A couple of weeks ago I posted a Friday word game over at dKos.  The subject then was mondegreens, those songs where you hear the lyrics wrong for months and years at a time.  You know, like the refrain in Creedence’s “Bad Moon Rising,” “There’s a bathroom on the right.”  Well, we had a bit of fun over there, but I’m thinking this kind of splashing around is better suited to the friendly confines of the Frog Pond.  So here goes.

I stole today’s title, of course, from Kermit, patron saint of the Frog Pond.  (I’ve often said that plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery.)  It’s also an example of chiasmus, the subject of today’s game.  Chiasmus is a type of play on words in which you repeat a phrase, reversing two words (or two phrases, or even two letters) the second time around, for impact or comic effect.  
It’s been a while since we’ve had a good specimen of chiasmus come up in public life, but Jamie Raskin, professor at American University and candidate for Maryland State Senate, gave us a spectacular example last week.  Asked by the incumbent, Nancy Jacobs, to comment on the Bible’s position on gay marriage, Mr. Raskin replied:

Senator, when you took your oath of office, you placed your hand on the Bible and swore to uphold the Constitution. You didn’t place your hand on the Constitution and swear to uphold the Bible.

You can read all about it here.

Mr. Raskin gives us a clean example of classic chiasmus. In classic chiasmus, the second phrase inverts something in the first. Our very own Damnit Janet uses a chiastic sig, quoting Jimi Hendrix: “When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace.”  The most familiar example may be from John Kennedy’s inaugural address:

And so, my fellow Americans,
ask not what your country can do for you;
ask what you can do for your country.

Kermit’s comment about flies is actually an example of “implied chiasmus,” where the reversal comes against a familiar, but unspoken, phrase.  JFK was good at implied chiasmus, too.  He once described Washington as a town of “northern charm and southern efficiency.”  

Winston Churchill was another great one for chiasmus.  He was also known for repartee, the quick response silencing another person.  One story has it that a young Member of Parliament once asked Churchill for advice on how “to put fire into my speech.”  Churchill replied,

What you should have done is to have put your speech into the fire.

Mr. Churchill said many things on policy, of course, but I’ll stick with one from economic policy:

In finance everything that is agreeable is unsound and everything that is sound is disagreeable.

Of course, Shakespeare was no slouch when it came to chiasmus, either.  So facile was the Bard with his wordplay that he could combine two forms, creating chiastic puns within dialogue, like this exchange from Henry IV, Part II:

Chief Justice:   Your means are very slender,
                     and your waste is great.

Falstaff:   I would it were otherwise. I would my means
              were greater and my waist slenderer.

And then, of course, there was Mark Twain, who once said of a book by Henry James, “Once you’ve put it down, you simply can’t pick it up.”

There are plenty of chiastic jokes, too, usually of the form, “What’s the difference between …”  I can’t think of any that aren’t offensive, though.  

So who’s your favorite?  Oscar Wilde?  Ben Franklin?  Your crazy uncle Harold?  Tell us who your favorite chiasticist (I made that word up) is, and give us an example or two — maybe one of those non-offensive chiastic jokes I can’t remember.

Really?  You have to go so soon?  When you get back, maybe I’ll ask you whether you’re drunk because the beer was green, or you’re green because the beer was drunk.  Enjoy!