I believe I touched on this once, but it could have been in the defunct Blogspot days, and my current archives are good for naught but collecting comment spam. At some point there will be nothing for it but to play Texas Hold 'Em buck naked with a circulatory system full of Cialas while Barely Legal Teens force Cheap Tabs down my throat while Refinancing the Velocihovel at Exxxtremely Low Rates. Think Doc Holliday in Tombstone.
In the meantime, a story. My mother once confessed to me that she had always thought the word misled, the past tense of mislead, was instead the past tense of the verb misle. As in to cheat someone. Think of it: it has miserliness, lying, misleading. It is the perfect word to describe any number of screwheads I encounter daily.
She needn't have worried. My brother and I had thought the same thing. Must be a genome
thing. Yes, that bastard misled me, then I stuck him with the fillet knife.
This really should be a word. I hereby proclaim it. And, so, in Velocitongue, it shall remain forever more.