Did you ever notice how weird that word is? It’s so packed of odd, soft sounds. I think about this as I write my post. I like to start with titles. Well, actually, I start with an idea. Then I make a title. Then I actually write the post.
I really love those old cartoons where they had puns for titles. The jokes were all lame, the kind of pun that makes you groan, but I relish in that kind of rudimentary linguistic slapstick.
I, however, am not so good at puns for titles. I agonize for sometimes minutes over what to title my next work of genius. I languish in throws of literate torture. I lament the ease with which some people have come up with titles that were catchy. Even, on my own site, my cousin Brenna upstaged me in the pun department with her guest post, I Can Post for Miles. Not to say I haven’t tried my best:
Today’s title is just as bad as any of these. I knew I was writing about thrift, but I don’t know anything that rhymes with “thrift”, so I decided to use the word “store” next to “thrift”. So, you are supposed to think “Thrift Store”. Ok, with that, I decided to rhyme “store” instead. An easy task? No.
I jogged my little browser legs on over to RhymeZone, hippest rhyme place on the internet. I put in “store” and patiently waited for the MC behind the site to figure out his list. I could just picture this little half-Chinese, half-black, sunglasses-wearing, hair-braided, techno-rap-hip-hop Coolio-Neo wannabe saying “store, sore, floor, more, roar…” In any case, they gave me this list.
There are 318 ways to rhyme “store” according to this site. There are only 42 ways to rhyme “thrift”. My choice was clear – take on “store.” The misleading thing about the number they give you is that most of the words are grayed. This means that they are archaic, obsolete, or last names. Like I’d want some random last name in my post title, hit song, or poem.
They arrange them in groups of syllables. The largest syllable word that they have listed is 8 syllables. I considered it. A large rhyme is a good score. It makes people respect you, in a way. I thought that “Thrift Reserve Officers Training Corps” was too long to be considered witty. Also, I don’t know what that is, so I ran the risk of being asked to explain my title, in which case I really would have to be witty.
“War” seemed to be a good rhyme, but with times as they are, it seemed iffy. There is so much war in the world right now, and using that word to make a light, airy post might not have the desired effect that I want. What if people think I’m making fun of war? Then I have the gun-wavers against me. What if people think that I’m making a statement about war? Then I have the pot-head hippies trying to hug me.
No pot-head hippy gets hugs from me.
No large syllable word, no war. I scrolled to the top of the list. There were too many choices. The title sets a tone for the piece. It also creates expectations of what I’m going to write about. If I were to use “Thrift Sore”, the reader would assume that I got my thrift groove on bit too much, and that they would expect hot hand-me-down on hand-me-down action. The same idea are brought to mind if I were to use “Thrift Whore”, but this term also conjures lucid images of late-night drug use, crazy schemes, and scoring less than well on school tests. For some, it also conjures up images that would get my site blocked at private schools.
I was planning on talking about my awesome finds at the St. Thomas church in Madison. In the basement of the church, they have a “Free to Take” thrift clothing section. I mean, come on. I know that girls love sales, but I love free.
They had quite the selection, actually. I almost felt guilty in taking so much relish in what I was taking in. I got a “look at me I’m a lawyer or banker” trench coat and a “look at me I’m actually colour blind” suit coat, much like the one I got at Savers to long ago (that I thought I wrote about but can’t find in my archives right now).
What words described this post? How can I set the tone of getting horrible crap for free at the church? There was so much that that one word had to say, and to have said to it. I needed the right diplomat de plume.
I was relentless. I searched and searched for the word, until it hit me.
No, a bird; it hit my windshield. And when that happened I got depressed.
Not you, Miles!
Yes, but as soon as I got depressed, I got undepressed. You know why?
Because I thought of a word for the post.
Was it “bore”? Was it “chore”? Was it “door” or “lore” or “pour”? Do I start it with a consonant, or with a ‘y’ like “yore”? I’ve explored the list for some I’ve missed but nothing was ignored. And it looks as though you, too, must know, it’s “gore” that I adore.