Amerrycountry: Autorabiography

By Penemy of Pignorance

Steephen Greenblatt's comment on Amerrycountry, subtitled Autorabiography is:
''I am genuinely impressed by the inexhaustible and daring verbal inventiveness of Amerrycountry.''

The Taylor and Francis review written by Dr. Bahram Meghdadi, the most prestigious professor and critic of English literature in Middle East, published in the volume 47, Issue 6, 2014 Journal of Iranian Studies, Oxford University, has claimed Amerrycountry a 21st century literary ''masterpiece'' which surpasses even Finnegans Wake, and which deserves to reach a ''universale''. Dr. Meghdadi who got his Ph. D. from Columbia University believes, the art of writing novels has been revived once again by Amerrycountry, a ''phenomenon'' in world literature.

Dr. Homa Katouzian the distinguished professor and editor of Iranian Studies Journal of Oxford University, after finishing to read Amerrycountry called it an ''original'' story.

Ariel Dorfman's assistant at Duke University, Suzan Senerchia, has commented on Amerrycountry as:
''I did read Amerrycountry and found it interesting in your use of words. Your combination and use of words, as well as your choice of which words to combine, were very clever and imaginative.''

Professor Mark Burnett from Queen's U. Belfast commented on Amerrycountry as: ''cleverly'' written.

Beheshti U. distinguished Professor and critic of English literature, Dr. Amir Ali Nojumian who received his Ph. D. from Leicester U. has commented on Amerrycountry as follows:
''I eventually finished reading your work and enjoyed it a lot. I think your command of English is excellent and your portmanteaus, or let's say portmantorabis, are quite thought-provoking and pentertaining. Many of the words you made, for example ''sexpert'', "textpress" and ''universale'' were very innovative. This reminds me of this quotation in your work:
"It seems that languages langucage us! Or rather, we let ourselves be langucaged. Languages, after many years, limit and numb us, although at the start they empower us."

Your metafictional and intertextual attitude to writing is quite novel and postmodern (while reading your work, I was reminded of Tristram Shandy.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477259085

Penemy of Pignorance

Zadmehr Torabi was born in Tehran, Iran on May 22,1977.He is married and has a daughter. His parents are of Turkish descent. He received his B.A. and M.A. in English Literature from Tehran University in 1999 and 2002. Since 2003 he has been lecturing in English Literature in Sistan and Baluchestan University and currently he is a Ph.D. student of English Literature in Shiraz University. His interest in the affinities between French and English literature arise from the fact that throughout his career, he has studied French as well and he has always been an avid reader of fiction in French as well as in English.

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© 2012 by Zadmehr Torabi. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/08/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5909-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5908-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914416

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The Pignorants in Manimal Farm 

The Humanimals 

Manimalogy in Manimal Farm 

Glossary of portmantorabis and other expressions and names used in Amerrycountry: 

About Zadmehr Torabi 

According to Holy Books, we are Lordered to donate to the poor. So let’s not be sindifferent to them, and let’s develoaf, textpand, and penhance the theme.

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As writers tribute their works to family members, friends, or patrons, if I can be considered a fledgling writer, I would like to torabiute this textperiment to those whose memories have always pencouraged me: my wife (although she is sindifferent to this), my daughter Paria, and my professors. Also, I would like to torabiute this wholly autorabiographical textperience to the following writers and poets whose books have pendowed many hatching writers like me and, of whom many of us novice writers have been penvious: the eliterachairman Shakespeare; the championeer James Joyce, who showed the rabbit hole to me by his Winofguns Fake; the prolifictionist Victor Hugo; Le Clezio; and also to the populartist Kevin Carter.

And as eliterachairmen (l do not selfistly include myself), quote sentences from eliterature at the openings of their books, I have quoted four sentences that give most of the themes of this textperiment:

1. The civilized world, discharged all over the earth, in the course of four and twenty hours, one hundred and fifty thousand useless shots. At six francs per shot, that comes to nine hundred thousand francs a day, three hundred million a year, which vanish in smoke. This is a mere detail. All this time the poor were dying of hunger.—Les Miserables

2. Words are a source of misunderstanding . . . the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart.—The Little Prince

The third is an epigram by an unknown writer:

3. The poor are evapoorating.

And the last one is part of one of my poems:

4. Who was Shakespeare?

He shook the sphere.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For whom do I write? For you who read me.

In the third millennium, and long after Plato’s Republic, More’s Utopia, and Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, we are still worlds and millennia away from Amerrycountry; still there are many emaciating kids world-wilde, and the world is similar to dysturopias like Manimal Farm, and 1984, and all of us are responsinle for these. Nevertheless, we’d better hope to explore the universal state of Amerrycountry.

About the diction of this textperiment, I textplain that If you can imagine Nuncle Lear lost in a motel in a smoggy and slithy area around Oxbridge, you will not face any difficulty in textploring this textperience, that intends to give you a little refreshmentality. I hope you do not become pentrapped, pencaged, and penraged by my penigmatic diction.

Some readers will interpret me accurately, some will sinterpret or misinterpret me accusingly, many will not read me more than this sentence. However, I beg you to read this textperiment without characterorizing or sinsulting me at the end.

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I was born in neither an aristocratic nor an aristocrabic family; it’s not bad to be born aristocratic, but it is not good to be aristocrabic. Of course, here the word aristocratic has a limited reference and does not textend itself to an entire class. My ancestorabis, who were povertorabis, had lived in Queenglondowntown for near two centuries, and my poorigin has had its own fruitfoolness for me. However, I would like it if I were born as a lordinary Londonatorabi or a londonatorphanager.

My father, James Originatorabi, born and grown up in Queenglondowntown, was very interested in Queenglish eliterature, but unfortunaturally, because of his poorigin, had not been able to get Oxfortunate and attend Oxbridge or any other university in Queengland.

As you notice, since this textperience is half autorabiographical and half the child of my heart, original names are revealed.

My father was a tailor whose tales gave refreshmentality to his customers and me. He never taught me sewing coats and dresses with the sewing machine in his small workshop; instead, he encouraged me to become a populartist. And he pencouraged me a lot to become a righter, that is, a writer who writes to bring humaniy to the right path, one who is not sindifferent to the global issues and sympathizes with the weak, one who donates something valuable to humanity, even if it is one epigram or one short poem.

To help me become such a writer, or righter, he used to tell me it’s not enough just to be a simple narratorabi of insignificant events passing around me and my thought, because this will ultimately waste my flourishing pendowment that otherwise could be used for discovering and depicting detrimental human flaws in the world. He had named this general error of wasting of writers’ pendowment or wasting of artistic and scientific opportunities and talents on insignificant issues a sinsignificance. He told me one should be an initiatorabi, by which he meant a good writer should initiate some good intention or thought in the hearts and minds of his or her readers that might lead to some good actions for the benefit and betterment of humanity and the world. To become a good humanitarian writer, or righter, he believed one should be an originator or an avant-garde, a championeer who is not afraid of any textperience and who is not grammarred, one who is ready to sacrifice himself or herself for the benefit of the African’t kids. African’t kids was his portmantorabi expression for the poor kids of Africontinent that can’t kid around and have fun, as kids of Americontinent or other continents do. He believed a righter is any writer who is ready to sacriface himself and his reputation as a novice writer to the African’t kids and the poorphans. He believed a writer should be a procreator, that is creator of one’s own unique tales, diction and even terms. Also he believed a writer should have a sense of humor. He had two jokes about himself that he would often tell his customers to entertain them or to give them refreshmentality, as he said. First about his job, as a fun he would say he is a stailor, or a stylor, and then he would explain his queer word by saying that he is a tailor who is a designer of new dress and coat styles as well and one who is not limited by the already existing designs or fashions. At first, his styles did not have any fans; later on, some of his styles reached a universale and became universold.

Second, he would pengraft some nouns used above and others that end in the suffix—tor, like originator, narrator, and creator to our family name Torabi and come up with funny words. For example when he preached to me as a child, he would use the term pastorabi for himself, which I liked very much.

He frequently told me that it’s not an easy engagement to be pengaged for the Queenglish ladies and the kinglish and lordinary gentlemen of the Queengland, he believed one should be pendowed for them.

Now you, dear Queenglish, Americanadian, Africamerican, Africanadian, Americaustralian, New Zenglanders, and Fritish Engliterate readers, at the end of this textperiment will be the best referees to see whether I, as the humble sketcher of this romantorabic autorabiographical storaby, which is my manifesto for novice writers (like myself), and my message and gift to the world, have succeeded in becoming a good initiatorabi.

My father believed in four other necessities of a righter: ability to discoverb, by which he meant to discover new verbs, actions, ideas, and concepts for the betterment of humanity; second, having a latinterest, by which he meant familiarity with Latin; third, ability to etymologize; and finally, being Oxfortunate, what I have not become yet.

He believed a righter must spend all these quabilities, and all his or her pendowment and penergy to penlighten the world; that means to help Europe metamorphase into Eurotopia and the universe into the universal state of Amerrycountry.

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Some years ago I had a friend, not among us anymore, by the name of Herzodmehr Humpty Torwell, who tried to become a writer. He wrote the following punish story and wanted to publish it before his sudden death.

Please, if you are not in a hurry to do some other urgent work and if you are not tired, read his story below and see if it deserves publication. If yes, can you suggest a good publisher? Maybe in this way I can do a favor to the memory of my friend, its deceased writer.

Herzodmehr Humpty Torwell, who always before his death insisted on remaining anonymous, gave this story to me to know my idea on it, before he one day very accidentally was shot in the head in Queenglondowntown while passing in front of a police station where a harmed policeman was standing on guard. The policeman’s trigger finger had inadvertently, maybe sinadvertently, touched and pressed the trigger; a bullet was shot and pierced into Herzodmehr’s forehead and upon his left eyebrow; he passed away on the spot; his friends and I were shocked; his little brother wept a lot; and his mother and father became prematurely old and withered. When I saw his mother the next day, she asked me, Do you think the policeman must be considered innocent, sinnocent, or sinful?

After that tragic event, I could not help wishing: If only harms were not sinvented; or if only now that they are sinvented, we could say a farewell to them; and if only the time could come when nobody works for wartillery and warmament production sindustries.

Let me etymologize that actually harms, wartillery, and warmament had been the original terms for arms, artillery, and armament, but nearly two millennia ago, some people who were known as manimals, well-known to be wardent warmongers, by a machination or sintrigue with the worders of their land, which was called Manimal Farm (let me add that in the argot of Manimal Farm worder was the current term for lexicographer), bribed the worders with a very large number of heavy gold bars, and in this way tricked the obedient worders to do just a simple work on their dictionaries, and to delete the w of wartillery and warmament with the aim of hiding the wolfish cruelty and wrongness of the root war in the two words; and also of their frequent wars and their large amount of hidden wartillery and warmament, and forged artillery, which suggests art, as a euphemism for wartillery and armament for warmament. This was done without much notice and objection from the people of that time, who seldom were welliterate. In this way, the wardent sinhabitants of Manimal Farm tricked their foolhardy people to make artillery and armament in their large hidden sindustrial (sindustrial shortened into its euphemism industrial by the worders) companies, and then to use them, sometimes against each other, and sometimes against the people of the neighboring lands. It is said that according to a rare banned chronicle or annals called Mannals of Manimal Farm, after just one year and one war with a neighboring land, the wardent warmongers captured twenty times more gold bars than the number they had spent as a bribe to their greedy worders.

Also, according to the same banned Mannals of Manimal Farm, another secret contract had been signed between the warmongers on one side and their worders on the other side. According to this contract, the worders took three thousand heavy gold bars to change worders