Today is a rarisima day on the calendar, a con-figuration which will only occur (concur) once: the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year, the biblical number of -- you guessed it -- THE BEAST.

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia is apparently the word for a fear of that number. Great word, eh? The challenge for you poets out there: to make it an endrhyme in a heroic (anti-heroic?) couplet. Or better, make it part of a haiku.

The age-old folk tale goes that if you mispronounce the word even once, you will be cursed through all eternity. (A folk tale I just made up -- ay, what a beastie I! -- he said, swishing his tale...)

According to the link above:

Prominent hexakosioihexekontahexaphobes include the late Ronald Reagan and Nancy Reagan. In 1989, when they moved to the former president's final home in the Bel-Air section of Los Angeles, they had the address of 666 St. Cloud Road changed to 668. The late Johnny Carson was not hexakosioihexekontahexaphobic, because this had earlier been his home.

Ah ha! No wonder he hosted a late night show...

I'm not sure what hexakosioihexekontahexaphobes are supposed to do today. Nothing? Is that a good thing to do? (I think of the proverbial deer, frozen in the headlights...)