Collide

Collide:(v) to hit with force when moving

I lied like a rug, therefore I assume my feet stunk.

I have no witnesses to the odor, just as there really were no “Amen-ers” to my testimony (which was really a lie).

Taking my old beat-up van onto the road, I was not entering the freeway with safety and concern.

The gentleman who was already driving on the freeway, probably using his cruise control, made the foolish assumption that I was going to honor his position,
perhaps coming in behind him.

I was yearning for something a bit more intimate.

So I smacked him in the side. Being very young, I decided to collide. So I smacked him in the side.

He was an older gentleman–perhaps in his late sixties or early seventies. He was so upset by the collision, and also how quickly the highway patrolman arrived at the scene, that I was able to come up with the story for the accident, which left him dumbfounded, bereft.

I explained to the policeman that I was already in the lane and that this gentleman came across and hit me.

The facts didn’t measure up, and if the cop had been any kind of investigative sort whatsoever he would have challenged me.

But since the older gent stood there slack-jawed, with bulging eyes, he looked horribly guilty. I, on the other hand, did my very best Shakespearean rendition, portraying much of the hurt and pain of Prince Hamlet of Denmark.

So not only was I deemed free from responsibility for the accident, but the ancient dude got a ticket.

I ended up getting a check for $450 from his insurance company to repair my van, which I chose not to do, since any part on my van I repaired would have been yelled at by the other parts, which were more terminally ill.

I so enjoyed my $450–and as far as I know, the innocent gentleman I hit went to court and spent even more money to cover the expanse of my lie.

Now, I know at this point we need a moral to the story. For instance, later on I saw the gentleman and paid him back, or I drove all night to the highway patrol station and confessed my misadventure.

None of this happened.

So I guess the true lesson from this story is, you should do things because they’re right–not because you’re expecting a payoff. And if you get a payoff, it certainly does not mean that it’s right.

“What goes around comes around.”

It doesn’t always come around your way.

Or go around, for that matter.

 

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Boarding School

Boarding school: (n) a school where students reside during the semester.

Dictionary B

I ended up being the father to six sons.

Three boys I had in cooperation with my wife, and three others we took into our family–kind of like godparents.

I am going to write about one of these sons, with full confidence that since I am his old man, that he more than likely will never read this–so he won’t need to feel embarrassed and I can make my point.

Yes, one of my sons was caught smoking marijuana.

He got himself into some trouble, went to court, and it fell our lot to try to separate him from buddies who were quite satisfied to see their collective lives “go up in smoke.”

So we investigated boarding schools.

I will tell you–it is well worth focusing on being a great parent and maybe even locking your children up in the house until they’re eighteen–just so you don’t have to talk to these institutions which have found a way to make money off of the suffering and anguish of people who are suddenly confronted with “wayward seed.”

We even went to visit one of these places.

We toured the campus.

Then we allowed our son to go to their school for a day to acquaint himself with their procedures and prepare to become a unit in their well-proven curriculum.

After he came back from the experience, terrified that he was going to be placed into such a social straitjacket, we had a “coming to Jesus” moment with him and decided not to send him away, but instead, find the patience and prudence to have him repent in his own bedroom,

The comical part of the whole experience was that two weeks later we received a letter from the boarding school telling us that after having met our son and reviewing his situation, they had decided to reject his application.

Weren’t they supposed to exist to help confused kids?

I laughed heartily and aloud.

Like so many organizations in America, they are more than happy to take your money and advertise themselves freely–as long as you don’t expect them to actually deliver what they promise.

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Access

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Access: (n.) 1. means of approaching of entering a place 2. the right to use or benefit from 3. the right or opportunity to approach or see someone 4. the action or process of obtaining or retrieving information stored in a computer’s memory 5. the condition of being able to be reached or obtained.

Here we go again.

Over and over, we see the same stupid procedure utilized by seemingly intelligent men and women when confronted with the inadequacy of their performance. For some reason or another, people find it difficult to simply say, “I screwed up.”

Nearly every President throughout our history has suffered from some sort of scandal–not because error occurred, but mainly generated by the back-pedaling and lying initiated after the fact.

I am not positive at what age we begin to hide inside our shells and “turtle” our emotions and motivations away from the world around us. It certainly isn’t when we’re little kids. I remember when I was a child, I embarrassed my parents by walking out holding my own turd in my hand to explain to them that I had failed to make it all the way to the bathroom. Much to their dismay, this presentation was acted out in front of some clients they were trying to impress. It wasn’t that I was proud of my offering on that day–it was simply that I was naive enough to believe that it was essential to give my parents access to every part of my life–even misplaced bowel movements.

It must have been some time in my teens when it seemed more prudent to cover up my mistakes with lies and excuses, which I apparently succeeded in pulling off enough times that I thought I could pursue it as a lifestyle.

We can’t.

Although I agree that complete transparency might be optimistic, being the FIRST one to admit your failures is an advantage that God grants only to the wisest confessors. Once you are found out by strangers, you are at the mercy of their discretion. That’s frightening.

What would I tell the President if I were his advisor? Find out immediately where you had ANY tie-in with these existing difficulties–or KNEW anyone who had a link–and release the information as quickly as possible.

Certainly your enemies will have a heyday over the stupidity–but not as much as they will over the notorious disguise of the facts.

I love to write a daily blog because it gives me the chance to access the truth in my soul and give you access to it, before you independently discover what a dim-witted idiot I can be from time to time.

Yes, I will be so bold as to tell you that the only way to look smart in this world is to point out when you’re stupid. If you wait for the jury to come in, you will never be able to negotiate a plea bargain, and often, each one of us is careless enough that we must throw ourselves on the mercy of the court.

Abdul-Jabbar

by J. R. Practixdictionary with letter A

Abdul-Jabbar, Kareem: (1947-    ) U.S. basketball player; former name Lewis Ferdinand Alcindor. He played professionally for the Milwaukee Bucks from 1969-75 and the Los Angeles Lakers from 1975-89 and holds several records.

He was a thing of beauty.

I know men are not supposed to say that about other men. In today’s society we disguise our homophobia by silently being suspicious of any close contact or admiration expressed between folks of the same gender.

But Kareem (who was also an Abdul) was a fabulous basketball player. He did something called the “sky-hook,” which was really just a huge toss of the basketball high in the air over his head, which for the normal person would have had about a 3.3% chance of sinking the hole, but for him was in the high 60’s.Abdul Jabbar

But he sealed his immortality in my soul when he appeared in the movie Airplane as the humongously over-sized pilot who was hiding out from his real occupation, pretending he was NOT a famous athlete. I remember watching the movie, thinking how brave it was for him to step off the court into this new arena of acting, realizing that he would be a huge target for criticism, but took the risk anyway.

Yes, Abdul going into the movie industry was like the ultimate sky-hook. He just tossed it off, over his head, high into the air, confident that it would split the cords. He played with great players and still looked great. That’s pretty remarkable.

Most of us choose to hang around inferiors so that our work will appear to be stellar. Not Mr. K. A. J. He shared the glory with his teammates, but when their expertise failed to pull off the miracle of the win, he took his seven-foot-plus frame, and leaped in to save the day.

You know what else is interesting? He seems to be a really nice guy. I mean, it’s special when someone is humble because they decide to select humility–but upon careful gazing at their record, you are not surprised they have chosen that profile. But when somebody has set benchmarks in excellence, but still chooses simplicity and humility, it is a reminder that struggling to put oneself into the spotlight is an invitation to get bumped from the stage by someone on the A list.

I guess he’s a Muslim. If all Muslims were like Kareem, most of their public relations problems would be alleviated. So along about the same time that Cassius Clay became Mohammed Ali, Lou Alcindor became Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Here’s the beauty: they didn’t turn into religious fanatics who blew up mosques.

They used their talents to become better people and create a more enjoyable world.