Crotchety

Crotchety: (adj) given to odd notions, whims, grouchiness, etc.

There are three words that seem to travel together. Buddies, if you will.

I don’t think you can see “crochety” without the word “old” hanging around, accompanied in the back seat by the word “man.”

Crochety old man.

Women aren’t crochety—women are bitchy.

Men, on the other hand, get a “cushioney” word, perhaps pulled out of a hat owned by Charles Dickens: “’Tis crochety, old boy.”

Also, men are old. Women, on the other hand, are decrepit.

At least with the word “old” you have the possibility of “wisdom” traveling alongside. But decrepit immediately conjures a vision of an old witch with a fondness for dining on the carcasses of little children.

The gentleman in the story gets the advantage of maintaining the word “man” to describe him, while the woman would be a hag.

So if you have a penis, you get to be a “crochety old man.”

Absent that appendage, you are a “bitchy, decrepit hag.”

After all, what does it mean to be crochety? It means that nothing is going your way anymore because your way is so old it’s covered with dust.

What can one do to age and still be a person who isn’t crochety?

I think there is a three-step process, whether you’re male or female:

  1. Shut up.

No one wants to hear all your stories.

  1. Listen.

And as you do, learn some of the lingo so you don’t talk like you came out of a 1970’s movie.

  1. Think funny things, think serious things—share the funny ones.

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Crotch

Crotch: (n) the human body between the legs.

For all those people in the world who think there’s nothing new under the sun, or that all the great inventions have been explored and exposed, I offer to you on this fine day the concept of coming up with an proper name for the region between one’s belly button and upper thigh.

Yes, a name that is not gross, inappropriate or makes little kids giggle.

It is hard to believe that the word “crotch” is probably the most acceptable term for this skin space.

Stop and think about it. You’ve got…

Genitals

Pubic area

Penis

Vagina

And groin

Do you see what I mean? If some ingenious soul would just conjure some pleasant term to share when identifying this area other than the odd phrase, “private parts,” he or she probably would receive eternal gratitude from the world of grownups, teetering between prudishness and naughtiness.

Suggestions?

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Corpse

Corpse: (n) a dead body, usually of a human being.

Sorting through a cavalcade of thoughts, I think I have finally arrived at a couple of notions that seem to hold true in spite of my own personal ridicule of them, and history proving that they’re ridiculous.

One such inkling is that I don’t really mind dying—I would just like to do it well and not have a bunch of people staring at my corpse.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I don’t want to come to the end and be chicken shit or do something stupid like squeal like a squirrel.

I don’t want to have a gun pointed at me, and in a fit of weakness push a nearby child forward to take my bullet.

I don’t want to suffer, but I also would like to have the honor of “last words.”

But mostly…

It’s the corpse thing.

I learned a long time ago to stop bitching about my body and just focus on my body of work.

I got dealt an interesting accumulation of haphazard DNA possibilities. So I don’t want a bunch of people staring at my fractured and now-breathless frame, making judgments.

I don’t want to look “natural.”

I don’t want some technician in a morgue taking a peek at my penis.

(I know it’s silly.)

I don’t want two doctors shaking their heads as they stare down at my blob, speaking to one another in hushed tones about how I could have extended my life if…

None of us were meant to be “a corpse.”

We were just meant to die, and once dead, as quickly as possible, to shed our skin, and somewhere, somehow, possibly become a new creature.


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Consensual

Consensual: (adj) relating to or involving consent or consensus.

For the first forty years of a man’s life, he travels with a buddy.

It is his penis, Dick.

Wang. Willy. Or any other names that have been associated with the partner.

This particular companion is not always in accordance with the man himself. He has plans of his own, desires he pursues, hobbies he likes and although only he funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
has a very small capacity for brain storage, thinks in his own lane.

This creates a problem: the man may be a complete gentleman who would never offend a woman in any way, shape or form. But the buddy–as we have called him–does not hold to that approach. Matter of fact, he thinks the gentle approach is tentative and will leave both of them unsatisfied.

So even though the man may meet a lovely woman whom he wants to ingratiate through courtesy and conversation, Mr. Excitement would like to speed things along.

For instance, he’s never quite sure what the purpose is for the second drink or a bevy of compliments. He sees no particular reason not to tell a dirty joke–just to see if there might be an open door, so to speak. The best word to describe this second part of the duo is “inappropriate.”

So although men under the age of forty try desperately to keep Mr. Inappropriate out of their general interactions with women, he pops up and speaks out.

Because of this, there probably isn’t a man alive who has not been offensive, and pushed forward too much, taking away the sanctity and the beauty of a consensual agreement.

Mr. Pants Dweller is totally sold out to the idea that every woman wants him–she just hasn’t discovered her yearning as of yet.

Fortunately, in most situations–and especially after the age of forty–the overbearing roommate mellows out a little bit,  enabling a relationship to bloom.

So do yourself a favor. Stop being defensive around women about how you “never, ever” have said anything untoward or out of bounds.

Just explain that you’re trying to train a pet monkey when to show up with the banana.

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Conceive

Conceive: (v) to form or devise a plan

“The imaginations of a man’s heart are evil continually from his youth.”

Rather than considering this a degrading statement from the Good Book, we should understand that it is the working climate and funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
environment that exists in the interactions of human beings, as we attempt to move forward beyond our jungle roots to a lifestyle with a higher sensitivity.

What we’re working on is how we conceive things.

If every woman is just a storage house for a pair of breasts and a vagina, and every man has to be concerned about the length of his penis, as every country contends that it is the first and the best, and all religions struggle for supernal supremacy, it is a good idea to slow down and realize that since we normally conceive things in wickedness, it might be healthy to saturate ourselves in contentment and find deeper and purer motives for our actions.

We don’t have to.

We can become defensive and think that since everybody else is so rudely constructed, we must maintain our lack of civility if we want to survive.

Yet in a rock fight, the only people who escape injury are those who refuse to throw rocks, but instead, retreat to contemplate richer and more enlightened solutions.

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Compatible

Compatible: (adj) two things able to exist or occur together without conflict.

I sat patiently listening to the young psychologist try to explain to those who had gathered for what had turned into a boring lecture about what it truly means to “be compatible.”

He was well-studied (which always guarantees a certain amount of error).

He said, “It is important for a couple to find the things they share in common and to celebrate their differences.”funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I don’t know whether I was the only one in the room who thought, “Oh, my God, kill me before I ever have to be in that discussion.”

But the tepid response he received and the lack of questions let me know that the audience had moved far beyond this young man’s learning–into the actual world of doing.

Having a relationship with anyone or anything is certainly about being compatible. But it is foolish to over-complicate the scenario.

Simply stated.. do your plugs fit?

If it’s a romantic situation, it will be necessary to find out if you like each other’s lips, each other’s hands, each other’s genitals, each other’s odors, each other’s habits and each other’s…others.

There will be adjustments. After all, as in the case of plugs, two identical plugs do not hook up. They require different ends to their means.

So sexually, a woman does not have to be a dynamo, nor does a man need the largest penis in the Sahara Desert. They just have to find out how their plugs hook up and work on adaptors.

Likewise, how do your plugs hook up on finance? She spends, he’s thrifty. That is completely compatible as long as she has money that is hers and he doesn’t lament how she uses it.

How do your plugs hook up about raising kids? She’s a strong disciplinarian, he’s a wimp. So when there are wimpy issues, let him head the class. When the little turds need stronger language, let Mama do the job.

Over-complicating human relationships always makes us believe that we’re incompatible.

“Black people can’t be around white people. White people like organ music and black people like tambourines.” It is possible to play the tambourine with an organ, and it’s also historical to rock your organ out a little bit.

Compatible is not difficult: check your plugs. Wiggle them around. Find a way to make them fit.

Nothing on Earth is really natural–everything requires a bit of work.

Otherwise, we all would be perniciously lazy.

 

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Commentary

Commentary: (n) an expression of opinions about an event or situation

I will now offer my commentary:

I have a small penis.

I bring this up to you without apology, biological explanation or some silly sidebar like, “Had no complaints…”

What is interesting about my statement, and makes this commentary worthy of publication, is that the little fella has done some amazing things.

He ended up fathering four children, and from them–not many complaints.

He has survived being in a bedroom with a woman without ridicule.

He has also seen that particular human female leave with a pleasured smile. (Basically, it had little to do with him, and was courtesy of other digits and doo-dads, but he will still take the credit.)

I suppose at one time in my life I would have been embarrassed by the size of my “unit” (that’s what people who feel they are well-endowed call it).

Or should I refer to it as my “package?” But if it is a package, I could send mine first-class reasonably. But call me crazy, I am too overjoyed with my life to complain about my wiener.

I would not want to be around people from the “pecker patrol,” who would stare at my small friend and find him to be disgracefully inadequate.

He has been dutiful. Every time my kidneys want to urinate, he shows up–often bright and early.

He has the good sense to stay out of neighborhoods where he does not belong.

And he’s remained clean and free of disease.

He’s a rather admirable chap.

And even though some of my family would be embarrassed at me talking about him in such a fashion, I think it’s time for us to get over the idea that men and women are going to hump their way to satisfaction because of the enormous size of the male dangling participle.

Making love is like everything else in life. It demands much more conversation than it does struggle.

Thus ends my commentary.

 

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