12: Sit'n Spin

The Sit'n Spin might evoke a nostalgic fondness in some gentle readers, to a simpler time, maybe even a happier time. Small wonder that this gnomish product appeared in the late 70s, when the hippies were growing up and trying to find a place for their gnomish-infected values to plague future generations.

Enter the Sit'n Spin, a do-it-yourself merry-go-round, basically. For one. Why bother having friends? Why bother running around in circles, when you can Sit'n Spin?! Around and around and around you go, look at you go, a dervish-in-waiting, a human whirligig, looking like an idiot! Meantime, the gnomes who surely invented it are counting their money and laughing at you, pleased at their hoodwinkery.It's a credit to my snarky generation (Generation X) that "Sit'n Spin" evolved into an insult involving the middle finger, which perhaps reflected a sly rejection of gnomish values, a co-opting of gnomish neo-whimsy for our own nefarious ends.

Fortunately, the Sit'n Spin was eclipsed by the time and shorter attention spans of children, but the gnomish spirit of the Sit'n Spin lives on. I like the age limit on the product -- 18M to 5.5 years -- perhaps the high point of susceptibility to gnomish aesthetics, or perhaps simply a weight limit factor (no doubt the ever-fatter younger generations put the Sit'n Spin out of business, since they couldn't craft a sturdy enough product to bear the kiddies, who were likely sitting enough, anyway.

11: Juggling

Juggling qualifies as another gnomish "sport," where you feel like perhaps you're doing something, but really you're merely distracting yourself and others -- which is entirely gnomish in character. Confession: I learned how to juggle as a boy, was given a Klutz Book on how to juggle, and taught myself. I never took to it, never got very good at it, never saw the point in it, but I learned the basic moves of juggling, little did I know that I was being exposed to gnomish agitprop. In fact, even the word "juggle" has a bit of a gnomish flavor to it.

The pointlessness of juggling, except to demonstrate what, precisely -- nimble fingers? Is exactly what makes it so gnomish. "Lighten up! Be whimsical with us!" the jugglers-in-public seem to say. "Look at me! I'm wacky!"

I can't fault clowns and street performers for using the gnomish art of juggling for their own devious ends -- no doubt clowns use juggling to appear less evil and perhaps to lure in innocent victims. But everyday folk, civilians, if you will, who engage in public juggling are infected by gnomish ideology.

When I bike along the lakeshore in the summer, I often see this juggling group of leathery men who occupy the same spot on the shore every damned day, juggling. Tennis balls, bowling pins, passing them between each other. Every day. Such clockwork whimsy!

GWD: Razzle-Dazzle

This word sounds like an incantation a gnome would use to bedazzle you, pick your pocket, get you to play hacky sack or something...

raz·zle–daz·zle
Pronunciation: \ˌra-zəl-ˈda-zəl\

Function: noun

Etymology: reduplication of dazzle

Date: 1889

1 : a state of confusion or hilarity
2 : a complex maneuver (as in sports) designed to confuse an opponent
3 : a confusing or colorful often gaudy action or display

— razzle–dazzle adjective

The repetition of the sound of the words, coupled by the hyphen (always a good tipoff of gnomish work wankery) are the tells, here. What's "razzle" without the "dazzle?" In fact, it's nothing. There simply IS no "razzle." Maybe the "razzle" is the gnomish hitchhiker to the otherwise innocent "dazzle" -- maybe "razzle" is a gnomish syntactical retrovirus. "Razzle" certainly seems like it could be a gnomish name ("Razzle Q. Ambercrombie, at your service!")

Again, the Victorians are to blame for this word. Clearly, the Victorian penchant for whimsy revivalism (perhaps a byproduct of their repressive nature in other areas) opened the door wide for gnomish incursions.