Corporation

Corporation: (n) any group of persons united or regarded as united in one body.

There are two words that are similarly spelled, and also essential to one another if either is to become a reality:

Corporation; cooperation.

The problem comes when the pursuit of cooperation becomes bogged down with so many erroneous ideas and abstract opinions that it becomes impossible to land on a single plan that can be joyfully pursued by all.

Likewise, when a corporation begins to believe it doesn’t need the cooperation of all of its parts and labor, but instead, fosters the concept of “a chosen few,” funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
then the disgruntled workers will gradually grind the progress to a halt.

The goal is to get a corporation to cooperation, and once cooperation is present, unite within the corporation to achieve the goals.

Yet, as long as we identify ourselves in America by a color code of red, blue and purple; white, black, red and yellow; and pink and blue, we will never be able to have the cooperation to become the corporation that James Madison and the writers of the Constitution envisioned.

So what is the first step in gaining cooperation, lending itself to corporation?

Find the single highest goal and build up the ideas upon that premise—because they are in line and in purpose.

For the United States of America, the highest goal is freedom and justice.

For spirituality, the premise is “love your neighbor as yourself.”

And for business, it’s “making a better product for the customer.”

If we, as a country, would begin to form cooperation on this type of thinking, our corporation would begin to sprout with great promise, and both emotional and financial bounty.


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Corporal Punishment

Corporal punishment: (n) physical punishment of a child

Decisions are made for different reasons.

Sometimes we decide to pursue a path because it seems wise. Other times, we choose to follow a direction because it’s popular. And then funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
there are those occasions when we tout our belief because we are convinced it makes us look good and righteous.

But all decisions—whatever they may be—need to be practical, because you will have to employ them and make them work.

For every stance you make will eventually come to the forefront, and your sincerity and purpose will be challenged to see if you are dedicated or just a big bag of wind.

Never is there any subject that typifies this situation more than child-rearing and the subject of corporal punishment. We live in an era when it’s cool to insist that spanking, physical contact or any type of punishment that involves inflicting pain on a child is forbidden and barbaric.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with that assertion as long as you can live with it, and also as long as you’re aware that your magical little offspring will test your faith in the premise as often as he or she possibly can.

There are times that children just don’t listen.

There are occasions when you swear that they just came back from a week of camp in hell, and Satan was their counselor.

And there are needful impasses where you must overcome their foolish will with your reasonable nature.

Don’t theorize your willingness to abstain from corporal punishment.

Otherwise, you’ll find yourself making statements to your children about how “you will never…” And suddenly, in a moment of weakness, your “jungle” will arise and create a bungle.

Yes, you just might get on your last nerve and smack one of them.

To avoid this (as well you should) you need an intricate system of clever traps and diversions. If you don’t have these, and you allow your children to run your emotions ragged, the beast in you will come out and you’ll be embarrassed and feel worse than the time at church camp when you struck out in the softball game and all they needed you to do was get on base to win the game.

Hitting is wrong.

Self-righteousness is worse.

If you don’t have a plan on how to avoid corporal punishment, you will hit. It’s as simple as that.

So never say never unless you come up with an answer for, “Whatever…”


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Coroner

Coroner: (n) one who investigates deaths

Then there’s the joke.

“I went to the morgue to see the body. I asked the receptionist where I might find the corpse. She pointed to her right and replied, ‘Just around the coroner.’”

(I didn’t say it was a funny joke.)

But when you talk about things like the coroner, you have to use some humor. A little tongue-in-cheek is helpful.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I have personally dealt with an actual coroner only once in my life. My son, who had been involved in a hit-and-run accident six years earlier, which had left him in a vegetative state, suddenly developed pneumonia and died in about a four-hour period.

We were in the state of Oregon, and according to their statues, anybody who dies that quickly has to be observed by a coroner and have an autopsy.

I probably should have looked up “coroner” and found out what was involved with the profession, but there was no Internet at that time and my encyclopedias were packed away back home, two thousand miles away. So I entered into the whole situation very ignorant.

He was a nice enough fellow—just creepy enough to fulfill the parameters of the occupation. I was emotionally disturbed from the death of my son, so I began to yammer without much awareness, trying to explain to the gentleman some of the extent of my loss. In doing so, I offered a very child-like request. “Please be gentle with him. He’s been through a lot.”

I remember the look on the chap’s face—a combination of tenderness, surprise, confusion and mercy. For after all, he had already done the autopsy and chopped my young son into many pieces.

Fortunately, I didn’t think of that in the moment. I was granted a blessed ignorance, and a bit of grace, by a man who had to deal with death every day and realized that I would not benefit from any further understanding of his plight.


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Coronation

Coronation: (n) the ceremony of crowning a king, queen, or other sovereign.

In an age of the release of information so quickly that it is impossible to ascertain its veracity, and a populous that has become so starved for the bizarre, the unbecoming and the naughty that the appetite seems to be endless, we just might be in need of having a coronation of certain values, ideas, hopes, dreams and freedoms. funny wisdom on words that begin with a COtherwise we begin to question aspects of our lives which no longer require challenging, but still, could well use some practicing.

For instance, it’s impossible to do away with lying unless we’re willing to admit that truth really does make one free.

It would be completely implausible to reject the coarse immorality of the human animal unless we became convinced that we are all constantly taking our minds for a walk through the gutter.

And unless we spoofed—dare I say, mocked?—the idea of kindness—making sure that in every television show and nearly every movie, that those who pursue such a path are bludgeoned to death by some perpetrator—how could we explain our profile of being curt and uncaring?

Somewhere along the line, we have convinced ourselves that human beings are jungle creatures, rather than having now emerged from the jungle.

There is a difference, you know.

Case in point: I will not tolerate my family dog getting hungry in the middle of the night and reverting back to being a wolf, eating my newborn baby. I request of my live-in pet that it step away from such instincts and tendencies.

I certainly will not be pleased if my previously promiscuous spouse arises from her bed and goes out and sells herself on the street for an hour, insisting that she had “lapsed” into former evolutionary predilections.

It is a great joy to be a human being, but it also comes with responsibility.

It requires that we maintain a “kingly and queenly” approach to portions of life that are sacred, holy, beautiful and certainly worthy of coronation.


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Coronary

Coronary: (adj) of or relating to the human heart, with respect to health.

There are really only four choices.

There may be varieties—but when you completely boil it down, there are a quartet of ways that life uses to get us off the planet.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

And we will leave. How we leave is what is perplexing—and I’m afraid may take up too much of our time contemplating.

You can croak by disease, make your eternal journey by accident, be blown away and murdered, or you can have a coronary—your heart suddenly deciding not only to quit, but to walk off the job.

These four loom and threaten the human race with personal extermination

I am normal (at least I think I am.) I have done my fair share of fidgeting over all the possibilities.

For a while, I didn’t want to watch medical shows on TV because I was in danger of sprouting the symptoms of the diseases they discussed.

There are times when I’m driving, and I envision what it might be like to be rolled over by an eighteen-wheeler.

Of course, in the middle of the night when I hear that sound creaking in my house, I wonder if it’s a murderous Second Amendment advocate, coming to prove to me why I should have a gun.

And because I am a chubby, overweight, even a sometimes-considered-fat fellow, the possibility of my heart disrupting my future plans is never a distant thought.

The problem with all such consideration is that it leads to anxiety.

Anxiety not only robs us of time, but also simulates our death in our mind, wasting precious moments we could be using to, shall we say, literally dodge the bullet.


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Coronado, Francisco

Coronado, Francisco: A Spanish explorer of the sixteenth century who traveled through the southwestern United States searching for the legendary “seven gold cities of Cibola.”

I don’t know whether people avoid studying history because they think it’s boring, or if deep in their hearts, they fear that if they have the funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
information of the mistakes done by others who lived before them, they become responsible for the knowledge.

History has always been one of my favorite subjects—mainly because, in the scope of a few paragraphs you can discover what one human being wanted to do, what they attempted and what happened.

Pretty impressive.

Otherwise you’d have to wait years to study the conclusions—but the history books honestly summarize human pursuit.

And universally, those who set out to find wealth and fame usually ended up in poverty, dying at the hands of those who were disappointed in following them.

But Coronado is particularly interesting. He heard the rumors from Indian tribes, telling him there were “seven lost cities” filled with gold and treasure, somewhere out there in the wilderness of what we now refer to as the Southwest United States.

You can imagine how doubtful his men would have been when they got to New Mexico and Arizona and saw nothing but desert and cacti.

What Coronado set out to do he never accomplished:

  • He never found gold in cities.
  • He never discovered wealth.
  • And his life seemed to be a great disappointment.

The only reason he is even mentioned in today’s history books—and also in this dictionary—is that while he was seeking that which could not be found, he stumbled upon something very significant which he was not seeking.

One day he and his men happened upon the Grand Canyon.

It certainly wasn’t golden and didn’t possess a treasure which could be carted off and turned into lasting wealth.

But it was certainly beautiful.

It was a carving which Nature had performed through millions of years, to give God a present for the raw material provided.

And it is a gift God gives to us—to remind us that treasure does not always glitter. Sometimes it just exists in natural beauty … to take our breath away.


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Corollary

Corollary: (n) an immediate consequence or easily drawn conclusion.

Although it is not simple to explain to a six-year-old, nevertheless it still needs to be taught.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I had to instruct all of my children in a simple principle:

If you lie to me, we’ve got nothing—no relationship, no interaction, no possibility, no way of drawing close to each other.

Because lying comes with a corollary.

If my children lied to me, they were telling me they did not believe that truth would give them standing—even though I told them that no matter how bad they may think the truth might be, it was never as evil as the tiniest lie. And if they lied to me, they were saying they did not believe the truth could be heard and that they would still be able to continue being loved and appreciated.

Once they showed me they didn’t care about the truth, I knew they didn’t care about my feelings. Without the truth, I have no way to measure the depth and breadth of my relationship with anyone.

Once they created the corollary that they didn’t care about my feelings, they were making it obvious that their pride was more important than our relationship. You can see—it’s difficult to continue a friendship at that point.

Since their pride was more important, the only thing left for me was to leave them to their pride without my respect, trust and affection.

We create corollaries every day.

We make exchanges.

We explain through our actions not just what we think of a certain situation, but what we think about one another.

And even though we all would like to live in a vacuum, inside a bubble where we would be free of commitment, criticism and responsibility, no such world exists.

We have this world—where the truth does make us free—because suddenly we are liberated from all condemnation, incrimination, scrutiny and most importantly, no longer in fear of being doubted.


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Cornwallis

Cornwallis: Charles, 1st Marquis, 1738–1805, British general and statesman: surrendered to Washington at Yorktown, Virginia, October 19, 1781.

From time to time I think about Lord Cornwallis.

Fortunately for me, history provides a bird’s eye view of the end result of almost any type of behavior.

If I’m willing to learn what happens in pursuing certain styles and mindsets, I can certainly avoid much stupidity and injustice.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Of course, so can you.

When I mention that I study a British general who’s been dead for well over two hundred and fifty years, you might have chuckled and thought, “What value could that have to my busy scanning of Internet life?”

The value is that Cornwallis had a perfect setup, with perfect conditions, and still managed to bungle it, arriving at an imperfect conclusion. At his disposal was the world’s most powerful and well-trained army—the British Regulars. They carried the best muskets, they manufactured the finest cannon and they certainly had the prettiest uniforms.

Their enemy was ill-prepared, ill-fitted and ill-equipped, and grew up believing that the British could not be defeated.

So at first, Cornwallis just rolled over these local yokels, making them appear to be fools. So sure were the British that they could defeat the American colonists that a decision was made to sub-contract the job out to German mercenary soldiers, called Hessians. “Cocky” would not even begin to describe the thinking of Lord Cornwallis.

But in case you don’t know the story, he lost. Finding out why he lost is what we call “the lesson of history.” It comes in two parts:

  1. Never underestimate an enemy who has more to gain than you do.
  2. Always remember that a battle is a fight, not a conversation over who has supremacy.

The Americans had their freedom to gain, so they had more fight. Cornwallis showed up with an army that had little to prove, and therefore had little fight.

I could learn from that. Matter of fact, I think I will.


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Cornhusker

Cornhusker: (n) a Nebraskan

It would be much easier to claim that you’re a cow if you’re able to chew your cud and moo. Producing milk would also be a positive.

When I graduated from high school and opted not to go to college because my wife and I were pregnant with possibilities, I realized that I did funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
not want to be the kind of guy who didn’t go to college and worked at the kind of job this kind of guy is forced to take.

I liked music. I thought I had some talent.

No one ever actually sat down with me and made suggestions on how to use my ability or guided me in a direction of turning my existing efforts into some sort of cash flow.

I was told that I was not allowed to do anything but get a job and take care of my family.

I didn’t want to do that.

Now, I’m not asking you to side with me on this issue, nor am I desiring your cultural rebuke. I’m just explaining that if I were claiming to be a singer and a musician, I needed to go “music” somewhere.

So discovering in a very obscure newspaper a notice that there was a coffeehouse opening up in Kearney, Nebraska, I contacted the fellow beginning it on the phone, told him about my little group, and said that we would love to come and share at his new venue. He was thrilled (since we were from Ohio and he was all the way in Nebraska.)

It didn’t even cross my mind to look at a map. Before I knew it, the gentleman invited us to come and sing at the coffeehouse with the promise that he would “help out with gas.”

At that point in my life I had a van which creaked and squeaked just driving around town, threatening to break down at a moment’s notice. I didn’t care. Nor did my three other comrades.

We set out for Kearney, Nebraska. Matter of fact, when I began this essay today, I had to look up how far it was from Columbus, Ohio, to Kearney, Nebraska. I am so glad I didn’t have the Internet back then, because the distance one way is 968.4 miles.

We packed in some soft drinks, made some sandwiches, gathered as much money as we could borrow and pull out of couch cushions, and took off. We joked about “touring to the Cornhusker State,” never realizing that it would be many, many hours—twelve to be exact—before we would be anywhere near those who were traditionally proclaimed “huskers of corn.”

I’m happy to report that we actually made it there.

As is often the case, the opportunity was even smaller than I could have imagined. But the fourteen people who showed up said they were really impressed with our songs and happy we had made the trip. They gave us thirty dollars for our gasoline, a bushel of sweet corn and a peck of apples.

It was my first payday.

The round trip, as you can imagine, ended up being nearly two thousand miles.

But I was young, looking for an adventure, and especially trying to find a way to escape—for one week—from hearing all the town cronies telling me what a deadbeat I was.


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Cornet

Cornet: (n) a valved wind instrument of the trumpet family.

Mr. Rallihand.

He was my junior high school band director.

I didn’t think much about him—he was just another teacher. When you’re that age, you look at all those who are educating you as mean funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
eighty-year-old grown-ups.

Yet I did get him to smile—because unlike many of my fellow-band-mates, I chose not to play the saxophone or clarinet as my primary instrument.

I picked trumpet.

He explained to me what a noble instrument it was—how it beckoned armies into battle and punctuated the victories of the Roman legions.

(I lost interest.)

He told me where to go to find a trumpet to rent.

I gave the information to my mother, and she came back with a horn. Now, I was no expert on the mechanics or appearance of trumpets—but this one was smaller. When I took it to band class, Mr. Rallihand frowned at it like it had just tooted foul gas.

He said that this was not a trumpet but rather, was a cornet. He then launched into a lengthy explanation, of which I only remembered two thoughts:

  1. Small
  2. Harder to play

So as I squawked out my first notes on my cornet and Mr. Rallihand patiently instructed me on how to squeeze my lips into the mouthpiece to produce tone, I had the perfect out.

“But Mr. Rallihand,” I whined, “it’s smaller. And hard to play.”

I think he regretted sharing that with me.

Finally, one day he walked in carrying a new trumpet which the school had just purchased for the band program. He handed it to me, and I made my way back to the row of the “trumpeteers.”

I was sad to the point of anger. Not only was I no longer special with my trumpet-with-shortcomings, I also now had no excuse for sounding like crap.


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