The News of the Day

In a game of spot the logical fallacies…..

…..ALL the great minds of the past–Tesla, for example–slept a mere three or four hours a night. I sleep three or four hours a night. Therefore, I’m a great mind. Aw, shucks, darling, good try, though. This is the way my husband tries to placate me when I’m in a manic, sleep-deprived state, by insinuating I’m a Great Mind.

And Great Mind is all I am because in my logic, synecdoche doesn’t exist. It creates its own logical fallacy. Hello, Brain in Jar. Nice to meet you. And you. If people were synecdoches, we would be in for trouble. Can you imagine a husband who actually flies to work as an insubstantial old shirt, or a wife who drifts legless behind the vacuum as a fluttering skirt [oh, come on, the rhetoric was meant to be sexist!]? And can you envision a philosopher who is nothing more than a great mind pulsating in a jar? Would you mind if I pause to tuck in my gray matter?

It really sucks sometimes being active synecdoche, or naked mind, which is exactly what the Egyptians did. They sucked corpse brains through corpse nostrils in order to leave the opposite of pure mind–mummy, stuffed head, straw man. Isn’t that the way T.S. Eliot described mankind? We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men / Leaning together / Headpiece filled with straw. I suppose he meant we’re all mummies, but speak for yourself, Mr. Eliot.

I of the Mind in Jar am on the road, again, headed for home, my internet connected to my husband’s phone, which is connected to some ethereal land of information called Plata de Data que esta girando como un objeto volante no identificado [OVNI].

Speaking of unidentified flying objects [UFOs]….oops, there it goes again. The sun has turned red here in New Mexico, due to a smoke-filled sky. It appears as a mysterious red disk hovering over the western horizon. I suspect we might have entered another planet through the I25 Portal, a planet closely resembling this one, but which orbits a red sun.

My husband tried to convince me earlier that the grape vines in this foreign land were planted in the wrong direction, that is, east to west rather than south to north. If the vine rows are planted south to north, the red sun will radiate them evenly because they won’t have a hidden north side. In my traumatized brain state, I couldn’t imagine an object in space not having a north side to it. I stumbled through an argument with him over it, but I eventually frustrated him such that he dropped the subject. My mind wouldn’t drop it, though. All the way to our destination, I stared at waving trees and bushes placed positionally every which way, and I couldn’t imagine a missing north. The idea simply confounded me.

But then, later, he confounded the lady at the El Mesquite Market when he ordered a libro de queso menonita. Now I don’t feel as disordered as I once did. I’ve never once, for example, ordered a book of Mennonite cheese. I suppose I could if I wanted to, but the isla de queso at the Mexican market probably isn’t the place for it. Thank heavens they speak Spanish and English on this planet, though!

And in other news, I bought a blue dress. I walked in an alien version of a Macy’s department store [as evidenced by the white plasticine figures modeling clothes], exchanged a swipe of a plastic card for this 100% modal fabric*, and walked out with a dress in a bag. You don’t find this astounding, but I do. It takes an altered mental state for me to buy a dress. I don’t normally do this because stores with racks of clothes confuse the Great Mind. How does a mind wear a blue dress?

Ah, well. In other news, Blog Readers who stumbled on a drop of cyber space called Hic Sunt Dracones wondered why they were there and quickly left.

*I had no idea what modal fabric is. Google via Wiki informed me that it’s made of cellulose fiber. Good thing I’m now aware of this, although the wearing of cellulose fibers is generally indicative of being alien.



  1. Umm, *ehem*! And how do you know that I wasn’t seeking a cook book specializing in recipes that utilize Mennonite cheeses exclusively?? Huh? Huh? I thought so… (plausible deniability) đŸ˜‰

  2. Ha, ha, Jessica. Calling somebody a douchebag works as a metonymy, rather than a synecdoche. đŸ˜‰ Synecdoche is a figure of speech in which a part of something is used to represent the whole (calling somebody a great mind, for example). In metonymy, something else stands in for the original noun (as in, using douchebag instead of man). Okay, that’s my big speech for today.

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