Curfew

Curfew: (n) a regulation requiring a person to be home at a certain prescribed time.

The startling thing about wisdom is how much sense it makes if you’re not running from reason.

If you’re in a mood to listen and hear, the gems that can be picked up from the desert floor of human interaction is mind-boggling.

But the minute you’re convinced that your aspirations, your lifestyle or your pursuits are supremely energized, then your ears will close and your mind will flap in the breeze.

Such is the case with the American adolescent.

I was once an adolescent, so I feel qualified to speak on the issue. On top of that, for some reason I decided to birth babies, who unfortunately became adolescents—and once again, I peered first-hand at the lingering problem with these creatures.

An adolescent is self-destructive because an adolescent believes that truth is better acquired outside the home, outside the faith, outside the school and outside common sense.

So anyone who tells an adolescent about an exciting adventure suddenly becomes the “John the Baptist” of the high school hallways, declaring the “way of the Lord.”

Nowhere is this any more true than in the arena of curfew.

If every living human were completely honest, they would proclaim: “Nothing good is ever done after twelve midnight, unless you work the third shift making ice cream at Ben & Jerry’s.”

Everything that happens after midnight is drenched in iniquity, covered by darkness and surrounded by the kind of rascals who feel it is their privilege to “party all night and sleep all day.”

So when a Mom, Dad or any authority figure sets a curfew sensitive to that border into the entrance of Dante’s Inferno, it is based on a concern that when fun is done, we need to run.

Because after we’re done with all the eating, the movies, the bowling, the partying—then we are in the car, driving and looking for a new location to continue an event which should be over.

Everyone knows this.

Even if you caught a teenager speaking bluntly to a friend, this adolescent, too, would have to admit:

“At midnight, the coach turns into a pumpkin and the slipper drops.”

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crib

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crib: (n) a child’s bed with enclosed sides.

For those aggravated souls who believe that life has no sensibility or purpose, I would have to offer the example of babies.

Just simply consider what it would be like if newborns came out talking.

As horrible as it may be to hear them cry, their needs are so easily achieved that the possibility of going back to sleep actually exists.

On the other hand, if you were walking up to the crib and hearing your new son or daughter explain to you in vivid detail their level of discomfort, along with a lamentation about how little you care because of how long it took for you to get there—well, that would be absolutely insane.

Certainly there would be more crib death.

Fortunately, they learn to poop, eat, crawl, stand, walk—and then talk.

It is so beautiful—because by the time they talk and start becoming demanding, you can look at them and say:

“Go get it yourself.”

 


Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News

 

Chubby

Chubby: (adj) plump and rounded.

Please do not feel the need to grab your thesaurus when describing me.

I am not portly.

I am not rotund.

I am not big-boned.

I don’t have a healthy appetite.

I’m fat.

And as painful as the word may be, and as many different negative associations it carries, it is still better than “chubby.”

Chubby removes all possibility of being masculine.

Babies are cute and chubby.

Furry animals are chubby.

Things that are cute are dubbed chubby so we do not have to comment on their rolls of blubber.

In the pursuit of gentle phrasing, nobody’s feelings are spared. Only the speaker feels self-righteous about placating through terminology.

I’m too old to be chubby.

I’m too manly to be chubby.

I’m too fat to be chubby.

Chubby things are acceptably fat, yet fat things are not acceptably chubby.

I don’t want to be a chub, so I certainly don’t want to be chubby.

So as painful as it may be to my ears, I am more comfortable being referred to as a “fat person” instead of a man who has “a big body to hold his big heart.”

 

Donate Button

Areola

dictionary with letter A

Areola: (n) a small circular area, in particular the ring of pigmented skin surrounding a nipple.

It is a God thing.

I know it’s a little freaky to talk about sexual matters, and tie them into divine wishes, but forgive me. I feel comfortable with it.

Nowhere in the entire universe do you find the sense of humor, the passion and the sensuality of God as much as you do in the female breast.

Aside from being utterly magnificent in its form, and appreciated by men like me despite its various incarnations, it is a total blending of the practical and pleasurable.

Ninety percent of it is fatty tissue. Normally, we’re unimpressed with bulgy fat– unless it happens to land on the top of the female torso. I have some such bulges in my waistline, but no one is displaying it on the Internet for $8.99 downloads.

Pretty good sales job–to put simple fatty tissue in the correct location to stimulate lust. Remarkable.

Then you come to the nipple. Everyone in the world knows it has only one logistical use–babies really like the shape and find it easy to extricate Moma’s milk from the utility provided.

But let’s be honest. God could have just made fattened nipples. Right? In other words, a clump of extra skin and a doo-dad for baby.

But no. Not God.

Playful Creator He is, He decides to surround this practical implement with an areola. And then He inserts nerve endings aplenty for sensitivity and sexual arousal.

So you got the whole package here, ladies and gentlemen:

You got the clump of fat with the nipple for Junior

And a sensitive areola to use as foreplay

If we really just evolved based on the parts of us that are most applicable, then the areola certainly should have been abandoned tens of thousands of years ago. But since we were created, our Maker decided to give us as much pleasure as He could … without having us totally obsess over the product.

Donate Button

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