I’ve had many good days.

I’ve had some bad days too.

Such is the nature of life.

Until recently, I had never experienced a fiascotic day.

This fiascotic day was so bad I had to create a new word to describe it.

I’m talking about a day that hit a new pinnacle of 24-hour utter failure.

Yes – I recognize the word I made up violates the Greek suffix rules. I don’t care…this day violated every rule of mathematics and most of the fundamental rules of the social sciences so why not violate the rules around suffixes. Violation of our fine English language is a minimum violation in the overall scheme of the fiascotic day I’m talking about here.

I’d like to share the details of my fiascotic day with you, however - there’s no point. You would end up witnessing a suffix-violating fellow ranting on about his day of escalating and exploding failures and you would find it all far too fantastic to be believed.

And - I wouldn’t blame you.

Throughout my fiascotic day, I had to pinch myself several times in hopes my perceptions would turn out to be nothing more than a fully unpleasant dream-nightmare. Several times, just before pinching myself, I thought, “This must be some sort of crazy nightmare. What else could explain why everyone else is numbed or oblivious to these relentless waves of carnage?”

Alas, it was not a dream-nightmare.

It was my fiascotic day.