Saturday, April 5, 2014

All Hail The Ronian Metaphor

It's fun that some people are so cool they get stuff named after them. Like the Freudian slip, named after the famous witch doctor Freud. Or the Gordian knot, named after Gordy the transvestite dominatrix who was a master with a rope. I think I should have something named after me too! We could call it... the Ronian Metaphor! Maybe if I wrote a few good ones, someone would notice and put me in

"The Grand Book of Famous People With Things Named After Them".

Hmmm, let's see.....

In that particular dress she bulged slightly; like an elephant in a canvas handbag.

The air was perfectly still; like a dead guy in a sensory deprivation suit suspended in a 2000 gallon fish tank filled with solidified cherry jello.

The meat tasted a bit gamey; as if cut from the flank of a rabid skunk and smoked over a burning outhouse.

His poetry needed polish; much like the inside walls of a spittoon.

She was a goddess; like the Dwarven deity Helggurp who was known as "she of the braided body hair and mistress of futility".

I'd made a tiny error; like the one Stalin made when he figured no one would notice he slaughtered 8 million of his own people.

He was rich beyond his wildest dreams; like the dream in which he's standing in the supermarket naked.

She was vibrant and full of life; like Fidel Castro.

She had a twinkle in her eye; as if her eye hid behind it the well-polished knife which would soon be stabbing you in the back.

They looked at me expectantly; as if a bevy of fire ants under a picnic table gathered around ten pair of bare feet.

She was the symbol of class; like a bendy straw in a glass of milk.

He had the most fascinating way with words; like a drunken sailor who's been kicked in the balls.

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