Spoof Space
BY STEELE CODDINGTON | JULY 4, 2012
Alliteration ... the tested triumph of truth
During election years ethically motivated people often slide into a form of escape mentality that forces them to seek relief and truth in what a group of psychiatrists in California are now describing as a “temporary alliteration insanity.” (TAI)
It’s imperative here to define the word “alliteration” for college level Border Collies and local high school students because the latter are under a mandatory reading requirement for this column, imposed by English teachers within 35 miles of where Sonoran News is published. Here is an inadequate but usable definition: “The use of repetitive syllables in a grouping of words using the same consonant or vowel sounds that may differ from syllable to syllable.” The dictionary example is: “Round and round the rugged rock the ragged rascals ran.”
The usual symptoms of an alliteration-crazy person are persistent irritability brought on by witnessing self serving government liars; swearing loudly at the TV; “throwing,” as they say, the road rage finger at TV appearances of notables in the White House or elected felons lurking about the majority section of the Senate. The most prominent symptom however, is a fundamental gene-oriented imperative to express truth through alliteration. A comment often heard by doctors treating TAI patients is, “They have to be crazy, first because most people are afraid to tell the truth, and secondly, because using alliteration effectively as a medium is a rare intellectual trait.”
TAI’s very favorite published alliteration is the second, less well known one, used by Vice President Spiro Agnew in the famous “nattering nabobs” speech. It is the hall-of-fame choice because it epitomizes words describing the Obama agenda of outstanding failures. “They have formed their own 4-H Club – the hopeless, hysterical, hypochondriacs of history.” Perfect, because it so succinctly encapsulates how “hopeless” it is to find a job after the failed Obama stimulus packages; the “hysterical” attribution of failure to everyone but themselves, and the “hypochondria” of worthless leftist agendas that don’t work and bankrupt America in the process.
The message of alliterative truths is categorically equivalent to the practical values espoused by family proverbs based on practical experience. Either way their applicability increasingly reveals the shallow insufficiency of Obama’s false agenda. My grandmother often tells me, “A poor workman always blames his tools.” And in addition she could have added, ... “or George Bush, or Europe, or Congress or a Yak invasion of Yakistan.” And she is right-on-the-mark as a confirmed TAI because she blames her election year depression on the fear that a totally “incompetent, incapable, inadequate, incomprehensible, inept, incumbent might be inducted if reelected.”
But she could have been recognized as a spokes-person for “Alliteration Anonymous,” for her characterization of a candidate you should not vote for – “A pompous peacock poorly prepared to perform the prerogatives of a president.” After all, why elect “the favorite friend of failures for the future of unwanted change.” But my super intelligent Border Collie dog Arbuckle asked if he could close with an example of alliteration from the new American Guard Dog Dictionary: “The ragged rascals in the Rose Garden, reciting Rev Wright’s rhetoric are ruining the Republic.” Guess that covers it.
A Blue Rose
Having four visiting family members, my wife was very busy, so I offered to go to the store for her to get some needed items, which included light bulbs, paper towels, trash bags, detergent and Clorox. So off I went.
I scurried around the store, gathered up my goodies and headed for the checkout counter, only to be blocked in the narrow aisle by a young man who appeared to be about sixteen-years old. I wasn't in a hurry, so I patiently waited for the boy to realize that I was there. This was when he waved his hands excitedly in the air and declared in a loud voice, "Mommy, I'm over here."
It was obvious now, he was mentally challenged and also startled as he turned and saw me standing so close to him, waiting to squeeze by. His eyes widened and surprise exploded on his face as I said, "Hey Buddy, what's your name?"
"My name is Benny and I'm shopping with my mother," he responded proudly.
"Wow," I said, "that's a cool name; I wish my name was Benny, but my name is Steve."
"Steve, like Stevarino?" he asked. "Yes," I answered. "How old are you Benny?"
"How old am I now, Mommy?" he asked his mother as she slowly came over from the next aisle.
"You're fifteen years old Benny; now be a good boy and let the man pass by."
I acknowledged her and continued to talk to Benny for several more minutes about summer, bicycles and school. I watched his brown eyes dance with excitement, because he was the center of someone's attention. He then abruptly turned and headed toward the toy section.
Benny's mom had a puzzled look on her face and thanked me for taking the time to talk with her son. She told me that most people wouldn't even look at him, much less talk to him.
I told her that there are many red, yellow, and pink roses in God's Garden; however, "Blue Roses" are rare and should be appreciated for their beauty.
You see, Benny is a Blue Rose and if someone doesn't stop to appreciate that rose with his heart and touch that rose with some kindness, then that person has missed a blessing from God.
She was silent for a second, then with a tear in her eye she asked, "Who are you?"
Without thinking I said, "Oh, I'm just a dandelion, but I love living in God's garden."
She reached out, squeezed my hand and said, "God bless you!" I suddenly had tears in my eyes.
The next time you see a Blue Rose, think.
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