Tag Archives: politics

Decry

Decry: (v) to denounce

There has been a worm dangled in front of my face for decades—trying to get me to become more political and outspoken about contemporary affairs.

Fortunately for me, I am not a fish nor a bird and have no interest in worms.

I also have no interest in politics.

I have no desire for religion.

I have no patience for social media, which works very hard to remain anti-social.

I am weary of pursuing contemporary just because it’s popped up and demanded fifteen minutes of fame.

I am appalled at how lying has become a national pastime.

I am completely disinterested in watching the dark side of life in movie after movie.

I will enjoy friendships with human beings, be they male or female, based upon their willingness to alter faulty behavior and improve circumstance.

Differentiation by color is boring.

Separation by nationalities is childish.

I believe and will continue to believe that the world consists of me and the next person I meet and how well the two of us decide to get along.

Although I’m not interested in decrying foolishness, you very well may hear me shouting with joy as I run away from fools.

There is no doubt in my mind. Stupidity will eventually be hauled off in the wacko ambulance, medicated, never to be seen again.

I just don’t believe that bringing more attention to it—granting it longer life—is a doorway to the demise of craziness.

When I was growing up, there was an old man who lived in my town who rarely spoke, but always greeted the children by lifting his cane and playfully pretending to poke them in the tummy. As he performed this action, he always smiled and then giggled, which unfortunately ended with a raspy cough. At the end of this little meeting of the minds, the old man uttered one nugget of information. I remember it well.

“Keep your nose clean.”

It didn’t make sense when I was a little kid, but now I realize the wisdom. If I will focus on me and me alone and critique me and me alone—to the point that I have a clean nose—I’m probably doing pretty damn good.

 

Decoy

Decoy: (n) anything used as a lure.

The only reason a duck-call works is because there are ducks out there who are horny.

When they hear that duck-call, they assume there’s a potential Tinder connection. If they weren’t so lascivious, they could just think to themselves, “Oh…there’s another duck. I hope he or she is having a nice day.”

Yes, a decoy works because there is a part of our consciousness that drags us toward mischief before we have a chance to consider the danger.

Whether it’s politics, religion or purchasing items at the grocery store, all of us are tantalized into making bad choices.

In politics, we’re told that “the other guy out there” is going to take away all the fun stuff we like to do because he’s just a “big, greenie-meanie.”

In religion, because of our fervency, we’re offered the possibility of being so favored that we can actually attend the ceremony to cast fools into hell.

And at the grocery store, we are informed that certain items are super-foods, and should be purchased if we want to be healthy. (Of course, the easiest way to identify them is by their super-price.)

Beware of decoys.

They are set up to trap us in our weaker parts by using a stronger signal.

Can we ever be free from them?

Will we ever consider what’s best for us before jumping in to follow the Pied Piper, like a bunch of rats?

Probably not.

But if you’re going to be a rat, it’s good to travel in packs.

Maybe one of you will remember to ignore the tune.

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.

 

Decadence

Decadence: (n) moral degeneration or decay; turpitude.

“Congratulations. We have a new country.”

“So where should we start?”

“I guess we should get organized.”

“Now by organized, do you mean the Robert’s Rules? Or Parliamentary Procedure?”

“Somebody needs to be in charge.”

“How should we pick him?”

“Well… we could have them campaign for the job.”

“Okay. But no insults, right?”

“Maybe insults, but just not personal.”

“Well, leave them alone and let it play out.”

“Well—now what’s next?”

“We need an organized government.”

“What should the government do?”

“Govern—according to the will of the people.”

“Unless the people are wrong.”

“Then what?”

“Govern them, letting them think they’re in charge.”

“Isn’t that a lie?”

“It’s politics. There will be lies.”

“I see. I forgot.”

“Don’t let it happen again. We need to be able to lie—to get our message across.”

“But what if we get caught in a lie?”

“Deny.”

“Why would they believe us?”

“Because they don’t really care what we do—just as long as we don’t make their lives difficult.”

“You act like you think people are stupid.”

“No, just less informed.”

“Well, since they’re less informed, maybe we should take some chances.”

“Or open the door to some possibilities.”

“But isn’t that illegal?”

“You mean by the Constitution?”

“Yes—the Constitution.”

“Everybody interprets that differently.”

“But it seems we’ve left our original plan—a government of the people, for the people and by the people.”

“It’s still of the people. We let them vote.”

“By the people because we are coming from the population.”

“The only question would be for the people.”

“Do they really know what they need?”

“And do they care what’s happening in other countries?”

“It’s like my Grandpappy once said. ‘It takes a lot of money to be honest.’”

“What do you think he meant by that?”

“He meant, ‘do what you do to get as much as you can so what you say makes a difference.’”

And then, all at once, we had decadence instead of a government.

 

Debilitate

Debilitate: (v) to make weak or feeble; enfeeble

To maintain the sanctity of your ego, it is essential to never leave your house.

In your own abode, where you have a favorite chair, a favorite book and a favored spot for almost everything, you can rule, reign and convince yourself that you are superior in many suspicious formats.

But once you step from the safety of your net, you will run across other members of the human race who can outdo you in everything that you once thought would win you the gold.

It’s true.

There are times I’m convinced I’m a really good singer.

Then I go and hear someone who really knows how to sing.

I might fancy myself to be a good speaker—until I am enthralled by the speech from an orator.

It doesn’t have to debilitate me.

I don’t need to be the best to participate.

That is, unless I’ve convinced myself that the presence of competition is an insult to the glory of my anointing.

Most debilitation happens somewhere between the eyes and ears on the way to the brain. It’s that short journey—where we take what we see, parse what we’ve heard and condemn ourselves—because we are made less because someone has more.

This has caused wars.

It perpetuates divorce.

And it has rendered politics and religion completely unacceptable to pursue or discuss—because all that is derived is strife.

Life does not debilitate me.

It just explains that I’m not alone and I very well may not be top dog.

 

Day Tripper

Day Tripper: (n) a person who goes on a trip, especially an excursion lasting one day

I was well into my thirties before I realized my parents were very conservative.

I should have known.

My mother would tell absolute strangers that she voted “a straight Republican ticket.” That meant she walked in, pulled the lever down for all the “R” candidates, no matter who they were.

Honestly, throughout my high school years, I was not interested enough in politics to distinguish between the colliding hordes.

All I knew was that the Beatles came to America and I liked what I heard and my parents decided the Fab Four were communists, attempting to use African music to raise the heart rate of American youth, to lure them to their will.

Because of this, I was not allowed to watch them perform on the Ed Sullivan Show. I had none of their records. If one of their tunes came on the radio, I had to listen to a speech about how evil they were (while trying to hear the plea from them to “hold her hand”).

I had one escape.

My friend, Paul, would invite me over to spend the weekend at his house, and Paul’s parents liked the Beatles. His mother even said they were “cute.”

Unfortunately for Paul—who wanted to play basketball, goof off and eat foods his mother normally would not prepare unless there were guests—I sat directly in front of their stereo and listened to the Beatles for hours at a time. Matter of fact, Paul finally complained to me that I wore out part of the vinyl on a Beatle record because I played it over and over again.

It was the song, “Day Tripper.”

The guitar lick and the drums made me want to dance. I was fat, awkward and had never really thought about dancing before—but Day Tripper did it to me. Sometimes I forgot where I was and began my little dance routine, which made Paul look over and laugh at me. I didn’t care.

I wasn’t concerned about what the lyrics meant.

I wasn’t thinking about whether John Lennon was more popular than Jesus.

And I certainly was oblivious to whether Paul was dead or not.

I was a kid who heard a beat, who felt joy, and for a moment was transformed from my swirling uncertainty of adolescence into a jubilant being who actually believed that “love is all we need.”

It just “took me so long to find out.”

 

Damoiselle

Damoiselle: (n) a young woman or girl; a maiden

The joke is that employees at Federal Express read on a package, “Fragile, handle with care,” and toss that one even higher.

I’m sure that’s not true.

It is the instinct of the human race to rebel against the things we’re told to do.

This is especially true when we feel like someone is being picky or prissy.

So over the years, as women have been trying to establish their equality, the females have also accepted special consideration for being dainty when it suited the circumstances.

Because of this, religion, politics and business have been able to mask bigotry behind a sense of appreciation for ladies, deeming them damoiselles—because this title can place them in distress—and as we often saw in the cartoons, they were tied up and laid on railroad tracks, waiting for the hero (a man) to come and save them.

Many years ago, because I wanted equality with my “sisters in life,” I stopped phony recognition.

I hold doors open for women because I also hold them open for men, and even once, if I remember correctly, a dog or two.

I do not frantically run toward a woman carrying packages and take them from her, lest she break a sweat.

It is how women end up being handled rather than regarded.

It is why a word like “demoiselle,” though just a French translation for “woman,” brings with it the tentacles of oppression.

It’s a sinister way to make sure that women never gain the even footing their stance demands.

If I am working with a woman, I talk to her just as directly as I would her male counterpart. Amazingly enough, from time to time, some women regard this fair play as chauvinism.

Because privately, they want to plead for fairness but also want to maintain the perks of being carried along gently by men—men who are convinced they are innately weaker.

So I say to my dear friends who happen to be the “she-dom of this world,” you must make up your mind.

If you want to stand toe-to-toe, you probably should carry in your own boxes.

And if you want to be considered the same, then demand the same.

 

Damage Control

Damage control: (n) any efforts to curtail losses or counteract unfavorable publicity

Most really bad ideas are introduced through clever phrasings.

Such is the case with “damage control.”

Years ago, some executive sat down and tried to come up with a more palatable way to phrase “failure.”

Negating “we fucked up” and the insipid, “it’s not as bad as it looks,” he tried deception: “We were prepared for a possible setback all along, and even had a plan in place to address it.”

Oh, hogwash (if they actually do).

I am so tired of excuses, I refuse to make one (explaining my fatigue).

Politics is the birthing chamber for damage control.

Because every politician believes that he or she loses brownie points with the public by not being a “good scout.”

There is some sort of contention that if we don’t appear to be right even when it seems we’re wrong, that we will be court-martialed and not allowed to captain the ship anymore.

What makes it truly hilarious is that none of us really like people who think they’re perfect. The minute someone portrays to us that they are “incapable of errors or sin,” we immediately launch a campaign to find their sins and errors.

So what do we think we are going to achieve?

We can only outsmart people until we run up against somebody smarter. And if arrogance has taken such a hold on us that we don’t think we will ever come upon another human more intelligent than ourselves, then the real damage control is to quickly and comprehensively have our heads examined.

There is only one fruitful reply when it’s obvious that things have gone awry:

“We screwed up. So now, from that screw-up, with the help of good counsel and better ideas, we will try to screw it back down.”

Daisy Chain

Daisy Chain: (n) a series of interconnected or related things or events

 Bigotry doesn’t appear just because human beings are placed on the same planet together.

We don’t naturally hate each other.

Bigotry, intolerance and emotional mayhem are the conclusion of a daisy chain of unfortunate connections.

Since we know where this ends up—a random hatred—how does it begin?

What are the links that lead us to acting like the Missing Link?

When do we lose all our humanity and turn animal, emulating our jungle roots?

There is an unholy six.

When placed side-by-side and linked with false premises, these six generate the kind of treachery that assumes a national need to kill six million Jews or to steal the land of the native population.

It begins with insecurity.

Insecurity is a nasty itch inside us, making us believe we cannot be heralded for our good deeds if others are also being appreciated.

Insecurity loves to link up with jealousy.

Jealousy is foolish because it limits the value of what we do and overestimates the success of those around us.

After insecurity links with jealousy, then jealousy welcomes gossip.

Seemingly, the most civil way to destroy our competition is to verbally discredit them by making all seem abnormal.

When gossip has fully spewed into the atmosphere, it finds a settling place in allegiance.

The allegiance can be religious to God, patriotic to a country, political to a party, or even an exaggerated devotion to one’s family.

After allegiance has been established (on shaky ground) it embraces paranoia.

Paranoia compel us to commit irrational acts, forewarning of treacherous deeds.

We are looking for the villain behind every plot and the enemy around the corner.

Once we are fully paranoid, it is a simple step to allow our bigotry to control every decision.

This daisy chain is strewn throughout history.

But rather than allowing the historians to be the prophets who frighten us away from such foolishness and encourage us to gain security without hurting others, we continue to take all the timidity in our fearful souls and set the daisy chain of destruction in motion.

Curtail

Curtail: (v) to prevent, reduce or diminish

Imagine a door.

Standing at the door is a tall fellow—broad shoulders—a bit intimidating.

You are pleased to see that he has a smile on his face.

Yet as you stand back and watch, someone approaches the door. Our guard steps in front of it and says some words to the person that you cannot hear. He responds belligerently. The doorman holds his ground and the visitor stomps away, infuriated.

Now you’re curious.

You wonder what’s behind the door. Let me tell you. Yes, to make the story more interesting, I will let you know.

Beyond that door is joy without shame.

The acquisition of being happy with the world around you and pleased with yourself without being haunted with the regrets of bad choices or unnecessary shortcuts.

Are you interested?

So now that I’ve told you that, are you prepared to approach the door?

Of course not. You just saw someone rejected, and he didn’t look any worse or better than you.

Beyond all means, the worst thing, in our minds, is to be rejected.

Even in the pursuit of joy without shame, it wouldn’t be worth being refused entry, dragging your ass away, refused entry.

So let me give you another clue.

The man standing at the door will only ask you one question.

(Don’t roll your eyes. I didn’t say it was a great clue.)

Just one question.

You still seem perplexed.

Okay—let me give you one more clue. I’ll tell you what the question is.

That perked you up. Here it is:

What are you willing to curtail and change to receive joy without shame?

Be careful, now. Because all the religion, politics, philosophies and entertainment have flattered you and me to believe that we are fine the way we are. Just misunderstood.

Since our youth, we’ve heard it: “Be yourself.”

And now you’re coming to a door where you’re being told that you will be required to deny false gratification, insincere sentiments and dispel lies to come in and find joy without shame.

Are you prepared?

Are you willing to look into the face of politics and say, “There is no hope in you because you lie to me, thinking I’m a liar, too, and will understand your lies?”

You will have to gaze into the glassy eyes of religion and say, “I need more than eternal salvation. I require a human life that is abundant with experience.”

Can you curtail your faith that entertainment will provide the necessary food for your emotions, soul and body, and instead, call it out for failing to recognize your whole person?

And finally, push away from the false comfort of a pop psychology, giving you false confidence instead of challenging you to learn your world.

Are you ready to walk up to this “bouncer?”

Or do you need some time?

Yet I will tell you—the question will always be the same.

Certainly, the smile on his face will always be there, but the choice remains.

The decision is yours.

Are you prepared to curtail foolishness to gain wisdom and peace of mind? 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C