The Smartest Book in the World Read online

  10. THERE WILL BE BOOKS

  Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.

  —Gustave Flaubert

  And more books. Reading stretches the imagination. Books are better than movies, and movies are better than life, so therefore, books are better than life. Books have a bad rep as being too time-consuming. “I am too busy to read,” you hear. “I have to buy some quinoa, then take the twins to their postnatal yoga class, then update my Facebook page, then make a gluten-free pizzetta from scratch.” You do have time, you are just too determined to be uninformed. Life is confusing and unclear, books are amusing and, at worst, thought-provoking. No book ever asks for the rent or threatens you with a knife. No book ever borrows money or agrees to help you to move and then is too hungover to show up. Books are the cheapest, most readily available, easiest to carry, best way on Earth to keep your mind racing, your heart thumping, and your sense of adventure piqued. Crack one open with me and let’s get drunk on text. We will put the text back in texting and the context back in context.

  11. THERE WILL BE GOOD DRUGS AND GOOD TIMES

  Light one up or pour one down, and let’s all get together and put on wings like Icarus and see how high we can go tonight before the horrible flaming demon sun that the Man made out of his hideous nuclear agenda burns our delicate artistic wings and sends our sensitive behinds spiraling back to the ground like a burnt McNugget full of regret. Or let’s just horse around until something funny happens. And if you are clean and sober, hooray for you. Be a lamb chop and go get the corkscrew—oh, and refill the ice bucket as well, will you, darling? You can drive everyone home later.

  THE PROOPTIONARY I

  LANGUAGE, n. the music with which we charm the serpents guarding another’s treasure.

  —Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary

  Words is all we gots. We bend them, parse them, define and redefine them, twist and twirl them, ignore, abuse, and mispronounce them. People who aren’t listened to shout them. Books are chock-full of them. Learn some new ones here and reset some old ones. People will be amazed and delighted with your supes new vocab or ignore you and go back to their phones and virtual obligations. Either way you win. A secret win is the best kind of win because only you have to celebrate. Word. The Prooptionary is mercifully short and calibrated with your busy schedule in mind. All work and no play, as they say. These are in Proopabetical order.

  Proopabetical order is the order of a river flowing upstream, a waft of smoke from a lit reefer, the condensation running down the frosty side of an icy cold vodka-flavored vodka drink. Chaos theory holds that a small deviation in a set of systems creates unpredictable results. Proopabetical order exists only as long as the outsider is reading it but wonders where that leaves you.

  Whatnot (n.): Sometimes defined as something trivial or indefinite. This totally underestimates the importance of trivia. One person’s trivia is another person’s reason for living. For instance, one may know little about life, as it is full of bank notices and insurance bills that signify nothing. But one can fill up on trivia about, say, old-time baseball. While that may not make pragmatic day-to-day living easier, it is a cozy bolt hole to run to when the world seems too present. As for indefiniteness, no one word encapsulates our experience on this green swinging sphere as much as indefinite. So take that, trivia. Also the Oxford English Dictionary defines whatnot as: a stand with shelves for small objects. No one has ever used that definition of whatnot from your bloody book and whatnot.

  In a sentence:

  “The room was douchily flooded with hipsters and tattooed hat wearers and whatnot.”

  Fantastic (adj.): This serves as the most versatile of adjectives. Yes, it means fanciful and whatnot. But it also means wonderful and terrific, isn’t that fantastic? Fantastic can mean strange, imaginary, made up, or just huge. That is the versatility we are looking for. From the Greek phantastikos: able to imagine images in your mind. That is super fantastic.

  In a sentence:

  “Let’s get live, catch some toast, and hit that pie place.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Those are some fantastic slingbacks you are wearing, pumpkin butter.”

  “Fantastic of you to say so, love shack.”

  Swerve (int.): This is not about turning sharply to avoid hitting something or whatever the OED says that is so obvious. You may say “swerve” to someone you wish to avoid or to dismiss an inopportune request. But the meaning we propose is to party in a fulfilling way. A swerve, like a good mood, is something that must be put on. One gets one’s own swerve on.

  In a sentence:

  “Hey, wanna come to my party?”

  “Swerve.”

  “Give me a cigarette.”

  “Swerve.”

  “Babycake, hand me the vaporizer. I gots to get my swerve on.”

  Adore (v.): super-happening verb. Better than like. More sophisticated than nuts about or wet for. Adore makes life more like a madcap black-and-white picture from the ’30s where people wear evening clothes and drink gimlets and have drivers in giant open-air sedans.

  In a sentence:

  “Hey, big boy, more mustard on your hot dog?”

  “I would simply adore a tad more, you minx.”

  Possum (adv.): possibly. Maybe. Might could. Like a nocturnal marsupial.

  In a sentence:

  “Could you possum answer the door?”

  “It’s a possum with ability.”

  Incontestable/ly (adj./adv.): No argument, you must use this whenever anyone questions even the slightest measure of taste in your presence. It is these kinds of bon mots that will get you invited to many sexy dinner parties with decent wine and a balcony to smoke on.

  In a sentence:

  “This is incontestably the most desperately dire spinach salad in the long-storied history of humankind.”

  “The hideousness of that pinhead’s gimme cap is incontestable.”

  Kleptocracy (n.): In the United States, what we used to call democracy. It means the government is run by thieves. If you don’t not believe the United States is a kleptocracy, then you are a Pollyanna. You must now go look up Pollyanna on your own.

  In a sentence:

  “Good morning, Mr. President, that is a fantastically big kleptocracy you have got there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister, the kleptocracy I preside over is adored by the wealthy.”

  Pollyanna (n.): (Here it is. You shouldn’t have to wait.) Annoyingly optimistic in the face of reality.

  In a sentence:

  “The dictionary indicates that Pollyanna rhymes with French Guiana. That would give even a depressed rhymer the blind optimism of a Pollyanna that you would be required to rhyme French Guiana with anything.”

  “I never wanna hear from any cheerful Pollyannas/Who tell you fate supplies a mate—it’s all bananas.”

  —“But Not for Me,” George and Ira Gershwin

  Bon mot (n.): a witty remark. Time to add some French to your game, n’est-ce pas? Spend all your time thinking of these and then crack them out when the chips are down. Laughter almost always wins the day and can undo many awkward situations. Only a smart-ass calls a joke a bon mot. Dorothy Parker, who was wit personified, declared, “Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.” She also quipped, “One more drink and I’d have been under the host.” That is wit. Try it. It is refreshing, like being happy for a friend.

  In a sentence:

  “Gwyneth Paltrow is a food blogger like someone on death row is a life coach.”

  “What an incontestably rich bon mot, you rapscallion.”

  Plutocracy (n.): a country that is ruled by the richest people. The most accurate word currently in our possession.

  Thomas Jefferson on plutocracy: “The end of democracy and the defeat of the American Revolution will occur when government falls into the hands of lending institutio
ns and moneyed incorporations.”

  In a sentence:

  “But we’re not a democracy. It’s a terrible misunderstanding and a slander to the idea of democracy to call us that. In reality, we’re a plutocracy: a government by the wealthy.”

  —Ramsey Clark, former U.S. Attorney General

  Oligarchy (n.): a government in which a small group exercises control, especially for corrupt and selfish purposes. This could never happen. Go back to sleep.

  In a sentence:

  “Monarchy degenerates into tyranny, aristocracy into oligarchy, and democracy into savage violence and chaos.”

  —Polybius

  Cat (n.): No, not the one with four paws. Picture Miles Davis. Now picture him walking away from you. That’s one mean cat.

  In a sentence:

  “Man, that cat [Ornette Coleman] is nuts.”

  —Thelonious Monk

  Feminist (n.): A misunderstood word, feminism is simply the idea that men and Women are equal and should be treated as equals. For some men, this is truly terrifying, like being disagreed with or told no. There exists a male rights movement. This is a nonstarter. Men have all the rights. Somebody needs to learn to share.

  In a sentence:

  “People call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute.”

  —Rebecca West

  Freedom (n.): the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint. This term is overused by people who do not believe in it; it is rarely practiced in real life. Freedom is quite subjective; most people find it a bit too much responsibility. Governments and large institutions like to put parameters on it so everyone will feel comfortable with not having to think for themselves.

  From Ambrose Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary on freedom: “A political condition that every nation supposes itself to enjoy in virtual monopoly. Liberty: The distinction between freedom and liberty is not accurately known; naturalists have never been able to find a living specimen of either.”

  In a sentence:

  “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.”

  —George Orwell, 1984

  Ambrose Bierce was a cynic, a poet, disgruntled husband, tragic father, war hero, and intrepid journalist. He loathed demagoguery and puffery and was quite capable and savage with a pen. He served in the Civil War, saw action at Shiloh and Chickamauga, and wrote the horrifying and evocative short story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.” Kurt Vonnegut said he thought it was the greatest American short story. Bierce fought in the Civil War and fought against corruption as a journalist in San Francisco. At seventy-one, he purportedly disappeared while following the bandit revolutionary Pancho Villa in Mexico and was never seen again. So your story about how you took a bike trip to the Poconos isn’t cutting it. Bierce’s is an astounding writing life. The Devil’s Dictionary is his compendium of vitriol. Something he made his specialty.

  Kittens (inj.): an exclamation used in place of profanity.

  In a sentence:

  “Holy kittens, that was godlike pudding.”

  Onomatopoeia (n.): boom, baa baa, squeal, bam, biff, bang, buzz, pow, rustle, zap, snorf, keerang, schlarggle, screech, ka-ching, dum-de-dum-dum, kablooie, clump, cling, clang, bang, whiz, swish. Fancy Greek term for swoosh.

  In a sentence:

  “All this snapping and slurping is making me hunger for a bowl of onomatopoeia.”

  Groovy (adj.): anything or anyone. Any scooch that rings your chimes, floats your lifeboat, rubs your kitten, or bangs your shiny bronze gong. Groovy is associated with kitschy ’60s clichés like bell-bottoms and headbands, but groovy was before and will always be. A groove is a good thing to be in. When you don’t have the groove, well, it is hard to move.

  In a sentence:

  “Loves that ambient jam. It is so groovy.”

  “It would be so groovy if you filled that bong again with the Kush Berry Krunch.”

  Manbag (n.): the pouch where the jewels are kept. Pejorative as well. Be tender with its usage.

  In a sentence:

  “Why does this movie osculate manbag?”

  “Who brought the manbag beer? Was it that gimme cap over by the kiddie pool?”

  Manbranch (n.): the disco stick, the candy twig, the Tootsie Pop, the appendage men focus on to the exclusion of all other things, where the action is, the blissmass tree, copilot, kickstand, love mop, little bro, the obelisk.

  In a sentence:

  “Thou villain, I invite you to take a beefy, nourishing bite of my manbranch.”

  Orwellian (adj.): anything that is in opposition to a free society, in reference to George Orwell, author of 1984. Overused by those who have not read Orwell. 1984 is what people like to call a dystopian novel. The fallacy there is that dystopias are imaginary places where people live in fear. Orwell is dead. But rest assured, he is spinning like a bobbin in his grave.

  In a sentence:

  “The president used Orwellian logic in his speech regarding America being a defender of human rights and freedom.”

  Love (n.): We all knows it when we feels it. Most humans are striving for a semblance of it. In our current era, love is on the ropes, what with sexting, pornography, boy singers, and furries. So confusing and so many subtle variants. It is cool to love roller coasters but hard to love vultures. One may love fudge but hate brownie eaters. Love can hurt and be in vain. But it is still the most sought-after feeling. Love is why we are here on Earth. The problem is that hate is easier for lots of individuals than love. It feels more comfortable, and huge groups can do it better, plus you get to carry poorly spelled signs and wear hoods and whatnot. Loves is the Smartest Book’s favorite usage.

  In a sentence:

  “Oh my kittens, that leather jacket, loves.”

  “I loves you.”

  “I knows.”

  Egregious (adj.): Why say bad, when you can say egregious? Egregious makes something bad so terrible, it is awful fun again. Why go one syllable when you can go Greek and hot the place up?

  In a sentence:

  “Wearing a propeller beanie to anything but a clown’s funeral is in egregious taste.”

  Iconoclast (n.): one who attacks cherished beliefs. This is a difficult trick in a world that requires money to live. There has been a show on TV called Iconoclasts. It pits two people of renown together so they can talk about how being on TV is ripping out the underpinnings of a fascist world. One pairing was Samuel Jackson, the furiously cool actor, and Bill Russell, the first black coach in the NBA and an outspoken advocate for civil rights. That seems to fit the definition. Bit baffling some of the other pairings, such as Mike Myers, a Canadian, and Deepak Chopra, the New Age believer of pseudomedicine. But the cake taker for most bizarre Iconoclasts has to go to Judd Apatow, a movie producer, and Lena Dunham, a rich person with a TV show. Those pairings are not iconoclasts, unless the definition is expanded to anyone who rose through the corporate system by sales work and meetings. However, since there is not yet a program called Bourgeois Conformists, we will have to take the Sundance Network’s word for it.

  In a sentence:

  “Wow, the dominant paradigm needs mad realignment, maybe we should call for an iconoclast.”

  SEVERAL WORDS THE SMARTEST BOOK WOULD BANISH

  Yes, acronyms like FOMO and LOL are an annoyance for the moment, but if you put your phone down, you can avoid them. Fail, swagger, tiger mom, cray cray, totes, and hashtag are also a bummer, but one feels as time moves on, these words will seem as obsolete as whippersnapper and Nantucket sleigh ride. It is morally reprehensible to use words that are simply lazy and childish. All of the below should be avoided at all costs (though some are permissible with caveats). You have been forewarned, philistine.

  Bitch (v.): As a noun, completely outdated. “Hey, manbitch, nice tan.” Use never. As a verb, wildly useful.

  In a sentence:

  �
�Let’s have a bitch through People magazine.”

  Hipster (n.): Yes, you ride a fixed-gear bike and drink single-origin chai from a local specially abled artist’s hand-thrown ceramic mug. Your bi-friend only listens to cassettes, and you just love vintage flats, and your rescue dog is named Cobain. Please just wear your hat and glasses and turned-up pants and defy categorizing. Remember: you will one day be driving a Volvo with toys thrown willy-nilly and Burger King wrappers on the floor, listening to Sade and digging it unironically. Even the freshest kale can go brown and wilt. Cave futurum.

  Epic (adj.): 1) Appropriate if telling a story about a hero, exciting events or adventures, like Homer’s immortal Iliad, Charlton Heston’s chariot-driven Ben-Hur, or even the hilarious award-winning movie about hats and boats, Titanic. Not applicable to your burrito or anything to do with your life. Unless you are a polar explorer or fix computer equipment in space.

  2) Appropriate if describing anything very large and unusually difficult or impressive. Inappropriate for anything you accomplished or your friends did. If combined with win or fail, can be fatal to friendships and good writing.

  Stoked (adj.): If you are a tight end in the ’80s, then this is a legitimate feeling. Surely your enthusiasm might find an alternate expression, like pumped or primed or rabid or ecstatic.

  Puke (n.): Please just be sick to your stomach.

  Poop (n.): Grow up. If you are being potty trained, okay. After the age of three, do not use under any circumstances. Imagine if your name was Proops.

  In a sentence:

  “I have to go poop.”

  “Why didn’t you wear diapers, then?”

  MOVIES I