discarded scrap and garbage, the rows and rows of sheet metal structures pretending to be dwellings, and a group of Nigerian scammers. He thought about his father-in-law, and wondered what lies he might be dreaming up today. He was surprised to have learned, after all those years of working for MNU that its main product was lies.

He'd learned that he'd produced his own set of half-truths and justifications, but, the worst part was that he'd been his own primary customer, purchasing a measure of happy lies to get him through the day.

For a few weeks since that fateful day he couldn't being himself to do much more than sit in the filth of District 10, wallowing in self pity and the guilt of his infanticide. Later he decided that was pointless, and didn't help him purchase cat food, so, he made a plan, videlicet, he secretly went into business.

Using the abundant shrapnel littering his ghetto home, he made delicate flowers out of thin metal. These he sold on the folk art black market, staying under MNU's radar, and using the proceeds of his venture to provide cat food and supplies for thousands of his fellow refugees.

His designs, which made millions of rand under the banner of "prawn art," targeted wealthy patrons who themselves were guilt-ridden enough to purchase the "insider" artwork, but not motivated by their guilt to do anything more meaningful. Their consciences eased and their social status as compassionate, concerned humanitarians established, they could allow themselves to proceed with their own lives in self-satisfied peace.

Even if he did return to his wife someday, he would still need a job, wouldn't he? And this one seemed to be more than profitable. Did that make him a profiteer? He didn't know or care. Certainly, if he stayed here, he wouldn't feel the least bit guilty about using the situation. Other things haunted him, perhaps, but not this.

So, for the time being, he simply did like all life does, he carried on.

********************
I found this difficult to write about without giving too much away about the movie for those who haven't seen it. Hope I succeeded.

Oh, and gosh, guilt is a total downer. Cat food can lighten things only so much.

videlicet / Vih - DE - liss - IT / That is to say, namely.

Word of the Day: cavil

According to the calendar, we are 13 days away from the Academy Awards telecast, which means that the annual Oscar Word of the Day tradition is upon us. This year, there are 10 nominees for Best Picture, which means 10 stories inspired by these movie choices.

In years past, it was comparatively simple to find something thematic to unify the nominations and, therefore, the series of stories I would write. With 10 nominees, it was much, much more challenging.

After weeks of thinking about it, I finally hit on a common theme. Guilt. All of these movies are leavened with a fair amount of it. So, I just figured over the course of the next two weeks of stories, I would just heap a hearty helping of additional guilt into each of the movies. It'll be a guiltapalooza. Fun, huh?

I will start by doling out a measure of guilty-goodness to Up in the Air.

Today's Word:

cavil

As in:

Career Transition Counselor Ryan Bingham was on his way to his fourth layoff of the week. The last few weeks had been a particularly challenging series of engagements, as all of the people had reacted especially poorly. Nearly 25% of those he'd made his "What's In Your Backpack?" speech to had found creative ways to use their backpacks to take their own lives. One had even hanged himself with the straps of his backpack.

Worse even than that, was the case of Lyle Forman, who seemed fine when he had left the office with his box of desk decorations and other personal objects, but had come back a week later with a gun and shot his supervisor and three others before he shot himself.

This job was just not the same any more.

Maybe he could blame the economy. As times got tougher, people were bound to take his particular brand of news much worse than they had when things were a bit easier. Maybe he had lost his touch, and his brand of compassionate, motivational message delivery was no longer sufficient to successfully and peacefully transition people from the world of gainful employment to the world of uncertainty, financial worry, self-doubt and depression.

Bingham wondered if these stories meant that he himself was going to have to face "career transition." He smirked for a moment, thinking that of all the reasons he'd expected to possibly lose his job, he'd never expected it would be related to adverse employee reactions. He'd always been good at his job, and never had this much fallout.

He'd always guessed that he'd be more in danger from those who'd cavil on about the cost of sending him personally to conduct his business, or who were unhappy about his own personal carbon foot print reaching more than 10 million travel miles. He'd weathered those trifling concerns for years, but always thought they'd someday win. He just never expected that they'd have a body count to buoying them past triviality.

And he wondered if he would have to actually reflect on the only tangible measure of his life, his mileage counter. He had avoided thinking about such things because it ran contrary to his happy philosophical niche. He liked watching those numbers climb.He liked living out of his backpack, free of connections. He didn't want to be confronted with the superficiality of his existence. Life was really easier if you didn't reflect on this sort of thing.

Sensing the danger, he beckoned to the flight attendant and ordered several adult beverages. Shaking himself out of his serious thoughts, he sipped his beverage, and welcomed the return of sweet oblivion.

************
Yeah, that's some guilt, I'd say. Welcome to Monday.

cavil / CA - vil / to raise trivial or frivolous objections. Makes you wonder who gave Dean Stockwell's Battlestar Galactica character his more than fitting name, doesn't it?

Word of the Day: immane

The idea for this story was given to me by my sister, who heard my idea-less cries from the depths of cold in the darkness of a Friday morning. I'm not entirely sure how it all will end up yet, but, I'm hoping that someone will tell me.

Today's Word:

immane

As in:

Gerald Kingston did not like bells. In fact, if he was being honest about how intense was his dislike of the ringing, clanging, jingling and jangling rattles of insistent cheeriness, he might admit that he was deathly afraid of them, and had been for as long as he could remember.

He had no idea why bells where such a sore point with him. People always asked him, as if he could find a rational explanation for an irrational fear. "That was sorta the point of such things," he thought. "They don't have, or need, explanations."

But, everyone was a pop psychologist these days, and everyone insisted there *must* be some sort of reason for every neurosis, phobia, or condition. He didn't much care for pop culture.

Sometimes, just to get rid of the persistent pain in the pop psychologist, he'd offer some reason for his bell phobia. He'd say "I think it might've traced back to the moment when I heard that "whenever you hear a bell ringing an angel gets his wings. That must be it."

Gerald didn't care much for angels either.

Matched by his immane hatred of bells, pop culture and angels, was his love for cats. He loved those furry, purry, pouncy pets.

The only problem was that Gerald couldn't bring himself to even shop for a cat, for fear that the cats might be collared with bells. And what if the shop had a bell on the door that would ring the moment he entered? Then he'd be in a small space surrounded by bells, trapped between a bell and a jingling place.

He once told someone of his dilemma, and the patronizing person told him that "Most cats don't come with bells. You know, also, the bells can be removed. You do know that, right?"

And Gerald cursed popular culture yet again for fooling him into thinking cats had to have bells.
*****************
I, for one, am grateful that Gerald didn't know you could remove bells from cats, because, if he did know that, there wouldn't have been much of a story.

immane / eh - MANE / Very great; huge; 2. monstrous in character; atrocious; fierce.

Word of the Day: feculent

We have found ourselves at Friday Eve, and I'm running late yet again.

Today's Word:

feculent

As in:

The Orange County Coroner's office announced today that it will investigate the death of a man who was hit by a flying metal object at Disneyland earlier this week.

Police officials are suspicious of the death, the first at the park in a decade, because eyewitnesses claim that the metal did not come from a failed mooring, as park officials claim, but rather from a strange weapon, which witnesses insist was fired by none other than international symbol of goodwill, Mickey Mouse.

"Yeah, I saw him. That mouse isn't fooling anybody anymore. He just shot that thing straight at him. Cold-blooded, it was. And none of the park's security even bothered to stop him. They just let him go to his little mouse house." reported a witness.

Presently, no one has offered a motive for Mickey to shoot anyone, though conspiracy theorists suggest that perhaps the shooter was acting as a hit mouse.

Some witness feel like the fact that no one stopped the shooter suggest that the park itself was complicit in the killing. "I heard him say something about how he felt this wasn't really the 'happiest place on Earth,' and that he'd been to a number of happier places. Then I saw some guys in black suits with dark glasses and headsets speak follow near him, and then they said something into them. A few moments latter, the Mouse appeared."

One investigator, a former employee of the park, commented on the case, and said, "This whole thing stinks. I'm looking at the biggest cover-up since the sex-change operation of Peter Kloe, better known as 'Mystery Spice' before his secret leaked and the rest of the group kicked him out of the band. I haven't smelled anything this feculent since Walt's freezer broke down, and every thing thawed out. Everything. Walt, Goofy, (and let me tell you, he smelled like a thawed dog...) even a weird experiment from the 1960s, which I think had to do with aliens. It was really ugly, let me tell you."

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

There hasn't been a death at Disneyland recently, so, don't be worried if you haven't heard about it, there's no cover-up in progress. Well, not one that I know about. And no, there really was no 'Mystery Spice' in the Spice Girls. And, I dunno if Walt Disney really did have himself frozen. It's one of those urban legend sorts of things, but it is kind creepy, and so I added it.

feculent: / FEK - yoo - lent / filthy, foul, esp having the nature of, or containing, feces. Not a very pleasant, word, I suppose, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

Word of the Day: fissiparous

I started working on this idea weeks and weeks ago, but stopped because it seemed to get more and more lame as I worked on it. Then, last night as I was going to bed, trying to think of *something* to use for today's story, I landed on this old, half-baked idea, and had one little bit that made me feel a tiny bit better about it. That bit was, mostly, that it was *something.* Something is better than nothing.

Here goes something.

Today's Word:

fissiparous

As in:

The training began months ago. Eager participants took to carrying equipment in large bags for weight-training, and strapping heavy weights around their necks to get used to moving with their binoculars in place. Field guides have been memorized, and teams carried out both routine and surprise rounds of lightning-fast identification with both audio and digital tests.

Watchers conducted drills to improve the speed, silence and accuracy of their binocular-to-eye techniques. Photographers honed their picture taking techniques for split-second clicking to catch their quarry before the quarry vanished from sight.

Exercise regimens were begun and followed, movements synchronized and lists prepared. All of this, for their Big Day.

The event date was set, and the teams of bird watchers were finally ready. The marathon of 24 straight hours of spotting as many different species as possible was rewarding and everyone felt they did their best. Judges reviewed the team's lists of the birds the teams had spotted, and came across an impossible entry.

The list was filled with birds that were never spotted in the wild locally. These birds didn't migrate anywhere near North America, and there was nothing fissiparous about the judges' opinions on the list. This list could not be true, and the team must be disqualified.

The judges did not like to highlight the problem such blatant dishonesty; it sullied their sport, and birders were generally taken at their word, which made the confrontation particularly awkward.

The judges began by asking for photographs from the team. The team provided their photos. Flabbergasted, the judges reviewed the evidence, where all became clear. This team had spent its day at the local zoo.

***************
I always wondered if some bird watcher tried to turn in a list from a day spent at a zoo. I think that's all from me today.

By the Way, it is Random Acts of Kindness day, which, seems to me to defeat the "randomness" of the idea. Oh well. Kindness, random or not, is a good thing.

fissiparous / feh - SIP - are - us / divisive, tending to break into parts or factions.

Word of the Day: pelf

I'm shocked that it's Tuesday, for no particular reason. I can't decide if I'm feeling like it should be earlier in the week, or if I'm shocked that I'm feeling like Tuesday is exactly what day it should be. Think about that, won't you?

Today's Word:

pelf

As in:

Excitement is growing as the nominations for the third annual Memmy Awards are to be announced later this week. Speculation has been rampant, and rumors abound that there will be some controversy in the nominations.

The Memmys, awards granted by the Academy of Office Arts and Sciences for achievements in the field of office work, are just starting to gain momentum and a following among the aficionados of office trades. They have floundered on the edge of obscurity until this year, when so many watching the banking world under the microscope of the TARP bill.

Most coveted is the award for "Best Production," A category in which reports and proposals of all kinds can be nominated. Expected to get a nod are the developers of "Google Wave" for their developer preview it Google I/O which made Google Wave seem much cooler than it actually is. Another front runner, until it was actually announced, was Steve Jobs, for presenting the closely wrapped and highly anticipated tablet for Apple, which turned out to be called the iPad, and was also not nearly as interesting in reality as the item was speculated to be prior to its announcement.
Other hotly contested awards include "Best Worker in a Supporting Role," "Best Worker in a Lead Role," "Best CEO," "Best Original Memo" and "Best Adapted Memo," for achievements in memo writing.

There are many who think the Memmys are a waste of time, given that the best performances are not likely to be acknowledged. Many observers of the field of office work note that really excellent work, worthy of acknowledgment, takes place in offices all over the country, but it's in a company no one has ever heard of, or the company itself isn't in the news media everyday, so no one even notices it. Some note that an office works best when no one even notices how well it is working, which seems to indicate that the offices most worthy of acknowledging are the ones that will never get a Memmy Nomination.

Controversy is likely to infiltrate the nominations in the category of "Best CEO" as the nominations packets included, Akio Toyoda, Toyota's CEO, who was not facing a massive recall scandal when he was considered a front runner for the award. While most winners of the award expect to see a small increase in money or riches, should Toyoda be awarded the prize, all that Toyota received in 2009 might be considered pelf.
****************
I admit, this was, in part, inspired by Conan O'Brien's Audiency Awards, given for the sitting and viewing arts.

Admittedly, the iPad announcement would unlikely be eligible for the 2009 Memmys, since it wasn't announced in 2009, but, I just don't care that badly. Quite likely because the Memmys don't exist.

pelf / PELF / money or wealth, esp. money or wealth acquired by reprehensible means.

Word of the Day: quixotic

It's Monday yet again, and that means that you are opening your e-mail to find this lovely little package. Think of it as a belated Valentine from me to you.

Of course, it being me, it is a slightly warped Valentine. And, you being you, reading this at all, you probably don't mind so much.

Today's Word:

quixotic

As in:

This year, the IOC has approved an Olympic Games for a unique subset of the "differently-abled," and invited athletes from all over the world to participate in the first games of its kind in Vancouver.

The first Zombie Olympics will take place the week after the traditional games have ended. As the number of events that Zombies are able to perform are limited by their special conditions, both the summer and winter events are going to be held at the same time.

Summer events include distance shambling, the brain maze obstacle course, and the weight pulling events. In obstacle course events, the athletes are given a limited amount of time to get through a course where the succulent brains have been completely hidden, and must be detected using scent only. In weight-pulling events, the competitors are strapped to large weights, and pull them in pursuit of tempting platters of flesh.

Winter sports include ice dancing, which is a non-skate event, snow shoeing, which involves racing through snow in shoes, and sledding, which involves pairs of zombies in bobsled-type vehicles on snowy hills.

In all zombic sports, contestants are not penalized for lost body parts, and each event usually has several "clean-up" periods between races to clear the courses of any debris.

Zombies are divided into two classifications based upon their speed class. The "classic" category, often referred to as the "Romero Zombies," are noted for much slower race times. The "Half-Life" category is for those zombies capable of much faster speeds.

Critics of the event object to the exploitation of these athletes, as well as the term "Zombie." Preferring the term "Unwell," they feel that these sorts of events are nothing more than a way to experiment on the undead, and they are adamant that this quixotic, zombic Olympiad is simply degrading to both the healthy and the Unwell.
****************
Clearly, I have Zombies on the brain lately.

Some may object to today's word choice as being far too familiar. I chose it in honor of Bob Costas, who used it in the opening ceremonies broadcast on Friday, and given the subject matter, it was a no-brainer. Pun totally intended.

quixotic / quick - ZOT - ick / foolishly impractical; marked by rash, lofty, actions. Capricious.

Word of the Day: nidor

Today's glimmer of an idea is not even nearly as good as yesterday's. I'm saying this because you, my devoted readers, deserve the truth. Because the truth isn't out there. It's here. For you. And the truth hurts. Me. Mostly me.

Today's Word:

nidor

As in:

For last minute shoppers looking for that ultimate Valentine's Day gift, remember that nothing says romance quite like our "President's Day" sale. Come on in, and see for yourself why Crazy Ned's Tire and Road Kill Emporium is the place to be for VD! We're staying open late to give you and your sweetheart a Valentine's Day to remember.

Bring your special someone in to see our quality tires made from the finest materials in the world. Breathe deeply the sweet smell of automotive products, and marvel at our low prices. And this weekend, our spectacular President's Day deals will have you buying gifts for the whole family. Bring them all to Ned's and enjoy a skewer of our house specialty, "Squirrel Kabobs." They taste great, and you can carry them with you while you shop. Or relax and enjoy a quiet meal of venison steak and fingerling potatoes in our lovely dining room. If you've never eaten deer with your dear, isn't it time?

Enjoy the nidor of freshly killed meats mingled with the aromas of new tires! It's a smell you won't soon forget, and neither will your date. Give her a lifetime Valentine's Day memory, bring her to Ned's, where the rubber meets the road.

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

I saw an ad wanting me to buy gifts for President's Day, and then I wondered "Who buys gifts for President's Day? Such a romantic idea: "Here, honey, I was honoring our Presidents and wanted to get you a little something!" And it sorta went downhill from there.

I thought about having Ned's offering couples some other latex related products for dining with them on Sunday, and tried to work it in, but, I figured that would be pushing it. But wait! There it is. Have a great weekend, however and whatever you celebrate.

nidor / nih - DOOR / the savory aroma of cooked meat or food.

Word of the Day: inimical

Today I overslept, and since I didn't come up with an idea yesterday, I'm scrambling for one at the same time I'm feeling that confused panic of having missed my intended wake-up time.

As a jog to my creative juices, I did my obscure holiday check, and today is Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk Day, Make a New Friend Day and White Shirt Day, which apparently honors employees who helped the UAW become the sole bargaining agent with General Motors after a sit-down strike which ended on this day in 1937.

I think I'm just going to go with the barest sliver of an idea that I got, and try not be too disappointed that it isn't brilliant or the funniest.thing.ever. Instead, I'll be glad I got something original sent out, before I had to go to work, and without resorting to other tactics.

Today's Word:

inimical

As in:

Preston Taylor was feeling the pressure. His calendar was telling him that today was Make New Friend Day, and he had never been particularly good at that. He wondered if whoever came up with the bright idea for this reason to sell cards even thought about the fact that making a friend was a process, it was not typically something that could be done in a single day.

He told himself "It's just a calendar." He was under no obligation to make friends or wear shirts or talk to some cat. He could just forget the tiny notation on the bottom of Thursday's page, and go on with his life.

But, the page bothered him. Why was he resisting making friends? He might try just walking down the street at lunch, where it would have sidewalks filled with pedestrians. He could see himself, holding out his hand, and saying "Hi, I'm Preston. I'd like to be your friend."
He grimaced. Right, that isn't remotely awkward. He'd be lucky if no one called the cops and had him committed.

Preston wondered briefly why that was. He wondered what he would think if someone came up to him and offered him friendship on the street. "Because it was weird," his brain offered. No one trusts weird things, and if you can't trust someone, well, it's hard to be their friend.

He then thought about situations which would make someone a true friend in the span of a day. Reasonably, two people could be united in a common crisis, like being trapped in an elevator, or trapped in a speeding bus that could explode if it slowed down to under 50 MPH. And this was friendship, not a romantic one. Because, he thought with a chuckle "relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last."

He supposed if he were serious about this making a friend thing, he could simply cause a crisis, and be trapped with some other person, and then they'd become friends... Until the other person found out that he'd caused the crisis, and never spoke to him again, because everyone knows the other person *would* find out. That's like storytelling 101.

No. thought Preston. He would just mostly be himself, offer a friendly gesture, like bringing an apple, unexpectedly, for a co-worker, and let nature take its course. Hopefully he didn't randomly pick the one person who hated apples and would be inimical towards such an offering. If they ended up friends, so be it. So long as they didn't end up enemies, and there was a touch more friendship in the world, well, he figured that was worth an attempt. Maybe not even just on Feb. 11.

******************
Well, it was worth a shot. I'm running late for work. Type to you tomorrow.

inimical / in - EM - eh - cal / hostile, unfriendly.

Word of the Day: furibund

So, this week, we've had virtual snow and creepy martyrs. Sounds like the week before VD (Valentine's Day) to me. Today we talk about another important matter potentially affecting each and every one of us. That threat, ladies and gentlemen, is, of course, zombies. Please, be sure to read beyond...

Today's Word:

furibund

As in:

In preparation for an impending zombie apocalypse, one enterprising young man has started a unique training program designed to increase your odds of surviving in a world of brain craving zombies.

Ken Marshall, the man offering this very practical course explains it this way, "If you notice there are more and more zombie movies made every year. This indicates to me that odds of a zombie-type plaque are on the rise. Combined with the fact that each movie is sorta like free advertisement, I felt like it was time to take advantage of the situation and provide a valuable public service."

The 5-week course recommends developing a whole survival strategy, from carrying a specialized zombie emergency pack, which you should carry with you at all times, and a routine which familiarizes you with good potential for staying during sieges, or for re-supplying yourself. Marshall not only gives you a list of these items and suppliers, he also sells starter kits. These are offered at a discount for anyone taking his course.

The intensive program includes a course on marksmanship, to improve participant's aim, especially under pressure from furibund former people, how to maximize ammunition and kill shots straight to the head, and choosing the best ammunition for your emergency survival pack.

Another course focuses on cardiovascular training to stay fit to best outrun shambling hoards of undead Americans.

There is a course on basic survival, including a few lessons on preventing disease, (especially if the particular strain which causes a zombie apocalypse mutates, and becomes transmitted in ways besides a bite from a zombie), and how to find food after all the non-perishables have perished or been exhausted.

"Training footage," in the form of zombie movies, will be required homework. There will also be time set aside for philosophical discussions, such as "is it possible to reform a zombie?" and "why do zombies always seem to aim their gazes up at the sky, and how do they still manage to see their prey?"

On a lighter note, there is a course on "fooling" zombies, which offers advice on disguising yourself as a zombie to pass through a horde, or using distraction techniques such as throwing shiny objects, or using makeup to appear "already bitten, thanks."

*****************
I've been thinking about zombies quite a bit lately, as you can tell. I almost think that I would take that course. Or, maybe it would be fun to actually sell it. Could make some dollars, I think.

furibund / FUR - eh - BUND / furious, frenzied

Word of the Day: durance

Today is the feast day of Saint Apollonia, patroness of dentists and tooth problems. You might be wondering why I mention this. Likely it will become clear as you read...

Today's Word

durance

As in:

Before she was a Saint, Apollonia was simply a persecuted Christian cruelly tortured for her beliefs. In the midst of her durance, her jailers inflicted their torture by violently shattering the poor lady's teeth. A few teeth were extracted with pincers. After enduring this, the martyr was burned to death.

Or so the story goes.

In truth, the story is far stranger.

Apollonia was one of a number of ladies suffering during an outbreak of violence against Christians in the city of Alexandria, Egypt in the third century. After enduring the painful dental destruction, Apollonia seized the opportunity to throw herself on a mound of flamming coals. But she was not the only one. Using the cover of the others, Apollonia secretly escaped from the fiery pit.

With no dental records to prove she had perished in the fire, and, for that matter, no teeth, Apollonia wandered the streets of Alexandria by night, looking for a solution to her toothless existence. She stayed out of the sight of the living, both for fear of recognition, and out of embarrassment for her current state. One night, she learned of a child who had lost his tooth. His family simply discarded it. Apollonia was thrilled! Perhaps she could fashion some sort of device to help her, made of discarded teeth!

Soon she was searching everywhere for the baby teeth, until she was spotted one night pulling a prize specimen from the refuse heap behind a row of houses.

The small girl whose tooth it had been, looked curiously at the woman, toothless and scarred by flame. She looked frightened.

At this moment, Apollonia spoke. "Do not be afraid. I am the tooth fairy. I bring you a gift in trade for your lost tooth." and she pulled out a small coin. "Tell all your friends that if they simply leave their teeth under their pillows at night, I will find them and leave an offering in its place."

All fear lost, the child did as she was asked.

Apollonia, for her part, was pleased to be able to give small offerings of food in exchange for teeth. She was careful to never again be spotted about her nightly visits.

**************
I think this one has disturbed even me. No, I know it has.

Although, come to think of it, isn't the idea of a tooth fairy pretty creepy anyway? What does she want with baby teeth? Never mind. I don't want to know. Yuck.

durance / DURR - ants / imprisonment

Word of the Day: pervicacious

I am sitting here typing as a means of jogging my brain into an idea of some sort for today. It's feeling vaguely hopeless, but, I've only got about an hour to write this before I have to post something.

I've been having not-so-fun computer issues all weekend, and am grateful for the use of my sister's other laptop so that I can get anything posted at all.

Sooooo...

How was your weekend? How 'bout them Saints? The commercials acquitted themselves nicely, didn't they? The Olympics start on Friday. I wonder if Vancouver has any snow. HMMMMmmmmmm. Yes. Snow. That might be an idea.

Today's Word:

pervicacious

As in:

For many years, Vancouver has increasingly served as "little Hollywood," where television and movie crews can work at a substantial savings over similar facilities in Los Angeles.

The proximity of so many talented producers and directors, has lead Vancouver's city fathers to seek them out in their time of need for the 2010 Winter Olympic Games.

The city needs snow. And, if it can't get any, or make enough, they figure the illusion of snow might just be enough.

"Hollywood's special effects wizards can do anything. If they can transport an audience to a world where unobtainium can be found, well, a little snow should be child's play."

One company is modeling the Vancouver slopes for the downhill races, which competitors will navigate using skiing simulators. When several athletes protested that no simulator no matter how good, can create a world-class skiing venue, one pervicacious modeler insisted that it will look and feel "pretty much" the same. "You won't have cold, or wet, or crashes, but, other than that, it'll be identical. Identical. No one will even notice. They'll probably even like it better, since it'll all be warm and dry."

The company will take motion capture of the athletes, and marry their performance onto the rendering of the mountain, providing NBC with footage of skiers going down the slopes as if they had actually skied the course. "No one will ever know. Well, except the people who read this."

Another company has created vast quantites of a biodegradable fake snow for cross-country skiing events. It conveniently washes away with the rain, so clean-up will be easy. The downside is that multiple applications will be required over the various courses during the 16 days of events.

When asked about the cost for this special effects wizardry, a city official stuck his fingers in his ears and said "NAHNAHNAHNAHNAH. NOT Listening. NAHNAHNAH." Later he could be heard to be muttering "Who picks a host city for a Winter Olympics that only has a 27% chance of having snow in February?"

*********************
Thank goodness introductory brainstorming, eh? Welcome to your week.

pervicacious / per - VEH - kay - shus / very stubborn

Word of the Day: diriment

It's Friday, which means the weekend is here. I am feeling grateful, and am hoping that I'll be able to get enough done this weekend to make next week go by smoothly. Have a great weekend everyone.

Today's Word:

diriment

As in:

Last week, an infant with a rare skin disorder received a skin transplant made from bio-engineered skin. The skin is manufactured by a firm in Massachusetts and is comprised of cells from infant foreskins, removed after circumcision, and bovine collagen.

The derivation of the bio-engineered skin came as a surprise to many, as many were at a lost to explain exactly how the firm came to think that these particular products of infants could be useful. Many people asked have been asking themselves the question: "Why would anyone want to keep that stuff?"

Of course, many researchers in the medical profession have hidden documentation which proves that infants are truly magical beings, and that all products associated with their births and the first six months of their lives are too
valuable to be wasted. Many are familiar with the potential benefits associated with umbilical cord blood and placental material, however, it is not well known that all biological waste products of infants are meticulously collected and hoarded by bio-engineering firms and pharmaceutical giants in hopes of finding "miracle" cures to the world's diseases.

Several of these firms have founded "diaper services" for the sole purpose of gaining access to precious infant waste. Others collect products from hospital NICUs, where even the smallest drop of perspiration is gathered.

Several people, including a large group of individuals which had, at one time, supported these methods for their possible impact in medicine, now feel that the "unpleasantness" has a diriment effect, and thus outweighs any possible profit to be gained in the development of bio-engineered cures.

***********

diriment: / DIR – eh - ment / adj. making absolutely void; nullifying.

Word of the Day: mordacious

It has been an odd week, and it seems hard to believe it's again Friday Eve. I'm not complaining, just noticing. This is another short story. I hope that's okay with you. If not, you're welcome anyway.

Today's Word:

mordacious

As in:

Long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, there lived a mordacious cat. His name was Hector. He had calico fur, and, like all the creatures in his galaxy, he could talk, and even, on occasion, sing.

But, though he did have several friends, Hector's mordacity was so acute, that few people, beyond his friends, wanted to be around him.

As just one example of this trait, soon after the death of a famous entertainer (who collapsed after eating too many peanut butter and banana sandwiches made from overripe fruit and an overdose of weight-reduction pills), Hector commented "well, he may be dead, but, at least he's not getting any fatter"

And then, one day, Hector got a taste of his own medicine. While eating dinner at a friend's house, Hector began to make unappetizing and rude comments about the other guests. Hector's comments succeeded in making everyone unconfortable, and a few people were actually quite angry. The host, also a cat, and the possessor of impressive, seemingly enhanced reflexes, quickly reached out and grabbed Hector's tongue, glaring at him. When it was clear that Hector was both appropriately surprised, abashed and thoroughly chagrined, the host commented wryly, "What's the matter, Hector? Cat got your tongue?"

* * * * * *

mordacious / moor-DAY-shus / biting, sharp, acrid or caustic (mordacity, nounform).

Word of the Day: calumny

Is it me, or did Lost toss a lateral last night? That was a packed opening, and all I can say is "wow." Well, that and "I didn't realize how much I'd missed it."

Today's story is short, but, perhaps it will strike a chord with you. Perhaps you will look into the window of the workplace and see yourself joining in the battle with Sam, making the world a better place one returned writing implement at a time. It's sorta like the Word of the Day, bringing just a touch of brightness into your day. That is my hope.

Today's Word:

calumny

As in:

After many years working in offices all over the country and in many different industries, Sam Gelbhart had finally had enough. His experience with a large sample of public and private workplaces gave him unique insight in what would prove to be his true calling. Sam was striking out on his own and forming a business which would fulfill a much ignored, and potentially huge niche market.

Sam was going to become "The Righter of Workplace Wrongs."

As defender of the victims of every office wrong, Sam planned to make millions protecting office workers from colleagues who always steal their pens, ransacked hidden candy caches and who engage in water-cooler calumny. No longer would the office be a place where people left the break room littered with dishes, the refrigerator filled with furry Tupperware, or the coffee pot burners remained on to scorch the coffee dregs into crusty black shells. Sam would ferret out each and every violator of workplace civility, return pens stolen, prevent coffee scorching, and assure that each worker would never have to have a falsely maligned reputation.

****************
Sometimes, I really hate those pen stealing types. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

calumny / CAL - uhm - nee / the malicious uttering of false charges calculated to damage another's reputation.

Word of the Day: mantic

It's Groundhog Day, which is not a particularly obscure holiday, but, it is one of the favorites for your humble writer of strange tales. It's a hoot to harness the power of a prognosticating rodent, who has a longer and weirder set of legends associated with him than the Grimm Brothers.

Today's Word:

mantic

As in:

Punxauntawney Phil saw his shadow today, but unique to his sighting was his reaction. Phil panicked.

Consulted annually for his mantic weather abilities, Phil emerged from the door of his Gobbler's Knob estate, saw a shadow, and made some dire predictions not about the weather, but about things no groundhog should ever know.

Through his handlers, in impassioned Groundhogese, Phil frightened those gathered with his frenzied attempts to escape and with the words that seemed to need no translation.

His handlers worked hard to convey Phil's nearly incoherent predictions. His ranting, as nearly as can be interpreted from his native language, are cryptic and ominous.

Nowhere in the century-long record has Phil spoken of anything besides the weather. Some have speculated that Phil's hibernation might have been interrupted this year due to El Nino, or maybe "those crazy kids playing their Rock music too loudly." Others suspect Phil might be getting senile, and the elixir of life has made him insane.

Phil's cousins, Georgia's General Beauregard Lee, New York City's Staten Island Chuck, Jimmy of Sun Prairie,
Wisconsin, Wanda of the Milwaukee County Zoo, and Buckeye Chuck of Marion, Ohio, did not behave out of the ordinary, but, a spokesperson for Chuck, interpreting for his employer, indicates that Chuck always felt that Phil has "unstable," and that "the fame would go to his head, and one day he'd just snap. If you want a woodchuck of sound psyche, you know where I live."

None of these other celebrity woodchucks could explain what Phil's message means. His message, reproduced as accurately as is possible, is included below.

"The shadow of gas returns. The island awakes. Towers of four toes shake. Fire burns in the rabbit hole. The clock can never be correct. Bears of white prowl far from home. No constant. Never a constant. Biscuits of fish."

"Golden man looks for tall blue people of the tail. Solid raspberries for Bullock and Steve. Bowling Saints and horses. No asking, no telling."

*****************************
For those unaware, Phil’s has lived for more than 12 decades thanks to an annual summer ritual where he gets some elixir that extends his life. I am not making this up.

Lost returns tonight, if you didn’t know. And the Oscar nominations are on their way. But then, you all knew that already, didn't you? I do have well-informed readers.

mantic / man - TICK / prophetic

Word of the Day: polysemous

I’m writing this with a sense of haste, as it is early Monday morning, and I’d failed to get it done sooner, which is my own darn fault. This one is dedicated to Jen who gave me the idea in the first place, when she suggested that the story include “Jell-o.”

Today’s Word:

polysemous

As in:

A very tired scientist called a press conference Monday to reveal his shocking findings about gelatin.

“It’s sentient,” he announced to a shocked crowd of journalists. “I’ve only become certain of this over the past few days, while staring into the 12 molded-gelatin desserts my mother made for me. I started to notice that the hypnotic motion of the dessert was not, in any way, random, but instead was a form of communication. I think it’s a form of Morse code, but, more study is needed.”

“I believe that life begins as soon as the hot liquid dissolves the gelatin. From there, it gains intelligence as it congeals. The fully set, or “adult” stage, can best be observed when the item is unmolded and placed on a platter. It is this “unmolded” stage that is characterized by language and attempts to communicate with the human world.”

“I started to take notice in the first hour of observation. The cherry-flavored gelatin wiggled and jiggled the word “stop” in Morse code. After that, it was a series of consonants, so, I had to conclude that “stop” is the only word it knew of our language, and that it had resumed wiggling in its own, as yet undocumented language.”

“After 96 hours, I did observe a full total of 5 words which I believe were in English from the other desserts, but I have been unable to determine if they are part of the same message, or individual ones. The words were: cat, carrots, lunch, pot and polysemous. I’ve no idea what any of them mean, or how gelatin learned “polysemous.” It could mean anything. Take “pot” for instance. Did the gelatin mean to indicate a vessel for cooking or a slang term for marijuana? Perhaps the gelatin knew that there were multiple meanings for “pot” and this tells us why the word “polysemous” came up.”

“Given the grouping of words, I cannot be certain what the message might be, but, I suspect it has something to do with food. It seems likely that the English words it knows most clearly are the ones involved with its own preparation, that is, “carrots,” which are sometimes grated and added to gelatin, “lunch” which is a meal for which gelatin might be prepared, and “pot” which could be used to heat water, or hold the gelatin before it is transferred to a mold. “Cat” could simply be explained by the appearance of a cat underfoot, and the maker of gelatin exclaiming, “cat!” in frustration. Clearly, there is much work to be done.”

“It is clear to me that the words themselves and the patterns they make, that long term observation is the only way to notice the motion as words at all. Those who wish to follow my example will need to make every effort to observe them for long, uninterrupted periods of time.”

“At this time, I cannot continue to observe this group, but, it is imperative that the consumption of these intelligent creatures be stopped at once, and that more scientists are needed to learn the language of the species. I ask the scientific community to join me in this exploration. There is always room for Jell-O at the table of scientific discourse. Thank you for coming today.“

***********************
You always knew there was something fishy about that gelatin, didn’t you? Makes you think twice about eating it.

polysemous / polly – SEEM – us / having multiple meanings

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."

**********************
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.

**********************
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.