Crab

Crab: (n) a crustacean

I believed myself to be successful long before there was any evidence. I saw inklings of possibilities, and I occasionally rewarded myself with the accoutrements of someone who had achieved his goals. But most of the time, a look from the outside might have produced giggles about my inside.

For a brief season I owned a Fiesta Ghia. It was made by Ford. What is significant about this car is how small it is. What is further interesting is how large I am. There were times that I felt I was gathering a small crowd just to watch me get into it. (I am sure I was paranoid.)

But I was thrilled. It was bright red and it was mine—as long as I made the payments.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I decided to take it on a trip to play music in some nearby states, treating it as my personal limousine. Originally the excursion was planned for myself and one other guy, but soon three other fellows whined, cajoled and pleaded their way into becoming part of the entourage. So five of us—count them—five of us got into my Fiesta Ghia, with the backend hatch packed with luggage, and we took off.

We were somewhere on the back roads of Arkansas when the Fiesta Ghia developed some transmission problems. (Hard to believe, isn’t it, considering the amount of weight we were carrying).

We were able to cripple our vehicle into a very small community, and found a mechanic, who told us he could fix it and have it ready by noon the next day.

We found a cheap motel (which I’m sure was the embarrassment of the whole town) and settled into our room to await our repaired chariot. About thirty minutes after we arrived, one of our touring group came running into the motel room, breathless. He explained that there was a restaurant right next to this motel, which had a banner advertising “All the Crab Legs You Can Eat for $8.99.”

A hush fell over the room, followed by a quiver, and then a mutual scream from all the inhabitants. We were gonna go have crab.

$8.99, even at that time, was very reasonable, so even though we possessed limited funds, we believed it to be God’s will for us to use them to stuff ourselves with crab and celebrate the repair of our Ghia and the bonding we were having together as men.

We arrived at the restaurant at 7:15 P. M. and did not leave until 10:00 P. M.

Five grown, hungry crab-eating fools.

When we first entered the establishment, they were grateful to see us. When we left, there was no person in the joint who would speak to us. We had cleaned them out of their crab—not just for the night, but all they had bought for the entire weekend. (Keep in mind, it’s a little difficult to get crab on the back roads of Arkansas, since “the docks” are a thousand miles away.)

I suppose we should have felt guilty about eating too much. If we had been more temperate, we would have slowed down after the twelfth helping. But we were young, brash, self-involved, slightly traumatized by our car ordeal, a little scared of the motel we were staying in, and ferociously fond of crab.


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Clergyman

Clergyman: (n) a male priest, minister, or religious leader, especially a Christian one

All the mistakes I’ve made in my life were caused by me thinking that what I had to offer was not enough.

Whenever I calmed down and realized that the stash in my duffel bag was the total subsistence of my life and journey, I was fine.

But when I allowed myself to be intimidated by forces around me which deemed my offering to be meager because it lacked some
certification, I always ended up either a fool or a liar.

I wanted to help people.

I wanted to use my art to do so.

I wanted to share a message that had humor, hope and heft.

But I also once was very young, and contended that I needed some title to punctuate my adequacy.

Since I did not go to college, I wasn’t allowed to be called “a Reverend.” Therefore I could not be a clergyman.

I don’t know why I wanted to pursue such a position–I guess I just wanted folks to be impressed when they heard the full extent of my resume spoken in a word: “minister.”

So I lied. I manufactured higher learning. And eventually I just called myself a “Reverend” even though I didn’t have any pedigree to bark out spirituality.

It took me many years to escape the foolishness of my insecurity. As soon as I did, I realized that being a clergyman was actually to my disadvantage, because my music, writing, dramatic pursuits and screenplays were much more effective tools for reaching my brothers and sisters than climbing into a pulpit and emoting.

I often think, what is it I’m doing today that’s equally as stupid as my pursuit of being a false cleric?

I don’t know. But I keep looking.

Because if I catch it early, maybe I can avoid some of the embarrassment that occurs when people finally find out the truth.

And…

They always do.

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Chagrin

Chagrin: (n) distress or embarrassment at having failed or been humiliated.

Life waits around, waiting for human beings to express disappointment so it can squash them like that bug you found in your tent during the
campout.

Even though we contend that a certain amount of disappointment, embarrassment, disgust or sadness is predictable for certain occasions, those who indulge themselves in such a luxury often find that they are left out of the next flow of human activity.

You can be disappointed, but no one really cares.

It’s not because they’re uncaring–it’s because deep in their hearts, each one of us knows that disappointment and embarrassment are useless emotions which must be dispelled as quickly as possible, lest they explode and destroy our will to live.

So when we see this in other people, there is a small part of us that wants to be sympathetic and a huge part that wants to run away in terror.

So beware of the instinct to share your heart if that emotional revelation is filled with chagrin–because even though we all suffer slings and arrows, most of us have learned the wisdom of ducking.

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Buxom

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Buxom: (adj) a woman with large breasts.

Prude or rude?

These appear to be the two choices offered to me every day.

I can take a path of believing that anything that sounds sexual or stimulates my temptations should be ignored or relegated to a private corner.

Or I can just pop off and use all the vernacular of present day society, acting like the free spirit, uninhibited to speak my mind.

We just don’t seem to have the ability to find better ways to share our thoughts.

So we end up looking on buxom women as if they are motherly, or else we proclaim them to have “big tits.”

Somewhere along the line we have completely lost the evolutionary meaning of women’s breasts. So some folks refuse to talk about them and other people giggle and ogle them.

What is the correct procedure?

It’s simple: it’s up to the person who has them.

If a woman is proud of her breasts, wants to talk about them and feels uplifted, so to speak, by others appreciating them, I think that’s just jim dandy.

If she’s embarrassed, tentative and uncertain about her bosom, I have absolutely no problem remaining silent and diverting my eyes.

Being a prude or being rude is a decision to make a decision for someone else. You are either communicating that they should be embarrassed by their buxom condition, or that they should be prepared to be leered at by every fellow who passes by.

We have no right to make decisions for other people.

It is our job to bounce off the desires that each person we meet may express, and honor his or her wishes.

In doing so, we actually begin to approach maturity.

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Bon Voyage

Bon voyage: (exclam) used to express good wishes to someone about to go on a journey.

A great sense of embarrassment swept over my entire being, placing crimson in my cheeks and a chill down my spine because of my tremendous expression of Dictionary Bstupidity.

I was in Mexico. I didn’t want to come across ignorant. So deciding to avoid that, I attempted to do something ridiculous. I tried to take my two years of high school Spanish and put them to good use by experimenting with the locals.

After greeting them with “Buenos dias” and being able to ask them if they had a green pencil, I stared into their confounded faces and realized I should never have answered their question, “Habla Espanol?” (do you speak Spanish?) with the silly response of “Poco” (meaning a little).

There is perhaps no more egregious fracture of etiquette than to pretend you are able to be international because you’re on the workable end of a seven-word vocabulary.

Thus my feeling when I’m getting ready to go on a trip and someone shouts at me, “Bon voyage!”

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Blush

Blush: (v) to develop a pink tinge in the face from embarrassment or shame.

Dictionary B

Removing one misconception from the stacked-up views of a human being may temporarily topple the tower but will make the rebuilding more sturdy.

We are full of misconceptions.

Matter of fact, we feel compelled to lie to one another so as to remove all sense of embarrassment, shame or inadequacy.

So the singer who is loud and boisterous is never told that he’s off-pitch.

The beauty queen who is painted to excess to gain approval is never informed of how obnoxious she is.

And the politician is never surrounded by those who will truly ask the right questions.

We are afraid of embarrassment.

We are frightened that our weaknesses will surface, so we smother self-awareness under an ocean of flattery.

Sometimes I need to blush.

  • I need to realize I have said something inappropriate.
  • I have fallen short of expectation.
  • I am a bow-tie worn with a jogging suit.

It’s good for me.

It literally puts some color in my cheeks. 

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Bawdy

Bawdy: (adj) dealing with sexual matters in a comical way; humorously indecent.Dictionary B

Somewhere between porn and Puritan lies perfectly hilarious.

I have never been interested in pornography, and honestly, even less drawn to the life of the pilgrim.

Human sexuality is comical. Actually, it’s downright silly.

Even though some people videotape themselves having sexual intercourse, most of us would run away from such a viewing in a combination of embarrassment and horror.

Why? Because for those brief moments when we’re seeking pleasure, we also tend to reject all forms of pride and civilization.

Who cares?

All I know is that when we trivialize sexuality and make it merely a physical act, it normally develops tinges of violence.

When we say it is sacred and must be blessed by God’s presence, we repress our sexual instincts and invite perversion to create a playground in our being.

I am often bawdy.

Raising a bunch of sons, I joked with them and made it clear that sex was not a taboo subject, nor was it hatched in the heavens, surrounded by prayers.

It is one of the most important balances we can achieve: to land our understanding of human sexuality somewhere between monkey and angel.

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