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Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts

Monday, August 6, 2007

A FRUIT-FOOL PURSUIT

The fruit for which Samir Johna makes a welcome return to this blog is over 11,000 years old, cultivated first in present day Jordan (near Jericho) much before wheat and rice. There are lots of interesting things about the fig.
First of all, this is not really a fruit, but part flower, part seed. Man's dirty mind was attracted to its alleged phallic shape, and it became a religious symbol to the ancient Greeks, and popular with the Romans as well.
Though figs are nutritionally at the top for calcium, fiber, and antioxidant content, my interest is well beyond its physical potentials.
We all know that not giving a fig means not caring a damn. Much like how a sensible man should treat Lindsay Lohan's antics.
In full fig means to be dressed up in smart clothes. Accordingly, figged up means to dress up and look smart.
In marketing, FIGS refer to the market represented collectively by France, Italy, Germany and Spain, which is the target of any company which wishes to break into the European market.
Sometimes, the Devil's print may make the word appear as frig, but I really don't know what it means.

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Friday, June 22, 2007

LOVE LETTERS

Thanks, Stan Kegel, for this amazing bit of wordsmithery!

A consonant walks into a bar and sits down next to a vowel.

"Hi!" he says. "Have you ever been here before?"

"Of cursive," she replies. "I come here, like, all the time."

He can tell from her accent (which is kind acute) that she is a Vowelly Girl. He looks her over. She's short and has a nice assonance. He thinks she has a fine upper-case as well.

He remains stationery, enveloped by her charm. His initial reaction is so pronounced, he doesn't know what to say. He is, at present, tense.



"You've a lovely set of... teeth," he sputters. "Do you Crush with breast--I mean, do you brush with Crest?"

"Oh my God, gag me with a spoonerism! Your mind is in the guttural, fer sure."

Admiring her figure of speech, he falls into a fantasy. He pictures a perfect wedding. They exchange wedding vowels.

The minister says, "I now pronouns you husband and wife."

They kiss each other on the ellipsis. "I love you, noun forever, " he whispers. The conjugation is in tiers.

(In a word, they are wed.)

He awakens from his daydream and proposes a dance.

She declines.

"Let's go outside," he says to her. "I'd like to have a word with you."

"Are you prepositioning me?"

"I won't be indirect. You are the object of my preposition."

"Oh my God, you're like, such a boldfaced character!"

"I see your point. But I'm font of you."

"Do I have to spell it out to you? You're not my type, so get off my case!"

Reluctantly, he decides to letter b.

"Now my evening lies in runes," he laments.

He leaves, hoping to have letter luck next time.
(By Gary Roma)

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Sunday, June 17, 2007

GRIEVOUS HURT!


I wrote this small piece back in 2005, when there was a news article on an enraged woman biting off her man's, er, cohones. Check it out.

How much weird do people need to get? We now hear that a woman ripped off the testicles of her lover and tried to swallow the harvest she reaped.
I think she was stretching it too far, wouldn't you say? She thought she would gonad when he refused her advances, and tried to take pole position.
After this rip-off of a romance, he can never, he says, count semen among his friends. Why, she did not even have the basic man-ners to know how to have a ball without biting off more than she could chew. The word 'phlegmatic' means to be combative. I propose the word 'spermatic' as a new coinage, to depict a rage that comes when one waves a red rag in front of a ball breaker. This lady may not have had a ball, but she did not have her bearings, either!

Anyways, I always thought men have balls so that they could scratch them. At least, that is how things looked from Calcutta, and it was much later that I learnt that even great men in history have needed to do that. Yes, yes, I know, this bit is making you itchy and fidgety. I mention the term scratching the balls as a valuable activity in pool. What did you think? Now that we are talking of this, the term ball scratching means 'a boring situation' in Hebrew.
However, a 'Ball Scratcher' is not a rude person. It means a greater-than-average difficult problem. You know, as opposed to a 'head scratcher'.
Again, I pass without purpose into particularly pruritic posts that puritan pundits will profoundly pillory, pummel, and pull to pieces. Allow me this alliterative attitude, avoiding allergic and acerbic acknowledgement of my attempt to allay an Anglicised abbystench!

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