BLASPHEMY

JESUS VS. SATANBOT

Episode 1: Basso Profundo

Episode 2: Rocky Road

n. the disrespectful use of the name of one or more gods.

COLOSTRUM

n. a form of milk produced by the mammary glands of mammals in late pregnancy and the few days after giving birth.

BASOREXIA

n. a strong craving or hunger for kissing

RHINOTILLEXOMANIA

n. obsessive picking of one's nose.

Looks like Dr. Ira Fingerman, Proctologist, has picked a winner in more ways than one. Lucky bastard. I just hope Sphincterina doesn't find out. She'll $hit all over him. Either way, Amy Winehouse sure knows how to party.

SPECIESISM

n. the assumption of superiority of humans over other animal species, especially to justify their exploitation.

HIBERNIAN

n. the Classical Latin name for the Irish.

Lovingly referred to by the Reverend Ian Paisley as "the Puerto Ricans of the 19th Century," the Irish came to America in massive waves after the British outlawed Gaelic and enforced The Cleanliness and Enlightenment Act of 1849, which forcibly bathed and educated every man, woman and child in Ireland. This Act was violently resisted by the aboriginal population and resulted in mass migration to more sympathetic climes like Boston and New York, where ignorance and filth were not only tolerated, but encouraged.

The Irish thrived in their new surroundings. They rose to great fame and prestige as public servants. They established professional sports franchises. They also went into the restaurant business. Many even learned to read and bathe more than once a week. Not bad for sad castoffs of a decaying empire!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

BOWDLERIZE

v. to expurgate (a written work) by removing or modifying passages considered vulgar or objectionable.

Named after this bitch. It is something Ned Flanders would do to a copy of On the Banks of Plum Creek with a black magic marker if Rod and Todd were going to read it.

Also, congratulations to WordGnerd Heather for her winning comment! She has won an all expense paid trip to the Milky Way! Thanks for playing, everyone. No really, only one person commented! LAME!

TRANSUBSTANTIATION

n. the change of the substance of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ occurring during some Christian masses. It does not taste like bread OR chicken! Take my word for it! I know its definitely not supposed to burn when you eat it, though. That really hurt that time. Does that mean I'm going to hell? Does it?

Comments are turned on for the first time, so please feel free to express your outrage. Also, I will send a delicious candy bar to the virtuous reader who can come up with the most hilarious sentence using today's word.

Hillary eats babies.

DACTYLOMEGALY

n. abnormal largeness of fingers or toes.

MYRMIDON

n. a subordinate who executes orders unquestioningly or unscrupulously

Those of you who have had a halfway decent education will remember that, in the Iliad, "Myrmidons" was the name of Achilles' soldiers. From the Greek word "murmekes" meaning "bitches" "ants," these soldiers were bad asses who did everything they were told, no matter how absurd, not unlike your recently married humble author these days (minus the bad ass part).

Doze of yous hoo r bearlee litrit nuff to reed diss blugh and halve no idear what dee f*ck I'm sayin 'bout wil probally enjoy this. Eye shur did!

CHIMERA

n. an individual, organ, or part consisting of tissues of diverse genetic constitution

SESQUIPEDALIAN

adj. given to or characterized by the use of long words ("sesqui" Latin "one and a half" + "ped" Latin "foot"...so it literally means "using words that are a foot and a half long," like my gnomewang)

After having endured a good bastinadoing by the Jesus Monkeys for sixteen hours, McCane managed to free himself from his bonds, cage up the Jesus Monkeys and overpower Gimp W. Butch, just as the freak's master arrived. Gimp W. quivered with Anglo-Saxon excitement as his master slammed the door to the dungeon. William F. Buckleytron sized up McCane, picked up his giant, studded oak paddle and gave him a wink. "I'll deal with this monkey man for you, squid! Assume the position, bitch!" Gimp W. bent over and squealed "JUST LIKE BACK IN THE TOMB!!! JOY!!!" Buckleytron then let loose an effusive stream of twenty-five dollar words, the likes of which McCane never managed to learn while doing push-ups at Annapolis. Angered by all this "smart talk," McCane raised his cane-hand to smite the lovers, but was distracted by the lavender mask of his idiot sidekick, Bloomjob, who was still looking in through the window with his mouth agape. Useless effeminate billionaire sidekick! Now that he was free, McCane would have to dole out some of his own "Christian understanding" on his non-believing henchperson. But first he needed to escape the basement of this Bank of America ATM...

SOLIPSISTIC

adj. extremely egocentric (n. solipsism; "sol" Latin "only", "ipsos" Klingon "self")

"The Gay Super Bowl is an exercise in solipsistic self-congratulation."

MISNOMER

n. an error in naming a person or thing.

TOOTHSOME

adj. sexually attractive - "Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Eleanor Roosevelt are some seriously toothsome wenches!"

RECRUDESCENCE

n. the state of becoming raw or sore again

“George Washington’s thoughts about his time in Sing Sing prison for robbing a WAMU (ironic) caused a recrudescence of feeling that was difficult to suppress.”

George Washington is back in Williamsburg in his Bedford Avenue loft. There is an open bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass on the coffee table. He is using the long weekend to catch up on episodes of Lost that he missed while he was “away.” His Blackberry Pearl rings. Its Abraham Lincoln:

Washington: Yo, sup. Lincoln: Sup, man? W: I thought you went skiin’ this weekend? L: Nah. Gotta go to my mother in law's house. W: For what? L: My birthday. W: Lame. Yo, did you see my slave anywhere? L: I let him go, dude. W: Haha, funny. No, seriously, where is he? L: I let him go. I gave him my Metro Card and told him to find a job. W: In this city? He can’t even read. Where’s he gonna work, Foot Locker? What the F*CK!? I needed him to pick up my dry cleaning. L: It wasn’t right. Oh also, I took back those library books you stole. W: Dude you’re such a pu$sy! No balls. L: Your mom’s a pus$y. W: Take that back. My mom could kick your ass. L: Your mom couldn’t kick Ben Franklin’s ass. W: You leave my BF out of this. L: “My BF”? What the hell does that mean? You guys must have gotten real close on Rikers, huh? W: It was an awkward turn of phrase, and it wasn’t Rikers, it was Sing Sing. I am not gay for Ben Franklin. L: Yeah whatever, dude. Yo, can you spot me half a G? I have to pay my bookie. F*cking Patriots. W: F*ck that, go borrow 500 from my slave. Oh wait, you can’t, because he’s somewhere on the aboveground railroad taking valuable man-hours with him that could have been put to good use arranging my wigs and answering my thousands of friend requests on myspace, you douche! L: Come on, just spot me, please. Don’t make me tell Martha what you did at Sing Sing to get your wooden teeth back. W: Who the f*ck told you about that?! L: Your BF. W: That BITCH! I told that phildoodle not to say anything! I gave him ten cans of snuff to keep his pretty mouth shut, and this is how he does me? You know how many times I saved him from being raped by skinheads in the joint? Those guys were ready to tear his bifocal wearing ass up! All that kite flying $hit on the yard. I’ll kill that motherf*cker! L: Relax. Come on, let’s go get massages down on Mott St. I heard Ling is back. I know how you like that absurdly long toe of hers on your prostate! W: F*cking Franklin told you ALL my secrets, didn’t he! I’m gonna get that f*cker. (grabs his axe) L: Seriously, calm down. I’m not gonna tell anyone else. W: Who the f*ck did you tell? L: Just Jesus. He’s not gonna tell anybody. He’s too high to remember half the $hit I tell him most of the time. W: Christ, what a stoner. Does he still make you say grace when you eat at his house? F*cking weirdo. L: Nah, he’s into some eastern $hit these days, like incense and nine hour masses. I think he does so much praying on Sundays that he can’t be bothered with grace. W: Poor guy. He was never the same after he made his own foreskin grow back. That really messed him up. So what time are we meeting on Mott St.? L: Six okay? W: Yeah, fine. That will give me time to pick up some new nonsweatshop produced briefs in a variety of colors from American Apparel. You know I don’t like walking out of Pretty Lotus Intimate Time Fun Palace without a new pair of skivvies on. L: Yeah Martha can smell those sloots all over you. She’s like a goddamn she-wolf. Hey, it’s better than her smelling Franklin’s peanut butter, capers and Brut, ain’t it? W: If you mention him one more time, I’m going to bludgeon you with the business end of my axe, bitch. L: Alright. I'll take your word for it. I know you don't lie when it comes to hacking $hit up. All I have to do is ask that Columbia student whose pinky toe they think they found in Morningside Park. Six at Pretty Lotus Intimate Time Fun Palace, k? W: Yeah, later.

MALAPROPISM

n. an act or habit of misusing words ridiculously, esp. by the confusion of words that are similar in sound.

DEGRINGOLADE

IT'S A COOKBOOK!

n. a rapid decline or deterioration (as in stregth, position, or condition) "de-gringo-lady." This word was coined by Mexican migrant workers to refer to their favorite candidate, and it's meaning ironically signifies her primary performance of late.

BASTINADO

DOMINIONISM

n. a tendency among some conservative politically-active Christians to seek influence or control over secular civil government through political action — aiming either at a nation governed by Christians or a nation governed by a conservative Christian understanding of biblical law.

”Ug nog aark ark grag!!!” McCane opened his weary eyes to see an angry monkey in a sweater staring him in the face. McCane swatted at his captor with his titanium canehand, but it was no use. He was restrained. Judging from the giant Jesus Fish on the monkey's ivory wool sweater, his run for the presidency of the Arby’s New World Order Continental Airlines Illuminati United Nations was probably over.

A door opened and four monkeys entered carrying a chair on their shoulders. The figure in the chair wore a similar wool sweater with greek letters on it and a black leather mask with zippers over the eyes and mouth. The biggest monkey, whose muscles rippled under his shiny auburn coat, reached up and unzipped the mouth of the figure’s mask. The figure spoke. “Allow myself to introduce - myself. I am Gimp W. B-b-b-b-b-b-b-utch. Welcome to the basement of the fourteen-millionth Bank of America ATM in the Tri-state Area. When they had the gift of speech, these good Christian monkey-men called themselves Dominionists. They took over the United States g-g-g-g-g-government sixty years ago and harnessed monkey stem cells to reward themselves with the fulfillment of their most profound wish: the ability to prove to the world once and for all that evolution n-n-n-n-n-never, er, evolved, and that God's laws were the only laws worth living by. Now they copulate indiscriminately, eat at Friday's and take nasty dumps everywhere and throw it at each other.

"Before Cyborg Dick Cheney was torn limb from limb in the Third Western Massachusetts Lesbian Softball Rebellion, he chose me to be the articulate leader of the monkey-men and lead them to the Promised Land that we recently annexed from the Idaho Militia. I haven’t gotten around to it yet since I’ve been too busy blowing lines off of my m-m-m-m-master’s b-b-b-boots, but I’ve really had a great time. Since these monkeys have also lost their sense of irony, they don’t know how funny it is that they gave up their humanity to be ruled by a coked-out simp-bitch. But if you think about it, its pret-ty f*ckin’ hilarious.”

“I don’t find it funny at all,” sneered McCane, whose carbonite-infused muscles strained against the straps which still kept him from crushing the blunt skulls of his simian captors.

Gimp W. unzipped his eye holes, leaned forward and said “You need to relax, bro. Just go with it. There’s no fighting the fact that Jesus H. Christ, Our Lord and Savior, knew what he was talking about when he said wise things like ‘No dancing on Sundays.’ and ‘Why use common sense, when you can do what I tell you?’ Stop being such a bitch, or I’ll have Bob Jones here go nuke-yular on your ass.” The auburn monkey flashed a row of white corn fed teeth that looked as if they had benefited from orthodontia.

No one called McCane a bitch. He certainly wasn’t going to sit here and let this gimped out monkey-leader rule the ANWOCAIUN. He was not going to allow these freaks to deprive children of air conditioning because Moses got by without it just fine, or prohibit award shows because Mary Magdelene never won an Oscar. There was no need for savagery!

The light in the room dimmed briefly and McCane saw the lavender face mask of his effeminate sidekick Bloomjob in the window above Gimp W.’s head. He knew Bloomjob would somehow find a way to buy him out of his restraints. Then they would feast on monkey brains like Indiana Jones and put an end to this absurd theocracy. For the time being, he would grit his teeth, deny his humanity, and grunt like the rest of the monkeys. Sometimes you have to make compromises in the face of Christian monkeys in sweaters and a gimped out, stuttering fraternity-boy-man-president. After all, it was better than his stint in the vast underground fetus farms of his former captor, the president of the People’s Republic of Chappaqua. That was enough to turn your hair white.

GOITER

n. an enlargement of the thyroid gland visible as a swelling of the front of the neck. From Middle French goitre, meaning "Jesus f*cking Christ what the hell is that on your face!?" (although they were obviously far more concise, the Middle French, unlike today's Right of Center French, were far less tactful).

Five things you shound not say to someone with a goiter:

1) You should sue the doctor who did your t*ts.
2) What the f*ck are you smiling at?
3) You know, Hillary advises that you chew baby parts thoroughly before swallowing.
4) Can you get me Wolverine's autograph?
5) I bet that's a delicacy in your country.

PAEDOPHAGE

n. one that eats or consumes the young of other species, "paedo" Greek "child", "phage" Greek "eat."

Now, I'm sure many of you ignorant baboons are saying, "But, WordGnome, that stunningly accurate-looking caricature is not fair! Hillary is the best thing to happen to America since Plessy v. Ferguson! There is no way that Hillary eats babies! You're just doing this to be politicalish and you're making these statements to be all argumentical and polemicizationalistic. And you know I'm right, because I'm using big words very confidently." Well, my stuttering slack-jawed hordes, you happen to be "wrongitive" in this instance.

Through my contacts at the National High-Riding Bitch Registry, I have gained access to Hillary's family tree. It appears that she comes from a long line of scoundrels and cannibals. While we know that she was hatched in the same Visitor military breeding bin as Diana and Lydia, few know her true background beyond that. Click on the family tree at right and observe that Hillary is a direct descendant of Alexander "Sawney" Bean, a notorious Scottish cannibal (redundant) who terrorized Ayrshire with his incest, lawlessness and cannibalism. While her Ferengi roots certainly explain her ruthlessness and put her in an entirely different species from ours, her genetic link with both Snakes 'n Snails and Puppy Dog Tails also answers the question as to why she wants a man's job. Its morning again in America, and Hillary is having a Western Nine Month Old Child Omelette with rye toast, well done fried potatoes and a small grapefruit juice for breakfast. Leave no child behind.

SCHADENFREUDE

n. pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.

Pronounced "shah-den-froy-duh." Its German, which is not surprising since we all know how much those f*ckers love reveling in the misery of others.

Boston sucks. Patriots suck. Red Sox suck. Today was a good day.

EPITHET

n. a characterizing word or phrase accompanying or occurring in place of the name of a person or thing; a disparaging or abusive word or phrase

Wikipedia claims this comes from the Greek word "epitheton," meaning "imposed." I'll buy it.

My extensive cross-cultural, socio-melanin-gender-probiotic-interfaith sensitive research has revealed an interesting epithet that I want to share with all you honkey-ass crackers out there: "ABCD" "American-born Confused Desi." "Desi" is Hindi for "15% of the world's population and 100% of the world's customer service operators." Clearly there are some Indians who are born in India who resent Indians who don't "keep it real." I'm not sure what "keeping it real" means for Indian people, and my innate sense of racial sensitivity prohibits me from venturing a guess, at the risk of generalizing about a group of people, all of whom will always be less Brahman than me. So I have turned to you, the racist, xenophobic, insensitive WordGnome reader, and you have brought me even MORE epithets!!!! Here is just a sample of the disgusting, race-baiting mind of my average reader:

ABCDEFG: "Aspires to Be Cornell Doctor, Earns F's in Gym"
ABCDE: "A's, not B's, in Calculus and Differential Equations"
ABCD: "Adept at Botching Cab Directions"
RSTUV: "Recycles Self Through Upanishads & Vishnu"
KLMNOPQRSTUV: "Keeps Live Monkeys, Newly of Paramus, Quickly Realizes he Sucks at Tennis, but Untouchable at Vectors"

FOR SHAME, READERS!!!! FOR SHAME!!! Oh wait, one more....this one is about Pakistanis:

HIJKLMNOP: "Hates Indians in Jammu & Kashmir, Loves Mohamed, Never Orders Pork"

Speaking of racial insensitivity, my tshirt store is now open. Buy a tshirt for world peace and understanding. Have a nice day all my Fenian Gweilo Haole Huns!

NEWSFLASH: WELSH IS ABSURD!

This is an actual place, in actual Wales. "Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch" (pronounced "whostheblackprivatedickthatsasexmachinetoallthechicks") is the location of the infamous Prince Charles Anagram Mania Research Institute and Sanatorium. Breaking this word down to it's roots would take me a few hours, so get out your Brythonic dictionaries and do some research on your own for a change, you lazy swine!

ZEITGEIST

n. 'spirit of the age'; philosophy or outlook of a particular period.

Let's break it down for all you ignorant pondscum out there: "Zeit," German for "time" or "age" and "Geist," German for "spirit" (also found in the word "poltergeist" meaning "scary f*cking movie about spirits"). Here are a few examples of various Zeitgeister (plural of Zeitgeist) throughout history:

The Zeitgeist of the 1980's: Madonna snorting coke off of Keith Hernandez' wang.
The Zeitgeist of the 1990's: Kelly Kapowski snorting coke off of A.C. Slater's wang.
The Zeitgeist of the 1770's: Benjamin Franklin snorting snuff in moderation off of Thomas Jefferson's wang.
The Zeitgeist of the 2000's: you would think this would have something to do with some "celebrity" snorting (crystal m3th, yay0, cat litter, calamari) off of some other "celebrity's" wang...but no! The Zeitgeist of our age is expressed best in the settlment of differences through dance-offs. As you see here, three Korean bboys ironically and figuratively avenge their ancestors on the dance floor by "murdering," "pillaging" and making three Japanese bgirls their "comfort women" to the international language of the music of poor American ghetto people:

What a sad time it is to be alive, children.

LACONIC (SAT)

adj. using few words; expressing much in few words; concise

Laconia was the region in Ancient Greece from which the Spartans hailed, and we all know what strong silent types those f*ckers were.

PRIAPISM (GYNAECOCRACY Prequel)

n. an abnormal often painful persistent erecti0n of the peni$.

Cyborg Dick Cheney is on the treacherous dog-leg ninth hole at Shenzhen Golf Club in the Autumn of 2009. Still getting used to his cyborg arms, he has just crushed a 375 yard nine iron right through the dog leg and onto the adjacent seventh hole fairway. Although his new biomechanically enhanced cyborg voicebox has unleashed a stentorian "FORE!," the ball lands just a few feet from Vladimir Putin, who is trying to figure out a way to get his ball out of the sand trap without murdering a dissenting journalist. Pissed off that someone would hit onto his fairway, he immediately jumps on the back of his Ukrainian caddy/golfcart, clicks his tongue twice, and heads right for C-Dick. Constantly on the alert for threats both seen and unseen, C-Dick activates his automatic clotheslining arm once his new biometric software senses a look of vexation on Not At All Cyborg Putin's face. He knows he can neutralize this threat, even if it takes ten years and two trazillion dollars...

VP: "Dude, what the f*ck?!"
CDC: "Processing..."
VP: "You just hit into my fairway, you douche!"
CDC: "Affirmative."
VP: "Listen, I know you're a cyborg now, but do you have to talk like a computer?"
CDC: "Negative. Just f*ckin' witcha, man. Sorry about my ball. Sometimes I have trouble controlling my balls."
VP: "Dude, tell me about it. My balls have been all over the place these days."
Cyborg Dick's Unnecessary Instigation of Hostility Software kicks in...
CDC: "That's funny, I heard you didn't have any balls."
VP: "WHAT?! Listen, bitch, bionic arms and legs or not, I will crush you."
CDC: "Negative, Trotskyite."
VP: "Alright, please don't fall back into the computer talk. Its really annoying."
CDC: "What's annoying is the fact that you have yet to engage me in hand to hand combat despite the fact that my instigation hostility software has been recently updated to include people I really shouldn't f*ck with."
VP: "Well, if its hand to hand combat you want, then take this!"
Putin judo chops C-Dick across the throat, expecting to instantly crush his copper-plated windpipe. C-Dick is unfazed. He gets Putin from behind in a deadly headlock and wrestles him to the ground. C-Dick stands over him. His face wears it's signature sneer of disgust, or maybe that's just how his face looks. Your author still hasn't figured that one out.
VP: "Alright just finish me. I am defeated."
CDC: "Dude, you're not giving up already? What a wussy!"
VP: "Seriously. Just do it. Those Chinese intelligence agents are watching from the soda machines behind the next tee and there's really no way of saving face at this point. You know how they are about face and $hit. They'll never let me live this down. I've had a good life. Got to bone Anna Kournikova twice. Finally got to meet Misha Mouse in person at Baghdad Disney. Wish I would have stuck with the piano lessons when I was a kid though. My mother always said I would regret it. All in all, its been a good run."
CDC: "One question before I terminate you. Did you really kill that ex-spy guy in London?"
VP: "Umm, yeah, he was a dissenter!"
CDC: "So that radiation really works huh?"
VP: "Nah...it was just cooties."
CDC: "Cooties? You don't say! We haven't used that since our nation was in seventh grade. I like your style, man. Okay, now prepare to die."
Just then, Putin sees a small blue diamond-shaped button on the inner part of C-Dick's titanium encased bionic thigh. He instinctively pushes it and unleashes a true weapon of mass destruction.
CDC: "DUDE! You have engaged my Spontaneous Priapism Mechanism! My one weakness! All other systems will shut down. Cyborg Brain going into sleep mode. All sorts of bad decisions possible. Ability to promise anything heightening."
VP: "I've got you right where I want you. Prepare to die. I will get my face back!"
Putin gives the titanic teflon-kevlar composite member a vicious tug, which does nothing but unleash a powerful stream of battery acid right into his face. He is blinded and writhing in pain in the intermediate rough, which was cut pretty generously such that anyone could really play a ball from the middle of their stance and with very little downswing, as if they were in the middle of the fairway. The Chinese have yet to perfect their course management skills.
C-Dick, newly revived and back to his senses, lights up a bionic cigarette.
CDC: "Looks like you'll never get your face back now, motherf*cker! And I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense."
C-Dick steps on Putin's throat, pitches onto the green, two-putts and makes a four. He decides to hit the clubhouse after nine holes and meet Bionic Kissinger and William F. Buckleytron for a martini in the clubhouse. He would regale them with the story of how he FINALLY made par on the ninth. He might mention that pushy Russian, but there was really no point in spoiling the afternoon with an unpleasant anecdote. There were so few truly pleasurable moments these days, even with their new cybertronic bodies, and he didn't want to spoil things. Negative, he did not.

GYNAECOCRACY

The year is 2010. The economy has bounced back from the brief downturn of 2008-2009. The hard-hitting journalists at the Today Show have broken the story that Osama bin Laden has been dead since 1989 and was since replaced with an animatronic muppet with liver disease. Baghdad Disney has opened and closed and is now the site of the biggest Walmart in the Middle East. Vladimir Putin has died in a fight to the death judo match with Cyborg Dick Cheney.

Barack Hussein Obama looks out a window onto the White House lawn. There is a tear in his eye. He is one of the most powerful men in the world. He has his finger on the button that could destroy what is left of India after girl-genius Maithreyi Gopalakrishnan finished her B.A. and PhD in International Relations at Oxford in six months, led a new military junta to power in Pakistan and blew most of Western India sky high, thereby returning hundreds of thousands of call center jobs to the United States and in turn giving the faltering economy a shot in the arm by putting money back into the pockets of American citizens who lost everything after taking interest-only loans for $800,000 with $12,000 in income to buy trailers in the middle of nowhere. He has made Bill Clinton look like a punk in public on several occasions by yelling "I AM THE FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT, BITCH!!!" on both the newly revived Arsenio Hall show and the recently re-defunked Magic Johnson Show.

Yet despite all of these triumphs, our 44th President is a little down this morning. The reason? He left his briefcase on the bed last night. Why the tears at leaving a simple briefcase on one's bed? Well, the reason is simple: that briefcase accompanied him on his recent publicity ride of the DC Metro. He briefly put it down on the floor of the Metro so that he could kiss some beaming yuppie's baby ("What the hell do these people do that they can afford an expensive carriage like that and ride the Metro at ten thirty in the morning? Must be professional bloggers with lots of advertising revenue and tons of time on their hands." he thought to himself.)

While that briefcase was on the floor of the Metro, it was picking up vile and aggressive diseases that were left there by the shoes of homeless people, hobo's, homeless hobo's, hobo-Americans and bums. When he put that disease carrying whore of a briefcase on their bed, the hate rays emitting from the eyes of his First Lady were more than he could stand. This was worse than that time she caught him sneaking out the back door of the White House for a cigarette (who knew there was a back door to the White House? Turns out JFK loved plenty of THAT action! perv.). He left his filthy briefcase on the bed and he would never live it down.

You see, young lads, no matter how powerful or rich you may become, if you get married you will always live in a gynaecocracy. While marriage can be a beautiful thing (the WordGnome has been married twelve times in his 796 years and fathered hundreds of children...please don't tell anyone I'm in New York by the way, if I get garnished one more time I'll be washing the cat food down with Arizona Iced Tea instead of the turpentine to which I've grown accustomed)...it is a form of government, and the governatrix of that government is a woman. Hence "gynaecocracy," from the Greek "gynek-" (pronounced "gu-nayk") meaning "woman," and "kratia" meaning "rule." Not to be confused with connivingbitchocracy (Rule by Hillary) or managementconsultantdoucheocracy (Rule by Mitt Romney). Gynaecocracy can be found in every home in America. Learn it. Its an important word. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The WordGnome endorses Al Lewis for President in 2008.

SPHEKSOPHOBIA

n. fear of wasps

Fear words are pretty cool and they're a great way to learn Greek roots for words. In this case we have "sphekso" meaning "wasp" (duh) and "phobia" meaning "phobia" (need I say it again?). The preceding cartoon is a politically correct illustration of the meaning of this word. Please enjoy all of its highbrow goodness. Drink in it's detail. Get naked and roll around in it's erudition. Also, don't forget to make note of the self-deprecating Ivy League modesty of it, for that, my friends, is the most sublime part. Zounds! I'm late for my Goldman Sachs interview! See you tonight at Mory's!

Nagonnaworkhereanymore?!

You only need to watch this video until about the 2:20 mark:

A) OF COURSE THIS GIRL WON FOUR YEARS IN A ROW....if YOU could spell her last name, YOU would win four years in a row too! I