Fustian (not Faustian)

I like this word, although I doubt that many people I know would know what it means or how to use it- not because they are not bright or well-read, but because no one else I know is a word (vocab) freak and because this word is obscure. It's one of those infamous "SAT" words you see; the ones we were all forced to memorize for the purpose of one test, and then criticized for using in our term papers because it was arcane, or archaic. The Oxford English Dictionary defines fustian as:

noun "a thick, hard wearing twilled cloth with a short nap"

But it also pertains to speech or writing and means: "swollen, pompous, inflated, bombastic". This is the very word which popped into my mind when I read James Wolcott's recent piece in Vanity Fair entitled "What's Wrong With Washington?"An example: of Mr. Wolcott's fustian prose:

"...the hive-mind of the Beltway bubble seems incapable of evolving and developing the introspective faculties that distinguish sentient beings."

and another:

"...This realization has been slow to sunflower inside the official consciousness of our overseers."

another:

"But what explains this persistent cognitive disorder?"

and another:

"...there is some evidence of rewiring taking place, certain clusters of once firing neutrons falling dormant."

One more?

"...a visceral loathing that transcended doctrinal differences and fused Billary into a burning focal point."

And there are more but I will spare you. There is no doubt Mr. Wolcott is an able writer. He is the cultural editor at Vanity Fair after all, and I am but a lowly blogger; one of the great, unwashed writers. Yet to wax lyrical and indulge in such ostentatious displays in one's polemics; to embroider one's writing with such filigree that one obfuscates instead of communicates seems to defeat the very purpose of writing.

How is that James? Indeed his writing reminds me of that brilliant piece of comedy from Monty Python- the Cheese Shop routine, wherein an erudite (James word) and very dapper man named Mr. Mousebender walks into the village cheese shop and Mr. Wensleydale, the proprietor greets him:

Wensleydale: "Good morning, sir."
Mousebender: "Good Morning. I was sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through 'Rogue Herries' by Horace Walpole, when suddenly I came over all peckish."
Wensleydale: "Peckish, sir?"
Mousebender: "Esurient."
Wensleydale: "Eh?"
Mousebender: "(broad Yorkshire accent) Eee I were all hungry, like!"
Wensleydale: "Oh, hungry!"
Mousebender: "(normal accent) In a nutshell. So I thought to myself, 'a little fermented curd will do the trick'. So I curtailed my Walpolling activities, sallied forth and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles."

Wensleydale: "Come again?"
Mousebender: "(broad northern accent) I want to buy some cheese."
Wensleydale: "Oh, I thought you were complaining about the music!"
Mousebender: "(normal voice) Heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the terpsichorean muse."
Wensleydale: "Sorry?"

And so it continues. Think I'll curtail my "Wolcotting activities" for today and go to the public library, or perhaps to the local cheese shop for a bit of fermented curd. "Faustian" of course refers to Johann Faust, the legendary "Renaissance man" who lived in 16th century Germany and who was immortalized by Goethe for making his deal with Mephistopheles.