Colander

Colander: (n) a perforated bowl used to strain off liquid

The key is in finding the secret.

For instance, the secret to good lasagna is the cheese blend.

The secret to good pizza is a toss-up between the crust and the sweetness of the sauce.

The secret to good sex is to make sure the woman has an orgasm before the man pursues his.

The secret to spirituality is to read less, be more.

The secret to politics is to tell the truth.

Which brings me to the secret for spaghetti. (You may not see any particular clarity in the path I’ve taken, but here we are.)

The secret to spaghetti is the colander.

Some would insist it is the texture–preferring al dente–but spaghetti can have perfect texture, but still cling to too much water, making the sauce ineffective.

The colander allows you to shake off the extra moisture, which puts the spaghetti on your plate drier and more able to make love with the cheese and tomatoes. Anybody who has ever tried to make spaghetti without a colander always finds that at the bottom of the pan is a whole bunch of liquid that hangs around to steal the taste.

Sometimes I wish I could be thrown into a colander and shaken around–just to get rid of all the extra meaningless residue. Of course, I would never fit into a colander, and the shaking would probably kill me.

So I shall not do that. I promise.

 

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Coddle

Coddle: (v) to treat in an indulgent or overprotective way.

What a difference a vowel makes.

If we cuddle, it’s a good thing. If we coddle, it’s over-indulgent and ridiculous. So…

When do I know that my cuddling has become coddling?

It is a standard joke in relationships–that women like to cuddle after sex. Actually, if a woman has had a full workout and an orgasm, she wants to pant for a few moments, roll over on her side and go to sleep.

Women who want to cuddle need to be coddled. They need to be reassured that they’re still loved even though they’ve been cheated out of a full sexual experience. They need to be shown that they’re appreciated for being submissive enough to be used for pleasure, with only limited gyrations tossed their way.

So I think I’ve got it.

We actually cuddle until we’ve done it so often that it’s predictable, and also a little bit condescending, and therefore, turns into coddling.

We can do it with our children; we can do it with our government.

We can even do it with God, as we apologize on His behalf for all the destruction in the world.

What a difference a vowel makes…

So should I be careful with my cuddling, since it can so easily turn into coddling?

Maybe I should just make sure that the people around me are so overjoyed in what they’re doing that they don’t need to be petted. Like dogs.

 

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Clitoris

Clitoris: (n) a small sensitive and erectile part of the female genitals

Honestly, I think Webster should have defined “clitoris” as “women’s intuition.”

For years we have touted that the female of the human species seems to possess some great insight or sensibility about coming affairs. Although I, for one, do not believe that such a premonition exists, I will tell you that women become dynamic, strong, confident and completely self-reliant when the clitoris is not ignored, set to the side, mocked or even, in savage nations, cut out.

I just don’t think people can have sex without the assurance that it will culminate in orgasm. And if mommies and grandmothers feel it’s their duty to portray that sometimes women have to “put up with sex,” even though they don’t want to do so, that foolish acquiescence has, does and will forever render a woman a second-class citizen.

The clitoris is small–hidden away under a little hood, but is well worth finding. And women who think they can empower themselves without taking authority over their own sexual pleasure usually end up yelling more than telling.

So what can be done?

Men everywhere need to admit that whatever it takes to get the “little lady” within the bigger lady to come to life is important to create the equality that will make us all better people, and stop the gender war which should never have started.

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Chastity

Chastity: (n) the act of abstaining from sex

Sex is problematic because it feels good.

If there were no sensation other than the satisfaction that the male seed was traveling into the woman’s uterus to create children, it is
doubtful that the world could be populated.

So the Creator, in His wisdom, made the encounter the best few minutes of your life.

Although there are men who tout that they can go on for hours, the true goal is the last seven seconds.

That’s the memorable part. The rest is exercises to prepare for the game.

There are those who insist they enjoy the exercises, similar to muscle men who go on and on, discussing the value and delicious taste of a kale health shake–but basically, it’s that last seven seconds. And those seven seconds can control your life and make you do really stupid things if you’re not able to put it in perspective.

Standing in the way of common sense and clear thinking is the concept of chastity.

Although the individuals who preach this doctrine tout the value of purity and the glory of being free of guilt and sexually transmitted diseases, it does leave one hollow, without feeling love–vacant of a certain measure of satisfaction that was intended for our species.

Even the Creator said it’s “not good for a man to be alone.” Because in that loneliness is a sense of incompletion, because of not being loved and feeling the physical benefits of the experience.

  • What is the right amount of sex?
  • What is the wrong amount of sex?
  • When is sex evil?
  • When is sex good?
  • Is it only good if you’re married? (May I be truthful and say that married people, to judge by their facial expressions, are the worst advertisement possible for marriage.)
  • Is sex only good if it’s naughty?
  • Is sex only exciting when it’s with strange flesh?

These are great topics for discussion, that should be debated in a house of worship instead of a locker room.

But since religious people are afraid of sex and locker rooms don’t have that intimidation, many of the misconceptions, misrepresentations and even dark applications for this glorious piece of pleasure will continue to be whispered by those who are truly ignorant.

 

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Burlesque

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Burlesque: (n) a variety show, typically including striptease.

There are certain words that evoke an immediate reaction–usually either shock or giggles.

It’s amazing to me that we actually become mature adults, but still insist on acting surprised or chuckling nervously about subjects that we think are “inappropriate.”

They are not unpleasant issues.

For instance, orgasm.

I would guess that if orgasms were put up for a vote in this country–pardon the expression, up or down–that people would cross party lines and even the Bible Belt would unbuckle.

Another word is masturbation.

I grew up in an era when it was considered to be evil, spent my adult years when it was perceived acceptable but taboo, and now you occasionally run across someone who actually speaks the word out loud in a conversation at Applebee’s.

It’s also true with the word burlesque.

Even though the shows involved comedians, jugglers, dancers and sometimes even animal acts, burlesque will always be remembered as a platform for strip-tease.

It’s amazing that even though each and every one of us do at least one or two strip-teases each day, we feel that it is gauche in front of footlights.

Well, I’m not connoting that I, myself, would attend a burlesque show to see such a strip-down performance, I just think it is humorous that we are so picky about what we deem unconscionable.

We let our children watch kids being poisoned by gas in Syria, but would be absolutely horrified if they ever saw a titty.

I don’t know what the right thing is. I certainly have grave misgivings about pornography.

But since the removal of clothing leads to one of three experiences–showering, sleeping or sexual intercourse–and I don’t find any one of those to be unpleasant, I will reserve my judgment on criticizing those who have the fortunate DNA of being attractive enough to stand and disrobe in front of the public.

 

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Blues

Blues: (n) a melancholic music of black American folk origin

Dictionary B

For a very, very–and dare I say, very–brief time, I ran the sound and light system for a blues club.

I was offered the opportunity because one of my sons was the chief engineer, and he needed a couple of nights off, so he generously afforded me the doorway to pick up a few extra bucks.

I had two nights of training, and even though I have a nearly passable understanding of electronic equipment, it was immediately obvious to me that I was out of my league. Not only was I an anachronism to the atmosphere of the institution, but the inadequacies of my working knowledge of the sound and the lights soon became apparent to everyone.

Also, listening to blues music two nights a week for four hours certainly does not leave you “in the pink.”

Blues music is a constant lament that “life is not fair” and “women need to find their place” and realize that men are superior. It is also self-indulgent in the use of the instrumental solo, trying to simulate anything from tooth extraction to orgasm.

After a while, the mingling of my disdain for the repertoire and my ineptness behind the board made it necessary for the head of the band to reluctantly approach my son and ask him to courteously and gently fire me as quickly as possible.

Although my fine offspring tried to be consoling, I was so relieved by being relieved that I’m afraid I showed my relief.

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Bikini

Bikini: (n) a very brief two-piece swimsuit for women.

Dictionary B

I grew up in a time when seeing a woman in a bikini at the swimming pool was like looking at pornography.

Since we didn’t have dirty pictures on the Internet, the only time there was an opportunity to view partially exposed breasts and the majority of a female torso was at the local pool.

When bikinis became popular, girls immediately started wearing them because they thought they were “cute.”

I think deep in their consciousness, these young ladies were aware that they were torturing the boys by displaying the fruits of the flesh without offering them a chance to take a bite.

I vividly recall the first time I saw a girl in a bikini. I spontaneously had an orgasm. It wasn’t planned. It’s probably not something I should even share. But I do so because it always reminds me of the sense of humor our Creator had in constructing human beings–and also our timetable.

At the moment in life when we have the most sexual prowess, we also have the least control. And later on, when viewing a bikini is still pleasurable but no longer eruptive, our plumbing seems to be a bit clogged.

I am sure the heavens find this to be hilarious. I know God must be a gentle trickster–because He does fool us into believing that we are much more powerful than we actually are.

And then, when we scatter our efforts and end up with futility, He is there as a kindly Father, to retrieve our egos and allow us to live another day.

I will always like bikinis, but there is nothing at all as powerful and poignant as the first one I viewed at the local swimming hole…when I practically lost my head.

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