Currency: (n) something that is used as a medium of exchange; money.

Respect the buck and the buck won’t stop.

That’s what I believe.

American currency is very simple.

The one-dollar bill.

Keep a bunch of ’em around. They’re nice when you want to pick up an impetuous purchase like a candy bar. They’re also magnificent for giving to people on the street.

Here’s a suggestion: Out of each paycheck, take about twenty-five or thirty of those onsies, keep them in your pocket and find as many unique experiences as you can for passing them on, bidding them a fine journey.

Then there’s the five dollar bill.

The five-dollar bill is born to be “walleted.”

It is the price you’re willing to pay for a repair in your house without looking up too much information on the Internet.

It is a great currency to give to young people under the age of ten—for they still think it’s mucho money, appreciate it, and you can buy their love (which is what you wanted in the first place).

Also, it is a great piece of tender because Abraham Lincoln will allow you to bet him anywhere in Las Vegas—as long as you don’t move up to…


The ten-dollar bill.

This has Alexander Hamilton upon it—which is perfect! Hamilton was one of those careful types, fearful that the United States would be cursed with bad credit if there weren’t some sort of organized National Bank. His critics were frightened that such an institution might squeeze the populace. (Thank God that never happened.)

And don’t you think Mr. Hamilton is perfect for gasoline? He will really take you places.

He’s also a great bill to use for an offering at a church or charity. Ten dollars is not chintzy, like the fiver might be—and since we don’t have a fifteen-dollar-bill, not as expensive as Andy Jackson.

The twenty.

Andrew’s currency is terrific for making loans to people you know will never pay you back. Contrary to popular opinion, you are able to assist friends and family with what they call a loan as long as it never exceeds twenty dollars. And if they know this from the outset, they won’t bother you if it’s more than a Jackson. And if they do borrow it and never bring it back, well, hell. It’s just twenty dollars. (And every once in a while, when the moon is blue, they might just pay you back.)

Now, all the other brethren of bills should be kept in the bank.


Because you’ll spend them on things you don’t necessarily need, but you insanely want to purchase because you’re carrying a fifty-dollar-bill or a hundred-dollar-bill on you.

I know there is additional currency.

Five hundred. A thousand. Perhaps others.

But most of the people reading this article will not have much contact with them.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Automated Teller Machine

Automated teller machine: (n) a machine that automatically provides cash and performs other banking services on insertion of a special card by the account holder.

I was alive when the first ATM was put into use–September 2nd, 1969, in New York.dictionary with letter A

Now, I was not present for the initial transaction, but it did not take long before these monstrosities popped up everywhere across the nation.

From the time I was 19 years of age until 30, I was at constant war with them. For after all, I never had enough money in my account to withdraw $20. And this was before the gracious era of being able to take out $10, so solvency was defined by whether you had that precious Andrew Jackson in your account.

God, there were times I was close.

  • $17.83.
  • $15.42.
  • Once, $19.89 was my balance.

But no–no deal with the automated teller.

But strange as it may seem, on the night that my third son was born, I found myself in Westerville, Ohio, when my wife called, said that she was in labor and on her way to Mt. Vernon to have the baby.

I hopped in my car and realized that I did not have enough gas to drive the forty miles to the hospital.

It was late and I didn’t have anybody to contact who would have the money.

So I sat in my car, fuming over being such a damn loser, and not having the cash to fulfill my fatherly duties.

I grabbed my card, started my car and drove to the ATM machine, which so many times in the past had rejected me–so much so that I had the sensation that it saw me coming and heaved a mechanical sigh.

As I walked toward the apparatus with my card extended, I looked around to make sure no one was listening and spoke directly to my metal foe:

“Listen, fella. I know I only have $12.38 in the account. But I have to get to Mt. Vernon to see the birth of my son. I realize you haven’t fathered anything during your time on earth, but try to understand. As I gently slide my card into your slot, just this one time…give me $20.”

I hadn’t even finished my little speech when suddenly–without my card inserted–the machine made a grumble, a rumble, a spit and a flick.

Out popped $20.

I looked around to make sure there was nobody who was the true owner of the blessing, and then grabbed it, went to put gas in my car, and then traveled to see the birth of my boy.

The $20 never registered as a deduction from my account, and to this day I do not know how I retrieved it from this uncaring machine.

Was it my words?

Was it luck?

Or did I somehow get past its its heart?

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix




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