Later this week will come the release of a film called "Cloud Atlas". The reviews ought to be fun to read, for the descriptions I've read in various articles describe a "plot" that renders your Dan Gent as a mere peon of paltry linear thinking in comparison.

One such article was in last Sunday's New York Times and, oh boy, had a big little word in it to describe a character. Has Mentor heard of it? Bet she'll be impressed.

I raided one of my forlorn outposts, a hall closet, for the American Heritage Dictionary, and fortunately for some concerned it was pretty easy to grab. This is the dictionary which achieved notoriety for containing the sacred invocations often used during toe stubbings and viewing many political commercials.

Ha! This word is so unique I have it memorized. So unique . . . it seemingly is not here. Is this a coup, maybe? So it's off to a search engine, which in these general days and this particular case reveals a misspelling by the Gentster and then the actual item of interest. Fortified by the definition I head back to the good red book and still can't find it. Be still, you're still leaving out letters. One more trip by the word farmer to the Dell: twice humbled now but finding it after all.

The word is "amanuensis". Micro Soft did not underline it in red just now; take my word and that one. It means a manuscript copier, in the film's case someone is one in 1930's Belgium for a musician.

It has been said to be a "sesquipedalian" you must know and use the word "sesquipedalian". Two strikes and a ground ball; I'd better brush up on my memorization if I want to be an Amanuensis---as opposed to "amensis" and the other misspelling. And isn't "seemingly" in the same alleged delinquent status as "hopefully"?

Mentor may now want but one more day in the office: "Back to work, Dan!"