I admit that I delight in sesquipedalian discourse. While I believe that some of my colleagues harbor the suspicion -or declare outright- that my missives are overweening flummery, and I must endure a modicum of ribbing over my insistence on using the occasional polysyllabic word in everyday business correspondence.

Today, for instance, I used the word "promulgate" in a message to everyone in my department. So far, I’ve recieved five responses, each a bit more acerbic than the next, either chiding me for using the word, or offering variations on the disparaging jibe that casts fellow employees in the role of not yet having mastered the monosyllabic grunt, much less some of the more florid words in the English tongue.

Here’s one of those messages:

Thank you for promulgating the information on placing passwords in [our CRM database]. That is certainly information that needed to be promulgated.  I also wanted to promulgate to you and everyone else that I appreciate the introduction of a new word to my vocabulary. Please consider this a promulgation of that fact.  I can’t wait to go home so [I] can do some promulgating.

Can you tell I’m excited at learning a new word for the week?  Thanks and have a great day.

I didn’t deign to reply to it. Of course, I might be completely misconstruing the intent of this message. Cynic that I am, I of course considered it sarcasm. Given the precise source of the message, though, it’s eminently possible that it should be taken at face value. I’m not completely sure, but this is largely due to the fact that I am a raging pessimist with regards to human nature.

One colleague, a frequent co-conspirator in many a darkly ludic prank, suggested that I might wish to tone down the baroque nature of my communication in order to cut down on the crap I have to deal with immediately afterwards. This I quickly rejected. I long ago resolved the internal agon between the ivory tower and the gutter in favor of the former. I am unrepentant, for I have not sinned; my great works come from a love of our language, not crass sciolism. Plus, I’ve been having something of a crappy week, so that only deepens my intransigence. Either come up to speed, buy a dictionary, or eat my linguistic dust!

The Great and Powerful Cubelodyte has spoken.

Once again, it’s been over a week since I posted anything here. I’ve got a few tidbits lined up; don’t fret. Now that the readership has seen an impressive growth in numbers- up 200% for a grand total of three suspected people- I figure I’ve gotta start playing to the crowd a bit more often.

Until I publish those fascinating items, Please enjoy the following post, generated by my four-year-old during one of his less lucid dissertations; he was “working” on one of the computers, and I transcribed his description of what he was doing.

I thought it was amusing, anyway. Besides, I’m a big believer in child labor; why should I put out the effort to maintain a blog when I can add it to his chores? Maybe not at first, of course; I mean, he should probably get on that roofing job I gave him last week before tackling the keyboard. As an added bonus, I can possibly embarrass him with this when he’s older. Hell, he’ll probably be more entertaining than I am. Let the randomness begin:

“They will come with their own things and they will comfit for their own stuff and confend it for the other day, and they should do their own things and all resistance at the same time and do their own stuff by theirselves, then do the same words that you copy, same thing, same words, same thing, then comfit by their own family, on their own computer.”

“Then ride resistant for their own family, then and they do their own stuff while doing their own stuff by their new stuff at Nick Jr. and do it for your own family resistant, confident, then sign up. Then you have to do it for promise that you do it right and follow your own words by your own self for your own confident, then play, play for your resistant bowl.”

“Resistant schoolwork rebuilds stuff that you do not know, and do it again.”

Um, yeah.