Decency

Decency: (adj) conformity to the recognized standard of propriety, good taste, modesty, etc.

A young man who I sheltered and loved in my household when he was abandoned by his father asked me a question.

“What was your upbringing like?”

Well, candidly, I have written so much on that issue over the years—and you dear souls who have read me could probably write my biography without too much difficulty—that I wouldn’t know exactly how to direct a simple answer toward this beloved human of my acquaintance.

But I do think it revolves around the word “decency.”

I think my parents, for the era in which they operated, were average, except they had too many kids. If they had stayed with two or maybe three, they might have had the stamina to remain involved and finish the race with a bit of flair.

But my parents had five sons.

My dad was fifty-eight years old when I turned ten.

And I’m not talking about a young, vibrant, television-star fifty-eight. I’m speaking of a cigarette-smoking-never-getting-enough-exercise, wouldn’t-eat-a-vegetable-if-you-shoved-it-down-his-throat and somewhat cranky fifty-eight-year-old.

I was son number four, and by the time I arrived my parents were just exhausted with the fruit coming out of their relationship, which they were finding difficult to bear.

So not knowing what to do, they did exactly what human beings pursue: the wrong thing.

Sometimes it was just too much.

Most times it was absent.

And then suddenly it would appear out of nowhere and seem phony.

Decency is difficult because it requires our full attention. The first time we do something indecent, we need to quickly confess and repent—or our hypocrisy will sully all future events.

So here’s what I would tell the dear fellow who asked me about my upbringing:

It was decent, considering the fact that it possessed neither passion nor decency.

 

Custody

Custody: (n) the right to provide residence, protection, care, and education of a minor child or children, especially in a divorce

We think we’re wiser than Solomon.

It was this King, who was embroiled in a battle between two mothers who claimed the same baby, who decided to determine which mother loved the child and which woman just loved being dubbed “a mother.”

He dramatically threatened to cut the baby in half and give an equal share to each Mommy.

Unbelievable as it may seem, one of the women agreed to it, while the other immediately abandoned her claim to ensure the safety of the little one.

Not in today’s courts.

We are thoroughly convinced that a child can be emotionally and even physically divided between two households, and benefit by having “even more people to love him or her.”

How audacious we are.

How arrogant our reasoning.

It’s all based upon the fact we haven’t learned how to pick a good mate nor how to reside with one another. Therefore, the children must suffer our childishness, while we whisper to them, “Both Mommy and Daddy love you.” Then we fight like cats and dogs in court to prove that we are the better parent.

I have no intention of offering a solution which can be shot down by the cynical pundits of the present fiasco.

I’m just stating aloud that joint custody of a child will teach him or her that a certain amount of hypocrisy is permitted, or maybe even necessary, to prolong human relationships.

God forgive us.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Curb

Curb: (n) an edge for a sidewalk.

If you play the nasty game, you will probably end up nasty. You might try to keep yourself pure in the midst of the scum, but you will certainly end up as slimy as the rest.

It’s a hard lesson to learn.

If you insist that “everyone is beautiful in their own way,” and privately sponsor a beauty contest, your hypocrisy will surface.

If you proclaim that aging allows for wisdom while you secretly try every pill or medication conceived in the Amazon forest to remain young and virile, you certainly will lose some credibility.

When I was much younger, I watched people do step aerobics.

You may not even remember it.

It was just a small piece of plastic, about five inches tall, that you kept stepping up and down on for exercise.

When I was thirty years old, I remember thinking how stupid it was. I even remember my words: “My God! That piece of plastic is no higher than a curb!”

I mocked those participating. I couldn’t imagine why or how this could ever be significant.

I was equally as critical of those who did jumping jacks. How could this be an exercise? Clapping your hands over your head as you spread your legs, to return them to normal, going back and forth…

Well, it’s more difficult to describe than to do.

Then I woke up one morning, put my foot down on the floor, stood up and my knee turned me ever-so-slightly to the right as I rose.

I’ll never forget it. It was breath-taking.

Sudden.

Disconcerting.

I began to think about those people who did their step aerobics—moving up and down on their private curb to exercise. All of a sudden, I had full comprehension about why this particular exercise was beneficial.

For you see, the human body has a will to die—from the toes up.

  • First, your feet ache
  • Your ankles, cursed with cankles, start grumbling every time you walk too far.
  • Then there are shin splints.
  • Your calf muscles occasionally have a spasm or charley horse.
  • Then one day, the knee—the center of commerce in the leg—starts getting fussy.

Then you wish you had done your step aerobics.

Or maybe you did too many step aerobics, and your joints sent you a special delivery.

The point is, whatever age you are, use what you’ve got wisely—and sparingly.

It doesn’t last longer if you over-use it.

And it won’t last at all if you never use it.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Conform

Conform: (v) to comply

In case you occasionally slip up and start thinking there is some sanity in the actions of our social order, let me remind you of the greatest piece of hypocrisy ever hatched in the henhouse of clucking. Here it is:

“Be yourself but follow the rules.”

It is the message of America.

Both of us–you and me–are encouraged to be creative individuals, and then are informed that the advice given is faulty.

There’s an ancient piece of philosophy which challenges us: “Be not conformed but be transformed.”

In 1962, if you were living anywhere in America, the general consensus would have been that segregation of the races was not only the norm of the day, but funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
actually proper.

In 1966, you would have been struck down as anti-American if you suggested the war in Vietnam was anything other than a bold act of patriotism.

In 1971, you would have been laughed out of the room if you had proposed that black athletes should be able to play college sports in the Southeast Conference.

In 1981, the thought of homosexuality being part of the mainstream would have brought you criticism and cost you many friends.

In 1998, you would have been totally out of step to insist that oral sex was actually sex.

In 2003, suggesting that the war in Iraq was a foolish ploy would have brought the house down on top of your head.

And as I have recently found, in this day and age suggesting that the archaic American voting system is an insult to the notion of democracy, makes me an enemy of God, America and most ingredients in the apple pie.

You can conform–as long as you’re willing to be considered foolish within twenty years.

 

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Clientele

Clientele: (n) the customers

Long ago in a universe that was far-out, but not far away, there existed a gathering of human souls called “church.”

Like every idea which is acted out by human beings, it was flawed from inception.

But at the root was a watering hole, where people could get together, rub up against each other, feel uncomfortable and blessed at the same
time, and walk out at the end of an hour inspired and also entertained because the children’s choir broke rank and failed to deliver the perfect performance that the young director from college had envisioned.

It was elegantly imperfect–which made it adorable.

The laughing was equal to the crying.

The “amens” were matched by groans of conviction.

It might have continued in that format as a great, uplifting experience had the accountants and the fanatics stayed away.

The church treasurers became very concerned that all bills be paid and money set aside for the carpet that would need to be purchased three years from now.

And then there were the fanatics–those who discovered that if they could get people to be afraid or nervous, they could stimulate attendance and keep people “fired up.”

Somewhere along the line, this organism called “the church” welcomed in nasty clientele.

These individuals were pious, knowing more about Bible verses than life, caring more about the vestibule than the hungry and homeless in the community, and were determined to maintain purity instead of welcoming the stained.

The innocent were targeted.

Races were rejected.

Preferences were labeled “abominable.”

The church became a repellent to anyone who wanted to find a location for a soul-stirring, emotional rejuvenation–a penitentiary full of guards with nobody willing to be prisoners.

Procedure became more important than salvation.

So the more humble folk, who knew they were sinners but prayed for God’s grace, gradually slipped out the front door, to never return again, leaving behind a quorum of quasi-religious critics.

Is it possible that the clientele could be changed and we could return to an assembly that was meant for humans instead of one that tries to gear its programming only to an Almighty God?

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BS

j-r-practix-with-border-2

BS: (n) Bull shit

I think it’s wrong to blame bulls.

They eat and they secrete.

For us to tie all of our human foibles, inconsistencies and hypocrisies to their dung is flat-out insulting.Dictionary B

I’m not a lawyer and do not represent any bulls in particular, but I will tell you–the atrocities, stupidities and half-truths produced in our society are human shit.

It’s not like bull shit. It doesn’t come out in perfectly formed turds.

It’s dumped in varieties of personalized, steamy piles, often expressed with diarrhea of the mouth.

It is unique to our species because it is individualized by our diet of morality, spirituality and compassion.

Bulls have never done anything to us.

What I experience every day is human shit: the thought people have that they might be able to get by with what they say and do because everyone around them … is stupider than they are.

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Bred

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bred: (adj) of a person or animal reared in a specified environment

No one will actually allow you to be an individual.Dictionary B

What you are permitted to do is clump in a well-recognized region of the country or the world which has already established a persona and system of mores.

For instance, you can’t live in Birmingham, Alabama, and be too unique without finding yourself ostracized by a “crimson tide.”

If you live in China, you may consider yourself to be a free thinker–as long as the government is allowed to define the term “free” and “think.”

Even the various boroughs of New York City, although close in proximity, establish turf and technique for the residents so they can be deemed “well bred.”

There is an immense hypocrisy when each one of us is told that we can “be ourselves,” as we are ushered into a social gulag … to be trained to be regionally normal.

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Bread

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bread: (n) food made of flour, water, and yeast, mixed together and baked.

“Man shall not live by bread alone.”

No kidding.Dictionary B

The carbs will kill ya’.

Bread is part of the great American hypocrisy.

  • It is high in calories.
  • It is loaded with overwrought carbohydrates
  • And it is extremely tasty–especially when it’s soft and covered with buttery jellied substances, which are also silent killers.

So even though man cannot live by bread alone, it’s ridiculous to think that man can live without bread.

Would America survive without a sandwich?

Who would be prepared to have their Big Mac wrapped in organic lettuce leaves?

So we try to cut calories by slicing the bread thinner–and to some degree this works, because the concept of lean bread is better than the meanness of no bread.

But sooner or later we must come up with an answer that is functional to human beings, just as we are. Maybe we would like everyone to be slender and heathy, having just finished a great cardio, devouring a salad with low-fat dressing. But isn’t it time to realize that this will just never happen?

So instead, let’s kick out all those trainers and dietitians–and hire a bunch of researchers to come up with a bread … that won’t leave us dead.

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Bliss

Bliss: (n) perfect happiness; great joy.

Dictionary B

I have never bought into the lie–this mistruth being that human beings have no control over themselves, their emotions, and therefore, most of the time, their actions.

Playing the victim is an immediate convenience which imprisons us in a lifetime of scrutiny.

Not for me.

  • I can control my selfishness. When I do, I have a sense of bliss.
  • I can control my temper. Once again, bliss.
  • I can control my erroneous training, which instructed me in the pride of prejudice. Blissful.
  • I can control my hypocrisy by refusing to deny my weaknesses. The arrival of bliss.

Bliss is when we take responsibility for our lives and therefore, can rejoice over our growth and escape the shame of our guilt.

 

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Birthright

Birthright: (n) a particular right of possession or privilege one has from birth

I hate idealism.Dictionary B

It is an idea that we have relegated to the realm of impossibility which we voice anyway, even though we’ve lined up all the excuses in our minds as to why it won’t work.

Tom Jefferson said that “all men are created equal.”

A lovely piece of belligerent idealism–belligerent because our arrogance will not allow us to accept others as our equals without some sort of struggle or cynicism.

Ironically, Mr. Jefferson was probably being served tea and crumpets by one of his slaves as he penned these words about equality. Thus the damn hypocrisy of honoring principles without first finding a way to live them out.

Americans are obsessed with birthright.

We believe in our “manifest destiny” to occupy, control and manipulate. Sometimes we forget that other human souls, also created in the likeness of God, are tempted to feel the same way.

Sooner or later, it is necessary for the human race to surrender to the obvious conclusion that we are barely out of the jungle … and nowhere near Mount Olympus.

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