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Welyano—a dialectical diversion used by speakers . . .

Welyano—a dialectical diversion used by speakers

The word welyano, shown and defined above, will be further defined and discussed below. Its definition, the discourse on that definition and its application in our society—is from the latest version of Dean Dyer’s Dictionary Discourses of Different Dialectical Diversions, a publication known by the acronym DDDDDDD. The acronym may be voiced by enunciating the letters separately in sequence, all seven of them, or by drawing out the first D thusly—Deeeeee. I prefer the drawn-out version.

Welyano is a manufactured word that consists of three common words—well, you and know, usually voiced as one word with three syllables. It is used to give the person questioned time to formulate an answer to the question. It serves as a defense mechanism and is used by people that have been asked to voice their opinion on something—on anything—on any subject ranging from AAA, Alcoholics Anonymous to zyzzyva, a tropical weevil of the genus zyzzyva. By immediately responding without hesitation to a question with a single word, Welyano, the user of the word erects a temporary barrier between themselves and the questioner and also between the questioner and any other person present. When a question is asked, the one being questioned immediately says, Welyano then pauses, indicating that the answer is about to be given, and only the rudest of the rude would breach that barrier and repeat the question, and with that repetition interrupt the train of thought being followed by the one being questioned, nor would a third person be impolite enough to intrude into the thoughts of the person being questioned.

The only person I know that would be that rude, in fact the only one I know that is that rude—and I know a lot of people, not intimately but casually, primarily from exposure to their drivel on cable television—is Chris Matthews. One may confirm that by exposing one’s self to his rudeness by gaining a guest spot on his nightly show, MSNBC’s Hardball with Chris Matthews.

Our current Secretary of State, Hilary Clinton, is the most prominent practitioner of the welyano system—she is the definitive user of welyano, whether speaking in the US or abroad, whether in an English-speaking venue or high in the Himalayas—high up, that is. She consistently, almost invariably, begins her response with Welyano, then pauses, appears to be collecting her thoughts, then gives an answer to the question—the accuracy of her answers is not the subject of this treatise.

Welyano is a crutch, used by people whose linguistic ability is crippled by their inability to effectively respond quickly in conversations, particularly in interview situations. They even use the term when the conversation is scripted, when the questions are known to the subject being questioned and the answer that will be given is known to the questioner, a well established and routine procedure for interviews conducted by our nation’s mainstream media with guests whose agendas correspond with those of the venue in which the interview is conducted.

I predict that the term welyano will become part of our English lexicon. In fact, it’s already part of it—it just hasn’t been given the recognition it richly deserves. I cannot truthfully claim that I invented the pronunciation of the term, but I can truthfully claim that I created its spelling, the collection of letters that precedes answers to questions by even the most talented, the most garrulous and the most articulate speaker. The use of welyano is virtually universal, and probably appears in all other languages—spelled differently and pronounced differently, but used for the same  purpose—it’s a ruse to gain time to formulate an answer to a question.

I modestly offer the term to mankind, an offer made with no inclination to ask for monetary compensation or a Pulitzer Prize for this essay, nor will I demand consideration for the Nobel prize for linguistic enrichment of our language.

I’ll settle for the presidential presentation of the Congressional Gold Medal, and continue to bask in the reflected light and warmth of that presentation by our president—yeah, right!

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

 
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Posted by on January 15, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Final chapter in the parade of possums . . .

This posting was prompted by an e-mail from my son-in-law in Wylie, Texas extolling his success in removing a possum from his attic, one that had effectively kept the family awake for many nights. This was the first of two possums he removed from the attic—the first one he captured fared well—that worthy was benevolently released into the wild. The second one that succumbed to the lure of a baited trap would pay the ultimate price for its continued rambling at night in the upper reaches of the house at Seis Lagos in Wylie, Texas.

You can read his description of the penalty applied to the second rambling rodent here—well, possums are not really rodents, however much they may look like a giant rat. They are, in fact, marsupials—much maligned marsupials.

This is my response to his e-mail:

Reading this thrilling saga of the successful conclusion to your PETA (Possums Everywhere in The Attic) problem took me back to the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s.

Yep, I was there, except for 1930,1931 and the first eight months of 1932—I began my sojourn on our planet on the nineteenth day of the ninth month of 1932, and so far it has been a great ride. Actually the ride began some nine months earlier. Should your interest be titillated (by my birth, not by my conception), that event and related personal information can be found here, titled “Unto you this day a child was born . . .

For three decades (the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s), the exploits of Frank “bring ’em back alive” Buck dominated the American media. He was portrayed on radio and in newspapers, magazines, movies, newsreel shorts, comic strips, comic books and full-length novels as a great hunter and humanist that preferred to capture wild animals rather than slaughter them and mount their heads on walls.

He also purchased wild animals, probably far more than he captured, and sold them to zoos and any other organization in need of exotic animals, His humane treatment of them, however acquired, won him the sobriquet of “bring ’em back alive.” The term was not conferred on Buck—it was coined by the great hunter himself in a media interview, but was quickly adopted by the media, the American public and the rest of the world.

There is a plethora of Frank Buck information on the internet – just Google “Frank Buck” and you’ll get answers to questions you would never think to ask.

JUST A FEW HIGHLIGHTS:

Born 1894, died 1950 (lung cancer).

Married at 17 (the bride was 41).

Divorced, later married his “soul mate,” used profits from a poker game to finance the wedding.

Was particularly fond (?) of a female orangutan named Gladys – could find no specifics on her age, personal appearance or attributes, but she was reputed to be ‘highly intelligent.” I did learn from “The Free Dictionary ” that, as an orangutan, she was “one of the large anthropoid apes of the family Pongidae,” and that she had “long arms and arboreal habits.” (Hey, no wonder he was fond of her!)

Was a world famous hunter, explorer, author, actor and film director.

Fell out of favor in the ’40s because of his apparent racism and the divergence of the American public regarding the practice of confining wild animals in zoos rather than allowing them to live out their lives naturally in their natural habitats.

Made lots of money supplying animals to zoos – in fact, was commissioned by the city of Dallas in 1922 to populate its entire zoo.

Congratulations on your capture of this magnificent animal, and kudos on your decision to return him (or her, as the case may be) to the wild, even though he (or she, as the case may be) is probably traumatized, confused and bewildered by the abrupt uprooting from familiar and comfortable surroundings.

He (or she, as the case may be) will be drawn towards his former sumptuous surroundings (or hers, as the case may be), and the odds are very high (odds in reverse proportion to winning the Texas Lotto) that he (or she, as the case may be) will be deliberately flattened near the end of that journey by a Seis Lagos teenager exceeding the speed limit in an SUV.

Not really – I just made that up – I don’t believe it for one minute. What I do firmly believe is that your catch was a teenage possum. He was sad and lonely, and that’s why he stayed up most of the night, roaming the attic, pining over the loss of his sweetheart and keeping Kelley awake. His one true love was trapped by your next-door neighbor (remember?) and transported to (are you ready for this?) the same wooded area in which you released your possum.

By this time they will have been reunited and, perhaps at this very moment, are doing everything they can to increase the present possum population in Wiley, Texas (that has a nice alliterative ring—present possum population). And had you released him in Plano it would have increased Plano’s present possum population.

You will hereafter be known world wide, but particularly by everyone in your family and related families in Plano, Austin, San Antonio and elsewhere as  “Bring ’em back alive Brantley” (I’ll see to it by spreading the word). My heart swells with pride at your accomplishment and by your being a significant part of my family.

All seriousness aside, I’m glad you got the rascal–he loved pacing the attic floor above the Dyer Suite also.

 
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Posted by on March 19, 2010 in actor and acting, Books, Family, Humor

 

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