Word of the Month
A figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence, phrase, or larger discourse is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to reframe or reinterpret the first part.
It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect, sometimes producing an anticlimax. For this reason, it is extremely popular among comedians and satirists.
Etymology
From the Greek "παρά", meaning "against", and "προσδοκία", meaning "expectation.
Paraprosdokian" is not a term of classical (or medieval) Greek or Latin rhetoric; it was first attested in 1896.
Used in a sentence (With apologies and a variation, from that of comedian/writer Steven Wright)
"There’s a fine line between a man fishing...and a man just standing on the shore," is a paraprosdokian that borders on the metaphysical.
The Times in an extensive cover story of ten pages a couple of months ago in its magazine section—and heavy on graphics—told us more than we would ever want to know about pennies. Their history... the minting of them.... how many are "lying around in the U.S." (240 billion!)... and even their weight in copper ("just $100 worth of pennies weighs a touch over 55 pounds").
And getting to just one aspect of the absurdity in their continued existence, we're told that one cent costs more than 3 cents to produce! But here's the kicker, and what the writer of the piece Caity Weaver, has come to call the Perpetual Penny Paradox (the font emphasis, and line reconfigurations, mine):
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"Most pennies produced by the U.S. Mint are given out as change but never spent; this creates an incessant demand for new pennies to replace them, so that cash transactions that necessitate pennies (i.e. any concluding with a sum other than 5 or 0) can be settled.
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Because these replacement pennies will themselves not be spent, they will need to be replaced with new pennies that will also not be spent...
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which will have to be replaced by new pennies (that too will not be spent, and so will have to be replaced). In other words...
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we keep minting pennies because no one uses the pennies we mint."
She calls this a Paradox. I would call it a Catch-22 .
With this sort of absurdity in mind over the years, (this article was surprising to me only in details of which I was unaware), I've expected for the longest time, that pennies would soon become extinct. In August of 2006 I noted in a MuseLetter...
2
Speaking of Irony… The Cost of a Penny
It was reported in the news this past month, in case you missed it, that it costs 1.4 cents (3 cents now in 2024) for the government to mint each penny. Now...
“Rep. Jim Kolbe (R-Az) is currently sponsoring...an act which would phase out the penny by specifying that cash transactions be averaged to the nearest five cents.
The proposed legislation does not remove the penny from circulation, but it does provide a means for the penny to gradually fall out of use.”
It seems a sad state of affairs when we can no longer afford our own currency.
This of course never came to pass. And what I referred to at the time as "irony," has now grown exponentially into lunacy.
Since then, from time to time, the phrase "pennies from heaven" from that song out of the great American songbook, has popped into my head. Why not do something to change that metaphor into a form of, at least, a modest reality? Why not, say, put bins at the backs of churches and places of worship (in playful association with their aspirational afterlife beliefs), where congregations can deposit those pennies (i.e. "from heaven"), to be converted into real money over time.
A small token gesture perhaps, but if Ms. Weaver's figures are correct on a national basis, extrapolating that to my parish for example, could easily result in a few thousand dollars a year. Which could be spent in some benevolent manner. Supplementing gestures such as those here at St. Francis Xavier church, which provides Sunday meals to those in desperate life situations, and makes financial donations in times of disasters, etc. Such as in the aftermath of hurricane Milton damages recently. Collection of these otherwise copper imps—in a pennies-from-hell syndrome—multiplying in a drawer or thrown away unspent, could be put to some use. On a mathematical side note, the U.S. has over 350,000 religious congregations (according to the 2020 U.S. Religion Census). And in lieu of "Pennies from heaven" bins, within secular institutions and gatherings? Bins of... "Pennies for your thoughts"? Just a thought.
No, it's not the biggest issue of our time. (See first piece). But it would be uplifting to see the human species, if even in this small way, using some common cents. But enough puns on pennies for one day. May they one day, be well spent. All 240 billion of them currently lying around.
Election Day Weather Forecast: Ominous and Cloudy
In a political culture of such animus, how can the forecast for this coming Tuesday’s election be anything but ominous. And cloudy. As Dylan once twanged...You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. And it has been blowing in the direction of chaos, particularly since that initial storm on January 6th of four years ago—precipitated and only quelled belatedly—by the 45th President of the United States. Who has yet to concede defeat of that election. Nor have the many deniers of his party.
If it goes "Blue", the "Red" side won’t accept it. And "sides" define us politically in a way they never have been in our lifetime. If it goes Red? A dog has not been needed to hear the Whistle of Retribution that’s been piercing the air throughout this election cycle. Payback for falsely claimed wrongs.
Irrespective of one’s political persuasions, or sides, what process in logic would lead one to think otherwise, regarding impending chaos? In this the biggest, most important, election in our history. Hyperbole? Perhaps. (Though let he who has not "hyperboled," cast the first groan). As of this writing, polls are more or less dead even. This could go either way.
Not suggesting that we should expect that which followed that ancient Tuesday of 1860. Whereby Lincoln's election served as the main catalyst for those states to become the Confederacy, in seceding from the Union. With the Civil War beginning a month after that inauguration day of March 4, 1861. I don’t expect any states to attempt to secede from the union next following November 6th as a result of the election's outcome. Though it’s not as if there haven’t been growing secessionist movements in our country in recent years. Mostly in Red states, but some too in Blue.
According to a piece in Newsweek this past July, six states are said to have growing secessionist movements: Alaska, California, Texas, Louisiana, Florida and New Hampshire. In June of 2022, according to a story in the Texas Star Tribune, the Texas State Republican Convention went so far as to adopt a platform urging the Legislature to put a referendum before the people of Texas in November 2023, “to determine whether or not the State of Texas should reassert its status as an independent nation.” The article does go on to note, for a slew reasons, why it would not be legally feasible. And even before Texas formally rejoined the nation in 1870, the U.S. Supreme Court had declared that secession had never been legal. Even during the rebellion, Texas continued to be a state. Of course, would a Supreme court as it now stands, declare a secession to be illegal? (An interesting theoretical question I would think, given the makeup the current court). And, no. I’m not suggesting a civil war could break out soon after this election. Other than perhaps at some Thanksgiving dinner tables.
For all the debate on inflation, immigration (and the eating of pets in Ohio), abortion, childless "cat ladies" (really?), crowd size (still!) and the politicizing and falsifications surrounding recent devastating hurricanes, there is no bigger issue than: What Kind of Country do We the People, Want to Be?
To be or not to be. That is the borrowed question. Whether the one we were taught as school kids to love and uphold, with its revered system of checks and balances, that is to say, a democracy? Or... an autocracy? A system of government by one person with absolute power. The kind we only used to hear about. Especially during the Cold War, when our leaders were at odds with, rather than kissing up to, a murderous "Putinic" autocrat. A kiss that one would imagine had lots of patriots spinning in their graves. A bromance likely to be rekindled if HE wins. (If it really ever ended according to Bob Woodward's latest book, War).
Rhetoric has always been a part of governing and campaigning. As have the opinions expressed by the talking heads calling the play-by-play. Overblown, at times. Even empty. Unsupported by facts. Unsupported by what has been seen and heard. Unsupported by precedent or history. But that's not the case here. There are real, rational reasons for concern. Unless one refuses to see what one has literally seen; heard with one's own ears. And I’ll refrain from concluding with that much overused and now iconic Betty Davis quote from All About Eve. To do so would be to gild the lily of one man's opinion. Couched in the idiom of a weather report, in lieu of a ride requiring seatbelts.
Walking the High Line to Go See the Elephants
Hard to believe that the High Line, this "1.45-mile-long, elevated linear park, greenway, and rail trail created on an abandoned section of the New York Central Railroad spur on the west side of Manhattan in New York City," is already celebrating its 15th anniversary. Seems like only yesterday when it opened at its starting point in the now long since gentrified "Meatpacking District." That neighborhood's renaissance beginning in the late 90's.
According to AI, which seems to know all things in its warp speed toward omnipotence....
"Since opening in June 2009, the High Line has become an icon of American contemporary landscape architecture. Its success has inspired cities throughout the United States to redevelop obsolete infrastructure as public space. The park became a tourist attraction and spurred real estate development in adjacent neighborhoods, increasing real-estate values and prices along the route. By September 2014, the park had nearly five million visitors annually, and by 2019, it had eight million visitors per year."
When my partner and I decided to walk its full-length last month en route to go see the elephants (more on that in a moment), it seemed as if we'd picked a day in which all of those eight million showed up. Reminding me of what Yogi Berra purportedly once said regarding a particular restaurant: "Nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded."
Having not been there in some time, it struck me that those walking the expanse of this "park" (is it really that?) were doing so, by rote. Walking briskly for the most part as we passed each other in a line as if in some sort of prisoner exchange; as if we were being ushered through in accordance with some sort of decree. Little of the joie de vivre you might feel in say ambling through Central Park on a beautiful day. Then again, maybe one needs to come here on an off hour, on an off day. If such time frames exist anymore. There on a balmy fall Saturday afternoon, what were we prideful native New Yorkers thinking? Though all of that aside, the High Line is a high concept worth experiencing. The views of the city from up there are rather unique, when seen on a less crowd-bustling day. As are some of the art installations along the way.
Departing the High Line we arrived at our destination to view the 100 life-sized elephants, scattered throughout the Meat Packing District, in one of the largest outdoor installations ever in New York City. Each one, a unique exact replica of a real elephant now freely roaming on plantations in parts of Southern India
A group of 200 artisans spent years making these sculptures in India. Where it has been demonstrated that humans and animals can live harmoniously in the same space. A concept that I don't think would fly, or roam here. Too woke an aspiration? But the subject is art. And for that alone it is a "must-see," assuming one can easily access the places to which these magnificent animals (and they really do strike you as being "soulfully" real when seen up close), will be appearing.
CLIFF WALK, NEWPORT, RI
July 4th - September 2nd 2024 (completed)
THE MEATPACKING DISTRICT, NEW YORK CITY, NY MIAMI BEACH, FL.
September 6th - October 20th 2024 (completed)
MIAMI BEACH, FL.
2nd - 9th December 2024
HERMMAN PARK, HOUSTON TX.
April 2025
BLACKFEET NATION, BUFFALO PASTURE, BROWNING, MT
June 2025
JACKSON HOLE, WY
June 2025
LOS ANGELES, CA
July 2025
Upon completion of their trek, they will be sold with prices ranging from $8,000 to $12,000 with proceeds benefiting projects that will help save and encourage the coexistence between wildlife and humans, specifically amongst the Soligas, Bettakurumbas, Kattunayakan and Paniyas tribes in India. The experience of viewing them up close? Priceless.
Gig
A poetry recitation as part of a performance fundraiser for the 40th Season of The Working Theater. Their mission statement:
MuseLetter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
no September issue
Lines
When straight—
parallel—
in effect...
eternity illustrated
destination implied.
Early etchings of them
in Ticonderoga pencils
that were always in need of sharpening
along with the minds
that had followed the baby steps of crayons
the mandate of coloring inside —
you guessed it—
the lines.
In the coming of age
of those perpendicular,
and the swerving ones inspired perhaps
by the French Curves of sexual innuendo...
the implication was of possibilities—
though along with conflicts arising—
from intentions made flesh?
Then there's that standing
on a real long one—
"Is this The Line?"—
to be reminded
one must wait one’s turn;
later, the going online
because virtually you can
immersed in the meandering through minutiae...
and what of that being on another
in a retro sort of way
put on hold
mendaciously being told:
“Someone will be with you shortly.”
A “line” of a whole other kind
as contrived as any ever uttered
on a stage or silver screen:
"Here's looking at you kid."
It will always be about lines
in all their iterations
especially where they are drawn—
most especially in the sand—
and the fallout from stepping over them
this alleged shortest distance
between two points
yet cannot be seen eye-to-eye?
Thankfully, there are the doodled ones
arising from subconsciousness
keeping us distracted from ourselves
in this seemingly never ending
work of becoming.
MuseLetter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought; especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
This Month's Quote/Last Year's Pumpkin
The date is February 22, 2022. When you write it, 2/22/22, it’s a palindrome, meaning it reads the same forward and backward. It also falls on a Tuesday, which is now referred to as Twosday.
It’s the most exceptional date in over a decade, according to palindrome enthusiast Aziz Inan. He’s a professor of electrical engineering at the University of Portland in Oregon, and he has been studying palindrome dates for over 14 years.
The last time there was a ubiquitous six-digit palindrome date was November 11, 2011, Inan noted. It’s written 11/11/11.
That a professor actually “studies” palindromic dates? The piece goes on to note that...
In Sacramento, California, 222 couples will participate in a wedding at the State Capitol. The ceremony starts at 2 p.m. PT and will conclude at precisely 2:22 p.m PT.
A sort of OCD on steroids.
My notice of numerical patterns goes beyond just date recognition. And when they occur, I might be given to reaching for my cell phone or pen to capture it.
Living in a high-rise of twenty floors with two elevators, I’d often have to wait in the lobby for a while, looking above the doors to get a sense of when the next elevator would be arriving. Within the seven years I'd lived there, I’d never seen this till one day not long before I moved out of the building. And it especially caught my eye what with that highly anticipated, alliterative, year up ahead. And it also representing the standard for good vision. Click!
When I reported this in the context of some MuseLetter piece I was doing at the time, I heard from many people recounting their own experiences with improbable numerical alignments in their lives. Nothing was too trivial to mention either.
In a situation years before, while driving my car, I noticed that I was approaching an odd (literally and figuratively) alignment on my odometer. One I’d never seen before or will ever again. I pulled over to not only capture it, but as it was suggestive to me of a line from a classic Robert Frost poem, I later added it to the photo.
This next, falls into the proverbial “What are the odds !?" As I recorded it in my journal in part...
2/2/2
In this, a palindromic year...on this Groundhog Day... on a day with
deuces wild... I came back from the mailbox with a check written out
to me, for $2.22!
“Dear Cardmember:
Enclosed is a refund check for a credit balance on your account.”
I still have it.
Which brings me to the arrival of August, the 8th month of the year.
My birthday is on the 20th. My father’s (he passed away almost 50 years ago), is on the 24th. So in this year of 2024, both of these dates are numerically intertwined. As if carved in stone, this is why I
identify the date in this manner at the top of this month's MuseLetter. A sequence in chronology that can only occur once for all time. Though in effect for 31 days.
Again, I don’t see any absolute meaning in numbers as do those in the three categories I’ve outlined. But rather a sense of something that you can’t quite put into words. It jumping out at me, as if to ask rhetorically, "how about that."
I will now think about him in a way that I never quite do, even on those special days that come and go each year. Father’s Day, his birthday, the anniversary of his death. And it seems to tie back as well to the time that has passed; the distance travelled.
But of course, in going beyond the numbers, your “mileage” will vary. And I'm all eyes if you would like to share. I think it fascinating and fun stuff. Obviously.