from Dec 25, 2005
Some of our best-known and best-loved clichés depend for their effectiveness on the simple device of alliteration.
(For the non-literary crowd, “alliteration” is the occurrence of the same letter or sound at the onset of adjacent or neighboring words.)
I think, for example, of the phrase, “the fickle finger of fate.”
Note that all three alliterative words begin with the same letter. All of them are “f” words, which, consciously or subconsciously, resonates, negatively or positively.
[Ed. note: This is drivel. Mr. Slack IV has nothing to say, and he is saying it. Though he has served as a tepidly amusing columnist for this blog since its inception, I find myself forced, in my capacity as head honcho, to terminate him.]
Okay. I admit that I’m not as funny as I used to be. Cremation will do that to a humorist.
[Ed. note: Most of us at Hotel Adios—at last count four—have been cremated, and neither our writing skills nor our joie de vivre, which is the driving force of the comic spirit, have abated in the least.]
That’s a matter of opinion. You can’t fire me. I quit, out of a sense of pique. You can take this job and [deleted].
[Ed. note: Not so fast. We have a contract. Let’s talk this over like mature cremated former adults, now, admittedly, androids. Would you consider staying on in an emeritus capacity?]
Would that involve an occasional column?
[Ed. note: Well . . .]
On a topic of my choice?
[Ed. note: I think we can work that out.]
Happy Holidays! Or, as we used to say back in Panhandle County, Merry Christmas!