As you may or must have heard by now, Pope Benedict XVI has stepped down from office before his term was up. Or, to be more ambiguous, before his term was laid to rest alongside his cousin(?) (I’m not Catholic, so I don’t know the family structure between the Pope and ol’ JC.)
In light of this news, I thought it’d be beneficial to know the proper wordage for handling a world with multiple Popes.
A group of popes is known as a popery, similar to a nunnery or a nursery. If you’re talking about separate groups of popes, then you are speaking of disparate poperies.
When referring to a pope when there are other living single vessels of God hanging around the house, it’s best to refer to them by their papal name. However, sometimes casually you’ll just mention ‘the pope’ and unfortunately forcing a conversation regarding which one. For quick reference, until time sorts out the problem, here is your two-pope solution: Refer to the yet-to-be-named pope as ‘the new pope’ while former pope Benedict XVI can be referred to as the shadow pope or the sleepy pope. Once again, one simple snarky adjective can make a world of difference!
The history of the term popery is a fascinating one. Because as I’m sure has been mentioned, a pope hasn’t stepped down from his high chair since 1415. The world has changed a great deal in those nigh-on six centuries. Back in the early 15th Century, when dealing with the last papal resignation, the people of the time were still hesitant to bathe properly. So while there was a popery in Rome, each pope would don different perfumes to distinguish themselves. It is surprising how easy it is to mix up guys wearing pointy white hats (just ask the KKK!)
These different scents were very particular and known across Europe, even as far as the British Isles. England, home of my native tongue, was still heavily influenced by the Norman French ruling class at that time. And this is why to this day we have a French word and spelling for a bouquet of scents: potpourri.
That word means exactly what it sounds like, and yet, is not an onomatopoeia*.
Though, now that I’m over-thinking, cockamamie (which I originally spelled cockamamy, also acceptable, thank you) it sounds really terrible and painful. That poor chicken.
Cockamamy, just as much ridiculousness as you’d think.
*Onomatopoeia, however, does not spell how one would think it would. By one, I mean me. And by how one would think, that one must be erudite.
Actually, erudite isn’t the right word for that sentence. Except for the fact that my intuition believes that erudite and onomatopoeia start with the letter a.
How cockamamie is that?
Who says work email has to be professional?
Greetings, One and All!
Due to the testing in the labs through May 20,
Mobile Lab 2 is living in the Library.
It is booked every day during 4th and 5th P
For our class on computer exploratory,
But is otherwise free in the rear of IMC.
To check on its availability,
Please contact our librarian to see
When its free to be for thee.
If you dont require any mobile lab lore,
Please I urge that this message you ignore.
Though I should probably have mentioned that before.
Now, like Benedict, I feel quite the traitor.
Apologies and Thanks!
Sincerely, Evan Fry-or
That’ll get their attention. I got a compliment from the big boss, so I think I’m safe.
Dude: “Hey, wanna go get some lunch?”
Guy: “Sure! What sounds good?”
Dude: “How about getting some tacos?”
Guy: “Nah, Mexican upsets my stomach. Let’s just hit up a sandwich place.”
Dude: “Works for me.”
Guy: “Hmm… what to get… Maybe a wrap. What comes on that?”
Delicateer: “It’s meat, cheese, lettuce, and sour cream in a flour tortilla.”
Guy: “Delicious! I’ll have that.”
Dude: “You know you’re an idiot, right?”
Breaking out of the water, his lungs filled with cold air. Thin hair matted down and pale face framed by the splashing water. The world glowed red behind tightly closed eyes.
Throwing out an arm, he grasped the wooden dock. Pulling up his weight, both forearms holding him up, he drew in breath after breath.
Basking with his face in the sun, he stayed hanging in the water, savoring the clear air that had been absent for what felt like half a lifetime. In and out were the only thoughts.
Finally his eyes opened, the vision blurred in spots by drops of water on eyelashes. With a deep breath, he finally brought his body out of the water. Crawling on his knees on the dock, the sun-warmed wood felt welcoming to his skin. He rolled over and fell asleep with the sun on his smiling face.
Waking later, the sun slightly lower, he got up. He dusted off a bit and stretched onto the balls of his feet. Looking around the horizon, his eyes finally adjusted. At long last, with a deep sigh of relief, he set off down the dock and along the path.
A slight grin curled his cheek.
I get up in the morning and while shaving I start contemplating the tax code. I know I’ve mused on this before, but what would we base our government’s income on if we started fresh in 2011 rather than based on accumulation through the centuries?
Yes, this is how I start my day. This is the basis for a blog post. I wake up wanting to write this sort of nonsense.
Then my day goes on and the freedom of thought I woke up with has seized. It’s the natural way of getting through the day.
So then I looked up a primer on a Value-Added Tax (VAT) tonight, just to jump-start the process.
My brain popped. Now I’m going to go eat some leftover pie.