Decriminzalize

Decriminalize: (v) to eliminate criminal penalties for or remove legal restrictions against

What is a crime?

What constitutes an action that is so flagrantly opposed to human growth and appreciation that it requires punishment?

Why do we need crimes?

Why do we call some of these crimes misdemeanors because we’ve decided they’re not as serious as others?

And therefore, what would constitute the purpose for decriminalizing an activity?

The example under discussion today, of course, is marijuana.

The thesis is that since marijuana is not any more addictive or dangerous than alcohol, why do we allow alcohol and arrest people for using marijuana?

This issue has brought about a growing intensity for the legalization of pot. Matter of fact, many states already have it in place.

And far be it from me to compare alcohol and marijuana to each other to establish a favorable conclusion for booze.

But it does come back to what constitutes a crime. A crime is any situation which places other human beings in jeopardy.

Does marijuana do that?

If marijuana were decriminalized, how would that work?

Like cigarettes, it couldn’t be smoked in public.

So the whole purpose of legalizing marijuana would be to make sure that nobody had to go to jail just because they used it.

Is it possible to decriminalize it without legalizing it?

Is it plausible to do the same thing with alcohol?

We have accomplished this with cigarettes—they are decriminalized, but not exactly legal—since they are looked down on and pushed out of our society.

I don’t think anybody should have to spend time in jail for smoking marijuana.

But if you don’t mind, please keep them from using heavy machinery and driving cars on our crowded highways.

Decoder

Decode: (v) to translate data or a message from a code into the original language or form.

There actually was something called a “decoder ring.”

It was a little plastic ornament put into Cracker Jacks, for kids to place on a finger to make them believe they were decoding.

Candidly, I had no idea what “decoding” was.

But possessing the ring was still important.

As I become an adult (mainly confirmed by the number of my birthday parties), I realize that the whole Earth and everything around it and in it has a code. If you do not know how to decode it, you will begin to believe things at face value, or try to put faces on faceless values.

May I assist you with what I have garnered from having once owned a decoder ring?

Religion

When it comes to religion, if it doesn’t help people, make people better, make people think, make people feel or make people more generous, it is nothing but superstition or witchcraft.

Politics

In the realm of politics, if it doesn’t make people better, make them think, make them care for each other, improve their status and create equality, it is a really bad party, which will only make you drunk on your own ego.

Science

If you’re talking about science, there’s only one thing to remember: every living thing will do whatever is necessary to continue to be living. A second thing could be added: every mystery to continue living is hidden somewhere in the rocks.

Business

Customers are the little devils that make the business world work. Calling them little devils does not help. Treating them like little devils is even worse. Becoming a little devil to battle with them yourself could put you in jail.

And even though there are many subjects I could address, let me conclude with:

Romance

Romance ultimately is not about feelings, but instead, orgasms. To achieve orgasms, people have to cooperate with each other, which only makes the world a better place anyway.

I present this today just in case you did not get your decoder ring in your Cracker Jacks box.

If you did, I apologize for my presumption.

 

Confine

Confine: (v) to keep or restrict someone or something

There are no bars.

There are no cells.

There are no guards.

There is no visible punishment.

Matter of fact, it would appear that the prisoner can come and go at will.

But nonetheless, it is a jailhouse.

It is a slammer.

It is a penitentiary.

It’s name is worry.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a COnce a human being is sentenced to a lifetime of worry, the gentleness, creativity, happiness and open-mindedness that might be available is stolen away, and in its place, the convicted soul is confined to limited thoughts laced with anxiety.

It is not necessary to kill someone to destroy him or her.

It is not required to lock in a concrete building, surrounded by steel.

All you have to do is convince any person that there’s something to worry about, and that worry itself is virtuous.

He or she will take the keys to life and lock away potential … until death mercifully pardons.

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Cistern

Cistern: (n) an underground reservoir for rainwater.

Until I was twelve years old, I thought a cistern was the female version of brethren. (Well, I probably didn’t, but it seems funny,)

I’ve had one encounter with a cistern. My grandfather lived about two miles outside town in a small home which most dignified citizens would call a shack.

It had no inside toilet, but offered an “outlander” version for brave souls who didn’t mind. Also, right outside the door of this humble domicile was a pump, sitting on top of a cistern.

For years, my grandpa asked me to go out and pump it until I got water to come out of the spout, and bring him what he called “the good drinkin’ stuff.” Matter of fact, he purposely attached his indoor sink to the cistern, so when he turned on the tap he received the superior fluid.

I didn’t think much about it.

One day I was sitting with my grandfather in the front room as he was chewing his tobacco, and trying, with his fading eyesight, to spit in his ‘toon. He offered me a glass of water, and I poured myself a cup. I was just about to drink it when my mother raced into the room as if she were saving me from a burning building, knocked the glass from my hand and scared me to the point of eunuch.

My grandpa laughed. He turned to me and said, “Your Mama thinks the water’s bad. No accountin’ for taste.”

Two weeks later we stayed overnight at the house, and my mother drew a bucket of water from the cistern and set it out on the porch. She left it there for about five minutes and then called me out in the moonlight to look into the bucket.

I had never seen water in a bucket moving around.

It was filled with tiny, tiny little worm-like creatures, swimming like it was their weekend at the Riviera.

I nearly threw up.

I don’t know why the water didn’t make my grandpa sick.

I suppose after you chew tobacco for enough years, it just might be difficult to find anything else that would kill you.

 

 

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Cirrhosis

Cirrhosis: (n) a chronic disease of the liver

I do not remember his real name, but I know it wasn’t Hank. So for the sake of the story and his anonymity, we shall call him Hank.

Hank was married to Barbara.

Barbara owned an antique shop which was really just an extension of her home in the basement. She was a nice woman. Of course, when
you’re a kid, adults tend to blur.

But I remember that once every two years or so, Barbara came to our house and spent a few days with us because “Hank was on a binge.”

Now, I did not know what a binge was. When I asked about it the first time, I received a frown, so didn’t feel it was a good idea to pursue.

But hanging out behind doors and listening to conversations, what I gathered was this: sometimes Hank decided to just go down to the town tavern and drink until he got “good and mean” and for some reason, blamed Barbara for all the problems in his life and started hitting her.

Eventually he would pass out, wake the next morning–apologetic–but still head off to the tavern again. Apparently this process was repeated for a week every couple of years, until Barbara would finally call the sheriff and have Hank put in jail until he could dry out, come home and act normal for a while.

The interesting thing was, in the process of Hank going in and out of rehabilitation, he developed liver disease.

Cirrhosis. It’s what happens when you choose to pickle your internal organs instead of your beets.

So at the age of fifty-two (which I thought was ancient) Hank died.

Barbara was a mess; as they say in the Midwest, “fit to be tied.”

She sold her business, left town and was never heard from again. I remember the last thing she said to my mother: “I just don’t understand why God took Hank.”

Fascinating.

You see, God didn’t understand why Hank took himself.

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America

dictionary with letter A

America: ( n) a landmass in the Western Hemisphere that consists of the continents of North and South America joined by the Isthmus of Panama.

  • Is it an idea?
  • Is it a connecting tissue of continents?
  • Is it a clumping of exceptional people culled from the available humanity on Earth?
  • Is it a democratic form of government?
  • Is it a slogan?
  • Is it a political rallying cry?
  • Is it divinely inspired?
  • Is it a passing fancy?
  • Is it a big bully to the rest of the world?
  • Is it a savior to the oppressed souls of the planet?
  • Is it an emerging reality, lacking complete definition?
  • Is it a dream?
  • Is it a nightmare?
  • Is it a reason for God to continue to have hope in His heart?
  • Is it united?
  • Is it just states?
  • Is it a purposeful action?
  • Is it a location for capitalism to flourish?
  • Is it still welcoming the teeming poor?
  • Is it symbolic?
  • Is it literal?
  • Is it full of itself or is it full of promise?
  • Is it blessed by God or is it cursed by Allah?

America.

It is a land where I am allowed to ask these questions, post them on the Internet without fear of having my door broken down, being hauled off to jail and questioned in a steamy room by men with cigar-and-liquor breath.

Wow.

God bless America.