WORD SOUP

            I'm feeling a bit scattered this morning so, herewith, some word soup. (900 words to be exact.)

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Don't you love malapropisms? Of course Mrs. Malaprop (in Richard Sheridan's play The Rivals (1775) from whence the expression) dropped some of the best:  "He is the very pine-apple of politeness!"   and "...she's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of Nile."

             I used collect these slips of the tongue, but I can't lay my hands on the file right now. I do recall hearing a kind sweet man, who happened to be somewhat verbally-challenged, telling me that he suffered from brownchitis and barnicle pneumonia; that when he broke his finger in the car door, the doctor put splinters on it. 

            Speaking of doctors, in a doctor's waiting room one day I heard one man tell another that he had prostrate trouble. The other man replied by saying his wife just wasn't herself anymore, that her doctor told her she had Old-timers disease.

            It's hard not to dance the jubilation jig when I hear such statements as: "There she was, pacing back and forth, like a caged leotard."

            A wily old politician, stumping in red-neck country, made great use of malapropisms, so I've heard:   He would  disparage his opponent by stating that, not only had his opponent practiced celibacy before marriage, his son was a well-known homosapien, and his daughter, a thespian, was dancing in New York.  Did he clean up on the votes? Oh yes. As Sarah Palin would say: You betcha!"

            Slips of the tongue often do more than amuse and confuse. Some poorly chosen words can communicate much more about what we mean than we want to: For instance, I've learned isn't wise to say "Have a nice trip," to someone stumbling down stairs. I will never tell a friend who's gained a lot of weight: "Well, now, don't you look swell." Speaking of which, I recall meeting an old friend just returning from his cousin's wake.  I knew he was brimming to tell me all about it, so I asked: "Was it an open coffin?"  

            "Oh yes.  My! He looked well."

            Given to hyperbole, I've been accused to making  up stories. One time, in reply to some outrageous comment I'd made, my friend Jane said, "I beg your parsnips. That can't be right." I laughed my cheeks off.

            What, me? Make up stories?  I sat down with my old friend Bob Brankley at the Slumswick Tavern about 40 years ago.  "Bob," I said, "I want to tell you a great little story."  Taking a long draught of beer, he gazed at me like a long-suffering basset hound and said: "Naw, tell me a novel, like you always do."

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A gust of wind, a dust of snow

Yet lust for living makes me throw

A woolen scarf  around my collar

Put on my coat, and give a holler

To Pep, the pup, whose tail is waving

'Hurry up," says she, "I'm craving

"To get out doors and make my mark

Your silly chores can wait 'til dark."

(I poked this in here, just to relieve the tension.)

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            In another waiting room I came across a series of posters aimed at people with diabetes.  One shows a whole range of healthy choices...fruit, vegetables, non-fat this and that. Another states firmly: Your dietician is an important part of your food plan. "Jeepers!  I wonder how many calories in a dietician!"

            I use to have a great collection of buzz words, but I can't find that either. On our recently completed tax return forms, I kept coming across items that definitely obfuscate. Anyone who knows what a non-refundable tax credit is, raise your hand.

            What do you do after reading: "Be certain to complete all nonfunctional documentation prior to project completion?" Sounds to me like buzzwords grown fat and lazy, written to take up space, fool the foolish and waste trees.  These words could only have come from middle management.  Middle management, of course, is one of those places that could show up in the Harry Potter series one day. It's smack dab in the middle, between those who boss and play golf and those who do the work. 

            Back in the 1960s, I found the word obfuscate. It means to fog the speech. Politicians love to obfuscate. When you hear one reply to a question by saying: "That's a very good question," Just watch how he or she quickly moves to a safer topic or a pet project he is pushing.

            I am not sure what they really mean, but as far as I'm concerned they can all go get obfuscated!

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FRIDAY, TRASH DAY

Morning folks, I come to you from somewhere south, paludal.

I'm counting calories. (Now tell me, what's in an apple strudel?)

Permutating calculations are way beyond my noodle

But while I await replies, I'll Internet and doodle.

Earlier this morning I trimmed my darling's  tresses.

I scrubbed the porcelain and sink. I cleaned up all the messes.

Now Ma Bell's hid my Internet, denying all accesses.

Oh woe! How such calamity distresses.

My Robert's in the shower, having loosed his plug and dottle.

There's nothing really on my mind but piffle, bosh and twaddle,

So I'll exercise my nether parts to synchronize my waddle.

And now, must get the garbage out. I promise not to dawdle.