Decoy

Decoy: (n) anything used as a lure.

The only reason a duck-call works is because there are ducks out there who are horny.

When they hear that duck-call, they assume there’s a potential Tinder connection. If they weren’t so lascivious, they could just think to themselves, “Oh…there’s another duck. I hope he or she is having a nice day.”

Yes, a decoy works because there is a part of our consciousness that drags us toward mischief before we have a chance to consider the danger.

Whether it’s politics, religion or purchasing items at the grocery store, all of us are tantalized into making bad choices.

In politics, we’re told that “the other guy out there” is going to take away all the fun stuff we like to do because he’s just a “big, greenie-meanie.”

In religion, because of our fervency, we’re offered the possibility of being so favored that we can actually attend the ceremony to cast fools into hell.

And at the grocery store, we are informed that certain items are super-foods, and should be purchased if we want to be healthy. (Of course, the easiest way to identify them is by their super-price.)

Beware of decoys.

They are set up to trap us in our weaker parts by using a stronger signal.

Can we ever be free from them?

Will we ever consider what’s best for us before jumping in to follow the Pied Piper, like a bunch of rats?

Probably not.

But if you’re going to be a rat, it’s good to travel in packs.

Maybe one of you will remember to ignore the tune.

Decorum

Decorum: (adj) dignified propriety of behavior, speech, dress, etc.

Underlings always consider rules to be unnecessary.

Those in middle management view rules as a way to lord it over the underlings.

And the actual managers of any endeavor consider rules the best way to avoid chaos.

Yet the question should be asked, how much decorum is necessary to keep us from falling into a great pit of meaningless activity?

How many restrictions are required to restrict us enough so that we don’t do stupid things?

How much freedom can be allotted to a person who spends all of his time doing nothing but screaming for freedom?

What does a human being need and what causes a human being to become needy?

I think it all revolves around the word invested.

If I have nothing invested in a project or a blessing waiting for me in the outcome, it will be difficult to convince me to maintain decorum or hit the marks just right in order to top dogs.

One of the worst things we can do for human beings is tell them that their part is not that important, and the result has nothing to do with their contribution.

It seems comical to me that the people who make the least amount of money actually touch our lives the most.

  • People who make fast food
  • Grocery store clerks
  • Those who handle produce
  • Mechanics
  • And even individuals who are in charge of driving here and there and are given “Uber” responsibility with minimal reward.

It would be intelligent to pay those who could poison us with more coins, and even more appreciation.

But instead, we ask for decorum without offering much incentive.

If you come and join me in a project, I will make sure you’re invested.

I will let you know how intricate you are to the workings, and it will be true instead of just a bunch of hype.

Because if I don’t need people to work, I don’t hire them. And if I do need them to work, I treasure them.

Don’t ask a human being to toe a line and maintain decorum unless at the end of that toe-job, there is an obvious prize.

 

Decontextualize

Decontextualize: (v) to remove from a context

Water.

What do we use it for?

  • We drink it.
  • We swim in it.
  • We clean with it.

Very simple.

This is the context for water.

So the young prophet shows up at the river and he wants to use the water to baptize people. Why?

Because it’s something we drink, we swim in it and it cleans us.

The context is clear.  Water is a symbol of life, joy and cleanliness.

What a great way to communicate a transition in our beings. Take us into the water, let us promise good things, let us believe better things. Then splash us beneath the deep and rise us up—cleansed.

Could anything be more beautiful than that?

Does it matter how the water is used?

Does the top of my head have to get wet?

How about my hip bones?

Is it less significant if my kneecaps remain dry?

Since we understand the context of water bringing life, joy and cleanliness, why must we decontextualize by insisting the style in which we enact this ritual is more important than the expression itself?

How shall we take our communion?

Should we use wine or grape juice?

How can we take the symbolism of the body and blood of Christ and trivialize it down to grocery store concerns?

Are you saved?

How do you know?

Did you confess?

Did you come to it on your own?

Did you do it in church?

Did you do it in public?

Do any of these things matter?

Is it necessary to take the context of something beautiful and change it to a complexity and make it nearly inaccessible?

How do you know when you’ve found something pure?

That’s easy.

When no one needs to explain it to you.

 

Cry Over Spilled Milk

Cry over spilled milk: To dwell pointlessly on past misfortunes

There are two problems with old sayings.

  • First, they’re old.
  • Second, they’re sayings, not doings.

In other words, something can be spoken and make complete sense until it’s applied into everyday life.

I think such is the case with “don’t cry over spilled milk.”

Who?

What I mean is, who should not cry over spilled milk?

If you’re a baby and the milk has been spilled, you’re talking about your sustenance, your well-being and the looming possibility of starvation.

If you’re a young person who’s just learning to handle the milk carton, you realize there may be good reason to cry. Punishment is looming and the resulting lack of trust may throw you back months from being respected enough to handle containers.

If you’re a mother or father, you might cry over spilled milk because you spent your last dollar at the grocery store for that milk, and it might mean that by Friday somebody has to eat dry cereal.

And if you happen to be in the vicinity of where the milk is spilled and you’re a cow, you might be saddened that your gift has been so poorly used.

Spilled milk is not necessarily something to weep over, but I can see different individuals who might shed a tear.

Crying over difficulty is not a sign of weakness.

We don’t become weak until we abandon our strengths.

And strength in human beings is this:

We can weep during the night—and joy can still come in the morning.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C



Courier

Courier: (n) a messenger who transports packages and documents

After many years of receiving mail, packages and having messages transferred all over the world, I can probably count on two hands the number of times that something went afoul.

Stop for a second and think about that.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Especially in this age of free shipping and orders being delivered to your door, seemingly night and day, how do these companies maintain such a meticulous record of efficiency?

I know it’s popular to attack institutions, religion, politics, business and entertainment, but every once in a while we should stop and consider the courtesy and care given by the courier.

For we certainly believe with all our hearts that if we mail a letter, ship a package or send something overnight, it is going to arrive safe and sound—often within the tiny window of our desire.

There is nothing else I know of that is so constant.

  • The grocery store runs out of sales items.
  • Politicians lie.
  • Religion can leave your soul dry and unfulfilled.
  • Entertainment is hit and miss.
  • And businesses set out to write a book and often get no further than Chapter Eleven.

But the courier stands, perhaps singularly, as the symbol of efficient, merciful, repetitious and tender loving care.

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Coupon

Coupon: (n) a discount

There is a certain madness I maintain so as not to become superior to those around me.

Without it—or minus the awareness of it—I might begin to believe that my form of insanity is preferred to the mental mayhem offered daily by others. I realize that many of the things I think, believe or prefer can be quite distasteful to my fellow-travelers.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Yet truthfully, realizing this does not prevent me from believing that I have captured some greater sense of balance than those around me.

I offer this preface because I do not want you to believe for one second that what I am about to share is factual, but rather, the experience of my heart.

I hate coupons.

Do not try to explain to me how beneficial they can be or how much money you can save by using them.

On occasion, I find myself at a grocery store, in line behind some man or woman who clips coupons so as to save on groceries. They rarely bring one or two—it is a stack.

So once all the prices have been tallied, the cashier has to patiently stand there, and one by one register the coupons on the machine, to deduct them from the subtotal.

And it’s not just being robbed of my personal time that brings aggravation—it is also the look of pride cast in my direction by the “couponer” which curdles my milk of human-kindness. He or she is convinced that they have found the secret to life, and they pity me, who stands there coupon-less, failing to understand the alpha and omega of shopping.

I can’t argue with their results.

I have observed people who have saved over a hundred dollars by using those little boogers.

But I always ask myself, how many hours are spent poring over circulars and newspapers in order to acquire the discount—and have they factored this in as a labor cost?

I think not.

Even though the cashier always asks me if I have coupons, I never feel intimidated, or any sense of necessity to explain why I remain a hold-out from the hold-up.

I will shop.

I will look for deals.

I will even consider something on sale that I’ve never tried before simply because it is cheap.

But when I was six years old, I stopped using scissors to cut out little pieces of paper.


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Complacent

Complacent: (adj) showing smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one’s achievements

Sometimes we forget the Earth is still evolving.

Because it doesn’t go on television, shout and scream, nor advertise itself unashamedly on the Internet, we believe that the Earth did its Darwin thing and decided to settle down somewhere near Naples, Florida, for a good, well-deserved retirement.

But the truth of the matter is, the Earth may be old in years, but it is constantly going through its “terrible twos.” It is a demanding toddler, requiring our funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cattention–otherwise it starts breaking things.

So even though the word “complacent” is normally considered to represent a negative emotion, connoting that one does not care, a bit of complacency is in order so we don’t come across thinking we are in charge.

I, for one, am complacent on the weather.

I know how to buy gear for the various threats and precipitation, so rather than studying it, cursing it or attempting to pray it away, I allow my emotions and soul to develop a needful numbness with a twinge of gratitude.

I am complacent on race.

Since it doesn’t make any difference and it’s foolish to talk about it, I will play like I’m mentally challenged when it’s brough up in front of me, because I don’t want to accidentally pop off something from my erroneous training, nor foolishly present myself as Mr. Universal.

Other areas where I’m complacent:

  • Gay rights
  • Abortion
  • Heaven
  • Hell
  • Chauvinism
  • And rising prices at the grocery store

Since most of these things do not affect me–and if they do affect me, they are completely beyond my control–any fretting, opinions or stomping on my part will be useless.

There is a wonderful phrase which I often remind myself of whenever I’m tempted to be engaged: “Be still and know that I am God.”

If there is a Being named God, and He has created a Universe, my stirrings are comical at best, and at worst, aggravating.

 

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Competition

Competition: (n) the activity or condition of competing.

“There is no competition between us,” she said with a smile.

And then we sat around the room trying to answer Jeopardy! questions. As the moments passed, the intensity of her responses increased, with evidence of a bit of froth at her mouth.

Of course–we’re all in competition.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

If we’re not competing for money, we’re competing for parking spaces.

As children we compete for the affection of our parents.

Sometimes we even stand in line at the grocery store and check to see if our tally is more impressive than the person before us.

Life may not be a competition, but in the process of living it, we develop a strong need to compete.

Some people call it greed or avarice.

Others deem it motivation.

I think it’s just quicker to call it human.

 

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Circus

Circus: (n) a traveling company of acrobats, trained animals, and clowns that gives performances, typically in a large tent

I’m about to break one of my own cardinal rules when it comes to writing.

I don’t mention too many “pop culture” references from the past because they’re irrelevant to the majority of the people who read my blogs.
. But when I saw the word “circus,” my mind went to only one place.

When I was a kid I was portly. (Now, this is a “grandma word” used to describe a fat boy.)

I fell in love with a TV show called “Circus Boy.” I can’t tell you much about it but there was a little kid just my age, with blond hair just like mine, blue eyes–the same–and he was part of a circus. He walked around wearing an adorable hat which might cause the worst cynic to beam a smile.

I loved that show.

So one day when shopping with my parents, I noticed they were selling a replica of Circus Boy’s hat. Oh, my God–I begged. I pleaded with my parents to get the it for me. It must have been very reasonable because they didn’t quibble.

I never took it off. My greatest joy was that when people saw me in the hat, they often commented, “He looks kinda like Circus Boy.”

It was almost like I was a leper and Jesus had just touched me.

One day I was in the grocery store with my mom and dad and a man and woman came up and the lady said, “Is this your son?”

My mother nodded with pride. Then the lady said it. “You know, he really looks like ‘Circus Boy.'”

I was about to explode with a huge smile and share with her that “Circus Boy” was my favorite show on TV when the man piped in, “Yeah, kind of. Except he’s fat.”

The earth stood still.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t look in any direction without seeing human beings who needed to be far away from me at that moment.

I turned on my heel and ran out of the store, wedging myself against the back of a Coke machine in a corner, crying.

You see, the guy wasn’t mean. Just matter-of-fact.

It was such “matter-of-fact” that even I knew it was true.

To this day, “circus” brings up “Circus Boy,” which stirs a memory of my fondness for the show, circulating images of the hat I wore, pretending–but deep in my heart, knowing I couldn’t be him.

I was too … portly.

 

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