Cover

Cover: (v) to place something over or upon, as for protection, concealment, or warmth.

 “I’ll be fine.”

This is what I said to my hostess when she asked me if I might need a blanket. In that moment, I felt that I might be bothering her too much by requesting one—and the room seemed to be a really good temperature and I thought I could lay on the bed without the need of any kind of cover. funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

After all, I was just going to sleep. How much do you really need to protect you when you’re just heading for Sleeper Land?

She gave me a quizzical look when I refused additional “warmage,” as if to question my judgment on the matter, but wanting to be an ideal lady of the house, she honored my wishes, left the room and disappeared into her home, which was an unknown castle to me.

I brushed my teeth, I went to bed, and as I reached over to turn off the lamp on the nearby stand, I realized that I didn’t have a cover.

It was my fault. I had explained that I didn’t need one—but now that I was in my room and darkness was falling around me, I wanted a cover.

I nearly cried.

I didn’t know the house well enough to creep around looking in cabinets, searching for blankets, so I lay on the bed, very still, trying to convince myself that I would be content without being embraced by my cover.

I do not want to be overly dramatic…

Yes, I do. It was hell.

I found I could not sleep without having something over me. I felt naked, even though I was wearing pajamas. My shoulders were hanging out there to be seen by the night spirits, without apology. My legs were lonely.

I did not know what to do. I wanted to sleep but that didn’t seem covered.

So I got up, opened up my suitcase, began to pull out all my clothing, and tied pant legs onto shirt arms, with attached socks, until I eventually put together a really weird quilt.

It worked so well that after experimenting on four or five different combinations, I had everything covered, from my toes up to my chest.

I felt powerful again.

Yet as I lay down to go to sleep, I realized the top of my chest was unsheltered. Not wanting to get up to disrupt my makeshift blanket, I reached down into my suitcase, grabbed a pair of underwear and stuffed them under my chin.

At last…

Thank God Almighty.

Covered at last.

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Cove

Cove: (n) a small indentation or recess in the shoreline of a sea, lake, or river

 Clever will only take you so far.

This is true in any occupation, but certainly must be observed faithfully by the writer.

For you see, I am going to tell a story today about when I was sixteen. The temptation is to preface this story with an introductory sentence funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
which sounds cool, or what they might refer to as “off-the-top-of-the-head-ish.”

For instance:

  • when I young
  • back when pimples were my major problem
  • long before anybody called me Dad
  • in an era when I languished in my teens

You see what I mean?

Although at times these little scribbled affrontations are passable, they can get old very quickly, even if you’re talking about being young.

So suffice it to say, at one time in my life I decided to start a coffeehouse for the fellow-students at my high school. This was back when such an idea seemed expansive and other-worldly rather than old-timey and really out of it.

I found a small house—so tiny it was difficult to believe anybody had ever lived in it. But you could stuff about thirty-five people in, on the ground floor, if everybody agreed to inhale and exhale in unison.

It was perfect.

I covered the windows so no external lighting could come in, installed black lights and put colored bulbs around to give it a spooky effect.

We could not decide what to call the place, but one night, as we pulled up, we noticed it looked like an old fisherman’s cabin. So someone suggested we call it, “The Cove.” Actually, the suggestion was “The Fisherman’s Cove,” but as the weeks went by, the adjective was dropped, and it became known as “The Cove.”

All the students at the school jockeyed for the right to be one of the holy thirty-five to come to The Cove on a Saturday night, to sit around and eat bologna sandwiches and listen to the rock music our parents were sure would lead us to hell.

As it turned out, the rock and roll music did not take us to hell, but unfortunately, the bologna sandwiches gave us cholesterol problems.

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Coprosecutor

Coprosecutor: (n) one of two or more joint prosecutors.

“And God will judge the quick and the dead.”

The quick, in this case, refers to the living, even though it does not apply around my house.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Most of us are pretty certain that if there is a God, that He’s will be The Judge. Matter of fact, even with people who are extraordinarily bigoted, if you bring up “judge not lest ye be judged,” they will never respond by saying, “Screw God. Listen to me. The Old Man’s too easy.”

But even though we do not think of ourselves as judges, we do feel it is our job, mission and righteous goal to be prosecutors—and even join in with others, becoming coprosecutors of evil deeds, cross-examining folks and far-fetched ideas.

Yes, we think God is very impressed when we arrive in court in our suit of self-righteousness and begin to rail against defendants who we have determined need to be brought before the bar for judgement.

We feel this authority because we’re following a Book—a Book of laws and regulations. So even though we, ourselves, break some of these statues from the Holy Book, we still will doll up for the occasion and present a viral case against the guilty.

The goal? Make them look so bad that the Judge would have to agree, that if He is to follow His own laws, they must be punished.

After all, the problem is not that human beings judge each other. None of us have the power to enact lasting judgment on one another. The problem is that we’re all just a bunch of goddamn coprosecutors, who feel noble about exposing the sins and vulnerabilities of others.

Perhaps it’s why we all hate lawyers.

It certainly is why, when a lawyer is caught with his pants down—or his suitcoat off—we all rejoice and giggle.

So what do you think any good Earthly judge will do if the prosecution is bent toward the hell of punishing all wayward souls?

As there is mercy in the court of justice in our country, the same mercy exists in the heavens.

As extenuating circumstances are taken into consideration with any prosecution, so shall it be at the Great Judgment Day.

And as a judge, for no particular reason, on a whim, decides to take a chance on someone who is truly repentant, so the Great Judge will one day baffle us by granting grace beyond measure and understanding, to offenders.


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Cookie

Cookie: (n) small cake made from sweet dough rolled and sliced or dropped by spoonfuls

A true case for the value of an eternity is made merely by mentioning the word “cookie.”

Since there is no justice in this lifetime, we all are desperately in need of a supernal destination where all things wrong are made right.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cookies should never be considered bad.

It’s a part of our fallen nature—our sinful demeanor—that has turned these luscious globules, chipped from heavenly clouds, to be relegated to merely sugar, fat and calories.

For those who don’t believe in Satan, consider an athletic gentleman standing next to your cookie jar lecturing you about how unhealthy these godly pieces of divine delight truly are.

Yes, he is Satan. He tempts and then withholds.

There has to be a place where we finally come to the conclusion that kale goes to hell, and cookies dwell, along with you and me, in heavenly bliss.


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Cookie

Cookie: (n) small cake made from sweet dough rolled and sliced or dropped by spoonfuls

A true case for the value of an eternity is made merely by mentioning the word “cookie.”

Since there is no justice in this lifetime, we all are desperately in need of a supernal destination where all things wrong are made right.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cookies should never be considered bad.

It’s a part of our fallen nature—our sinful demeanor—that has turned these luscious globules, chipped from heavenly clouds, to be relegated to merely sugar, fat and calories.

For those who don’t believe in Satan, consider an athletic gentleman standing next to your cookie jar lecturing you about how unhealthy these godly pieces of divine delight truly are.

Yes, he is Satan. He tempts and then withholds.

There has to be a place where we finally come to the conclusion that kale goes to hell, and cookies dwell, along with you and me, in heavenly bliss.

 

 

 

 

Cookie-cutter: (adj) lacking individuality; stereotyped or formulaic

If individuality is merely the proliferation of really stinky attitudes shared in a variety of styles, then I, for one, would welcome a little bit more “cookie-cutter approach” to our society.

Candidly, as long as it’s a cookie I like, I would welcome you to cut as many as possible—to satisfy my appetite and an ongoing hunger in 
humanity.

We might want to stop taking all this time convincing everyone about how unique we are, and instead, insert more chocolate chips into our recipe, making us more appealing instead of appalling.

There’s nothing wrong with being like other people if the way you’re like other people is an intelligent way to like other people (I hope you followed that.)

So if you can get over your fear of being common, you might be able to develop enough common sense to create a satisfying recipe, spread yourself out and bake up something with your life that makes people want to come back for more.


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Contaminate

Contaminate: (v) to make something impure

The first time I said a prayer my soul merged with God.

Then I went to prayer meetings. Now a sense of loss floods my heart every time I listen to over-exsggerated supplications.

The first time a woman kissed my lips and touched my face I thought I was going to melt like butter on a hot waffle.

Then came television, movies, and all sorts of insidious representations of romance, which make me sometimes wonder why in the hell we’re attracted to each funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cother.

The first time I voted I believed I was accompanied to the polls by George Washington himself.

Now, through the disappointment of the Electoral College and the tainting of civil discourse, I would rather have a 24-hour stomach virus. (Well, maybe not.)

The first time I stood onstage and sang a song for an audience, and had chills go up and down my spine as I harmonized with my friends, I thought I had pierced the heavenly gates and joined the supernal chorus.

Now I feel perplexed at a musical cacophony that shouts, screams and contorts without ever touching the human heart.

I remember the first time for many beautiful things.

And then humanity tried to contaminate the simplicity, insisting that the complexity brought deeper meaning.

It didn’t.

I have taken a brief season of my life to debug myself from the infection of religious fanaticism, entertainment porn, political grappling and music composed with a tin ear.

I feel good.

I feel simple.

I no longer feel contaminated.

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Confrontation

Confrontation: (n) a hostile or argumentative meeting or situation between opposing parties

Sometimes I think Mr. Webster’s had a bad day.

Yet I guess those who put together the dictionary try to reflect the mood of the society in which we live. Somewhere along the line we’ve begun to believe that “I don’t agree with you, I don’t appreciate that, I don’t understand,” and “I hate you” all mean the same thing.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

They don’t.

Each one signifies a different human emotion. Therefore, each one has to be handled at the level of confrontation it presents.

Let’s start with Number 1.

  1. “I don’t agree with you. “

Honestly, this is a confrontation. It may limit immediate harmony but it is not without the potential for conversation, compromise and resolution. Matter of fact, we might consider it essential to the climate of a democracy.

  1. “I don’t appreciate that.”

This is a different level of confrontation. It is objecting to how something was handled. It is not terminal to a relationship–it merely sets a timeclock for interaction, sensitivity and reconciliation.

  1. “I don’t understand.”

Also a form of confrontation. This states clearly that what was stated is not clear. It is asking for additional information. It is not a personal attack, nor is it a judgment of the original idea. Clarification.

  1. “I hate you.”

This is what Mr. Webster envisioned when offering his definition. But “I hate you” has little to do with a desire to create an exchange of ideas and a communion of souls. It is a giant leap into the fiery pit of hell where all hatred dwells.

I believe in confrontation.

Without it, we live in a world of insincerity, in which gossip becomes the only way we express our true feelings.

 

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

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