Tag Archives: farce

Confusion

Congenial: (adj) a pleasant personality

If you will allow me to advance this theory–human virtue rarely travels alone.

This is what often perplexes those who are trying to improve their image.

For instance, someone says you are not kind enough, so you attempt to “go out and be kind”–only to return by mid-day, spitting, cussing and swearing never again to pursue such a farce.

The reason for the failure is that kindness does not work by itself. Kindness needs to team up with a couple of other contributors. Those two friends are patiencefunny wisdom on words that begin with a C
 and joy.

Otherwise, you will find yourself being kind to the unkind, and rather than patiently waiting for your overtures to pay off with the next traveler, you will give up, not allowing your joy to give you the strength to be kind again.

Congenial is an idea, but not really one that is easily put into practice. We often regret being gentle when others respond in a gruff manner.

If you truly want to achieve the attribute of congeniality, then it is necessary to link your kindness with some enduring patience, knowing that the joy that will come through the victory will propel you on to a lifestyle of openness.

Donate Button

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

(click the elephant to see what he’s reading!)

Subscribe to Jonathan’s Weekly Podcast

Good News and Better News

 

Beat-up

Beat-up: (adj) a thing worn out by overuse; in a state of disrepair.Dictionary B

I found myself sharing a message that didn’t match my lifestyle.

I was moved to proclaim the idea “Life With Style” while I, myself, was somewhat impoverished.

It introduced the possibility of hypocrisy.

In an attempt to advertise my slogan, “Life With Style,” I had purchased magnetic signs, which I placed on the side of my old, beat-up car, towing a trailer which short months earlier had been rotting in a corn field.

It was what I could legitimately afford, and I did my best to bolster it with repair and frequent cleanings, but to the average onlooker who saw my vehicle and trailer pass by, the advertisement, “Life With Style,” was an enigma, if not a farce.

I became convicted that I was misrepresenting my own cause with my beat-up situation, bannered by such a positive, exuberant concept.

Because let’s be honest–we’re human.We can’t envision a life with style without a decent paint job. Life doesn’t have style unless we are visually passable.

So I learned that you can call people hypocritical, judgmental or mean-spirited for the conclusions they draw upon eyeballing your circumstance, or you can realize that since they are susceptible to hypocrisy, judgmentalism and a mean-spirited nature, it might be a good idea to give them as little evidence as possible … for a case against you.

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

 

 

 

Antipruritic

dictionary with letter AAntipruritic: (n) a type of drug used to relieve itching.

Life is a farce.

The sooner you realize it and become comfortable with the idea, the more proficient you will be at achieving your goals and the less resentful toward the overall comedy.

Let’s look at the basic rollout:

When we’re young enough to have energy and the passion to drive us to participate, we’re too stupid to do anything of quality. After we survive the “season of stupidities,” we gain the intelligence to make better choices, but we’re too exhausted to enact them.

Isn’t that hilarious? It’s an invitation from the Creator to relax and not take things too seriously.

Because when I was twelve years old, I got naked with a bunch of my friends, and slid down the bank of a creek in Oklahoma into an ice-cold pond, to skinny-dip.

The water was so cold that there was no room for ridicule because all of our genitalia disappeared. It was a blast.

But since we were young, inexperienced and mentally flawed, we had no idea of the local terrain, vegetation or possible perils.

So about three days later, I discovered–on my bummer side–that I had contracted poison sumac. I didn’t even know what sumac was. (Actually, I would have been happy to go through the rest of my life dwelling in that ignorance.)

It itched like poison sumac sounds like it would, and since it was on my backside, it had an inclination to “go west, young man,” and creep up to my more non-scratchable areas.

I needed to do something.

I tried every over-the-counter antipruritic–and the relief lasted only the length of time it took to smear it on, pull on my underwear and take two steps.

Nothing helped.

Apparently, this particular strain of sumac was well-versed in medical treatment.

After numerous attempts to relieve my scratchiness, one day I found a huge clump of ice which was left over from a fishing trip, where the catch of the day was kept frigid.

A thought came to my mind. If no one was looking, perhaps I could pull down my underwear and sit on the ice.

So I did.

At first it stung. Then it burned.

But when it froze, I found God.

It was a little embarrassing to go around my tiny village trying to acquire large chunks of ice, but it was the only thing that brought me any sense of contentment, and kept my “sumacian” enemy from attacking the neighbors.

It took about two weeks–but it finally went away.

I think it’s safe to say, I put that one on ice.

 

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix