Chiropractor

Chiropractor: (n) a practitioner of the system of medicine based on the treatment of misaligned joints.

Some people swear by them, some people swear at them.

Chiropractors, that is.

A friend of mine, when speaking about chiropractors, once suggested that they all must have gone to the University of Oregon.

This prompted me to ask, “Why do you say that?”

“Because the University of Oregon has a duck as a mascot and chiropractors are all a bunch of quacks.”

I don’t know about that. Please don’t state that as my opinion. I have never actually gone to a chiropractor. I have threatened to do so. There were many times in my life when I was looking for a joint to help my joints.

But I could never quite get myself to go, climb up on a table and be felt up–even if it was for medical purposes.

I’m sure I might get relief.

I’m positive merely getting attention from someone who understood that I was in pain would be comforting in itself. After all, forty years ago we thought acupuncture was quackery–and now it is practiced by many reputable physicians.

So I feel that I am incapable of drawing a conclusion about chiropractors. I do know this: some people get comfort and aid.

And in a time when such benefit is limited, I don’t think we should condemn anyone who provides it.

 

 

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Chip

Chip: (n) a small piece of something

Thoroughly aware that trying to wax poetic often just leaves you waxy, I will offer the following insight: life is about discovering what chip you’re dealing with.

Is it a poker chip, a potato chip or a discarded chip? All three are applicable to the word “chip.”

You can choose to believe your life is a poker chip–in other words, just a big gamble where you occasionally win but you mostly lose, so you might as well party
and have a good time.

You can also view life as a potato chip. Yes, obnoxiously insisting that “no one can eat just one,” you tackle it with vigor and a sense of awe, believing that every turn in the road is a new opportunity for success.

And of course, you can contend that life is a discarded chip. In other words, whatever is complete and whole will probably not come your way, so the true art of living is learning how to take the rejected pieces and turn them into evidence of your prowess and intelligence.

There may be other chips in life:

  • Certainly we know there are reportedly “chips that are down.”
  • Some chips end up on your shoulder.
  • And occasionally, we may even feel cursed because we’re like a “chip off the old block.”

What chip are you?

Because word has it, the choice you make determines whether you end up chipper.

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Chintzy

Chintzy: (adj) cheap and of poor quality.

It’s no accident that “save a buck” rhymes with “bad luck.”

There certainly is validity to the proverb which warns, “Let the buyer beware,” but there is greater value in this euphemism: “Let the buyer
BE aware.”

Sometimes money does buy quality.

Sometimes trying to get a deal ends up with very little appeal.

Sometimes the effort and time you put into trying to save a dime costs you twenty dollars in exhaustion.

Sometimes you go ahead and pay for what you want because you want it–even though you know in two weeks it’ll be on sale.

Sometimes you have to realize that squeezing a dollar doesn’t really work that well–because the ink’s dry.

Sometimes being thrifty is a synonym for being chintzy.

And the best way to make a million dollars in the United States–if you have no conscience about how you do it–is to offer an inferior product at a lower price, with no guarantee.

That way, you can make all your profit margin, and even though people are very angry, you can calm your hurt feelings on the way to the bank.

Let the buyer BE aware.

It’s fine to look for a good deal–seeking one out is often merely uprooting the selfish rodents and the cheating cockroaches from the wall.

 

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Chink

Chink: (n) a Chinese person.

I am prejudiced against skinny people–mainly because I’m fat.

I am intimidated by handsome men, truthfully because I’m quite plain.

I get nervous around other writers because deep in my heart, I need to be the best.

And the only reason I would ever call a Chinese person a “Chink” is because deep in my heart I know he or she is superior to me in attitude and talent, and I need
a way to degrade the prowess.

Certainly white people would never have brought black slaves from Africa unless the natives were superior to them working in the fields. Even after Emancipation, the white community was intimidated that the black work ethic would overtake them and lead to their poverty. So it’s easier to call them “niggers” and send out the signal that they are to be relegated to a lesser position.

We’ve done it for years with gender. All the terms used for women have eventually exposed a disguised prejudice.

  • “Ladies”
  • “Weaker sex”
  • “Little miss”
  • And of course, “bitch”

I’m not quite sure why the word “Chink” is in the dictionary. Perhaps it’s to remind us that there will always be people who are better at what they do than we are, and simply humiliating them with a condescending name does not take away their power.

We live in an America where there is still prejudice against the black race, even though we mimic their actions, customs, worship style and sports efforts in almost every way.

If bigots actually did think they were better than the people they prey upon, it would still be disgusting, but at least comprehensible.

But knowing that bigots are mean-spirited because they are secretly jealous and wish they possessed the abilities of those they attack may be the Earthly definition of satanic.

 

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Chinese

Chinese: (adj) relating to China or its language, culture, or people.

My daughter-in-law is from China.

She is the wife of my godson. They have two beautiful children. I don’t see them much because they live in China.

My first encounters with this dear lady were enlightening. We struck up an immediate friendship, and I was deeply impressed by her work
ethic, her respect and her honoring of those who have more age then herself.

But she is Chinese. She was raised under an absolute totalitarian form of government, which discourages people from being inventive. Now, the Chinese diplomats would probably take issue with that, but the danger of trying to make everyone the same is that they take you up on it. And once sameness has been achieved, the desire to excel, be different or discover an original path seems pointless.

In our capitalistic system, discouragement comes from a different arena. We are constantly pumped full of the helium of hope–that anyone can be wealthy and successful, while simultaneously closing doors of finance and opportunity on ideas coming from ingenious folks who weren’t born with any spoon in their mouth.

I suppose the controversy rages over which system hampers the human spirit the most. Is it more vindictive to quell creativity, or much more punishing to be creative and unable to find the means to your end?

I suppose my daughter-in-law and I could talk about this for hours. But the real issue is free will. Although many religionists and politicians would persist in trying to steal it from the human condition, God is intensely committed to free will.

So where the Spirit of God exists, there is liberty.

I have the choice to be lazy, productive, genuine, fake, kind or mean. Then I also have the responsibility to rise and fall on my choice.

It would be amazing if the Chinese people, with their great traditions and immense passion for excellence, could be unleashed with creativity and complete freedom, to choose their own path. Would they maintain the quality of their passion, or become complainers like many capitalists?

I don’t know.

True spirituality is feeling responsible without being confined, and being creative without insisting you’re entitled.

 

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Chin

Chin: (n) the protruding part of the face below the mouth

I liked my chin so much I ordered a double, and am considering acquiring a third.

A chin is a most unfortunate piece of the face. Too much responsibility is placed upon it.

Some people request that it be chiseled. It’s difficult to do that with something made of flesh.

Out of the clear blue sky, a chin can be accused of being weak. What exactly constitutes a weak chin?

It’s used in athletics as a way of determining that we’ve “crossed the bar”–lifting ourselves.

Then we are informed that we are to “take it on the chin”–the question immediately being, take what? Are we speaking of lotion, or a fist?

Since lips are sloppy, chins often get dumped on. They have to deal with excessive slobber.

It’s not easy being a chin.

You seem to be holding up a face, but nobody appreciates you because they’re too busy talking about eyes, nose size. Sometimes ears even get higher billing. (That could be because they’re higher.)

Everybody wants to French kiss, but what would it be without the chin? Where would you get the leverage to push that tongue into its appropriate position?

Chins seem to suffer with acne. They’re bespeckled for most of the adolescent years.

So it’s best to assume that a chin is supposed to be rugged, upward thinking–yet soft enough that it doesn’t scratch the face of someone who wants to get close for a kiss.

Some people put hair right in the middle of it and call it a goatee. Or is that a soul patch? Wait! Does a chin have a soul? Or is it just a patch, growing one?

I am grateful that I’m not a chin, because if I were, I would constantly be bewildered as to what was expected of me and how I should respond.

So I guess the only answer is: “Chin up.”

 

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Chimpanzee

Chimpanzee: (n) a great ape

“Keeping an open mind so I can claim to have one…”

Yes, that’s me.

I don’t think I’m alone. It seems, in our generation, that being decried for having a closed mind is the worst insult we could sling at someone.
We all pretend that we are very willing to learn new things as we strategically place ourselves smack in the middle of repetition.

Being a person of faith, I got tired of those who are not bent in that persuasion, accusing me of being ignorant because of my insistence on valuing creation instead of adhering to evolution. Actually, I agree with evolution–up to a point.

And that point is the chimpanzee.

The chimpanzee is supposed to be our closest cousin, or some sort of relative. So one day I decided to go to the zoo, observe the chimpanzee, and discover what similarities I had with this non-kissing-cousin. I stayed for a full hour–matter of fact, I stayed so long that I think the little monkey became paranoid.

The chimpanzee seemed to have a great preoccupation with its own penis. It frequently reached down to pull on it, as if releasing it from some sort of prison.

The creature also favored scratching its ass, made unintelligible sounds, and hopped around from place to place with no real destination.

It became aggravated when someone took its food or threatened to occupy its space.

It seemed to glare a lot. (It could have been gas.)

It wasn’t particularly friendly. Of course, that could have been due to the fact that it was in a zoo instead of out on the Serengeti.

It didn’t like its fellow-monkeys, and appeared to be a little chippy, looking for a reason to argue.

It was obviously selfish.

It stopped from time to time–appearing to preen. (At least that’s the way I would describe the self-stroking.)

It was very preoccupied, and most of the time, seemed bored.

I realized I was wrong.

It is very human.

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