Bellow

There is a schoolteacher in Battle Creek, Michigan, who --I have it on good authority-- was so inspired by a very passing and facetious reference I once made to "Killre's Glossary of Perfectly Good Words That Nobody Ever Uses" that she actually gave her grade-school class the assignment of compiling just such a book.

Ahhh... Blasphemes: Proudly warping the young minds of tomorrow through the use of semi-obscure polysyllables.


Believe it or not, there's other evidence that there are people taking notes here at our little whine and cheez party...

On August 7th, in "An Open Letter To One-F," I rather pointedly asked which would be a better nickname for Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki: "The Mayor of the Green Zone," or "The Large Kurd Cottage Cheese." (One F's response to my letter, which was titled "Task at hand," was posted two days later.)

According to a news report I heard a couple/three weeks ago, reference to al-Maliki as "The Mayor of the Green Zone" is now the running joke in Baghdad.

I am unsurprised --and surprisingly unbothered-- by the fact that I have received absolutely no credit (other than the credit I am now taking) for dreaming up that line. Such is the way of such things.


More evidence...

You might recall that in the days leading up to last November's mid-term elections, there was a great deal of talk and deliberate obtuseness over Senator John "Hari" Kerry's botching of what was not a very good joke to begin with aimed at George W. Bush.

You might also recall that on the eve of said elections, I publicly skewered Senator Kerry right here on this very, uh, blog-thingy and even went so far as to suggest that the inclusion of the word "us" in the punch line would have made the target of his punch a little less open to interpretation.

That was not his story at the time, though. No, his addle-minded entourage said at the time that the real botch was in his leaving off an entire phrase:
"Just ask President Bush."

Ahh, but that didn't stop Senator Great Wooden Chin from telling Larry King more than a month later that all he'd done wrong was leave out "one little word... the word 'us'."

Again, I'm unsurprised.
This time, though, I have to admit that I'm a little bit bothered-- bothered that the man who will go down in history as "The Guy Who Was Such A Putz That He Lost To George W. Bush, Even After America Had Already Had Four Years of George W. Bush" has to steal even his jokes. I'm bothered, too, by the fact that a United States Senator would have to steal those jokes from a self-publishing (and, heh, self-promoting) truck driver.

Now, I would take the time to call Senator John Kerry a Thief and a Liar, but to do so would be patently redundant. After all, by referring to him as "Senator," you already know he's a member of Congress.


More evidence...

I don't know if you've ever noticed this since I so often indulge my penchant for all of that subtlety and literary nuance for which truck drivers are so well-known, but I have, from time to time --not often, but every now and then-- called for the removal from his cushy little gig that symbol of all that is twisted and wrong in the universe: Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig. I've never really kept track, and such references are always so understated and ill-defined, that I couldn't really tell you exactly how often I've made some passing mention... but I figure it's at least, you know, like, four or five.

Usually, I try to give ol' Bud a little nickname. For those of you who are curious, I have repeated myself a time or two, but usually I come up with something new. Among my own personal favorites are: "If That's Senator Mitchell on the Phone, Tell Him I'm Not Here" and "Shhh... Be Vewy, Vewy Quiet... I'm Hunting Wabbits."

Last August 28th, I pointed out the following rather cosmic coincidence: "Bud Selig is Major League Baseball's ninth Commissioner... and should be 'Plutoed'." To the best of, well, to the best of pretty much anybody's knowledge, this was the first-ever usage of the word 'plutoed'.

Why do I bring it up? Because...
On January 5th, 2007, the American Dialect Society met, deliberated, voted and selected my verbal creation, "plutoed," as their Word of the Year for 2006.

Hooray and Halleluja! 'Bout damned time somebody noticed.

The American Dialect Society is a 117-year-old organization that --as their name suggests-- basically keeps their finger on the pulse of the American dialect of the English language. Refreshingly, they don't seem to take themselves too seriously. They have been awarding "Word of the Year" honors for 17 years, now. Stephen Colbert's "truthiness" was the winner last year; Yours Truly's "plutoed" was this year's.

Obviously, this is a great honor. I, um, I do have some questions, however...

First of all, uh, just where is the awards banquet?
Better yet, where's my invitation?

Oh, and how big is my statuette? I need to know if it will fit on my mantel, or if I should build a separate shrine.

Most importantly, is there a cash prize? I mean, it seems like I should at least get, like, a twenty-dollar gift card for one of the big bookstore chains or something.

Oh, yeah... Uh, why didn't your press release mention me? Or Blasphemes? I mean, come on. Where's the credit, people?

Well, anyway, I'm sure I'll be hearing from you soon. Looking forward to it.

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As for Bud Selig, I've decided that he should stay in office... for a little while, anyway. There's a fair chance, you see, that Barry Bonds will indeed hit a 756th career home run. If and when that happens, rest assured, the sacred ritual that is the Game Being Played will be interrupted in favor of a pompous and circumstantial ceremony in which --right there in front of Cartwright and everybody-- some representative from the Office of Major League Baseball will have to get down on his knees and delicately smooch Bonds' needle-marked [jackass].

I want Bud Selig to be that guy.

Then I want him tarred and feathered.