Compulsion

Compulsion: (n) forced to do something through an irresistible urge

At one time I had a compulsion to be noticed. Now I like to notice.

I had a compulsion to be sexy. Now I’m extremely grateful if anyone is willing to have sex with me.

Also, there was a great compulsion in me to have money. Now I like to high-five myself when I find a clever way to use leftovers.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I had a compulsion to be famous. Now it’s exciting to be well-thought-of.

I had a compulsion to yell at other people I felt were idiots daring to drive cars around me. Now I ignore my horn–we haven’t interacted for weeks.

I had a compulsion to be spiritual. Now I’m lavishing in the joy of being real.

I had a compulsion to see my children do well. I woke up and realized it’s their lives.

I had a compulsion to participate in politics. Now I pop some corn and watch it.

I had a compulsion to be thinner. Now I work on trying not to be fatter.

I had a compulsion to be healthy. Now I cross my fingers and thank God for His grace.

I had a compulsion to be compulsive. Now I’ve learned the victory, the peace of mind and the utter bliss of “taking no thought.”

 

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Complex

Complex: (n) consisting of many different and connected parts

America has a new favorite word.

It is “complex”

When we have no solutions, ideas or even desire to pursue quality, we like to declare the situation complex.

That means it will take a long time, many meetings and millions of dollars to study–and still there are no guarantees that a solution will be devised.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

It is an adult assertion that life itself is complicated, and therefore we prove our worth and intelligence by furrowing our brow, appearing bewildered and going into the process of deep scrutiny.

So when subjects like race, religion, politics, gender bias, sexuality or even the price of beefsteak come up in conversation, it is very important that all the people in the room agree that these matters are very complex, and therefore require oodles of time for discovery.

And God forgive you if you suggest that something might be simple.

Because even if it isn’t quickly solved–even if the contention that a matter is complex does play out–we are still much better people when we simplify.

 

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Commitment

Commitment: (n) the state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity, etc.

Religion gets in the way of my faith.

Politics robs me of my freedom.

Budgets take the joy out of money.

Discussing morals makes me too weak to enjoy sin.

Every time a committee gets together and decides something, a little piece of me ends up dying.

So I have become a rebel with a cause. The cause is to maintain the integrity of my sanity. So here are my commitments:

  1. I will pursue good cheer all the days of my life to avoid being obnoxious.
  2. I will notice when people do good and blind myself to stupidity.
  3. I will create something every day.
  4. I will appreciate the efforts of others, and linger for a moment to celebrate with them.
  5. I will stop talking about God and try to impersonate Him.
  6. I will continue to think of life as a comedy club instead of a prison.
  7. I will not put anything in my body that struggles to come out.
  8. I will laugh more than I cry, and all my crying shall end in laughter.
  9. I will avoid becoming adult because only children can truly lead us.
  10. I will honor these commitments and commit myself to pursuing not to be committed.

 

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Commie

Commie:(n) a communist

Growing up, there were three great insults we used repeatedly to decimate the character of those around us, while greatly inflating our own sense of self-importance: retard, gay and Commie

Although they were often used interchangeably for all seasons and all reasons, there were specific times when “retard” was applied. Whenever anyone did anything that inconvenienced us he or she was a retard.

When anyone did anything the least bit unusual, and we were afraid they would ask us to do it, too, they were gay.

And when our parents told us that certain children had mothers and fathers who were questionable in their politics–well, those kids were Commies.

You could probably survive being a retard, as long as you didn’t get too upset.

You could flee from being gay.

But once you were identified as a Commie–an enemy of the state–a Ruskie–a member of the Soviet Union–a sympathizer with killers–well, it was just a little hard to shake that off.

I remember once when two friends and I refused to listen to a girl who came to school wearing jeans and a t-shirt (which was unheard of at the time) and spouted opinions on such things as ecology, civil rights, and even, God forbid, anti-war. She was especially upset with the war in Viet Nam.

In our freshman year, we had one view of this girl–but by the time we were seniors, the national opinion on civil rights had changed, ecology had been honored by the creation of Earth Day, and because of the Pentagon Papers, the Viet Nam War had been exposed as an unnecessary exercise in futility.

We were uncomfortable about it. The Commie had been proven correct.

So to compensate, we just started calling her gay.

 

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Comeuppance

Comeuppance: (n) a punishment or fate that someone deserves.

Sometimes I’m convinced that there are no history books. Matter of fact, I’ve gone on the Internet to make sure they still sell them.

Sure enough, there they are.

So my second supposition is that they just must not be very popular.

Because it does not take too long when perusing a history book, to realize that if you’re going to cheat, lie, steal, abuse or kill, you’re going to get your comeuppance.

You may do it for a while, with authority, seemingly uncontested.

But there is always someone, or sometimes it’s a whole clump of people, who will rise up and stop the foolishness before the human race ends up in the ground with its bones being eventually studied by some other species in ten thousand years.

You just can’t pursue evil and succeed.

That’s enough reason right there to at least consider the option of good.

Yet all of our entertainment, our politics, and even our religions are so power-hungry that they present the illusion that evil might just have a bad enough day to have a good day, and beat the crap out of righteousness.

It doesn’t seem to bother people that it’s never happened.

After all, Adolph Hitler, who thought his Third Reich was going to last a thousand years, fell a bit short. Thirteen years were all he got.

Oh, yes–he destroyed a lot of people along the way and maybe he should have been stopped earlier, but you will notice, he’s not around to take interviews on the subject.

It’s something I need to remind myself of from time to time. I can go ahead and tell that little white lie, and maybe even think I got by with it.

But after a while, the feeling of self-confidence about being nasty catches up with me.

And I do get my comeuppance.

Even worse than that, I end up looking like a fool to have pursued such a retarded, unfulfilling and doomed process.

 

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Collapse

Collapse: (v) to fall down or in; give way.

Some folks think it’s hilarious when a big man like me sits down in a chair and it collapses. It’s why I have to judge furniture much too harshly–“spaciously” profiling it.

Yet it has taught me a lesson–to pay careful attention to ideas that keep popping up, which certainly will not withstand the weight of
human involvement. After all, human interaction comes in three forms:

  • Support
  • Criticism
  • Attack

Every idea has to be able to survive all three things, or it will collapse.

I often feel that way about politics. It collapses under the pressure of being questioned and challenged–dare I say, attacked?

Entertainment and entertainers are certainly way too fragile, and hide behind their make-up.

And religion collapses like a cheap lawn chair the minute real human conflict comes sitting.

What makes me collapse?

What makes me give in?

Where are my weaknesses?

What warning should you receive about my possibility for folding up?

All things human have to survive support, criticism and attack.

And truthfully, whenever I can’t, I need to get the hell out of the way and make room for better ideas.

If we were raising a generation of young souls prepared to withstand such scrutiny, maybe our future would be brighter. Perhaps it’s where we should begin.

If we could take every child born on Earth under the age of twelve, and teach him or her how to support, withstand an attack, and keep perspective during criticism, we might secure another hundred generations of human beings.

 

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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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