Tag Archives: conservative

Decategorize

Decatagorize: (v) to free or remove from categories

 Although we all may insist that we are free spirits, out to try new things and break the mold, we still have a tendency to go to a Chinese restaurant and look for something that resembles hamburger.

Yes, we are much more verbally adventurous than we are in our eventual choices and positions.

The human race is not conservative, nor is it liberal—but rather, cautious.

Whatever category “caution” welcomes, the human race will be found there, touting its valiant efforts while shuddering a bit in fear.

I have always found that if you discover the truth of a matter, you can cease being critical and begin to find the worth that naturally lives inside.

For I will tell you bluntly, if the human race were as volatile and unpredictable as we present ourselves to be, we would all be dead within ten days.

So it is time to decategorize our species.

What saves us is the fact that we talk a good game, and then most of the time, choose to play Candy Land.

 

Day Tripper

Day Tripper: (n) a person who goes on a trip, especially an excursion lasting one day

I was well into my thirties before I realized my parents were very conservative.

I should have known.

My mother would tell absolute strangers that she voted “a straight Republican ticket.” That meant she walked in, pulled the lever down for all the “R” candidates, no matter who they were.

Honestly, throughout my high school years, I was not interested enough in politics to distinguish between the colliding hordes.

All I knew was that the Beatles came to America and I liked what I heard and my parents decided the Fab Four were communists, attempting to use African music to raise the heart rate of American youth, to lure them to their will.

Because of this, I was not allowed to watch them perform on the Ed Sullivan Show. I had none of their records. If one of their tunes came on the radio, I had to listen to a speech about how evil they were (while trying to hear the plea from them to “hold her hand”).

I had one escape.

My friend, Paul, would invite me over to spend the weekend at his house, and Paul’s parents liked the Beatles. His mother even said they were “cute.”

Unfortunately for Paul—who wanted to play basketball, goof off and eat foods his mother normally would not prepare unless there were guests—I sat directly in front of their stereo and listened to the Beatles for hours at a time. Matter of fact, Paul finally complained to me that I wore out part of the vinyl on a Beatle record because I played it over and over again.

It was the song, “Day Tripper.”

The guitar lick and the drums made me want to dance. I was fat, awkward and had never really thought about dancing before—but Day Tripper did it to me. Sometimes I forgot where I was and began my little dance routine, which made Paul look over and laugh at me. I didn’t care.

I wasn’t concerned about what the lyrics meant.

I wasn’t thinking about whether John Lennon was more popular than Jesus.

And I certainly was oblivious to whether Paul was dead or not.

I was a kid who heard a beat, who felt joy, and for a moment was transformed from my swirling uncertainty of adolescence into a jubilant being who actually believed that “love is all we need.”

It just “took me so long to find out.”

 

Crick

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crick: (n) a sharp painful spasm of the muscles, as in the neck or back

We listen for it very carefully.

For you see, if we are not bigoted by color nor prejudiced by culture, we certainly become the Ku Klux Klan when it comes to word usage.

I have had the honor of traveling all over the United States of America many, many times. I am never ashamed of my education nor embarrassed by my lack of knowledge, but I am fully aware that if I decide to use certain terminology in certain regions of the country, I am certainly judged.

There used to be about four dialects of the American English language.

There was the Southern accent, the Midwestern homogenized version, the West Coast speed-talk, and the East Coast Brooklynese.

Of course, there were other accents you could encounter, but those four endured nearly everywhere.

And each culture, tongue and pronunciation was fully aware of itself, and could tell when any syllables or phrasings were introduced that came from a “foreign” United States.

Yes, a United States that was part of our country in map only.

For instance, if I went to the West Coast and said, “I have a crick in my neck,” all the people around me would assume I was a raging conservative, against all plans to aid poor people and that I traveled with a huge King James Bible in my suitcase.

Likewise, if I was traveling in the South, eating at a truck stop, ordering “Twelve Lookin’ At Ya’” (which is a dozen eggs sunny-side up) and then requested a Mocha Latte, I would suddenly be surrounded by whispers.

People from Brooklyn are not, generally speaking, vegan extoling the wonders of humus, but rather, talk about “picking up a slice” on the way Uptown.

In the South, “picking up a Slice” would mean resurrecting an old canned, carbonated drink and before heading toward the softball diamond.

Each culture has its own little way of saying thing,

But there are words that are certainly forbidden in nearly every quarter. Therefore, I do not know many places where discussing a “crick” in anything would be accepted—unless it was complaining backstage at the Grand Ole’ Opry while eating a pulled pork sandwich with Memphis barbecue sauce, while sippin’ your Jack Daniels.

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Coshocton

Coshocton: (n) a city in E central Ohio.

My body was twenty years old, my heart, fifteen, my soul, sixty-five, and my mind, ten.

Yeah. That’s about right.

I had started a music group and was convinced it was just a matter of time until we would have a record contract, dazzling the airwaves, and in the process also impress my family members who thought I should get a job at a local department store called Buckeye Mart.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Gigs were hard to come by. We were performing contemporary music with a rock edge, but it had a Christian message. In that season, those elements were not allowed to combine.

So I was absolutely thrilled when there was a Bible college in Coshocton, Ohio, which contacted us and said they wanted us to come and play for their morning chapel.

I had long hair, and our group dressed like hippies who had put together their wardrobe with an Ohio mindset. We headed off to the college—which was rather conservative, and upon arriving, immediately ran into trouble.

The dean of students did not think it was appropriate to place us on a “platform of importance” when they had a dress code at the school which included that all men must wear their hair off their ears.

I kept my cool. This was the “old soul” part of me. I explained to them, in a comical way, that I was going to use part of the twenty-five-dollar honorarium check to get a haircut, because up to this point, I had not been able to afford one.

They looked at me with sympathetic eyes and actually bought the story—so much so that I was embarrassed that I lied to them.

Nevertheless, the Dean of Students included that part of our interchange in the introduction before we came up to sing our two songs.

I should say “prepared to sing our two songs,” because when we began, the bass guitar and drums were so foreign that the teaching staff came forward, objected and stopped the program.

The students were alarmed and perhaps offended that we were not able to continue but had drunk enough of the Kool-Aid to remain silent.

The ten-year-old mind and the fifteen-year-old emotions got together—and I threw a shit fit right there in front of everyone. I quoted Bible, Bill of Rights, Constitution and even something I had read in their school charter about “allowing the Spirit to move.”

It didn’t make any difference.

But apparently, I was eloquent enough that they decided to give us the twenty-five dollar check anyway, so it wouldn’t look like they were welchers and had cheated us.

So having only sung a half of a chorus on one song, we packed up our equipment and headed down the road.

By the way—I never got the haircut.


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Cornerstone

Cornerstone: (n) a stone uniting two masonry walls at an intersection.

My children hate President Trump.

I suppose I could take a couple of paragraphs and try to explain the level of dissatisfaction that seems to trouble their souls but then I might funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
be promoting their rumors.

On the other hand, I live in a community where I often find myself surrounded by people who think President Trump hung the moon. (Well, probably didn’t hang the moon, but has acquired building rights on it.)

When I get around my children, they sometimes become convinced that I am a conservative Republican because I refuse to join them in their vendetta against the President. And when I meet up with old friends who were once hot sauce and have become milder over the years, they are a little fearful that I might be “too liberal” for them.

I am neither liberal nor conservative.

I find myself being the stone that the builders often reject. They look at me and say, “He’s too gentle. He’s too calm. He’s too accommodating. He’s too open. He’s too willing to share. He has no place in our plans for a cataclysmic conclusion.”

I do sometimes feel rejected.

I don’t hate the President of the United States. I don’t even wish to tell you whether I agree or disagree with him, since he personally has not asked my opinion.

I am not the kind of person who likes to hide behind rocks, spit at people when they walk by, and then run.

Likewise, I am despaired of joining clubs or organizations that refuse to change their rules or guidelines when the mercy of realization has made it clear that transformation and adjustment are in order.

Yet I take heart.

There is an old adage: “The stone the builders rejected becomes the cornerstone.”

Somewhere along the line, my angry children and my complacent old friends will meet each other once again and I will be there…to bridge the gap.


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Contingency Plan

Contingency plan: (n) a course of action to be followed if a preferred plan fails

If the Republicans continue to win elections and promote their conservative agenda or the Democrats are supreme at the voting booths and institute more of a socialistic-style of democracy, and the borders of our country are still porous to invading hordes of aliens, yet instead, immigration laws are passed which are fair to both citizens and would-be’s, and gun control fails to be enacted while the Second Amendment continues to be honored as part of the Constitution, as I watch a confusion over addiction accompanied by marijuana being legalized for the entire nation to use, then the “Me, Too Movement” actually garners greater equality for women, or perhaps creates a back-lash which promotes a more traditional style of interaction between the masculine and the feminine, while taxes are raised, only to be lowered again and the Middle East remains the powder keg of the entire world, or people come along and generate peace in the region, while simultaneously nuclear weapons are proliferated—but wait, perhaps they are eliminated—as the world continues to create its tribulation or we enter a season of peaceful coexistence—whatever happens or is decided to be, my contingency plan is… to love my neighbor as myself.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

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Conservative

Conservative: (adj) a person who is averse to change

I have never and will never jump off a cliff with a bungee cord.

Unless the airplane is going to crash, I have no intention of sky diving.

I don’t think it’s a good idea to take my monthly rent and gamble it in Las Vegas.

I have noticed that having sex with too many different partners opens the door to veneral disease.

I find it unwise to run red lights in heavy traffic.

Eating jalapenos seems to be an interesting idea until a couple of days pass and you find out why you shouldn’t eat so many of them.

Even though I am desperately against judging people, I would like to distance myself from certain folks who are about to be judged by the Natural Order.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Some daredevils would read this list and say, “Aha! A conservative!”

I also believe in loving my neighbor as myself.

I think we are the caretakers of the Earth and should be careful how we use it, lest we lose it.

I do not see anything wrong whatsoever with racial mixing, and for us to become unified in the human race.

I am curious about whether solar energy could be useful for us, so we don’t have to burn the juices of dead dinosaurs or steam up coal chunks with smoke destroying the atmosphere.

I don’t believe there’s a great difference between men and women, but instead, promote the idea of equality.

I think religion is fine as long as it’s not religious, making people feel less, thinking that God will love them more.

I don’t evaluate people based upon their bedroom habits–since it is not my intention to share a bedroom with them.

A politician from Mississippi would read my list and say, “Aha! A Yankee liberal!”

And you wonder why I have grown weary and exhausted with categories and titles.

 

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Congruent

Congruent: (adj) in agreement or harmony

I enjoy life so much that I would not mind if it were eternal–as long as I could maintain my choices.

There are very few things that disturb me.

Being overweight is an inconvenience.

Having trouble with my knees is a little bit of fussiness.

Getting honked at for pulling out in traffic does give me a temporary flash-back to young, impetuous bitterness.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But normally, I am just pleased to not punch.

It is a juncture in history when wise souls will find reasons to be congruent with one another.

I am a little bit exhausted by having people around me choose up sides and feel they are better than me because they take stands–either left or right, conservative or liberal, God or the devil, and humus or salsa.

I’m looking for reasons to be reasonable.

I’m looking for joy to be joyful.

I’m looking at people as possible friends.

I’m looking to Earth to be my teacher, and to Heaven for my grace.

I am not an optimist.

I am a pragmatist who has packed an extra bologna sandwich for someone I might meet.

 

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Cohort

Cohort: (n) a group of people banded together

I have a son who’s convinced that I am becoming more conservative as I get older.

Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. Age has done one thing and only one thing for me–it has insisted that I be practical.

It stands over me, often in a threatening pose, barking in my ear that the plans I had made to do something beyond my physical abilities are not filled with initiative, but rather, reek of stupidity.

I become more and more astounded with the simplicity of the statement, “Those that are not against us are for us.”

Therefore, mankind is my cohort, and I, its.

I am looking for reasons to enjoy the people around me instead of tagging them as enemies to be avoided.

Every time I read something, I find one little tiny nugget of valuable common sense. It doesn’t matter whether it’s the Bible or the Communist Manifesto–each document has a golden gleam which makes its writing valuable and worthy of human hearing.

But also, each document is chock-full of filler–statements thrown in, sometimes as afterthoughts and often in ignorance.

So when a Republican talks, I listen for sense. Likewise, when a Democrat shares, I probe the speech for reasonability. In the process of doing this, I find myself making more friends and being far less critical.

Recently a friend asked what I thought about a song that was being touted on the Internet. I replied, “They started on the same beat, didn’t miss a lyric and ended in pitch.”

There’s a lot to be said for that. It is a fine beginning for discussion. But often, humans will find one word within the body of the poetry which they consider distasteful, and relegate the entire presentation to being hellish nothingness.

A cohort of critics.

How boring.

How boorish.

How stubborn

How meaningless.

I found out some time ago that the world never gets anything right. Celebration occurs when the effort comes close.

 

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By-line

j-r-practix-with-border-2

By-line: (n) a printed line of text accompanying a news story

During a season when I was writing some screenplays for small, independent films, I realized it was necessary to come up with a “crafty” title, which was then coyly explained through a by-line.

Without the by-line, the title might appear to be obtuse or inaccessible. Of course, the by-line doesn’t give away the plot, but it does let you know what adventures lie ahead.

Many parts of our society should have clever titles, but also an informative by-line. Without the by-line, the name of the company, the idea, the movie or the business can often be clumped with other unremarkable but similar endeavors.

Case in point–“hamburger joint” is not a name, but rather, a condescending attitude about the lack of originality in fast food. So McDonald’s not only offers a signature, but also tells you how many billions they have served. Burger King wants you to know you can ‘have it your way.” And Wendy’s advertises square burgers.

But think about it: since the words “liberal, conservative, Republican, Democrat, Christian” and even “American” do not immediately evoke a common understanding, it becomes necessary to introduce a by-line. For instance:

Liberal: we give a damn about people.

Conservative: we want to keep the government out of your everything.

Republican: we believe the people should have freedom–all of them.

Democrat: we believe it’s up to the people who have much to give much.

Christian: you know…Jesus.

American: I love my country as long as my country is loving.

We need a by-line.

Just the other day, somebody asked me if anyone ever calls me a fat person. I replied, “They sure do. But I always give them my by-line: Fat but still gettin’ around, not complaining and trying to make the world a better place.”

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