Category Archives: B words

Boy

j-r-practix-with-border-2Boy: (n) a male child or young man.

The ultrasound.

It’s when the doctor or nurse tells the parents whether they’re going to have a boy or a girl.

How is it determined?

The boy has a penis, the girl doesn’t.

It is an effective way of confirming sexuality before birth.Dictionary B

Yet it is a terrible way of illuminating humanity after birth.

For you see, we begin to do additional ultrasounds on our children throughout their upbringing.

  • Are they playing with the right toys?
  • Are the young men rough and tumble and the girls feminine and meek?
  • Are they crossing lines which connote there may be some ambiguity?

We silently push all of our children toward sexual stereotypes instead of trying to allow them to become human beings.

It is my contention that the penis and the vagina will find each other without us turning it into a cultural mandate.

What we should be doing is teaching our children how to be human.

We should be sharing the beauty of cooperation and the power of respect.

We should stop being afraid of blurring the lines between the male and female, and realize that the wall we’ve built betwixt them is the atrocity.

I was born a boy.

I struggled with my manhood, and now, by the grace of God… I am discovering my humanity.

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Box Office

Box office: (n) a place at a theater or other arts establishment where tickets are bought or reserved.

In the midst of my human journey, which I’m sure some people would consider a cavalcade of bizarre experiments and perpetual oddities, I, for a season, wrote screenplays, which were produced into low-budget, independent films, and showcased at festivals.Dictionary B

On top of that, we had a premiere of each film, which could be viewed by all of the participants, actors and family members, so they could “ooh and aah” over their participation (and also confirm that the camera really does put ten pounds on you).

I was in Michigan and they were shooting my script entitled “Wonderful,” which was a tipping of the hat to the Capra film, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” when it was determined that we would rent a big metroplex theater for our premiere.

It was a bold move.

The place seated about 300 people, and we had no reason to believe that such a multitude would be willing to come and see our little endeavor.

I vividly recall sitting in the parking lot, staring at the road leading to the theater and watching as the cars–one by one, then three by three, and finally ten by ten–began arriving for our debut.

It was thrilling.

By the time everybody gathered, the place was full, the movie was screened, the energy was supreme and the human interaction of joy and fellowship that followed was the definition of what our lives should truly be.

I will never forget that box-office moment, when the people poured out of the theater, some in tears, some laughing, some grumpy (maintaining their nature) but all aware that they had broken down their barriers, and allowed themselves, for a brief moment, to truly be brothers and sisters.

 

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Don’t let another Christmas season go by without owning Jonathan’s book of Christmas stories

Mr. Kringle’s Tales …26 Stories ‘Til Christmas

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An advent calendar of stories, designed to enchant readers of all ages

“Quite literally the best Christmas stories I have ever read.” — Arthur Holland, Shelby, North Carolina

Only $5.99 plus $1.25 shipping and handling.

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Boxer Shorts

Boxer shorts: (n) men’s loose underpants similar in shape to the shorts worn by boxers.

Candor can be dangerous to tread, like the icy edge of a razor blade. You’re never quite sure if your audience is going to respond by being equallyDictionary B as transparent.

In other words, there are times I have shared my feelings with a gathering of souls, and because the subject was too tender or hit too close to home, they pretended to not understand what I was trying to communicate.

So with a bit of trepidation, I want to talk about underwear.

I have worn what they refer to as “tidy whities,” boxer shorts and boxer briefs. I would love to report that one of these is the best. But it really boils down to how they situate themselves when you perch.

Sometimes they lay perfectly, not pinching, sticking or crumpling. Other times you’ll find yourself on a long trip and realize that your boxer briefs, shorts or undies have decided to crawl up inside you.

Of course, there is no elegant way to reach down, grab them, point your toes, arch your back, and yank.

A rather noticeable process, wouldn’t you agree?

Yet once you get past the humiliation of this performance, the relief you receive is almost supernal.

So I don’t know whether “tight is right” or “loose saves your goose.”

But I am determined to spend the rest of my life searching for the perfect pair of underpants…or else just give up and let it all hang out.

 

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Boxer

Boxer: (n) a person who takes part in the sport of boxing

In 1976, I went out to see “Rocky” when it first came to the theaters.Dictionary B

I had never thought about boxing.

Matter of fact, I had a disdainful view of it, as some sort of practice by “ignorant folk from the poor side of town.”

But Rocky changed everything.

Watching two well-oiled men pummel each other made me wonder what it would be like to buy some boxing gloves and just goof around with them. So a friend and I picked some up at a local sporting goods store, (by the way, they were quite expensive) and cleared out an area of his garage to simulate a ring and decided to find out what it was like to “get punchy.”

We started slowly.

It went along pretty well. I punched him in the arm, he punched me back in the mid-section, and I was thinking, this is really no big deal.

All at once he took a swing at my face. His glove made contact right in the middle of my nose. I could have sworn that it was driven back into my brain, where it lodged and refused to return. It stung, it burned, I couldn’t open my eyes, and blood started pouring out.

My friend was horrified, apologizing in every manner he had learned during his very proper upbringing.

I finally got the bleeding stopped, but it was two days before I got rid of the headache.

I don’t know why people want to punch each other in the face.

But I will tell you that it is not pleasant–and is not recommended for anyone who might discover he’s a wimp.

 

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Box

Box: (n) a container with a flat base and sides, typically square or rectangular

There are several phrases I do not like.Dictionary B

Actually I despise them so much that I scold myself when I use them.

  • “You’re stupid.”
  • “I hate you.”
  • “You don’t get it.”
  • “You’re a foolish asshole.”

Well, I could go on.

But one of my least favorite–a thought that makes my skin crawl–is when people turn to me and say, “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I know they’re really not interested.

I know they’ve sized me up and they’re trying to figure out what box they want to put me in.

They want things simple.So they have a system of storing people away so that their decisions are neat, tidy and final. If you don’t fit into one of their boxes they will decide that you’re a misfit or a rebellious anarchist.

They’re listening for buzz words.

About ten years ago, someone asked me about my occupation. I explained that I was a writer but also a performer. So they said, “Are you a teacher? A storyteller? A philosopher? Or an entertainer?”

Then they smiled, waiting for me to climb into their box.

My response was, “Well, really all of those and more.”

This was displeasing to them. They shook their head and walked away.

Mankind is ready to build a box for you.

They will encourage you, praise you, instruct you, guide you and applaud you until you get inside one of their pre-prepared cartons.

And once you do … you will never be heard of again.

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Bow Tie

Bow tie: (n) a necktie in the form of a bow or a knot with two loops.

I realize it is very intolerant to proclaim something ridiculous, assigning no redeeming qualities to it whatsoever.Dictionary B

Yet we all do it.

And in some cases it is applicable.

If you will allow me a brutish example, I think farting is an absolutely amazing experience, but should never be presented as a community blessing. In other words, it is perfectly all right if people object to farting in public, as long as they don’t insist that farts were meant to stay inside.

Likewise, I am certain there is a place for the bow tie. Matter of fact, we have given it a location of honor for formal events, weddings, and occasions where kings or queens may frequent.

But generally speaking, when in public–just as with the fart–it’s a good idea not to don one of these pieces of neckwear. There is a stigma associated on someone who wears one on a Tuesday afternoon in Schenectady.

I am not going to go into what some of the implications might be, or how this individual might be viewed by the general public, but let us say that it isn’t what you might call a classic turn-on.

For a very brief week or two, I thought bow-ties might be an interesting choice for me, as a fashion statement. But every time I looked in the mirror, the short little bloom around my neck made my fat face appear about three times bigger. I looked like a butcher asking if you wanted to pick up a good deal on cold cuts.

Of course, no one told me. The human race is notorious for informing us how nice we look and then whispering and giggling behind our backs.

Finally, a dear friend of mine, in a moment of clarity and sanity, stepped up and said, “Your bow tie makes you look like you’re wearing a tourniquet that’s swollen your face.”

She was right.

So to all of those who love the bow tie, hat’s off to you.  But for the record, maybe you should consider hats.

 

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Bowler

Bowler: (n) a player at tenpin bowling, lawn bowling, or skittles

I am convinced that life is a big tease–just when you decide to become all worked up and excited, she suddenly turns into a prude.Dictionary B

You think it’s gonna work out. You even invest your energy and time, only to discover that the circumstances around you have decided that you’re too ugly for consideration.

That is my experience with bowling.

I have gone bowling about fifteen times in my life. (It could be sixteen.)

But I avoid bowling because I clearly remember how an evening at the alley ends up. There’s a reason they call it an alley–because you always end up sitting on your ass feeling like trash.

I always start out bowling trying to be sensible–taking the right number of steps, dropping the ball with style and grace–but then suddenly realize that if I just “whip it down there,” it starts hooking to the center–and knocks down more pins!

This works for two or three frames–strike, strike, spare, spare. So just about the time that I’m ready to tout my expertise and shout my score… my hook stops hooking.

Yes, the ball, rather than careening into the middle pin to create a strike, seeks erratic maneuvers and starts giving me historical splits.

So by the end of the evening I realize that my peak score occurred about an hour and a half earlier, and I’m back to bowling in the double digits again.

If you’ve never been bowling you may not understand some of my references. That’s good.

I would not want to encourage anyone to start bowling. 

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Bowl

Bowl: (n) a round, deep dish or basin used for food or liquid.

“Just give me a small bowl of ice cream.”Dictionary B

I’ve said that many times.

Or maybe it was a small bowl of spaghetti, popcorn, candy or some other notorious treat.

My friends understand what I mean by a small bowl. It isn’t one of those little three-finger types that you use for mints at a party, yet it’s not one of those huge Tupperware varieties occasionally employed for displaying fruit.

Even in the realm of cereal bowls, there’s quite a variety of renditions:

  • There’s the cereal bowl suited for a small child
  • The teenager
  • And then me

Yes–my bowl somewhat follows the Goldilocks Theory–it has to be “just right.”

Yet you have to be able to call it a “small bowl” even if it’s very large, so to those listening, you appear to be temperate of the highly caloric treat, so they can testify on your behalf later on when the scales of poundage groan their disagreement.

After all…you just had a small bowl.

 

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Bowie Knife

Bowie knife: (n) a long knife with a blade double-edged at the point.

His name was Jim Bowie.Dictionary B

If he lived in your town, you would look at him as the guy who doesn’t have a job–always working a scheme, and you certainly wouldn’t want him dating your sister.

He probably wouldn’t even have made the pages of history had he not ended up in a little mission in San Antonio, Texas, called the Alamo. He arrived there defeated, rejected, running from the law and sick as a dog.

He was known for the big intimidating knife he carried–gaining a reputation by some lethal use.

Jim was with a bunch of other misfits who decided to make a stand in a poorly defended and somewhat meaningless piece of property. History has deemed this to be brave, but if you take a close look, it was just a bunch of macho stupidity. They could easily have fallen back, joined Sam Houston and been part of the victory instead of finding themselves burned up on a mass grave.

Sometimes I don’t know why Americans think that doing “bold maneuvers” is the definition of patriotic manliness. Discretion is not only the better part of valor, but it also enables you to do more things in life … so you’re known for something other than dying and carrying a big, bad-ass knife.

 

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Bowel Movement

Bowel movement: (n) an act of defecation.

We aren’t supposed to talk about it.Dictionary B

Matter of fact, it could be the definition of friendship. A friend is someone who has joined you in lengthy discussions about bowel movements.

Since it is the forbidden fruit of human dialogue, generally speaking, you have to develop a very close relationship with a fellow-bowel-mover to actually feel comfortable to open yourself up.

And once you get started, you can’t stop talking about it. It’s as if you’ve been culturally constipated and suddenly are granted the free flow of expression.

Uncorked, as it were.

And it is so enlightening when you hear other people discuss their “seated times,” and realize how much you have in common with them–with some delightful differences. It can nearly bring you to tears.

But we are told not to speak of such things and certainly not to joke about them. Otherwise we’ll be accused of “bathroom humor.”

It is amazing that something done by most people at least once a day is relegated to conversational obscurity.

So if you’re ever around me and I start sharing about “b.m.” you can be certain of two things:

  1. It’s on my mind
  2. You must be a damn good friend.

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