There is a neat little rhetorical device known as litotes. (It is pronounced "lie-TOTE-eez.") In a pinch, you could call it hypobole. Remember my favorite moment in Mort D'arthur? If, for example, Sir Lancelot had succeeded in splattering himself on the ground below the lofty castle window, and if, in the awkward silence immediately following, Sir Gawain had ventured to look down and say something like: "Goodness. That wasn't the wisest decision," or "Oh dear. He wasn't the cleverest person, was he?" or even "My stars. A flesh-wound." that would be litotes. File this information for later, if you will.
So. We come to toast. You might remember an earlier post on toast. It was a bit negative, due to the evanescent properties of perfect toast, and the traitorous traits of toasters. Today, I found myself reflecting on this theme again. I put two breads* in the toaster. I moved the dial to 5. I pushed the knobthing down. Then I remembered that my sister owed me money. This was The First Mistake.
Murphy's law was in effect, of course, and I didn't have the right change for a twenty. I was scrounging around for toonies when I remembered my toast. I bellowed (with some degree of fear) and charged up the stairs to the toaster. Sure enough, the toasts were burnt. My sister demanded what the big deal was. I tried to explain that toasters are betrayers - they get you where it hurts most: right in the toast - and thus I made The Second Mistake.
Articulating raw emotions and making lunch are activities that require intense concentration, and never the twain shall meet. Flustered, I put chocolate spread instead of butter on my burnt raisin toast. Think boiled raisins, scorched spelt and sticky brown mess. I bit into it and thought, "This tastes bad." And I invented 'litoastes' on the spot. This was Deus Ex Machina, and it pretty much redeemed a terrible situation.
Hence, I present: Litoastes n. A rhetorically magnificent subcategory of litotes that deals exclusively with toast, toasting and bad toast-related puns.
*Slices. Since we're talking rhetorical devices, we might as well use synecdoche.
"My stars. A flesh-wound." Best. Ever. I'm still laughing.
ReplyDeleteYour first mistake was toasting this thing that passes itself off for bread - raisin bread. With little pieces of grape that have lost their joy and their will to live. Nasty.
Thanks for underlining the "o" in "hypobole". That way I only had to go back three times before I realized you weren't saying "hyperbole". ;)
ReplyDeleteAh, the litoastes. Akin to my favourite rhetorical device pertaining to beef: the understeakment.
ReplyDeleteHeidi: I like your description of raisin bread lots and lots. It made me laugh. (But I still like raisin bread too.)
ReplyDeleteBrian: It tripped me up too, even though I wrote it right the first time, so I decided that underlining might be a good idea.
Richard: I laughed out loud :) Btw, you should post your meat pun poem. That would be the bee's knees.