Cosby, Bill

Cosby, Bill: A twentieth-century comedian

“He used to be funny.”

I overheard someone make that comment. They were talking about Bill Cosby. They had decided he was no longer funny because he was convicted of sexual harassment and assault on women.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I thought to myself, did that rob him of his humor? Are we the sub-total of everything we create and do? Or is our creative life separate from our personal life, which we live out based upon the dictates of our own conscience?

Would Abraham Lincoln be as well-liked for freeing the slaves if we knew he was assaulting women who worked at the White House?

What if we discovered that Mother Teresa was abusing little girls while simultaneously and almost single-handedly touching the lives of the lost souls of India?

Religious people certainly seemed pretty upset when they heard rumors that Jesus might have kissed Mary Magdalene on the mouth.

Although we know better, we think that people who do good deeds should also be morally impeccable. How does one achieve that?

And for that matter, how is it possible to look objectively at Bill Cosby without coming across as if you’re trying to defend his iniquity?

Should we burn all the Michael Jackson records because it appears, from the testimony of several sources, that he molested children?

Should Catholic priests be forbidden to be alone with altar boys and girls because the history of such encounters is filled with sexual perversion?

Am I prepared to have the deeds I do and the person I truly am merged into one being, which is evaluated in totality instead of broken into two categories—the me I wanted to be and the me I was?

I honestly would have no problem listening to a comedy routine from Bill Cosby. But I don’t think I could tolerate hearing him postulate on fatherhood and how to get kids to behave better. And I do believe many of the accolades he received for citizenship and the leadership awards should be retracted.

He was still funny.

It may be the only thing he’ll have left when he dies in a cage.


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Correction Fluid

Correction fluid: (n) an opaque, quick-drying fluid for obliterating handwritten or typewritten matter.

As I read the definition, I smile a bit over the word “obliterating.”

If you didn’t live through the liquid paper or white-out phase of office business done with a typewriter, you missed a juncture in time when creative effort was often made to try to cover a mistake, when typing the entire letter over again might have been quicker.

First and foremost—for a long time, it was just white correction fluid. This meant if you were typing on paper that was white, and by the way, preferably twenty funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
pound, you might have a chance, if you used the brush sparingly, of covering up your typing mistake and having the letter look as if it had never been sullied.

But unfortunately, if you worked at a business where stationery was used, with a higher quality paper which sometimes had a tint, then you had a carnival of difficulties.

First, the heavier paper took your typed letter or word deeper into the texture, which made it much more difficult to cover it up with correction fluid.

Then—guess what? White correction fluid on pale blue stationery does not avoid the appearance of a mistake, but rather, advertises it.

So, they came up with colored correction fluid. But as you probably would guess, matching the color was extremely tricky.

I had a friend who was so adept that she could mingle two different colors of correction fluid to get the exact color of her company’s stationery. Then, after twenty or twenty-five minutes of fussing with the “cover-up,” passing the letter around the office to see if anybody noticed the use of the correction fluid, you would tentatively fold it up, put it in an envelope and send it off.  Then the next time you talked to the recipient of your correspondence, they would make some sort of joke about how the correction fluid had not totally dried—so the letter stuck together.

It was one of those ideas that seemed really smart until it was actually put into practice and it became very complicated to pull it off and still look professional and error-free.

Thank God for the arrival of the computer, where you can hit the back space, and nobody ever need know your office-place iniquity.


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Concubine

Concubine: (n) a mistress.

Although we’re often critical of our ancestors and former times which seemed to be plagued by ignorance, you occasionally have to stop and give props to our forefathers, who were able to come up with very intriguing words to describe their iniquity.

Finding “whore, prostitute” and even “mistress” to be somewhat distasteful, one of them decided to start inserting the word “concubine” to funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
describe an extra-marital relationship. It conjures in the mind an image of a porcupine and a large shell from the beach.

How could that be anything but fascinating?

Matter of fact, they may be onto something. I’m musing over some possible words or phrases that could be inserted to cover a multitude of sins.

Stealing, for instance. It could be changed to “undeclared investment supply.”

Sloth: a sabbatical (Someone beat me to that one.)

Lust: romanticizing (Sounds like what a novelist does.)

Murder: population control

Bigotry: culture discovery

Arrogance: patriotism

As you can see, the possibilities are nearly endless for creating rational words to disguise our often-irrational behavior.

 

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Clandestine

Clandestine: (adj) done secretively

Although clandestine can refer to any practice or situation we may attempt to hide, normally it harkens to romance or sexuality.

It is difficult to admit that on the issue of faithfulness each one of us is as slippery as a greased hog.

We don’t like to talk about it.

Especially we don’t like to talk about it in front of people to whom we’re committed. After all, we don’t want to hurt their feelings or stir up trouble.

So there’s a certain amount of awareness that has to constantly prod our minds in order for us to make quality choices.

That’s why the Good Book tells us that no one else can tempt us–not people, devil or God. We are drawn away by our own lusts, and even if we try to curtail that aching iniquity by using pornography, we are still dealing with the same problem.

Clandestine ideas just seem more fun.

Strange flesh appears to be better flesh.

And new encounters glisten and gleam instead of just sitting there waiting for us at home.

What can we do about this? Develop an inner candor filled with a nasty bit of personal honesty.

It will keep us on the” strait and narrow” of relationship instead of crashing our ship on the rocky choices of temporary gratification.

 

 

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Belligerent

Belligerent: (adj) hostile and aggressive.

Dictionary B

I began my journey to becoming a better human being the day I realized that nothing can really offend me unless I privately fear that it’s true.

In other words, you can accuse me of all sorts of evil, but if I have no awareness of such iniquity dwelling in my heart, being belligerent is unnecessary.

I become angry and hostile when other folks stumble upon my insecurities and speak them aloud, making me feel that I must attack them to protect my own delusion.

So for years, I was very upset if someone called me fat. It wasn’t because I was skinny, it was because every time I looked in the mirror I saw a fat man–yet felt that it was nobody’s damn business to confirm the obvious.

On the other hand, you can tell me all day long that I’m not the best piano player in the world, and I will not only nod my head in agreement, but also explain inadequacies of which you may not have been aware.

The presence of belligerence is the absence of confidence.

For when we are satisfied that all is well with our soul, it is very difficult for other people to interrupt our well-being.

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Beelzebub

Beelzebub: (n) another name for the devil.Dictionary B

“Marty did it.”

When I was twelve years old, it was the favorite phrase of my friends and myself.

Marty was a scrawny, bespectacled, weak-willed, sweet farm boy who really didn’t have any power and only gained importance to us when we did something stupid, were trying to escape responsibility, and used him to displace our guilt.

You know what was interesting? It worked–because Marty didn’t really defend himself.

The teachers began to believe that he was the problem child, and even sent him to the guidance counselor for correction.

Marty was so desperate for attention that he somewhat enjoyed the accusations because it gave him identity.

I deeply regret that I was never able to apologize to Marty for making him become the sin-eater for all of our pranks.

After a while, I grew out of it.

I came to the conclusion that if I was going to become a functioning human being I needed to take responsibility for my own actions instead of using Marty as my excuse for iniquity.

Such is the case with Beelzebub.

The Old Devil gets blamed for everything except for those natural disasters we want to lay on God.

Beelzebub absorbs the attention and builds a false kingdom of power around his alleged misdeeds.

When we are childish in our spirituality, we yearn for Beelzebub to step in and take the blame for our shortcomings.

Matter of fact, this may be the sign of truly discovering God: the day you wake up and accept the ramifications of your deeds as your own doing instead of searching the terrain for a devilish accomplice.

Somewhere along the line, one has to conclude that we are known by our own fruits.

It is not Beelzebub that bedevils us.

It is our own lust that draws us away.

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Balcony

Balcony: (n) the upstairs seats in a theater, concert hall, or auditorium.Dictionary B

In my youthful years…

Actually, there’s little that’s more disgusting than an aging author reflecting back on earlier times with a slight grimace of regret, but mostly tantalizing details of virility and prowess.

That would not be my intention in this particular article, so let me begin with the less pretentious, “When I was a teenager…”

Yes, when I was a teenager there was an old-fashioned theater near my hometown which showed movies and had a balcony. It was commonly known and notoriously reported by prudish older women that the young folks would go up in the balcony and neck during the movies instead of watching them like critics who had a deadline for the morning news.

So after a while, due to the complaining of these decrepit patrons, they put a velvet rope in front of the balcony entrance, connoting that the area was no longer available to the public.

I do not know why it failed to occur to them how easy it is to ignore a velvet rope. So the young people continued to trail upstairs and do the laboratory portion of their sex education training.

After that they hired someone to stand next to the velvet rope, in a white shirt and black bow tie, attempting to deter the young folks from entering the stairs to the heights of pleasure.

It didn’t take any of us very long to discover a curtain which dangled from the other side of the balcony, which was easily scaled, quietly placing us in the balcony area where we could enjoy ourselves with ferocious kissing and then slide back down the curtain to leave the theater.

The manager, fearing that the curtain would eventually be destroyed through this process, eliminated the guard and velvet rope, and gave in to the primeval nature of the youth.

Even the old ladies decided to ignore the iniquity happening just above their heads.

So my memory of a balcony is a place of escape from the circus and theater of life happening all around, to enjoy more personal pleasures.

Also, it’s a great place to go nowadays, even though I’m older, to sleep if I’m not that interested in the offerings of the silver screen.

 

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