Commentary

Commentary: (n) an expression of opinions about an event or situation

I will now offer my commentary:

I have a small penis.

I bring this up to you without apology, biological explanation or some silly sidebar like, “Had no complaints…”

What is interesting about my statement, and makes this commentary worthy of publication, is that the little fella has done some amazing things.

He ended up fathering four children, and from them–not many complaints.

He has survived being in a bedroom with a woman without ridicule.

He has also seen that particular human female leave with a pleasured smile. (Basically, it had little to do with him, and was courtesy of other digits and doo-dads, but he will still take the credit.)

I suppose at one time in my life I would have been embarrassed by the size of my “unit” (that’s what people who feel they are well-endowed call it).

Or should I refer to it as my “package?” But if it is a package, I could send mine first-class reasonably. But call me crazy, I am too overjoyed with my life to complain about my wiener.

I would not want to be around people from the “pecker patrol,” who would stare at my small friend and find him to be disgracefully inadequate.

He has been dutiful. Every time my kidneys want to urinate, he shows up–often bright and early.

He has the good sense to stay out of neighborhoods where he does not belong.

And he’s remained clean and free of disease.

He’s a rather admirable chap.

And even though some of my family would be embarrassed at me talking about him in such a fashion, I think it’s time for us to get over the idea that men and women are going to hump their way to satisfaction because of the enormous size of the male dangling participle.

Making love is like everything else in life. It demands much more conversation than it does struggle.

Thus ends my commentary.

 

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Cemetery

Cemetery: (n) a burial ground; a graveyard

No racial tension.

The same space available for everyone.

No complaints.

No gender bias.

No discussion about sexual preference.

No religious distinction.

No hurry.

No worry.

No flurry to scurry.

No argument.

No political debates.

No special treatment.

No punishment.

No ego.

No money required.

No need to tout your resume.

No disease.

No more death.

Welcome to the cemetery.

Come and spend a spell.

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Blown

Blown: (adj) past participle of blow

Dictionary BYou can’t make a duck bark. It’s a simple statement.

Therefore, it’s virtually impossible to get your dog to quack.

Patterns of behavior are established through choice and genetics, and maintained by stubborn tradition.

So as I listen to people complain about leaders who are causing turmoil and steering the American public into bad decisions, I look on, perplexed.

  • Nobody can make me prejudiced.
  • Nobody can turn me into a bigot.
  • Nobody can suddenly convince me that black people are evil or that people from China are out to get me.

I am the one who is ready to hear the nonsense.

So therefore, it is the responsibility of our citizens to own up to the fact that the transitions which have occurred in our lifetime, which have promoted truth or at least tolerance, have been avoided by many, who have sat by, pretending to be part of the parade, only to whisper complaints to each other as the floats go by.

There is a disgruntled spirit in our country which is blown by every ill wind.

It is unconfronted.

It is denied–as we pretend that everything is alright.

It isn’t.

We are still one of the most bigoted countries in the world, intolerant of the behavior of each other, and willing to become violent if someone takes our parking space.

I don’t think we will change these attitudes by hatching meanness to address the meanness.

But as long as people are blown by every wind of doctrine and every carnival barker, we will suffer under a cloud of uncertainty.

 

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Bar

Bar: (n) a place where alcoholic drinks or refreshments are served.Dictionary B

The problem with pursuing spirituality is that more often than not, we end up with self-righteousness.

True spirituality is allowing yourself to be blessed without blasting everyone else.

There was a spot of time over a decade ago when I was in need of a little extra money. My son was running sound and lights at a local bar for the in-house band, and he needed a night or two off each week.

I volunteered, thinking that it was a great training ground for me to apply my philosophical principles and to “let my light so shine” before men–and women–that they would see something different in me.

What I discovered was that I was not nearly as adept at anything as I perceived myself to be.

  • I was not good at staying up late.
  • I was not excellent at walking around enough in the bar to mingle, to find out how the sound was being distributed.
  • I was not able to avoid the temptation of the greasy snacks offered to me free of charge
  • I was not nearly as good at running sound and lights as my son, making him deal with an avalanche of complaints
  • And worst of all, I was completely swallowed up by an atmosphere that was unimpressed with my simplicity.

A bar is a bar because it’s a bar.

It is a place where people come to drink, carouse, laugh uncontrollably, and if they drink too much, start fighting.

It is not an atmosphere for renewal, questioning, or revival.

There is very little chance that you will change anyone’s mind from what they have come to accomplish.

So I found myself dwarfed by my surroundings, inept for my task, and eventually departed from the occupation.

I licked my wounds and learned.

Although you can take a camera, shoot a movie, and portray a bar as a festive social gathering, when you are there, it is a refugee camp for those who require interaction with human beings and are willing to tolerate the smell of alcohol and lingering vomit … in the company of overly aggressive patrons.

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