OATH, n. In law, a solemn appeal
to the Deity, made binding upon the conscience by
a penalty for perjury.
OBLIVION, n. The state or condition
in which the wicked cease from struggling and the
dreary are at rest. Fame’s eternal dumping
ground. Cold storage for high hopes. A
place where ambitious authors meet their works without
pride and their betters without envy. A dormitory
without an alarm clock.
OBSERVATORY, n. A place where
astronomers conjecture away the guesses of their predecessors.
OBSESSED, p.p. Vexed by an evil
spirit, like the Gadarene swine and other critics.
Obsession was once more common than it is now.
Arasthus tells of a peasant who was occupied by a different
devil for every day in the week, and on Sundays by
two. They were frequently seen, always walking
in his shadow, when he had one, but were finally driven
away by the village notary, a holy man; but they took
the peasant with them, for he vanished utterly.
A devil thrown out of a woman by the Archbishop of
Rheims ran through the trees, pursued by a hundred
persons, until the open country was reached, where
by a leap higher than a church spire he escaped into
a bird. A chaplain in Cromwell’s army
exorcised a soldier’s obsessing devil by throwing
the soldier into the water, when the devil came to
the surface. The soldier, unfortunately, did
not.
OBSOLETE, adj. No longer used
by the timid. Said chiefly of words. A
word which some lexicographer has marked obsolete is
ever thereafter an object of dread and loathing to
the fool writer, but if it is a good word and has
no exact modern equivalent equally good, it is good
enough for the good writer. Indeed, a writer’s
attitude toward “obsolete” words is as
true a measure of his literary ability as anything
except the character of his work. A dictionary
of obsolete and obsolescent words would not only be
singularly rich in strong and sweet parts of speech;
it would add large possessions to the vocabulary of
every competent writer who might not happen to be a
competent reader.
OBSTINATE, adj. Inaccessible
to the truth as it is manifest in the splendor and
stress of our advocacy.
The popular type and exponent of obstinacy
is the mule, a most
intelligent animal.
OCCASIONAL, adj. Afflicting
us with greater or less frequency. That, however,
is not the sense in which the word is used in the phrase
“occasional verses,” which are verses written
for an “occasion,” such as an anniversary,
a celebration or other event. True, they afflict
us a little worse than other sorts of verse, but their
name has no reference to irregular recurrence.
OCCIDENT, n. The part of the
world lying west (or east) of the Orient. It
is largely inhabited by Christians, a powerful subtribe
of the Hypocrites, whose principal industries are
murder and cheating, which they are pleased to call
“war” and “commerce.”
These, also, are the principal industries of the
Orient.
OCEAN, n. A body of water occupying
about two-thirds of a world made for man —
who has no gills.
OFFENSIVE, adj. Generating disagreeable
emotions or sensations, as the advance of an army
against its enemy.
“Were the enemy’s tactics
offensive?” the king asked. “I should
say so!” replied the unsuccessful general.
“The blackguard wouldn’t come out of
his works!”
OLD, adj. In that stage of usefulness
which is not inconsistent with general inefficiency,
as an old man. Discredited by lapse of
time and offensive to the popular taste, as an old
book.
“Old books? The devil take
them!” Goby said.
“Fresh every day must be my books
and bread.”
Nature herself approves the Goby rule
And gives us every moment a fresh fool.
Harley Shum
OLEAGINOUS, adj. Oily, smooth,
sleek.
Disraeli once described the manner of
Bishop Wilberforce as
“unctuous, oleaginous, saponaceous.”
And the good prelate was ever afterward known as
Soapy Sam. For every man there is something in
the vocabulary that would stick to him like a second
skin. His enemies have only to find it.
OLYMPIAN, adj. Relating to a
mountain in Thessaly, once inhabited by gods, now
a repository of yellowing newspapers, beer bottles
and mutilated sardine cans, attesting the presence
of the tourist and his appetite.
His name the smirking tourist scrawls
Upon Minerva’s temple walls,
Where thundered once Olympian Zeus,
And marks his appetite’s abuse.
Averil Joop
OMEN, n. A sign that something will happen if
nothing happens.
ONCE, adv. Enough.
OPERA, n. A play representing
life in another world, whose inhabitants have no speech
but song, no motions but gestures and no postures
but attitudes. All acting is simulation, and
the word simulation is from simia, an
ape; but in opera the actor takes for his model Simia
audibilis (or Pithecanthropos stentor) —
the ape that howls.
The actor apes a man — at least
in shape;
The opera performer apes and ape.
OPIATE, n. An unlocked door
in the prison of Identity. It leads into the
jail yard.
OPPORTUNITY, n. A favorable
occasion for grasping a disappointment.
OPPOSE, v. To assist with obstructions and objections.
How lonely he who thinks to vex
With bandinage the Solemn Sex!
Of levity, Mere Man, beware;
None but the Grave deserve the Unfair.
Percy P. Orminder
OPPOSITION, n. In politics the
party that prevents the Government from running amuck
by hamstringing it.
The King of Ghargaroo, who had been abroad
to study the science of
government, appointed one hundred of his fattest subjects
as members of a parliament to make laws for the collection
of revenue. Forty of these he named the Party
of Opposition and had his Prime Minister carefully
instruct them in their duty of opposing every royal
measure. Nevertheless, the first one that was
submitted passed unanimously. Greatly displeased,
the King vetoed it, informing the Opposition that
if they did that again they would pay for their obstinacy
with their heads. The entire forty promptly
disemboweled themselves.
“What shall we do now?” the
King asked. “Liberal institutions
cannot be maintained without a party of Opposition.”
“Splendor of the universe,”
replied the Prime Minister, “it is
true these dogs of darkness have no longer their credentials,
but all is not lost. Leave the matter to this
worm of the dust.”
So the Minister had the bodies of his
Majesty’s Opposition
embalmed and stuffed with straw, put back into the
seats of power and nailed there. Forty votes
were recorded against every bill and the nation prospered.
But one day a bill imposing a tax on warts was defeated
— the members of the Government party had
not been nailed to their seats! This so enraged
the King that the Prime Minister was put to death,
the parliament was dissolved with a battery of artillery,
and government of the people, by the people, for the
people perished from Ghargaroo.
OPTIMISM, n. The doctrine, or
belief, that everything is beautiful, including what
is ugly, everything good, especially the bad, and
everything right that is wrong. It is held with
greatest tenacity by those most accustomed to the
mischance of falling into adversity, and is most acceptably
expounded with the grin that apes a smile. Being
a blind faith, it is inaccessible to the light of
disproof — an intellectual disorder, yielding
to no treatment but death. It is hereditary,
but fortunately not contagious.
OPTIMIST, n. A proponent of the doctrine that
black is white.
A pessimist applied to God for relief.
“Ah, you wish me to restore your
hope and cheerfulness,” said God.
“No,” replied the petitioner,
“I wish you to create something that
would justify them.”
“The world is all created,”
said God, “but you have overlooked
something — the mortality of the optimist.”
ORATORY, n. A conspiracy between
speech and action to cheat the understanding.
A tyranny tempered by stenography.
ORPHAN, n. A living person whom
death has deprived of the power of filial ingratitude
— a privation appealing with a particular
eloquence to all that is sympathetic in human nature.
When young the orphan is commonly sent to an asylum,
where by careful cultivation of its rudimentary sense
of locality it is taught to know its place. It
is then instructed in the arts of dependence and servitude
and eventually turned loose to prey upon the world
as a bootblack or scullery maid.
ORTHODOX, n. An ox wearing the popular religious
joke.
ORTHOGRAPHY, n. The science
of spelling by the eye instead of the ear. Advocated
with more heat than light by the outmates of every
asylum for the insane. They have had to concede
a few things since the time of Chaucer, but are none
the less hot in defence of those to be conceded hereafter.
A spelling reformer indicted
For fudge was before the court cicted.
The judge said:
“Enough —
His candle we’ll
snough,
And his sepulchre shall not be whicted.”
OSTRICH, n. A large bird to
which (for its sins, doubtless) nature has denied
that hinder toe in which so many pious naturalists
have seen a conspicuous evidence of design.
The absence of a good working pair of wings is no
defect, for, as has been ingeniously pointed out,
the ostrich does not fly.
OTHERWISE, adv. No better.
OUTCOME, n. A particular type
of disappointment. By the kind of intelligence
that sees in an exception a proof of the rule the wisdom
of an act is judged by the outcome, the result.
This is immortal nonsense; the wisdom of an act is
to be juded by the light that the doer had when he
performed it.
OUTDO, v.t. To make an enemy.
OUT-OF-DOORS, n. That part of
one’s environment upon which no government has
been able to collect taxes. Chiefly useful to
inspire poets.
I climbed to the top of a mountain one
day
To see the sun
setting in glory,
And I thought, as I looked at his vanishing
ray,
Of a perfectly
splendid story.
’Twas about an old man and the ass
he bestrode
Till the strength
of the beast was o’ertested;
Then the man would carry him miles on
the road
Till Neddy was
pretty well rested.
The moon rising solemnly over the crest
Of the hills to
the east of my station
Displayed her broad disk to the darkening
west
Like a visible
new creation.
And I thought of a joke (and I laughed
till I cried)
Of an idle young
woman who tarried
About a church-door for a look at the
bride,
Although ’twas
herself that was married.
To poets all Nature is pregnant with grand
Ideas —
with thought and emotion.
I pity the dunces who don’t understand
The speech of
earth, heaven and ocean.
Stromboli Smith
OVATION, n. n ancient Rome, a definite,
formal pageant in honor of one who had been disserviceable
to the enemies of the nation. A lesser “triumph.”
In modern English the word is improperly used to
signify any loose and spontaneous expression of popular
homage to the hero of the hour and place.
“I had an ovation!” the actor
man said,
But I thought
it uncommonly queer,
That people and critics by him had been
led
By
the ear.
The Latin lexicon makes his absurd
Assertion as plain
as a peg;
In “ovum” we find the true
root of the word.
It
means egg.
Dudley Spink
OVEREAT, v. To dine.
Hail, Gastronome, Apostle of Excess,
Well skilled to overeat without distress!
Thy great invention, the unfatal feast,
Shows Man’s superiority to Beast.
John Boop
OVERWORK, n. A dangerous disorder
affecting high public functionaries who want to go
fishing.
OWE, v. To have (and to hold)
a debt. The word formerly signified not indebtedness,
but possession; it meant “own,” and in
the minds of debtors there is still a good deal of
confusion between assets and liabilities.
OYSTER, n. A slimy, gobby shellfish
which civilization gives men the hardihood to eat
without removing its entrails! The shells are
sometimes given to the poor.