Tag Archives: cake

Deceitful

Deceitful: (adj) attribute of a person who engages in concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading

Top Three Reasons Given for Being Deceitful—A.K.A. The Sure, Pure, Cure Dilemma

1. “I was deceitful because I was not sure I was being deceitful, having seen other people do exactly the same thing. I was fairly certain I was on solid ground—until it was obvious I wasn’t. So I do not believe it’s right for me to be punished since I wasn’t sure, when other people have gotten by with it, most assuredly.”

2. “I was not being deceitful. I was merely looking for a cure for the situation. Everybody else was standing around or sitting on their hands, so I did what was necessary in the moment to produce a solution—a cure, if you will—and set in motion some relief from the drama and tension. How was I to know the way it would be interpreted or viewed by those around me? Does it not matter that my motivations were good?”

3. “There is no doubt—and you just try to find someone who can prove that my actions were not pure. But because circumstances came about that tainted my efforts, the purity of my mission was marred by decisions that were made in the moment, which ended up being erroneous, if not erred.”

These are the three positions that are taken by scoundrels who would like to walk away from their actions by averting your attention from what literally happened to what might have occurred if things had worked out better.

Left out of the explanation is the moment of clarity—when each and every one of us knows that what we set out to do has gone awry, and if we’re going to continue it, we’re going to have to lie and cheat to make sure that no one notices how wrong it has turned out to be.

It reminds me of the first time I made a cake in the oven.

It was going to be a special one. Why?

A. Because I usually don’t bake cakes.

B. It was a special kind of cake that needed to rise at just the right moment for it to be considered cooked correctly.

C. And it was a tribute for a very kind person who was worthy of our attention.

I didn’t tell anyone I had never made a cake before, but it quickly became obvious to me that I should not be the baker. Still, that didn’t stop me from trying.

When I didn’t have some of the ingredients, I walked into the room and warned the people that the cake might taste a little different than what they were accustomed to eating.

When the cake didn’t rise high enough, I explained to those around me that it was “my rendition” of this cake—that I thought it would look better if it were not so high and mighty.

Yet when it finally burned, I stepped out and said, “I fucked up the cake.”

I suppose I could have tried to sell them on the notion that burning a cake was a tradition offering great homage to the special guest.

I didn’t.

Somewhere along the line we have to admit that what we set out to do is no longer in play.

Otherwise, we are deceitful.

And the sooner we confess, the less we look like flaming assholes.

Cruller

Cruller: (n) a rich, light cake cut from a rolled dough and deep-fried

Now I understand.

It’s taken me a while.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been in fits of denial, or even rebellion.

Perhaps I was temporarily stuck in the foolishness of, “It’s not fair.”

But I’ve been worn down. I have survived frazzled and become limp in my comprehension.

To live long, you must hate things.

It’s true. Don’t try to disagree with me.

I remember the first time I put a piece of fried bologna in my mouth.

I thought to myself:

“Yes. This is what God is like.”

But before I could even get it down my throat to land in my gullet, somebody nearby asked the two deadly questions:

“Do you know how many calories are in that?”

“Did you know they make it out of pig snouts?”

Either though neither question would truly deter me from eating fried bologna again, I realized that if I wanted to live on Planet Sensitive, Earth Mother Eat Your Vegetables, or the Third Planet from the Fun, I would have to learn to hate things that were certainly did not deserve my disdain.

Unfortunately the list just keeps growing.

Today, when the word “cruller” came up, I realized it has been many years since I’ve had one.

And they have them just down the street. But I have succeeded in avoiding them—believing them to be tasty, quick death.

But just hearing the word tore down all my defenses, shattered my prejudice and made me want to get in my car and go buy one.

What harm could one do?

Well, one atomic bomb can kill a hundred thousand people.

One bullet in your brain will leave you thoughtless.

And I’m told that one cruller can rob days, maybe weeks, from my journey.

Are we really lengthening our lives for a joyful purpose–or just adding days, focusing our souls to hate things that really, really deserve our love?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News

 

Cake

Cake: (n) an item of soft, sweet food, baked and often decorated.

I don’t like cake, I like frosting.

There are times I was willing to eat a little cake to get the last portion of frosting. I have gone to weddings and parties and observed people
who eat the cake and leave the frosting. They feel very pious about this. They will even crinkle their nose and say, “The frosting is too sweet.”

Yes.

It is so sweet that you can taste the granules of sugar in your mouth.

Because of this yearning for frosting, I have learned not to eat cake. People offer it to me all the time at receptions and I turn it down, even when they tell me it’s sugar free.

The frosting is never sugar free. The frosting is delicious. The frosting is like devouring the living organs of the body of sweetness.

It is magnificent.

They even make frostings that have different flavors, textures and of course, coloration.

I cannot think about cake without musing over frosting.

When I was a boy, I once encouraged my mother to put less frosting on a birthday cake so that she would have half-a-can left, to place in the refrigerator, so I could sneak in later and slurp it up.

This required a rehab.

So let me say, part of my twelve-step program is to never eat cake because it’s tenderly caressed by irresistible frosting.

 

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

Ambrosia

dictionary with letter A

Ambrosia: (n) something very pleasing to taste or smell: e.g. the tea was ambrosia.

It was about 750 square feet from kitchen to front door and located directly across from the State Capitol in Columbus, Ohio.

It was a Chinese restaurant–the first of its kind in our area, and I was quite uncertain whether to go in and eat, because being raised provincially, I had some sensation that it might be un-American.

But it smelled good and I was a teenager–adventurous and rebellious to the notion that I should forbid my taste buds an opportunity, based upon politics.

I didn’t know what to order, so the dear young girl who waited on me suggested sweet and sour pork. I didn’t ask her to explain what it was, because I didn’t want to come across as if this was the first Chinese restaurant I had ever been in–but when it arrived it was beautiful: fried, golden-brown chunks of juicy pork, covered with a red sauce that was sticky like cake, sweet like candy and just a little bit sour, like lemon. On the side was fried rice, which still contained some of the grease left over from the pork tanned over the flames.

I put a bite in my mouth and I was transported to every religious expression of heaven known to the human thinking.

It was delicious: sweet, sour, some salty from the fried rice, juicy fat from the pork.

There is not and never will be any flavor to surpass it.

I have eaten other foods which I enjoy immensely and which do flirt with competing and jockey for position, but sweet and sour pork at that little store-front across from the Capitol in Columbus, Ohio, is still the ambrosia to my palate.

Of course, over the years I have learned that it’s also an overnight delivery system for death. There isn’t anything in it that’s good for you and everything is a greasy slide to Valhalla (I used the Viking heaven in respect to the pork).

So the truth of the matter is, when we actually find our ambrosia, we must be willing, as mature and healthy adults, to walk away from it and pretend that other foods which are not nearly as lethal are actually as flavorful.

Even though I’m convinced that neither Meryl Streep nor Tom Hanks could pull off such a performance, I will learn my lines and deliver them on cue in the great play … acting the part of a more balanced eater.

Abeam

by J. R. Practixdictionary with letter A

Abeam:  adv. on a line at right angles to a ship’s or an aircraft’s length.

The only trouble with right-wing ideas is that they make left-wing notions appear sane.

Nowadays there is a great thrust to take the direction, spirituality and even artistry of our country abeam.  We are trying to create a right angle and in the process ending up with ideas that are left behind.

It’s really quite simple–since we can’t go back and change anything and the future is yet to be determined, someone needs to have the intelligence to get us to pursue matters in the present. Without this, we have a tendency to go abeam. We try to play it safe. We try to mimic things we saw during our upbringing which appeared to be more righteous. Actually we were just surrounded by hidden sin, which is not that different from burying a turd in a cake.

On the other hand, there are those who think the best procedure in dealing with human beings is to allow complete liberty with no restraints, granting each and every person the innate excuse of “being born a certain way”–which forces them into a behavior seemingly beyond their control.

I don’t know if there is a left angle, but maybe I can rename that abomb.

So in an attempt to prevent us from going abeam–too much at a right angle–or abomb–a left turn on red–we really require some simple-minded folks who will just steer the ship for today, without consulting the manual from former times or speculating on which way the river will turn tomorrow.

Otherwise, I think we’re just destined to go abeam. Or maybe … abomb.

To do my part, I will honor three ideas:

  1. Yesterday wasn’t better, or we wouldn’t be doing half the things we do today.
  2. Tomorrow is not the end of the world or even the beginning. It’s just what we make it.
  3. Do the best with the supplies we have in front of us today.

This will probably keep us from going abeam or abomb.

I don’t know how popular the approach will be–because it’s not crazy.

And it seems that nowadays a certain amount of insanity is necessary to draw a crowd.

Abdomen

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abdomen: n. the part of the body of a vertebrate containing the digestive organs–the belly. It is bounded by the diaphragm and the pelvis.

I can certainly see why it didn’t catch on. There is something too bizarre about “trust your abdomen.” I think that’s why we ended up with “gut.”

But you see, I’ve always found trust your gut to be VERY poor advice. My abdomen–or if you want to be “street-talkin'” in your ways–gut–is often misleading to my own good. My gut tells me to continue in fantasies and prejudices that were ingrained in me before I had a chance to be more discretionary about what was allowed in my abdomen.

My gut is my predictable. And truthfully, friends, my predictable is not my best. My best mingles what I know with what I need to know with how dumb I am and how willing I am to get smarter. Abdomen logic rarely factors in our own depravity.

I also don’t trust my abdomen–or gut–to lead me in the paths of righteousness concerning good nutrition, health and longevity. For instance, last night my abdomen desired a piece of cake. I haven’t had a piece of cake for a long time, so I was a little surprised when my gut hatched the whim. My abdomen, with its appetite, joined in cooperation with my gut instinct, with ITS great ability to rationalize my faults, and tempted me to not only eat a small sliver of cake but to also pursue a much more humongous hunk of the gunk.

So you see, my gut has too many opinions and too big of an appetite to be trusted or allowed to run much of anything in my pursuit of sanity.

So here’s to the abdomen–with a caveat: make sure that your gut digests all the information available AND that it does not decide exactly what and how much you’re going to eat.

Otherwise, your abdomen will too soon make you belly up.