Creator

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Creator: (n) a person or thing that creates.

The top four things, in order, that wear out my soul in order, beginning with Number Four:

  1. Serious discussions that end up with people pouting.
  2. Feeling sorry for myself because I’m stuck in traffic.
  3. My own intolerance showing up, exposing me for the fallible son-of-a-bitch I sometimes am.

And now, Number One:

Incessant barking, preaching, complaining, questioning and postulating on the subject of God.

Is there a Creator?

Let me be blunt—I only have one reason that I want a Creator. It’s because it makes me feel more valuable.

Without a Creator, I have to envision that I am a stop on the evolutionary chain, somewhere between protoplasm and infinity.

Yuk. I don’t want to feel that way.

It makes the other three things I mentioned even more aggravating. Traffic seems more congested, my intolerance tends to have some deeper meaning, and for some unrealistic reason, getting serious about ludicrous matters makes me feel grown-up.

I need a Creator because I need to feel created, so that I will want to be creative.

Did you get that?

Creator, created, creative.

When I don’t feel created, I have no desire whatsoever to change my circumstance when bitching about it seems to adequately fill the time.

I do not find that believing in a Creator makes people better, and that disbelieving makes them worse. But sometimes, cuddling up to the idea that we are purposely constructed by a divine order does make the journey seem a little sweeter.

Otherwise, we begin to look around the room, the nation and the world, rolling our eyes, thinking internally: Hell, is that all there is?

 

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Congestion

Congestion: (adj) a condition of the respiratory tract being blocked with mucus

Trials would never get the chance to be tribulations if we were granted the privilege of planning them instead of being surprised by their arrival.

Honestly, I think I could survive almost anything if I could pencil it in on my calendar in advance, and then build all my activities around funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
preparing for it.

This is the ridiculous part about those who believe in destiny.

Life is clear–it favors chaos. If we actually believe there’s a Divine Order, we logically must conclude that this God-force is schizophrenic.

I had one moment in my life when I wish I had been given the opportunity to select the time slot for my cold.

I would have chosen one week later to be congested–and gladly swallowed the nasty concoctions that are supposed to make me feel better, but actually only cause drowsiness.

My congestion arrived a week early.

My new book had been released, and I was supposed to speak to a large crowd of people, using the event as a launch for my campaign. My bronchitis, croup and laryngitis arrived when I was appearing in a large auditorium, premiering my new album.

I ran what I called the gamut of five:

  • I prayed
  • I sprayed (everything I could think of, to open up my throat)
  • I complained
  • I tried every home remedy known to humans.
  • And finally, I foolishly went to my events–with no voice.

Well, you can imagine, it went just about as well as it sounds like it would go. The congestion was in control.

Should I have just cancelled instead of giving it the “good old college try?”

I don’t know. My experience is that the “good old college try” often leaves you flunking out in disgrace.

 

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