Word of the Day: errant

I have been struggling of late, which you probably have noticed. I’ve been feeling a tad lost, and there were a number of distractions which provided convenient excuses.  I could lie and say that these excuses were justifiable reasons for failing, but I will not. The truth is that I gave into doubt or despair or something less emo-sounding but whatever you call it, I am resolved to get back on track.

During all this time, I did some thinking about what the point of writing these stories is, and I’m still not entirely sure I came up with an answer. The closest thing I came up with is that I write them in hopes that you enjoy reading them; that they are a bright spot in your day and make the day better. Perhaps the bring a smile at least, or a chuckle now and then. If I’m succeeding at least part of the time, then it is worth it.

Enough of that. It wasn’t the least bit cheery, nor smile educing.  We’re going to avoid the shark and jump back into this with…

Today’s Word:


As in:

It seemed like a brilliant way to hide and destroy the evidence of his crimes. He could even make a few bucks from his unorthodox little hobby.  He was very grateful that his would-be customers would not even question his product — not if it was wrapped properly, and had labels. People were idiots.  This is why one kills them.

Well, not everyone of course.

He was glad that that there were not many people whose hobby it was to kill other humans and then dismember them. It would’ve ruined the market, and if everyone was doing it, well, he’d probably find it less appealing, which was really pretty perverse now that he thought about it.

Once his victims were nicely sectioned into roasts, steaks, and fillets,  he carefully wrapped them vacuum-sealed plastics, and flash froze them. They really did look just like the meat parcels at the supermarket, or one of those high-end gourmet meat services. Which was, after all, the point.

When the time was right, he simply took the meat, put it in his refrigerated truck with the name of a well-known meat packer emblazoned upon the sides, and he hit the streets.

His sales pitch was one that he simply borrowed from competitors. When a door opened to reveal a busy housewife, he’s simply explain that he was in a jam. He has a surplus of product on his truck, and would have to pay for restocking it. To prevent this, he was offering his extra meat at a huge discount. One day only. He hated to let these beauties go for such a discount, but, he’d rather that, then to have to take them back to the warehouse.

His pitch was hugely effective. In less than an hour the errant serial killer sold all the evidence of his crimes, to be enjoyed by an unsuspecting public eager for a criminally good deal.


Not a feel good story is it? This was, of course inspired by a conversation I saw in which someone hinted that these door-to-door meat vendors were not entirely “savory” characters…

errant / AIR – ant / 1. traveling or given to traveling. 2. straying outside the proper path or bounds.

Word of the Day: limpid

This story is also inspired by Shark Week, but, I think it’s essentially a one liner with a hyperactive thyroid. I’ll let you be the judges. If one of you decides to be Simon,  well, he’s usually right, so, let me have it.

Today’s Word:


As in:

As in the human world, the demand for qualified nurse-sharks in the ocean has grown so quickly that the supply cannot keep up.  And, despite a large pool of qualified candidates, the biggest thing thwarting would-be nurse sharks?

They can’t get into schools.

“It’s a difficult situation,” says headfishtress Wanda. “We’ve got a shortage of qualified teachers, a limited about of classroom space, and facilities for practicals and labs. To have qualified and trained graduates, you have to maintain standards, and we’ve got very real limitations”

With the aging baby boomer population, and shark lifespans often reaching to the century mark, the crisis of caring for the aging population, especially amid the shrinking food supplies and limited feeding grounds, a health care crisis is on the horizon.

“The writing is on the wall. It is limpid, and sounds an alarm for all in the sea. We have an obligation to care for our own, and without nurse sharks the suffering will be immeasurable,” noted the tired administrator.

“Contrary to popular belief, sharks *do* get cancer and other diseases.  And, with the recent oil spill in the Gulf, we expect to see a number of environmental ailments to make a sharp increase,” said Wanda. “The pollutants from the oil and dispersant in the food chain, and the water cannot be completed filtered out by gills. And do you think we’ll see so much as a dime from BP? Yeah. That’s what I thought. No oil company is going to pay for a shark’s chemotherapy.  Sure, they might pay to clean it off your fins, but, forget about the long term health of a fish-winner. ”

Despite their vital role in the ocean ecology, nurse sharks are not widely respected in the shark community, as they are a smaller, bottom-dwelling shark that consume mollusks and crustaceans, instead of the impressive hunter type of shark. Their tireless efforts to heal the ailments of their brethren are not widely appreciated, as most sharks tend to see illnesses and injury as weakness, and are ashamed to admit they are susceptible to weakness, preferring to suffer in silence. 

That’s all I have to say about that.

limpid / LIM – ped / clear and simple in style. I chose this word because a spam bot, much more literate than they normally are, used this word in one of its comments on a friend’s site.

Word of the Day: fungible

In the depths of my writer’s block, I am saved, at least in the short term, by the annual appearance of that most sacred of celebrations. I can only be speaking, or typing, of one thing. That’s right. It’s SHARK WEEK!

Today’s Word:


As in:

As the Discovery Channel’s Shark Week ramps up for is 23rd annual celebration of all things cartilaginous, sharks the world over are popping up in all sorts of unexpected places.

“The likelihood that you might meet a terrestrial shark, also known as the ‘land shark,’ on your next trip to the mall is always increased during this time of the year,” said Discovery Channel spokesperson Maria Gonzales. “It’s a good time to see sharks that don’t come out very often.”

Other sharks you could encounter in the wild are the fungible shark, more commonly known as the “loan shark,” and a number of members of the family Sharpis Hustleris, which includes card and billiards sharks. 

Sadly, the weeks following Shark Week also bring an increase of shrks sightings in unemployment lines, and on street corners where the temporarily employed sharks are now forced into alternative forms of employment.

Sharks are turning up in coffee pots, jonesing for the caffeine to which they’ve become addicted working long hours on set. They’re circling in unemployment offices menacing bystanders into offering them food or other enticements.

Some of these creatures have set out jars and are cruising public areas with signs saying “Will Swim for Food,” “Give a brother a Bite,”  “Remember Shark Week!” and “Save a Shark: Make Every Week Shark Week!”

Seeing sharks in working on the streets is a reminder of the increasingly dwindling habitats for sharks, who are increasingly encroaching shorelines, looking for scarcer schools of their food sources.

Despite the efforts of events like Shark Week, people are still reporting that these creatures make them feel anxious and fearful, and seeing them on street corners is not making it any better.  “I like Shark Week just as much as the next guy, but, this is sorta creepy. I don’t like the idea of them taking unemployment funds from some hard working American, and I don’t like them circling around with their beady eyes and hollow stares, and huge gaping maws, lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Scary. It’s one thing when they’re on your TV in HD, it’s quite another when they’re right there, in your parking spot, and on the corner where you get a newspaper. Scary.”

I have to admit, I’ve never before really watched any of Shark Week, until last night. I had no idea it had been around as long as it has been, but, given its huge impact on popular culture I should have realized it had been around longer than The Simpsons, and the reunified Germany. Think about that for a moment, folks.

And, I admit, I took some liberties in the use of today’s word. It’s much more common than the typical word, so that I didn’t feel the need to be quite as clear on the meaning.

fungible / FUN – jeh – bull / being of such a nature that one part or quantity may be replaced by another equal part or quantity in the satisfaction of an obligation.

Word of the Day: exiguous

A bad patch of writer’s block and distractions have been my nemesis this week. This is another re-worked story.

Today’s Word:


As in:

Eight years ago, noted Hollywood writer/director, Billy Wilder, died at the age of 95. Wilder is known for films such as “Sunset Blvd,” “Witness for the Prosecution,” “Sabrina,” and “Double Indemnity.” His films often featured sharp, witty dialog, and were sometimes criticized for a somewhat bleak portrait of life.

In a morbid tribute to the director, a devoted fan in Britain was found dead in a swimming pool just  this week. The man wore an expensive, tailored suit, but the pool held only a few soggy bills, an exiguous amount of money. There were few clues about how the man came to be in the pool.

The man’s death was briefly categorized as unexplained and assumed to be accidental, until a message from the deceased was found among his possessions. The man had a vast collection of journals, and in each, he signed his name as Joe Gillis, a character from the Wilder film “Sunset Blvd.” The suicide note quoted this famous Wilder film, and is reprinted, in part, below:

“Well, this is where you came in, back at that pool again, the one I always wanted. It’s dawn now and they must have photographed me a thousand times. Then they got a couple of pruning hooks from the garden and fished me out… ever so gently. Funny, how gentle people get with you once you’re dead.”

Sunset Blvd is probably my favorite Wilder film, and when I wrote this, I hadn’t yet been to Hollywood. Since I wrote this, I have visited that strange land, and now understand that this movie is almost a sad, macabre, documentary. There’s so many shattered dreams and painful horror seething just under the glitzy surface. It’s a very surreal place, so familiar on one hand (because so much of it has been filmed from so many angles), and so very foreign on the other hand.

I am assessing, too, this endeavor, and what I’ve learned from the concerted effort of my goal to carry-out the posting schedule. I’ve learned many things, I hope to share them with you soon.

exiguous / EX – eh – juw – us / scanty in amount, meager

Word of the Day: peculation

Today there are two important anniversaries. First, and this is sorta an obscure one, today is the anniversary of the formation of the US Postal Service, which happened on this date in 1775. Ben Franklin was the first Postmaster General. As a collector of stamps, and a huge fan of Ben Franklin, well, I had to at least mention it.

Second, and more relevant to the story, once you get to it, is that today is the twentieth anniversary of the ADA.

Today’s Word:


As in:

With the anniversary of the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, there has been much discussion about furthering the important gains made for disabled Americans by introducing the Americans with No Abilities Act.

“This is not only an important piece of legislation for non-abled Americans, it’s a jobs bill, which is an important part of this country’s economic recovery. Putting the non-abled into jobs will really stimulate the economy,” noted the chief lobbyist for the ANAA, Ned Kotler, a  worthless, talentless hack of a former salesman.

“In addition,” he continued. “We usually expect the non-abled to spend all the money they get, and there are plenty of opportunities for abled-Americans to engage in something called ‘peculation,’ which will spread the dollars into the economy very efficiently. Or so they tell me.”

The ANAA allows for the employment of one person with no ability
whatsoever for every two skilled workers that are hired.

“Think of it as a buy three, get two special. Actually, the math works out to be more like buy three, get one and a half since you’ll have to have someone ‘clean-up’ any task assigned to the non-abled worker. It’s better just to assign the non-abled worker nothing to do. Then you keep the net gain of two workers.”

Those crafting the act say it will affect about 135 million Americans, 0r approximately 50.0% of the American population. These are people who, through no fault of their own, simply lack the talent and skills necessary to make their lives anything more than a futile, meaningless, hamster-wheel, paper counting, travesty of the human condition.

“The best part of the ANAA,” noted Kotler, “is that many of these people are already employed. These are the fortunate non-abled who have managed to rise above their condition and appear to be relatively normal. Given that the national unemployment rate is hovering around 10%, and the ANAA considers 50% of all Americans to be non-abled, this should have every worker willing to collect a paycheck, some sort of job.”

This is an old idea that I re-worked for today. It’s more than 85% new. See? I’m being green. If recycling plots and ideas was good enough for Shakespeare, it’s good enough for me.

peculation: / PECK-you-lay-shun / embezzlement.

Word of the Day: logomachy

As tropical storm Bonnie flitters around the Gulf of Mexico, my brain landed on this idea. 

Today’s Word:


As in:

The World Meteorological Organization (WMO)  has announced a controversial decision to change the way it creates the list of names for tropical storms and hurricanes. The WMO has decided that to sell the naming rights to the storms to the highest bidder.

“Raising money through the sale of storm naming rights seems like an innovative way for us to build capital reserves during these difficult economic times,” says WMO spokesperson Niles Kitridge. “We will use these funds to further our mission to protect life and property in the event of natural disasters.”

There has been some interest in the program by a number of corporate sponsors. One prospective bidder, who refused to give his name, asked if  they were the winning bidder,  could they put the name of their chief competitor on the list. The bidder said that his company would be willing to pat an additional fee if the WMO could guarantee that the storm would become a category 4 hurricane.

One meteorologist wondered if the convention of naming storms in the same fashion as ball parks was really missing the point for having named storms. “Is it really useful to call a storm ‘Tropical Storm Coca-Cola brought to you by Pepsi?’ What happens if the storm is so destructive the name is  retired? Do the naming rights expire if the name doesn’t get used in a season?”

Several millionaires have expressed interest in possibly participating in bidding for naming rights. Rumors have abounded that Mel Gibson would pay more than 10 million dollars to name a storm “Oksana,” because that “%#%$#!!#*&%$ really deserves it.”

A representative from BP inquired whether it was possible to put a name on the list that would somehow deflect the attention from the oil spill. Among BP’s proposed names are “Look, over there!” and “Potentially worse disaster than the oil spill if we get really lucky.”

The BP representative then had a thought that purchasing the naming rights could possibly make the company liable for the damage caused by the storm, and decided that they’d done enough damage for one company in the Gulf and probably couldn’t afford to have to pay for another one.

Of course, beyond the bidding logomachy, there are many who are simply upset that the names of storms are up for bid at all.

The WMO says that the funding will be put to good use, and that any inconvenience in identifying the storms by their bid-name is easily overshadowed by the benefits of making a profit from the naming rights. “It’s really time for these storms to do more than destroy stuff. They should start earning their keep, especially with climate change leading to an increase in the number and the strength of storms all over the world. ”

I, for one, would like to see Hurricane Hemorrhoid Creme or something. Maybe that’s the exhaustion talking.

logomachy / low – GAH – ma – key / a dispute over or about words

Word of the Day: subreptitious

You probably noticed I sorta got behind again. You should giver yourself a gold star. I’m just glad I’m finishing this up now, and can go to bed soon.

Today’s Word:


As in:

Lawsuits were filled today naming the Farmer’s Wife in a civil suit over the maiming incident in which three blind mice lost their tails. The incident was the impetus for a number of episodes of racial violence between Rodent-Americans and Human-Americans, when the criminal courts failed to convict the woman of numerous counts of attempted homicide, hate-crimes and animal cruelty.

The mice, who are standing by their assertion that their blindness was a result of poisoning agents left out by the Farmer’s Wife, and not a result of  aging or other degenerative diseases, as successfully argued by the defense in the original trial, have decided to take their complaints to civil courts, citing a hostile work environment leading to their multiple disabilities.

“That woman has had it out for my clients the minute they stepped into the house, and not just for them, but all of their kind,” said the attorney for the organization suing on the behalf of the mice. “The were simply trying to survive, scavenging for scraps, which she rarely provided, and attempting to make their lives better in the promised land of the farmhouse. For these poor, maimed mice, it has been little more than a house of horror.”

A spokesperson for the Farmer and his Wifewas quick to point out that they had “never hired” the mice and that their modest farm house could not be considered a workplace for the three plantiffs.

Questioned further about his “anti-Rodent” sentiment, the Farmer said: “These mice invaded *my* dwelling, they stole food, they soiled and damaged furniture and carpets, and they terrorised my wife at all hours. Rodents carry disease, and they are not welcome in our home. We have every right to defend our home from unwanted squatters, who have treated us and our home with little regard. They are the kind of house guests that will not only never leave, but blame you for having provided food that was unacceptably poor quality, right before they steal it, taking every morsel for themselves. We intend to file a counter-suit.

The attorney for the mice is confident that the mice will get a more fair hearing in front of a bi-special jury they can demand in a civil trial. “We’re fighting deeply ingrained Anti-Rodent bias on every side. No all-human jury would convict a human of wrong doing against any rodent. The imnity is too strong and goes back to the days before humans could write.  Until rodents are acknowledged as having even the most basic rights, these injustices will continue. We must take a stand, here and now.”

Despite the outcry that much of the evidence in the trial was subreptitious, or manufactured by the defendant to put her in a better light, no charges were ever filed against any of the investigators in the case.

The trials have drawn national attention from other animal rights groups, who have indicated that this could spark more legal actions against humans who have exterminated insects, killed or evicted prarie dogs, squirrels and other “pests” from their property, or participated in the “barbaric hunting rituals” which end in animals killed for sport and trophies being displayed for the whole animal kingdom to feel intimidated and threatened.

It’s hard out there for a rodent. And, I don’t feel a tad guilty. Is that so wrong?

subreptitious / SUB – REP – tish – us / fraudulently obtained, a deliberate misrepresentation; surreptitious.

Word of the Day: chouse

Monday. Again. Where do those glorious things known as weekends go? You can probably tell from this introduction that I’ve already written the story and I just want to get to typing it already.

Yes. I do write 60% of these stories in long hand.  I have a long, enforced lunch hour at work, and I don’t take my laptop with me to work. It’s too bulky.  It’s good for you to pick up a pen once in awhile.  So now you know.

Today’s Word:


As in:

Gary Porter was a unique child. No one would’ve called him a bully, certainly he did leave a wake of wounded kids wherever he went.  The cruelest part was that he tended to profit from those poor wounded souls.

By now, the other children should’ve learned that there was something wrong with Gary’s game, and that his “Challenge” was pretty hard to  win, and usually kids ended up with casts or stitches.

“Gary’s Challenge” seemed simple enough. Gary bet that no kid could ride his bike. He took all comers, boys, girls, all ages.  He dared them to stay on for a full five minutes. If they didn’t, Gary kept their wager. Gary could probably retire at 20 with the money he’d gotten over the years. A few kids managed to stay on for the five minutes, but, they often came away from the experience minus their lunches and looking exceptionally green.

Gary didn’t mind losing a few bucks here and there. It added to his legend, and it made the others feel like they had a sporting chance. It was no chouse, Gary hadn’t stolen their money, they are earned or lost it honestly.

Of course, they didn’t have all the facts, and Gary wouldn’t share his secret. Even if he did, they wouldn’t believe it. He himself had no idea how he’d been fortunate enough to have a bike like his, but he wasn’t going to look too closely at any gift equine, even when it had wheels instead of hooves.

Gary had the world’s only bucking bicycle.

Well, at least, as far as he knew.

He’d gotten the bicycle as a birthday present, and after his first ride, he learned that the bike had a mind of its own. He was the bike’s owner and safe, but, when his little brother tried to ride, the bike shook him off.

Ever since then, he’d made his little bets.

Until today. Today, the bike bucked him. Gary went right over the handle bars. He couldn’t figure out why the bike had turned on him. He wondered if it was jealous, or maybe it was tired, he didn’t know.

All the kids who took his “Challenge,” the last few days kept their money, and Gary could no longer ride his own bike. He decided it was time to stop betting kids.  Once he’d made the decision to stop, he could once again ride his bike.  He wasn’t at all disappointed in having a retired bucking bicycle, and eventually, he forgot all about his bike’s peculiar abilities.

A bucking bicycle? Clearly, I have run out of ideas.

chouse / CHOWSE / rhymes with house.  To cheat, trick.

Word of the Day: eremophobia

It’s Friday! At least I hope it is.  This has largely been a very good week, as you’re reading this days after I wrote it, which means I got ahead. I’m very happy about that.

Today’s Word:


As in:

“Welcome back to ‘Banquets for the Busy.’ Today we’re going to focus on ‘Banquet Birthdays.’ When someone in your life is celebrating another twirl around the sun, what better way to commemorate the event then with a gathering of good friends and good food! Hosting a banquet is a wonderful way to take a break from your busy life! Of course, if your life is busy, how do you get something together so you *can* take a break, right?”

“Well, if you are like my roommate Anthony, you just get me to do it! And you don’t even ask if I’m busy! You just expect me to dro peverything and do it! But, you’re not like him, are you?”

“Let’s see. First, I’m going to show you a bunch of fantastic recipes that you can make-ahead, freeze, and which really re-heat well, in time for your event. These are terrific time savers. Unless, of course, Anthony is your using the oven when you want to have people over.  Naturally, he doesn’t use the oven to cook food. Oh, no. He uses it to store his weapons and drugs for trafficking.  Like the oven is a place his chef roommate wouldn’t discover.”

“Then, we’ll learn some fantastic ways to save time with pre-prepped produce and how to create some exciting party favors. You can save time and not sacrifice any quality, which is especially important is your roommate decides to crash your party and bring two or three of his pals over before they fo to ‘ice’ some guy who didn’t pay his gambling debts. Don’t worry, members of organized crime syndicates  appreciate the extra effort involved in feeding unexpected guests, and will gladly offer you some lightly stained cash for your efforts. Be sure to have it laundered. Literally laundered.”

“You know, those criminal types might even be more appreciative of your efforts than the people who share your home. He takes advantage of my eremophobia, he knows I can’t be alone. He cares more about his victims than the work you put into making his day special.”

“Where was I? Right. Freezing things ahead of time and using pre-prepped produce. Another time saver is to make your sauces and glazes in advance, and store them in airtight jars in the fridge. If, as is normal on the days leading up to a party, the fridge is full, you can use a cooler for secondary storage. That is, if Anthony hasn’t taken it to hide the body until he can dump it. Then you might find a nasty surprised and never want to use that cooler again. You would hope he would’ve learned from the last time he did that, and you asked him nicely never to do that again, and then bought a nice new cooler that was bigger.”

“Oh my! We’re out of time! How *did* that happen. Goodness. Well, next time, we’ll learn about those great freezer tips. Good night, and good banqueting.”

I’m pretty sure I would watch this show. I wonder what antics Anthony will be getting himself into next time. Silly Anthony.

eremophobia / ear – eh – mo -fohb – e – a / fear of being alone.

Word of the Day: roky

Finally, we get to the end of this tale, just in time for St. Swithin’s Day.  I thought it would never come. If it rains today, it will continue for the next 39 days. 

Are you ready to meet the Lupine?  Do you have an axe, or some suitable weapon? Then you are not ready.

Today’s Word:


As in:

We’d been flying for many hours when a thought occurred to Scalzi. “Wil,”
he said, cautiously, “You don’t have a weapon!”

“I know.” He looked embarrassed. “I have a small hunting knife, but, I
didn’t expect to get involved with fighting the thing. I don’t even own a
real weapon.”

Scalzi thought a minute. “We need to get you something you can use from
the top of the Catalypse. A spear would work. We should stop at the Mart
of Wal.”

“The Mart of Wal? I hate that place. They have horrible business
practices, and their shops are crowded and merchandise is always on the

“Do you know of another place to get a weapon? It’d take a blacksmith days
to make one, and he’s going to charge you top coin for it.”

“Craftsmanship is worth the price!”

“I think I know why your people wanted to be rid of you.”

“KIDS! Don’t make me stop this cat! If I have to pull this cat over, both
of you are in serious trouble.” Time to remind them who was really in
charge of this mission. “Look. We all agree that Wil’s plan to leave
without taking a weapon was idiotic…” Wil looked ready to kill. Too bad
stabbing me was out of the question. It’s good to be the shirt. “… and
we all agree Wil needs to have a spear. Let’s just get one and get it over

The two sat in sullen silence while we descended to the village to get a
spear. It was a roky evening, and the mist made it difficult to land, but once we did, we found a nice, reasonably priced spear, purchased it and got back
in the air. Wil complained that adventures are expensive. No, it really
doesn’t matter where we got it. Nosy.

The Catalypse soon picked up the trail of the Lupine. We wanted to get a
good sense of the lair, and plan our attack. There wasn’t much to plan. In
the end we went with Wil’s suggestion that Scalzi fight on the ground so
that it was easier to flank the invisible creature. Something about
“combat advantage.”

Everyone took their places, and waited for Herb to tell me when the Lupine
was near to spring our trap. We did not wait long.

On my signal, the team attacked. Scalzi swung his axe furiously in the
direction I’d indicated. Wil held the pointy end of the spear towards the
same invisible target, while the Catalypse pounced. As the Lupine became
injured, the wounds become visible, and the blood gave us all a target.

It was over in minutes. When the creature finally lost the battle, it
became completely visible. It had the face and torso of a wolf, but its
hind-end was like a horse.

So what if there was no treasure to loot? The menace was defeated.

We flew Herb back to his home. Last I heard, he’d settled down and had
quite the brood.

Though Wil and Scalzi sometimes argued, they had become friends. Someone said it was just like Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra. Someone got a slap to the mouth.

Me, I was returned to the Oracle and forgotten, while those ungrateful
jerks toured around the country, making huge speaker fees recounting their
adventure in front of audiences grateful to live in a world without the
Lupus Lupine. They don’t even bother to send Christmas cards.

No matter. The world will now know about my part in the defeat of a
terrible enemy, and how it was saved by a talking clown sweater.

And that’s the end of that.  Happy St. Swithin’s Day.

roky / row – KEY /  misty, foggy, cloudy. This one is kinda obscure, even for me. It’s one of those words you’ll find in provencial parts of England. But, as St. Swithin was a Bishop in Winchester (UK) and is considered a “weather prophet” and the guy to direct drought-related prayers, well, it seemed appropriate to pick a weather-related word from the UK.

And, if you’re as much of a Simpson’s geek as I am, you’re possibly remembering that Bart  commented on the appearance of kippers for breakfast, asking if it was St. Swithin’s day already.  This is because  it’s a British slang term for the day that never comes, as in “Oh yeah, they’ll have that done on St. Swithin’s Day.”