Beelzebub: (n) another name for the devil.Dictionary B

“Marty did it.”

When I was twelve years old, it was the favorite phrase of my friends and myself.

Marty was a scrawny, bespectacled, weak-willed, sweet farm boy who really didn’t have any power and only gained importance to us when we did something stupid, were trying to escape responsibility, and used him to displace our guilt.

You know what was interesting? It worked–because Marty didn’t really defend himself.

The teachers began to believe that he was the problem child, and even sent him to the guidance counselor for correction.

Marty was so desperate for attention that he somewhat enjoyed the accusations because it gave him identity.

I deeply regret that I was never able to apologize to Marty for making him become the sin-eater for all of our pranks.

After a while, I grew out of it.

I came to the conclusion that if I was going to become a functioning human being I needed to take responsibility for my own actions instead of using Marty as my excuse for iniquity.

Such is the case with Beelzebub.

The Old Devil gets blamed for everything except for those natural disasters we want to lay on God.

Beelzebub absorbs the attention and builds a false kingdom of power around his alleged misdeeds.

When we are childish in our spirituality, we yearn for Beelzebub to step in and take the blame for our shortcomings.

Matter of fact, this may be the sign of truly discovering God: the day you wake up and accept the ramifications of your deeds as your own doing instead of searching the terrain for a devilish accomplice.

Somewhere along the line, one has to conclude that we are known by our own fruits.

It is not Beelzebub that bedevils us.

It is our own lust that draws us away.

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix





Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Alfalfa: (n) a legume with clover-like leaves and bluish flowers, native to southwestern Asia; it is widely grown for fodder.

It’s really quite amazing.

I will never be able to consider alfalfa a legume grown for fodder. Instead, the fodder of alfalfa, to me, is a scrawny white boy with painted-on freckles, black hair parted in the middle, with a huge cow-lick sticking up in the back.

Yes, I’m talking about the young man who was the hero, sometime-villain, and always dopey foil of every ill-conceived plan from the cartoon, The Little Rascals.

Recently, during a particularly satisfying episode of channel-surfing, I stumbled on one of these grainy black-and-white productions done in the 1930’s and 40’s. I decided to watch.

It surprised me that as a young kid I would have been drawn to this adventure series. First of all, we don’t need to discuss how television negatively affects children today, when back then we sat them down in front of the box to watch The Little Rascals.

They were a nasty and cantankerous group of children, who did their best to perform evil pranks on their adversaries and promoted the bigotry of the day with a wide-eyed, purposely dumbed-down black child named Buckwheat.

Alfalfa was especially annoying to me. But I realized he was the exact representation of what makes America so mediocre.

  • He wasn’t as attractive as he thought he was.
  • He wasn’t the leader he thought he was.
  • He wasn’t as successful as he thought he was.
  • And just like so many of these musical shows on TV today, he couldn’t sing as well as he thought he could.

I kept waiting for something redeemable to come out of the escapade–some sort of Aesop moral which a young child could take away from the television set and proudly say, “There. I learned something positive today.”

It just wasn’t there.

Matter of fact, if some of the deeds of The Little Rascals were taken to juvenile court, they would definitely be spending some time behind bars, eating chicken pot pies.

So the word “alfalfa” is perhaps ruined for me forever because it represents a bratty, snotty, untalented young boy who thinks too highly of himself.

So please forgive me for failing to recognize the agricultural possibilities. Yes, I guess alfalfa is supposed to be a legume.

But on The Little Rascals he was a fruitcake.

Aldrin, Buzz

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Aldrin, Buzz: (1930- ) U.S. Astronaut who walked in space for 5 hours and 37 minutes during the 1966 Gemini 12 mission. In 1969 he took part in the first moon landing, becoming the second person, after Neil Armstrong, to set foot on the moon.

Perhaps he acquired his nickname because he was selected to play a bee in the second-grade play, Spring is Sprung, personifying the emergence of Nature for another year.

Yes, maybe that’s why they call him “Buzz.”

Or maybe it’s because he has a penchant for snoring and the sound that emotes from his nostrils is best described as a “buzz.”

Then I had a thought that he got this name, Buzz, because of the haircut he sported, which at one time or another, has been referred to as a “buzz cut.”

Maybe he was just the kind of guy who liked to drive around town waving at people, making it known that he had a car and could afford gasoline–just “buzzing about.”

I was thinking that when he was a young boy doing pranks, he might have been one of those kids who rang people’s doorbell, and then disappeared quickly–a “buzzer.”

Another idea: maybe he played basketball and was known for making the winning goal just before the clock ran out, “beating the buzzer.”

I’m not sure how he got the name Buzz.

Maybe it’s because he buzzed around the moon and stopped off to take a brief stroll before heading back home.