Orange You Glad . . .

This isn't two pages long?

I fully intend my final deathbed words to be: "I should have spent more time at the office."

Why would I turn a solemn moment into a joke? Apart from the fact that I have spent much of my life turning solemn moments into jokes, the answer is that I love to puncture truisms. People who like to question conventional wisdom find truisms really annoying, because truisms tend to be banal, self-evident and, sadly, true. For example: "There is no rhyme for 'orange.'"

There isn't, but we can fix that one. There are plenty of things that are crying out for brand new words to define them.

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Snorange -- n. The surreal state of confusion immediately upon waking, where one still half-believes a dream; e.g., worrying about whether you have completed that environmental impact statement on the use of Ti-D-Bol as rocket fuel.

Borange -- adj. The color of the inside of a Metrorail car.

Bangalorange -- n. The sense of mild annoyance one feels when calling tech support and reaching a preternaturally calm person from India with a phony Americanized name (usu. "Steve"). Pakistani equivalent: Lahorange.

Candorange -- n. Almost-but-not-quite yellow journalism. It's true, but also lurid and rude; e.g., the initial supermarket tabloid reports establishing Bill Clinton as a hopeless horndog addicted to bimbos.

Disorange -- n. The unsettling, equilibrium-distorting feeling one gets when one has to stutter-step to enter or exit a motionless escalator. Alternatively, the disorienting feeling one gets when one is taking a flight of stairs by twos, and there's only one left.

Sworange -- vt. To use a phrase that perversely signifies an upcoming lie, such as, "To be perfectly honest . . ." Or, "No offense, but . . ."

Forange -- vt. To forage for an orange.

Fluorange -- n. That weird color of a hallway where all the lights are out except the exit signs.