Creationism

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Creationism: (n) the doctrine that matter and all things were created by an omnipotent Creator

It is a twelve-year-old conversation. By this, what I really mean is that it is a discourse among twelve-year-olds. It makes no sense outside that gathering—and to many would seem frivolous.

But when I was twelve years old and had a sleepover at my house with five other young gentlemen, we sat around and discussed, lamented, worried, bragged and mocked one another over the size of our testicles and penises.

It was not a planned topic for the evening. Someone brought up the subject of girls, and since we knew absolutely nothing about that, we decided to discuss what we believed, in our infantile reasoning, was the item that attracted women to men.

In the course of that ridiculous discussion, some of my young brethren waxed eloquent. Others were just silly. One or two were belligerently adamant on their foreknowledge—yet all of us, obviously, ignorant.

But this misinformation did not keep us from speculation and postulating on our particular rendition or theory.

Fortunately, we never pulled out our private areas to actually visually compare—but while maintaining them securely within our briefs, we explained to everyone in the room how massive they were and also, evolving.

It was a comical situation which could only be tolerated by a roomful of immature individuals who were over-zealous about their insights.

Likewise, this is the identical way I feel about the theory of evolution and creationism. When I hear people argue about “how we got here” or if there is a “here,” or where “here” came from, or where “there” is going, my head begins to spin and I want to scream and ask them to pull out their balls and prove their point.

Of course, they can’t.

There are no balls to pull out and no one has a definitive point.

Since we are creatures which inhabit a planet which has been around a long time, and we only have the possibility of a hundred years, it might be better for us to get about the business of creating something beautiful as we evolve toward kindness.

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Cranky

Cranky: (adj) ill-tempered; grouchy; cross 

A Conversation

She: I was wondering if you were ready to write the blogs.

Me: Wouldn’t I tell you if I was ready?

She: Yes, but I just thought I would ask so I could get…well, get my things together.

Me: Yes. There you go. Why don’t you get your things together?

She: You don’t need to be cranky.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Me: I’m not cranky.

She: What would you call it?

Me: How about, “Not in the mood for any nonsense?”

She: Isn’t that a definition for cranky?

Me: No, cranky is when you’re just feeling sullen or put out and decide to dump your attitude on everybody around you.

She:  So, me asking you if you’re ready to type your blogs and you barking back at me is not dumping?

Me: No. It’s a warning.

She: What are you warning me about?

Me: I’m warning you that I’m not in the mood for nonsense.

She: So nonsense is asking you if you’re ready to type the blogs in a nice voice because I want to get ready to do so?

Me: Now you’re making me cranky.

She: Why is that?

Me: You’re taking my normal reaction and blowing it out of proportion because you are in the mood to be easily offended. There you go. Another definition for cranky. “In a mood to be easily offended.”

She: So what you’re saying is that because I asked you a question and you responded coldly, that I apparently arrived in a mood to be affronted by anything that was going to be spoken my way.

Me: Now you’ve got it.

She: Thank you for clearing up cranky for me.


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Counterproposal

Counterproposal: (n) a proposal offered to offset a preceding one.

I would never want to return to the sheer horror, ambiguity, dance of confusion and frustration that was involved in being seventeen years old.

Yet I do fondly remember the wrangling that went on in a car on a Saturday night with a girlfriend you had been with for at least three months.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

The first three months of dating consisted solely of terrorizing one another with the awkwardness of conversation and trying to discover where you fit in with her and she could find common ground with your less-than-diverse tastes.

But after three months—and some sort of little ring, chain or token being offered to confirm that you were committing to one another—then the entire project shifted from “getting to know you” to “getting to know all about you.”

On that Saturday night, after the movie was over, the hamburger was consumed, the French fries were shared (because she was on a diet) and the milk shake melted enough to be sipped to its bottom, it was time for the two of you to nervously head out to an isolated park, backroad or private location, where you could begin the negotiations.

She, being a good, small-town girl, who knew the next morning would have to sit down with her friends in church with a picture of Jesus staring down at her, had already taken inventory and considered what was available for the taking.

On the other hand, you felt it was time to expand the project—open up new horizons and generate some excitement.

So you would make a proposal and she would counter your idea with a suggestion of her own, which was rarely sufficient to your teenage, ravenous lust.

Of course, adding to the craziness was a budding horniness, leaving you (and I believe, her) dizzy from trying to resist. After an hour-and-a-half of proposal and counterproposal, procedures were agreed upon—and pursued in such a vigorous way that the whole deal accelerated so quickly that it was nearly blown.

This process, which we shall call “The Saturday Night Feverless” only worked for a few weeks. For the curiosity to find out what sex was really like was overwhelming. Or maybe it was just a need to discover once and for all if “us” were really going to be any good at it, or become permanent outcasts from the world of pleasure,

Counterproposals are a part of life, but rarely do they give the satisfaction of the original ingenious idea.


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Corridor

Corridor: (n) a gallery or passage connecting parts of a building; hallway.

Everybody tries to get into the main office.

There’s a general consensus that if we can just get into the boss’s headquarters one time, we could talk ourselves up and improve our situation.

But life isn’t really like that.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

We live life in the corridors. The minute we commit ourselves to entering an office or a room, we are no longer visible. We’ve taken a side. We have locked into a position.

When I lived in Nashville, Tennessee, back when I was young and knew everything in town that I could get to eat for fifty cents or less, I realized that walking into offices and trying to talk to someone who was notable so I could get my “big break” was a worn-out idea which may never have had its time in the first place.

I realized it was about finding the corridors.

I talked to many a music agent in the parking lot of his or her building, where I had waited so I could strike up a conversation when they came to their cars. I knew they eventually would come to their cars.

Likewise, I learned over the years where various interested talented people got their cars repaired, and I sat in the front room, waiting for a glance of them when they came to pick up their fancy auto after having an oil change. It was always a quick moment and I never pushed—just made my face familiar. Then, when I ran into them later on—in the corridor of an office building or in the mall—and said hello, they would swear that we had met before.

Now, I can’t tell you that through this process I guaranteed myself a shot at a record contract, but it was during the time of walking the corridors that I did get a lovely break.

Be careful signing on the dotted line with political parties, religions and movements. They will hide you away from the opportunities that just pass by in the corridors of everyday life.


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Conversation

Conversation: (n) informal interchange of thoughts, information, etc., by spoken words; oral communication between persons

I guess I’m trying to understand Mr. Webster’s inclusion of the word “informal” in relationship to “conversation.”

I surmise that he might be thinking that a conversation is different from a discussion, because the minute it becomes a discussion it has an funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cagenda, or at least a main subject. And a discussion transforms into a debate if the two people talking are in disagreement, becoming an argument when each person is determined to stick to his or her guns, trying to convert the other person.

My problem with a conversation is that it often becomes two human beings reciting their resumes to one another, allowing time for the other one to counter with similar information. In other words, “How are your kids doing?” Space of time, space of time, space of time…

Now it’s my turn. “This is how my kids are doing.” Space of time, space of time, space of time…

Because of the social media craze in our world, even the discourses we have with each other live and in person have begun to resemble Facebook with verbal posts.

To me, that’s not a conversation. A conversation is best defined, I believe, by the idea that two people get together yearning for fellowship and hungry for fresh insight.

It’s not a series of soliloquies in which we hope the other person is listening, but rather, dialogue peppered with questions, some indecision, observations and enough incompleteness that the other party feels comfortable contributing.

Conversation is the absence of the deadly five questions:

  1. How are you?
  2. What have you been doing lately?
  3. How are the kids?
  4. Health been excellent?
  5. What’s going on with the job?

If you can avoid these five questions religiously, you can sit down and have an actual conversation, which can turn out to be truly spiritual.

 

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Constipation

Constipation: (n) a condition in which there is difficulty in emptying the bowels

I want to ask those of you who are my friends to keep watch for the “thought police” and the politically correct lawyers as I try to discuss something very human without being critiqued for addressing a vulgar topic.

It is amazing to me what we are willing to talk about, which often is profane and nasty, as opposed to the things we are unwilling to talk funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cabout, which are human and common, but we have decided are uncouth.

There isn’t a person reading this who has not farted or had constipation, yet introducing the subject seems to make people uncomfortable. (The issue of human sexuality and masturbation are similar–things we like to do but don’t want to discuss.)

Everybody enjoys a good bowel movement. Matter of fact, I would guess that each and every one of you reading this article has turned a release of your innards into a religious experience by thanking God in some way during the evacuation.

If something so sacred as sitting on the pot is a taboo subject, then where is our race headed?

I have been constipated.

I have been unconstipated.

I can recommend the latter.

And if you don’t blush over your “Number 2,” then with me…you’re “Number 1.”

 

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Conjecture

Conjecture: (n) an opinion or conclusion formed on the basis of incomplete information

The young man disagreed with me.

I gave a college concert years ago, opening it up to a Q & A with the audience afterwards. One of the male students asked me, “Since you’re afunny wisdom on words that begin with a C
Christian, when did ‘turn the other cheek’ actually ever work?”

I think he expected some sort of conjecture on my part–about the value of pursuing lost causes, even though it might not seem that they possessed immediate merit.

Maybe he just wanted to justify his passion for revenge–or his girlfriend, sitting next to him, might be greatly impressed by him challenging the guest artist.

Wanting to make sure the audience understood his question, I asked him to repeat it. He rolled his eyes to communicate that I was apparently old and deaf, and posed the question again.

“What I asked you,” he said, “was, when did ‘turn the other cheek’ ever work in history?”

“I see,” I responded. “So let me ask you a question. When did gouging out eyes, pulling teeth and counterpunching ever exactly work in history?”

He stood tall and patriotic and replied, “Well, at least we went to war and beat the shit out of them.”

A small piddling of applause.

“Well,” I objected, “apparently we left some shit in them–because they’re back again. You see, my friend, turning the other cheek is not an attempt to bring flowers to a gun fight, but rather, to buy some time to see what can be done to change the fight from guns to conversation. And that, historically, has proven, over and over again, to be effective.”

Feeling the need to be justified, he spat, “Well, that’s just your opinion.”

“That it is,” I replied. “Actually, it’s my conjecture–a conviction I hold because pursuing anything else leaves blood all over my hands.”


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