Tag Archives: criterion

Anus

dictionary with letter A

Anus: (n) the opening at the end of the alimentary canal through which waste matter leaves the body.

There are many standards used for friendship.

Actually, the word “friend” is used quite loosely in our daily lexicon to refer to anyone who is present in our midst and whom we don’t want to offend by calling an “acquaintance.”

But I have one major criterion for true friendship. I know that I am finally in the presence of someone who is my lasting comrade when we are able to discuss bowel movements with each other.

It’s not something you can force (pardon the expression).

But most relationships are somewhat constipated until you feel the freedom to, shall we say, “let it all hang out.” There is something liberating about being able to discuss one of the more tangible evidences of one’s daily life and progress with another human being without fear of ridicule or grossing them out.

I can honestly tell you that I’ve only been able to achieve this with less than a handful of people. I have attempted it with other folks, only to see our interaction quickly go from friendship to stranger.

Yes, they considered me very strange because I took one of the more important bodily functions which produces some of the greatest relief and attempted to make it a common topic.

I have an anus.

I have never used it for anything other than relieving my bowels. Well, I guess I do sit on it. But it is ridiculous for us to be nervous about discussing the dispelling of waste or the clogging up thereof.

Yes, an anal definition of friendship would be the ability to discuss the anus and its production level without fear of being incriminated or considered gauche.

And of course, you know you’re in deep levels of intimacy when color, texture, frequency and flow are free game for your profitable dialogue.

 

 

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Anglo

dictionary with letter A

Anglo: (n) a white, English-speaking American as distinct from a Hispanic American.

What if there is no such thing as distinct?

I contend that we live in a self-defeating society. In the pursuit of honoring two separate concepts, which are contrary to one another, we end up with human beings who are contrary to one another.

The two concepts are:

  1. We are all individuals and unique unto ourselves
  2. We need to get along or we’re going to destroy each other.

Everyone knows that to get along, it is important to discover similarities. So if we’re constantly separating ourselves off with names, doctrines, political parties, gender, sexuality, color, age and taste in food, we are basically proclaiming that finding common ground is a futile task.

So what’s it gonna be? Are we going to revel in our little clump of individuality or are we going to discover a way to keep from destroying our world?

I personally think it would be more fiscally responsible to avoid annihilation. That’s just me. But to do so, we have to get away from identifying ourselves as Anglo, Hispanic, African-American, female, male, Coke or Pepsi.

Nothing truly significant is determined by stating that you’re any one of those compartments. For after all, there are:

  • Bad women and there are good women.
  • Excellent men and real losers.
  • Dynamic Hispanics and fairly worthless ones.
  • African-Americans which contribute to the success of life, and those who don’t.
  • Anglos who find a reason to get along with others and those who segregate.

I could go on and on. The criterion for human quality has to be something that is not visual, but rather, spiritual.

If we can establish that–that each one of us was granted a living soul–we can not only find similarities, but we can also begin to ignore our foolish differences.

So I don’t like words like “Anglo.” I don’t like to be identified as white, bald, fat, male, Republican or Democrat.

If you would ignore everything but the human eyes and peer into them, you would realize … that we all look the same.

 

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Afraid

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Afraid: (adj.) feeling fear or anxiety; frightened.

 It was my favorite shirt.

I was nineteen years old and it was during the era of the counter-culture—hippies, rock and roll … well, you know the groove.

It was gray and had embroidered white velvet flowers on it.

I loved it.

It was almost too small for me, so depending on whether I was in one of my puffy weeks or thinning days, I could sit down wearing it with spreading buttons or with more comfort.

I didn’t care. I worshipped it.

I wore it at least five times a week. My criterion for deciding whether to don it in the morning was sniffing under the armpits to ascertain the intensity of its lethal nature.

One day I noticed that some of the threads on the bottom of the shirt had come loose. I didn’t think much about it. I just pulled on them and tore them off. After about two weeks of doing this, I realized that my shirt was no longer shedding threads, but had actually torn and was practically ruined.

At that juncture, somebody pointed out that if I had sewn up the bottom of the shirt instead of pulling on the threads, the problem would have been solved and I would still have my garment. (I continued to wear it in its dilapidated condition until one day I was walking down the street and a guy handed me two dollars, thinking I was homeless…)

The reason I share this story is that being afraid is a lot like being a-frayed.

Our threads come loose and we yank on them, pull at them, deny our feelings and pretend everything is all right until we have no opportunities left and we stand, clothed in unrighteousness.

Yes, afraid is when we refuse to sow up our fears and tie up our worries and instead, allow them to destroy everything we like. And even when we use noble words like “responsibility,” “concern,” “involvement,” “anxious,” or in some cases, even “wondering”—we’re just masking the monster.

I lost the shirt off my back because it was “a-frayed.”

If I become too afraid—well … I can lose my own soul.