Creationism

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Creationism: (n) the doctrine that matter and all things were created by an omnipotent Creator

It is a twelve-year-old conversation. By this, what I really mean is that it is a discourse among twelve-year-olds. It makes no sense outside that gathering—and to many would seem frivolous.

But when I was twelve years old and had a sleepover at my house with five other young gentlemen, we sat around and discussed, lamented, worried, bragged and mocked one another over the size of our testicles and penises.

It was not a planned topic for the evening. Someone brought up the subject of girls, and since we knew absolutely nothing about that, we decided to discuss what we believed, in our infantile reasoning, was the item that attracted women to men.

In the course of that ridiculous discussion, some of my young brethren waxed eloquent. Others were just silly. One or two were belligerently adamant on their foreknowledge—yet all of us, obviously, ignorant.

But this misinformation did not keep us from speculation and postulating on our particular rendition or theory.

Fortunately, we never pulled out our private areas to actually visually compare—but while maintaining them securely within our briefs, we explained to everyone in the room how massive they were and also, evolving.

It was a comical situation which could only be tolerated by a roomful of immature individuals who were over-zealous about their insights.

Likewise, this is the identical way I feel about the theory of evolution and creationism. When I hear people argue about “how we got here” or if there is a “here,” or where “here” came from, or where “there” is going, my head begins to spin and I want to scream and ask them to pull out their balls and prove their point.

Of course, they can’t.

There are no balls to pull out and no one has a definitive point.

Since we are creatures which inhabit a planet which has been around a long time, and we only have the possibility of a hundred years, it might be better for us to get about the business of creating something beautiful as we evolve toward kindness.

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Correctional Facility

Correctional facility: (n) a prison, especially for long-term confinement.

I think it’s safe to say that a plurality, if not a majority, of people think about prisons just about as much as they do the city dump or changing the batteries in their smoke detectors.

It’s not that we’re uncaring. It’s just that sometimes we are at such a loss as to know what to do that rather than taunting ourselves with the frustration of considering something, we pretend it vanished into thin air. (Kind of like when you pick your nose and pull one of those crusty funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
things out and rub it between your fingers until there’s no further evidence…)

Early on in my career in music and the arts, our musical group was invited to come and perform at the State Prison. I was traveling with two girls, and most folks thought it was a very bad idea for us to go to such a dangerous and potentially violent arena.

But if you think about it, as long as you’re not sleeping in, a prison is one of the safest places on earth. Everyone is restrained, threatened and guarded. (Perhaps we should consider this profile for Washington, D. C.  I digress.)

We did not take the gig because we wanted to bring hope or good cheer to the prisoners. No—it was because we were just starting out, and anyone who wanted us to play was our next best opportunity. (After all, you get tired of performing at nursing homes or church pot luck dinners.)

We arrived at the prison and discovered that the entire population was not invited to the concert. Matter of fact, only 150 inmates would be present—these being members of a Bible study held twice a week in the rec hall.

Well, I was young and impetuous, so I objected. I said that if I’d wanted to come and play my music for a bunch of Christians, I could have gone down to the Baptist Church, which “may or may not have just as many felons.”

Both the warden and chaplain were patient with me. They realized that I was immature and did not understand that I was carrying along with me two delicious “human treats,” which these men had not partaken of in some time.

They explained that even though they could protect the girls in our group from attack, they certainly could not shelter them from the trauma of being accosted with foul language.

I grumbled.

Well, we did our first show in front of the Bible Club, and it went so well that the warden asked me if we would do another show in front of about 200 of the inmates who were presently on “good behavior status.”

I immediately agreed.

Boy—did I learn a lesson. If those 200 prisoners were the “good behavior boys,” I shudder to think what would have happened if they had released the lions on us young Christians.

It was loud, overbearing, and it was difficult to get the inmates quiet enough to listen to the music—and only when the beat reached a certain level of intensity did they clap their hands and participate in the event.

Afterwards I felt humbled. I told the warden and the chaplain that I was sorry for being such a jerk.

They corrected me. The warden said, “Don’t you ever give up on the idea of trying to help someone—especially if it looks hopeless.”

I nearly cried.

Even though there’s a reason they call them correctional facilities—because most of the time, correction is the name of the game instead of rehabilitation—it is not our right to ever give up on those that God decided to create in His image.


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Corduroy

Corduroy: (adj) a cotton-filling pile fabric with lengthwise cords or ridges.

As a young man–being a chubby threatening to be a tubby–I was always looking for an advantage that would open the door to girls whom my basic features had failed fail to attract.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
I
noticed that women liked to touch soft things, so at a thrift store I found a really plush, thick turtleneck sweater. Girls loved to run their hands up and down it. My thesis was, once they got accustomed to feeling my sweater, touching me might not seem so repugnant.

I found the same thing to be true with corduroy pants—what they referred to as the wide-wale ones. The ladies loved to reach over and stoke my leg, feeling the material.

I had no objection.

I was young—a simple touch on the knee was like an express train with the destination “Ecstasy.”

Here was the problem, though, with my corduroy pants: I had plump thighs, so when I walked my legs rubbed together and wore out the corduroy on the inside. In no time at all, I had the top of my legs covered with corduroy and the inside of my thighs looking like the cheapest cotton ever picked in Dixie.

Pretty soon it became noticeable that my pants were two different textures. Even more obvious was what caused the loss of the corduroy.

So what began as a grand plan to make connection with dear women ended up only pointing out to them that my portly limbs had totally destroyed my corduroy appeal.


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Cooties

Cooties: (n) a louse, especially one affecting humans, as the body louse, head louse, or pubic louse.

I think cooties have been eradicated.

I’m not talking about the little bug—I’m speaking of the stigma that was placed upon very young girls by very young boys at a time in the funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
past when these fellows insisted that the lasses “had cooties.”

Matter of fact, as a young boy in the third grade, I was desperately trying to keep girls from touching me because their fingertips could transfer these cooties onto, or into, my body.

Of course, it was all purely sexual tension.

Every young dude secretly hoped that some soft hand would graze his back as he ran away, and that he would embrace that early sexual sensation of exhilaration.

But what really concerns me, since it is nearly completely impossible that some eight-year-old mind was aware of a louse called a “cootie,” that there apparently was some mother or father began this rumor, trying to keep their children romantically separated.

I don’t think any eight-year-old boy went to the dictionary and said to himself, “What makes a girl so different? Oh! Aha! Here it is! Cooties!”

After it was hatched, I can see how the rumor spread—similar to the varmints themselves.

But this nasty representation of the female of the human species certainly had to begin in the mind of some mama or papa, who thought it best for their offspring to remain asexual as long as feasible.

What a waste of time—considering that within a few short months, these boys and girls would be all over each other, even if there were cooties in play.


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Bias

Bias: (n) prejudice in favor of or against one thing, person, or group

Dictionary B

“Choose up sides.”

It happens early in our training, especially in elementary school.

Two captains are picked, which already establishes a bias toward a pair of students who are certainly preferred.

It is up to these two students to hand select their favorite individuals in a sequence which communicates to the entire room the new social order for the second-grade cult.

It may seem harmless–and especially seems to be free of guile for those who are selected early or who happen to be the captains.

But if you’ve ever been the last one selected, you are fully aware that bias leaves a lasting mark which is difficult to erase with the pencils provided during your years of education.

In many ways, the bias toward race begins on the playground.

We start off with only one race–that being “let’s go fast.” But as we describe to our teachers and families our newfound friends, we are suddenly discouraged from playing with them because somehow or another they are “different.”

Reinforcing this training is the notion that “girls are different from boys.”

“Smart people are different from less smart people.”

And the word different has two definitions:

  • If the difference is mine, it is better.
  • If the difference is yours, it is inferior.

It is impossible to celebrate cultures without promoting bias.

Yet we continue to do so, having children don sombreros on Cinco de Mayo, thinking that we are being multi-cultural–and also limiting the scope of a whole group of people to “a funny hat.”

Insanity is when we believe we solve a problem by creating a bigger one.

And bias is always the contention that the best way to understand people … is to punctuate their differences.

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Ambidextrous

dictionary with letter A

Ambidextrous: (adj.) a person able to use the right and left hands equally well.

I think each and every one of us is always looking for bragging rights.

But to be honest with you, there are certain things that most human beings are unable to do.

Ambidextrous is certainly one of them.

When I was a kid I had this friend who treated girls really lousy. When I was much, much younger I didn’t mind, because I was in that whole masculine hornet’s nest of believing that females might actually have cooties.

But this guy was really bad. It’s like he wanted to humiliate girls all the time–hurt their feelings, and came darned close to being physically intrusive.

So what we did every once in a while was challenge his macho nature by asking him to show us how he could throw a football left-handed, even though he was a right-handed person.

He fell for it every time.

He was terrible at throwing a ball with his left hand. I would say that he threw like a girl, but actually, most of the chicks I knew threw better.

But we wouldn’t laugh at him to his face. Instead, we applauded each time he threw this awkward pass into the air–trying to convince him how much of a stud he was. And when he ran to get the ball so he could show off again, we took that brief moment to burst out in laughter, only to calm down upon his return, further pumping up his ego and make him promise to do it again.

I do not think he was ever aware that we were using his pseudo-ambidextrous claims to make fun of him the way he made fun of the other portion of our species–the ladies.

Just a footnote: as it turns out, as he got older, he turned into a real nerd, and was so introspective that he never actually had a date with a woman. Considering how he treated them, it was probably a blessing sent from the heavens, ordained by the Divine to protect His second and certainly more improved human creation.

But I will never forget, and can even conjure the image in my mind to this day–him lurching back with all his might and attempting to heave that ball fifteen or twenty yards across the grass.

It was hilarious.