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Reading this column will leave you Danehied.

About a million years ago, when I was a columnist for the Arizona Daily Wildcat on campus, some altruistic students tried to get in to see the UA president about their chosen cause. The prez was famous for being able to dodge tough issues, so he stalled 'em and put 'em off, then stalled 'em and put 'em off some more. Finally, they came to see me and asked me to write about it, but I just shrugged and said, "Y'all just got Kofflered." They nodded in agreement and left me alone to write about sports.

I've decided to dust off that concept and bring it into the new millennium. For example, if you're heading into a contest or game in which you have absolutely no chance of winning because the opposition is more skilled, better trained and more ready to compete, you're about to get Candreaed. See how that works?

On a side note, if you're standing at the plate and you hear something go by, but don't see it, you just got Finched.

Now, it doesn't work for everybody. It's like the old "Name Game" song--"Shirley, Shirley, Bo-Birley, banana-fan-fo-firley ..." I always wondered what would happen if they yelled, "Let's do 'Chuck'!"

With this thing, some just don't come out right. Like, if you had to listen to some marginally talented Brit sing wanker-jazz odes to the rainforest, you've been Stinged. Doesn't work. But others do.

If you go to get your hair done and they screw it up and then spray paint it some quasi-Martian color, you done got Hulled.

If somebody wins your affection and promises you a glorious future, then sells his soul for a few bucks and breaks your heart, you just got Arenased. Or is it Wrighted? Or maybe Gardnered. No, wait, it's Jeffersoned.

If your local state senator dies suddenly and then gets replaced with the absolute worst possible candidate, one whose sole experience is running an organization founded by a noted eugenicist, your political representation and clout just got Yruned. And if you say that right, it comes out "ruined."

By the way, somebody told me that Virginia Yrun is a Basque. That's cool; they're a unique people. But if both of her parents are Basques, then she's not Hispanic and her paella recipe could be a fraud! I read this thing about Basques, and besides the fact that the Basques and Spanish get along like black people and the Cincinnati P.D., anthropologists have no idea where the Basques came from. All they know is that they're certainly not Spanish. One guy said that their presence in the Pyrenees is probably the best argument ever made for space travelers visiting here and leaving some folks behind, like on Third Rock From The Sun.

If you're actually prettier than your wife and you're not keeping her happy in the boudoir, you're about to get Kidmaned.

If you run a once-proud organization that has had its guts sucked out and its wallet emptied just so people thousands of miles away can live the high life, you've been Pulitzered.

If your football team is bigger, faster and has twice as many players as the opposition, but you get your hat handed to you, you've been Friedlied. Don't worry; you're not alone. There are dozens and dozens of others just like you all over the Western United States.

If you've just lost to someone who is dumber, luckier and far less qualified than yourself, you're Bushed.

If your buddy publicly announces his sexual orientation after everybody in the entire world already knew, you just got Stiped.

And if your other buddy denies his sexual orientation although everybody in the entire world already knows, you're being Martined.

Son, if your hopes and dreams went up and down like a rollercoaster for the past 15 years or so, it's because you and all the rest of us got Tomeyed.

It that beautiful patch of desert you used to like to hike through is now a stucco subdivision, you've been Diamonded.

If you shoplifted some chewing gum, got busted, and all of a sudden found yourself hundreds of years in the past, you're probably being Arpaioed.

If you're willing to stand in the blazing heat and bitter cold for hours at a time, wearing an orange vest, breathing the fumes and selling the afternoon paper to make a few bucks, and you suddenly have your livelihood snatched away from you for no good reason, you've been Wested.

On the other hand, if you've been driving along, minding your own business, and you come to a stop only to be accosted by a guy wearing an orange vest but not selling newspapers, a guy whose breath could tint your windows from the outside and one who won't take "Here's a sandwich; now leave me alone!" for an answer, you've been Flagged.

If you're walking down Fourth Avenue one night, bumming because the Wildcats have lost the national championship and you get hit with rubber bullets, you've been Mirandaized.

Oddly enough, if you live near Fourth Avenue and your stuff gets vandalized and destroyed by idiots who are using the aforementioned loss to act like jackasses while the police are chilling a couple blocks away, you've also been Mirandaized.

If you've got this really cool job with the local gub'mint, but you're not quite sure what your duties are, you may have been Eckstromed.

And if you've been reading the Weekly, charmed by the columnist's clever wordplay, tickled by the humor, pleased by the willingness to take chances, and completely absorbed by the professionalism of it all ... well then, my friend, you've been Zakined!

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