The Holy Grail Press
Proudly Made On Earth By Earthlings
INTRODUCTION
In 1981, while an undergraduate student at the University of Missouri, Michael Soetaert almost jokingly poised the question, “Why is college so much harder than grade school?” After seven years and a seven million dollar government grant, this book is the result of that question. What Michael Soetaert discovered is perhaps the most significant educational breakthrough in this century, and it is destined to change the pedagogical structure of our entire educational system.
At first we might be tempted to say that the subject matter was easier in grade school, but curricular difficulty is only relative to the cognitive level for which it is designed. Simply put, difficulty levels increase as our intellectual capacity increases.
One major difference between college and grammar school is the classroom structure. Grade schools tend to be more personal, offering more one-on-one instruction, whereas college tends to be the opposite. No one would dream of putting five hundred third graders in an auditorium to hear a lecture on economics for an hour. It has been suggested that no one should put five hundred college sophomores in a auditorium for an hour to hear a lecture on economics, either, and that could quite possibly be the present problem with our educational system.
Soetaert, however, discounts the above theory. Having already compiled extensive research on an alternate hypothesis, he would have been forced to abandon the work of several years simply because the original hypothesis was wrong. According to Soetaert, “There’s no reason to waste valuable research time disproving that which probably isn’t right anyway.”
So Soetaert remained with his original hypothesis: The reason why college is so much harder than grade school is because there are no pictures. Soetaert is quick to point out that there are pictures in college texts, but they are qualitatively different than those found in grammar school texts. Those pictures found in grammar school texts tend primarily to be explanatory, whereas those pictures found in college texts tend only to make the books thicker. For instance, an explanation of a cow found in a second grade textbook would most certainly include a picture of one, but an explanation of a realist found in a second year college text probably would not include a picture. And even if there were a picture of a realist it would probably be some fuzzy photograph of an old man with a beard that looks nearly identical to the fuzzy old photograph that is supposed to be a naturalist.
Therefore, pictures become the key to education, and that, then, becomes the purpose of this book: To provide a basis from which Soetaert’s educational theory can be proved. As such, it is not inclusive. Once the educational success of this simple text has been established, it will become the duty of future educators to thoroughly apply its ramifications to all areas of academia.
Earl Eldridge
Bermuda
June 1988
DICTIONARY (dĭk/shǝ-něr/ē)
Although Noah Webster is given credit for inventing the dictionary, research by Eldridge has confirmed that actual credit should go to Webster’s canary, who dictated it all. Webster, on the other hand, has never received credit for inventing the Dictaphone.
CONTENT (kŏn/těnt)
Prison overcrowding throughout the United States has caused many states to take drastic measures to alleviate the problem. Perhaps the most radical is that of Arizona, where many convicts are required to sleep in tents in the prison yards.
APPARENT (ǝ-pâr/ǝnt)
Noun. (Plural, parents.) 1. A father or a mother. 2. One who has children. 3. Medical. A neurotic condition characterized by an impulsive desire to cut everything into small pieces along with extreme fatigue. 4. Archiac. A screaming lunatic. (Middle English, from Old French, from Latin “parran,” feminine of “parras,” from the past participle “parrini,” to scream, from “par,” maniac, from Old Latin “parurva,” screaming maniac.)
THESAURUS (thĭ-sôr/ǝs)
A now extinct dinosaur, in 1928 a Thesaurus was actually taken alive from the African jungle during the now famous Boedeccker Expedition, becoming the only living dinosaur ever seen by modern man. Improper governmental restraints, however, allowed the beast to be exhibited with inadequate facilities. Escaping from its cage, the Thesaurus was able to make its way to the Royal Library, where it choked to death while trying to devour the entire literature wing of that famous institute. Many noteworthy pieces of literature were lost, as well as the Thesaurus. This unfortunate occurrence has now all but been forgotten from the annuals of history.
OCTAGON (ŏk/tǝ-gŏn/)
In 1953, Ed Figley, owner and operator of Ed’s Sea World in Lampe, Missouri, a sleazy roadside tourist trap with only half-a-dozen aquariums, acquired Buba, the world’s only juggling octopus. Buba was such a sensation that people drove thousands of miles just to see him. The impact on the small community was phenomenal. An international airport was planned. Land developers poured in from all over the world. A Tastee-Freez franchise was purchased. Then one day a flashbulb caused Buba to drop the fish he’d been juggling. His confidence shattered, Buba began dropping more and more. Then the crowds grew ugly. At first it was just boos and jeers, but then came the rotten produce. Late one night, the dejected octopus slipped away. Left with only a few skinny goldfish, Ed’s Sea World soon folded, and Lampe quickly returned to being just another little town. The promise of fortune, however, left the residents of that tiny community bitter, and to this day no one there will admit that Buba ever existed. As for Buba, he was never seen again. However, not a summer goes by without a fisherman mysteriously disappearing on nearby Table Rock Lake. The only clues are what could be suction marks left on the boat, and a tacklebox that looks like it’s been juggled.
POETRY (pō/ĭ-trē)
A hardy, deciduous plant of ancient origin, found worldwide in all but the highest of altitudes. As one renowned gardener remarked, “Damned things! They’re almost impossible to get started, but once they get rooted, you just can’t kill ‘em. Ya cut ‘em down an’ they just keep growin’ right back.”
PROSE (prōz)
The Grinn Brothers Photography Company of Seattle, Washington, adopted as their advertising slogan in 1954, “Go to the prose.” Although excellent photographers, neither of the Grinn Brothers could spell worth a darn. However, the slogan caught on, eventually being distorted to “Go for a prose.,” The word “prose” is still prominent in the Pacific Northwest, although it can be heard on occasion throughout the United States and Canada.
TALE (tāl)
Most reference books indicate that a tale and a story are virtually the same thing. It is quite obvious that they are wrong. As most people know, a tale is that long, furry thing found at the ends of cats and other animals. Tales can also be found on kites and children who tattle.
STORY (stōr/ē)
Stories, on the other hand, are the stated divisions between floors in multi-level structures.
CHROMOSOME (krō/mǝ-sōm/)
In the 1974 case of Rancid Crabtree Vs the City of Tulsa, the federal district court ruled that special parking zones were not discriminatory, citing that the amount of chrome on a car does not necessarily equate with the value of the car. However, the judges all unanimously agreed that, even so, the city had no right to have Mr. Crabtree’s 1966 Rambler towed off and smashed just because he had parked it in such a zone. Therefore, the city was forced to reimburse Mr. Crabtree for his car, which was deducted from the twenty-five dollar fine. Mr. Crabtree still owed the City of Tulsa $19.50.
REALIST (rē/ǝ-lĭst)
Anyone adhering to the belief that fishing is quintessential to all existence, and further, that the fishing reel is the focal point of all reality. In fact, the word “reality” derivates from the Latin “reelo,” meaning, “to be one with all, or any part thereof.”
PEER SUPPORT (pîr sǝ-pôrt/)
Those sawed off telephone poles stuck into the water in order to keep Realists from getting wet. The name derives from the Realists, in that they were said to be “peering into the essence of all that there is, the very meaning of their existence.”
NATURALISTS (năch/ǝr-ǝ-lĭsts)
Those people adhering to the belief that nudity, though not necessarily the essence of all meaning, certainly makes all existence more meaningful.
ELLIPSIS (ĭ-lĭp/sĭs)
This is an astronomical phenomenon involving the moon and the sun. The passing of the moon was worshipped among several ancient cultures, and even today it still has special significance for many people, especially Naturalists.
HAIKU (hī/kōō)
This is a word of obscure origin and meaning. Early research by Eldridge suggests that it may have originated in the 1968 takeover of a small Central American country by the local drug cartel. However, there is contradictory evidence suggesting that the word probably originated through the practice of Arkansawyer chicken farmers living on flood plains.
PLATO (plā/tō)
Startling research has revealed that one of Western Civilization’s greatest philosophers has been mistakenly misnamed for thousands of years. His real name was simply Bob. Jerry II, the king at the time, commissioned the royal sculptor, Chuck, to do a bust of Bob for prosperity. Aside from being a masterful sculptor, Chuck was also an inventor, and for his statue of Bob he decided to use for the first time ever his newest invention, synthetic modeling clay. The clay became such a sensation that people came from miles around to see the clay, and not the statue. And further, they began referring to the statue not as Bub, but by the name of the modeling clay, until the name of Bob was finally forgotten altogether.
NOUN (noun)
The origin of this word is obscure. Research indicates that it could have derived from the Old French “nunya,” referring to some orders’ vows to silence, or the Old Latin “nopeska,” referring to other vows regarding propagation. Another oddity of this word is the tendency to distinguish it as “proper,” but not “improper.” Most linguists do agree that the phrase “proper noun” is somewhat redundant. Also discovered was the variation “pronoun.” According to Mother Vinegaretta of the Order of the Sisters of Blessed Chastity, “It would be quite improper for a sister to accept money for personal gain, much less to become professional.” Research suggests that the latter phrase may have come through the mistaken belief of many that Sally Field at one time really was Catholic.
B-FLAT (bē-flăt)
Without a doubt, Axel Gammenelli was the greatest insect trainer of all time, but his greatness was matched equally with tragedy, causing him to become virtually unknown. Gammenelli’s greatness, however, lives on in the phrases he has added to the English language.
Axel became the first person to ever successfully train bees, teaching them to spell in flight. As recalls Hoyt Newton, retired circus MC, “Yep, those honey bees of Axel’s was one sweet act. He stuck to it until he figured it out. The secret was having the queen dot the ‘i.’” It was on opening night that tragedy struck, when an elephant sat on Axel’s hive. There were no survivors. Axel also never received credit for the circus’s famous dancing elephant act.
FLEA FLICKER (flē flĭk/ǝr)
Giving up on bees, Axel had some success with fleas, but this, too, ended in tragedy when his entire retinue was unfortunately killed en route to Axel’s only chance at national exposure on the Ed Sullivan Show. It seems Axel’s fleas were accidentally shipped next to a crate full of flea collars. In a small, private ceremony, Axel had his beloved fleas cremated. Bufford Bullard, funeral director, noted that the ceremony was just “… a little flea flicker.” (Not shown)
ANTECEDENT (ăn/tǝ-sēd/ǝnt)
Axel, in his final attempt at success, became the first person ever to train ants. “Training ants,” explained Axel in his only known interview, “is an uphill battle.” After several years of intense practice, Axel had successfully trained his ants to locate dents in sheet metal. Unfortunately, nobody really cared. Axel sold his ants to a mail order firm and then retired from public life. He died quietly at a nursing home in Indiana in 1979.
TUTOR (tōō/tǝr)
For seven generations a Honkelheimer had been a percussionist for the Munich Symphony Orchestra. Wilheim Honkelheimer, however, chose the horns, and in so doing was disowned by his entire family. Forced to live on his own, Wilheim took in several students, teaching them what he described as “…the high art of tooting.” But Wilheim’s real love was playing his music, the hauntingly lonely songs that became known as “the blews,” named after Wilheim’s particular style in blowing his horns. Like many brilliant artists, Wilheim’s life ended in early tragedy. Spurned by his lover, Wilheim committed suicide, blowing his brains out with a tuba. Like the life he led, Wilheim was given a pauper’s grave, marked only with a hand-hewn sign that simply read, “Tutor.”
PARADISE (păr/ǝ-dīs/)
Believing that God had spoken to them through the late night static on their car radios, a quasi-secret religious sect developed throughout the lowrider districts of Southern California in the late 1950s. The sect established a rigid code of living which involved, among other things, zoot suits and late model Chevrolets. Foremost, though, were huge, fuzzy dice. The cult believed that fuzzy dice were a sign of being among God’s elect. Although many early believers fell away from the sect in 1963 when God’s predicted arrival in a Corvette coupe failed to occur, many ardent believers still exist to this day.
PARODY (păr/ǝ-dē)
At the height of the religious fervor that started in the lowrider districts of Southern California in the late 1950s, demand for huge, fuzzy dice reached an all-time high. The religious adherents came to refer to the dice simply as “D’s,” thus, parody.
MISFORTUNE (mĭs-fôr/chǝn)
In 1962, Alma Mollux, a young divorced mother of two, barely surviving on the fringe of poverty and despair by digging rocks out of wealthy people’s lawns for 20 hours a day, won the 40 million dollar jackpot in the Ohio state lottery. Miss Mollux’s immediate success captivated the public, who came to affectionately call her Miss Fortune. She moved into one of the houses where she had previously laboured. Her parents, who had abandoned her as a child, reappeared, as did her ex-husband. A life of poverty was turned into a life of wealth. Unfortunately, Miss Fortune’s success was short lived. Having no previous experience with filing income taxes, Miss Fortune failed to fill in line 34B, or the subsequent form 2017. In a show of leniency, the IRS did not send Miss Fortune to prison. They did, however, take away everything she owned, including her children. Her friends and relatives all left shortly thereafter. On the street and penniless, Mis Fortune turned to prostitution and was promptly arrested and sent to prison, where she contracted a horrible disease and died a hideous death. Miss Mollux’s nickname still lives on; although, now it means the exact opposite of all the good fortune that once fell her way.
SYNTAX (sĭn/tăks/)
Line 34B. Multiply Line 34A by .012 percent of Line 33 and then subtract that amount from Line 34A. If that amount is greater than Zero, then subtract Line 34A from Line 33. If that amount is less than Zero, then you will be required to file form 2017.
DECADENCE (děk/ǝ-dǝns)
This practice originated aboard budget cruise ships, where only first class fares were allowed the use of the ballroom, and all other patrons were restricted to dancing on the deck. After Mr. and Mrs. Cleotus Redbone, in what was described as a burst of over exuberance, congaed off the fantail of a budget cruise ship and were lost at sea, the federal government passed several laws prohibiting dancing on the decks of ships, with the exception of US Naval vessels.
PASTORAL (păs/tǝr-ǝl)
This word originated in early 19th Century France, when in 1808 Napoleon, in an effort to curb the power of the Church, ordered that religious services could no longer be held indoors. Undaunted, the services were simply moved outdoors to nearby pastures. To insure the safety of the local clergy, they were no longer referred to by their religious titles, but instead were simple called “pastorals,” which roughly translates into, “one who stands around in a field talking.”
SACRILEGIOUS (săk/rǝ-lē/jǝs)
In 1809, Napoleon surmised that his infamous “Pastoral Law” was ineffectual, so he further ruled that all parishioners attending services would be heavily fined. To avoid paying this fine church goers sought to hide their identities, with the most popular disguise being a paper bag over the head.
CANONIZATION (kăn/ǝ-nī-zā/shǝn)
In 1811, having failed at earlier attempts to undermine the Church’s authority in France, Napoleon passed the controversial “Act de la Cannone.” The Act specifically forbade the participation of anyone in religious ceremonies, regardless of where they were held, and punished offenders by firing them from a cannon. As with the other measures, this Act was a miserable failure. Not only did it not stop the faithful from attending services, but it actually became popular for the parishioners to fire themselves from cannons, believing it possible through such an act to propel themselves into Heaven, or at least the lower reaches of Purgatory. The Church has since denounced this practice and has repeatedly refused to grant sainthood to anyone attempting such a feat.
METER (mē/tǝr)
A unit of measure devised from the height of a bishop’s funny little pointed hat. It became standardized in the early 19th Century by a bizarre group of zealot French parishioners who used it to measure attempts at propulsion. It is still used in sporting events and to measure diving boards.
EXPOSITION (ěk/spǝ-zĭsh/ǝn)
This word has now come to have several meanings; however, it originally meant, “to expose oneself in public.” The word originated in the 1890s, when male burlesque was at its height, so much so that street performing became popular. In recent years there has been an attempt by a small group of dedicated performers to revive this all but lost art. They have been met with mixed reviews.
HEROIC COUPLET (hĭ-rō/ĭk kǔp/lĭt)
There has been much scholarly debate over who was the first heroic couplet, and the answer may possibly never be known. It seems, though, that Bob and Murial Fishbank of Emporia, Kansas, are the most likely candidates. Research indicates that their small sandwich shop was the first ever opened by a couple, starting business in 1949. This discounts the claim of the Honeyman Brothers, who testified that they opened their doors as early as 1943. Even if this date could be verified, though, they still cannot truly be called an heroic couplet, since what they served was really a meatball sandwich on rye, in addition to the documented fact that the two brothers actually hated each other and hadn’t spoken to one another since 1936.
ODE (ōd)
That which lacks youth. Often used in reference to literature, such as, “Be careful with those pages, they’re ode.”
DIALOGUE (dī/ǝ-lôg)
A division of Pacific Northern Bell, this phone system is found exclusively in the timber forests of Southern Washington and Northern Oregon. Comments lumberjack Buck Axton, “It used to be in the olden days a man could just yell over to his buddies and tell ‘em what needed to be said, stuff like ‘timber’ and such, but those days are gone now….”
WOODWIND (wŏŏd/wĭnd/)
Dr. Wayne Temperman, noted meteorologist, recently astounded the scientific community with his research verifying the correlation between trees and weather. As has long been suspected, Dr. Temperman was able to prove that temperature is directly determined by tree leaves, which hold the heat in in the summer and allow it to escape in the fall with their annual shedding. But even more astounding was the discovery that trees cause wind. As stated by Dr. Temperman, “I don’t exactly know how it works, but I’m pretty darn sure of it.” There are those in the scientific community who still regard Dr. Temperman’s research with guarded skepticism.
METAPHOR (mět/ǝ-fôr)
This word originated on the popular children’s TV show Sesame Street. The show’s first hospitality chairperson was the Number Four, who was officially in charge of greeting guest stars for the series. Unfortunately, Number Four was seriously assaulted by a distraught alphabet letter and never returned to the show. It is not known what became of Number Four.
C-SHARP (sē shärp)
The origin of this word is not certain. Some linguists hold that it originated with standardized eye testing, while others believe it has something to do with swordfish and deep sea fishermen. Research, however, has established that the word originated with a nasty alphabet letter who went berserk with a knife after being turned down for a role on Sesame Street. Only one injury was reported.
SYMBOL (sĭm/bǝl)
This word derivates from the ancient Arabic “Symbla,” meaning “to announce,” and “balaka,” meaning “to flatten abruptly.” According to recently discovered evidence recorded on an inner wall of the Great Pyramid of Giza, in 1295 BCE, King Ramses II became convinced through a dream that the lost souls of past great men were trapped inside of flies. To release these souls it was necessary to kill the flies, but in doing so their deaths had to be immediately announced. Therefore, they were smashed between two loudly clashing pieces of metal. Although this procedure is still widely practiced in making noise, it is now rarely used to kill flies.
PARADOX (păr/ǝ-dŏks/)
This word is given to us by the Hoki Indians. When threatened by the encroachment of white settlers, they sought guidance from their supreme spirit, the Great White Duck. In a vision, they were told that if they kept two sacred ducks in their village the white men would leave them alone. But the white men came just the same. The Hokis put up a valiant fight, throwing everything they had at their attackers. Soon they were left with only their two ducks, and so they threw them, too, only to see the birds blown to bits by a cannon. The Hokis quietly gave up the fight, picking up what feathers they could find before they were led away. No one is certain why the Hokies decided to carry the few remaining feathers under their sweat bands.
PITCH (pĭch)
This word is still commonly used in the door-to-door sales industry. Eldridge has suggested that the word might actually have originated from the gooey substance found in pine trees, and came into use by salesmen when they made a sale “stick.” Further research, however, does not support Eldridge. When a sale would go sour, the salesman was quite often physically thrown from the house, a practice that became known in the trade as “taking a pitch.” This phrase through use then changed to “making a pitch.” Thus, the salesman’s pitch.
TONE (tōn)
The knob on your radio that makes far away stations not sound quite so fuzzy, and local stations sound like those little talk boxes in the drive through lanes of fast food restaurants.
VOLUME (vŏl/yōōm)
The little knob on your radio that causes speakers to explode.
RANGE (rānj)
Sparky La Range, innovative trail cook for the Flying Dung Ranch, invented the first primitive gas stove in 1869. Utilizing several natural gas jets he had discovered along the trail, Sparky erected permanent cooking platforms, which later came to be called “ranges,” after their inventor. Today the name is widely in use, although it is often mistakenly used in referring to the plains on which they were built.
DEFENSE (dĭ-fěns/)
That which keeps the cows in.
CATALYST (kăt/l-ĭst)
In 1872, following the invention of the gas range, it was no longer necessary to carry firewood on cattle drives. However, the Brotherhood of International Fire Haulers had signed a three year contract in 1870, guaranteeing employment for all union members. Under a renegotiated contract, the cattle bosses agreed to honour the contract, but reassigned those union members to the job of Cattle Listers. It is still unclear just what a cattle lister did, or why they did it. The only clue can be found in a letter from somebody named Little Willy, in which he writes, “Hell, it's pretty damned boring, but it’s somethin’ to do.”
MOTIF (mō-tēf/)
The spare set Gramma always kept wrapped in tissue paper in the top drawer of her dresser, “…just in case.”
ARCHETYPE (är/kǝ-tīp/)
Literally, “to type on top of an arch,” from the French, “tapper sur l’arc,” a phrase that originated during the Nazi occupation of Paris. In an effort to curb anti-German propaganda, the ruling German government restricted all typing to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. When this failed, the government required that all typing be done only on the insides of seashells. When this failed, the government took away all the typewriters. For more information, see Eldridge’s concise history, The War of the Ribbon (Holy Grail Press, 1982).
STEREOTYPING (stěr/ē-ō-tï-pĭng)
Immensely safer than archetyping, stereotyping did not become popular until the mid-1960s, when stereophonic recordings became widely accessible. It greatly grew in popularity, quickly replacing monotyping. Briefly popular in the early-1970s was quadraphonictyping; however, this fad was short lived due to the low availability of quadraphonic recordings.
SEX TYPING (sěks tī-pĭng)
None of the above should be confused with sex typing, which, requiring very little equipment, has always been popular. (Not shown)
MYTH (mĭth)
A thoung thady who thisn’t tharried.
PARAGRAPH (păr/ǝ-gräf)
In a major survey, a national research firm discovered that 83% (plus or minus 4%) of everybody questioned was totally confused by graphs. They further discovered that whereas people might be confused, if two graphs are used, regardless of whether or not they make any sense, people will be more inclined to believe whatever it is that the graphs are attempting to illustrate. This tendency, though, is only true for two graphs, and is not applicable for less than or more than two. For more information, see the graphs on page 79.
ALLEGORY (ăl/ǝ-gôr/ē)
Once a prolific species, readily found throughout its habitat. However, extensive overhunting by the garment industry has driven this reptile to the verge of extinction. Found now only in a few isolated preserves, it is doubtful that this beast will ever regain its former prominence due mostly to public indifference.
OXYMORON (ŏk/sē-môr/ôn/)
An intelligence rating ranging from fifty to seventy-five percentile on the Wischler-B (Bovine) Test.
PARABLE (păr/ǝ-bǝl)
A word of unknown origin and, further, unknown meaning. According to R.L. Hoopler, noted bovine expert, “Why, who ever heard of putting two bulls in together? That’s one of the dumbest things a fella could do. Why, they’d stomp each other into the dirt. Then what would ya have? No bull is what ya’d have. And if ya ain’t got no bull, you’re gonna have a herd of lonely cows, and there ain’t nothin’ sadder than lonely cows.”
MELANCHOLY (měl/ǝn-kŏl/ē)
Not a true collie, the breed was first introduced by Texan watermelon farmers in the 1840s to aid in herding their crop. It wasn’t until the 1959 International Dog Convention that melancholies were discounted altogether as an actual breed of dog, and in that same year came the subsequent discovery that melons do not need to be herded. It was also in 1959 that Texas could no longer claim to be the largest state in the Union. All in all, it was a bad year for Texas. Melancholies, however, are still widely used in the Texan melon industry, although no one is quite sure how.
PARAPET (per/ǝ-pět/)
Noah’s cats.
HOMONYM (hŏm/ǝ-nĭm/)
A regional food found mostly in the Southern United States. Although it seems to be quite popular, no one is really sure what it is made out of. Also odd is the fact that it is often eaten in combination with grit, which probably aids in digestion.
SYNONYM (sĭn/ǝ-nĭm/)
A spice which, when ground up and mixed with sugar, is quite yummy on hot buttered toast.
ACRONYM (ă-krǝ-nĭm)
An industrial city somewhere in Ohio, population 275,000.
INFERENCE (ĭn/fǝr-ǝns)
Called “the total tanning experience,” this bizarre practice grew out of the tanning booth craze of the early 1980s. For obvious reasons, it has been banned in every state except California.
DEBATE (dĭ-bāt/)
De bait goes on de hook and de hook goes in de water ta catch de fish. (See Realist above)
PLOT (plŏt)
Extensive research suggests this word to be onomatopoetic in nature, deriving its name from the sound people make when they hit the ground after dying. The word was later generalized to include the final resting place of these poor souls, and eventually lost its earlier meaning altogether.