Tag Archives: prisoner

Cummerbund

Cummerbund: (n) a wide sash worn at the waist

Tears of anguish flow to my eyes frequently when I consider all the various ways that the makers of cloth and the producers of clothing have found to take their products and pinch me at the waist, constantly reminding me of how goddamn fat I am.

When the junior prom came around back in high school, I was intimidated by many the aspects rising up to demolish my already fragile ego.

First—it was terrifying to invite a girl to a dance, knowing that the possibility of “no” was likely and then having to calm my ego by believing that maybe she just didn’t like dancing.

Then there’s the planning, the procuring of funds for things like corsages. And finally, the rental of the tuxedo—which immediately became problematic (because I long ago ceased to be comfortable in a thirty-eight regular suit jacket).

The coat was a problem.

The pants, an even tighter twist.

The shirt pinched me at the top of my belly and refused to let go.

And then, the introduction of a cummerbund to go around my waist, to more or less act as a spotlight, informing people that my belly was due to arrive soon.

It left me completely befuddled and nervous beyond all reason.

I finally discovered how to place it around my waist and smoothed down. Then I went to the car, got in, and upon sitting, it sling-shot its way off of my tummy, striking the front windshield.

Realizing this was going to be a problem, I had my friend pull it really tight around my stomach—and then, instead of hooking it with the available brackets, I had him tie it in a knot.

It had no place to go.

Of course, all night long, it kept trying to slide up (several times coming very near my throat).

It was a mess.

Humiliating.

At no time did it ever look good—not even when the photographer tried to re-situate it for picture-time.

So my prom picture looks like I was dressed up in a tuxedo too small for me, held prisoner, and tied up with a cummerbund.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Chocolate

Chocolate: (n) a food preparation made from roasted and ground cacao seeds, typically sweetened.

Obesity is a bitch, because it bitches at you because you’re obese.

It forces you to think about food more than you need to, which can eventually cause you to rebel about being confined.

After all, I’ve never seen a prisoner who’s grateful for being locked up because it made him eat more vegetables.

Likewise, even though being fat does require some disciplinary action, removing the finer parts of life–for instance, chocolate– is what the constitution may have meant by “cruel and unusual punishment.”

So sometimes the prisoner locked within the fatty walls must break out and be free.

Matter of fact, it happened to me last night.

I wanted some chocolate.

Realizing that a Milky Way candy bar is in the hundreds of calories, and even a pack of M & M’s has way too much sugar, I did discover a tiny piece of delight called the Candy Kiss, which ended up being just 22 calories and 2.6 grams of sugar.

Now obviously, one Candy Kiss is not enough, especially if you’ve been locked up in solitary for a long period of time, devoid of the pleasure. But sometimes you can convince yourself to hold it to three.

Three Candy Kisses, bitten in half, creating six bites of chocolate, is a mind-boggling, soul-altering spiritual revival, with a good shout of “Hallelujah” followed by a creamy “A-men.”

Sometimes nothing will replace chocolate.

I certainly enjoy my asparagus, but I cannot truthfully say that it is related, coordinated, conjoined or entwined with the marvelous miracle of chocolate.

 

 

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Brain

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Brain: (n) intellectual capacity

A friend of mine bought a German shepherd. He did so as a means of protecting his house.

He named the dog Rugby.Dictionary B

Rugby was probably one of the sweetest animals I’ve ever encountered in my life. I was absolutely enthralled with the kindness of this creature, but certainly convinced that Rugby was incapable of guarding anything. He was even patient with the four-year-old child who lived in the house, who was enamored with the animal’s nose, and continually tried to pluck it from his face.

I laughed at my friend when he insisted that Rugby was a replacement for a burglar alarm.

Then one day we went off on a brief shopping trip. As we returned, pulling into the driveway, we heard barking and growling. It sounded very aggressive–frightening to the ears.

Stepping into the house, we discovered a terrified gentleman penned in the corner, held prisoner by a very intimidating Rugby.

Apparently the man had decided to come into the house to steal some items to sell at the pawn shop–only to discover that the house was well protected by a deceptively dutiful German shepherd.

The man begged to have the dog called off.

As soon as my friend called the police, he motioned to Rugby to come to his side, and the family pet returned–with a wagging tail and a panting tongue.

You may ask me what this story has to do with the brain. Here it is:

The brain is like Rugby.

It doesn’t have any natural inclinations of its own, but only brings forth its training when the situation arises.

  • If you think being smart makes you generous, you are sadly mistaken.
  • If you believe that a formal education causes you to be ingenious, you will be disappointed.

A brain is merely a “thing” until something breaks in, and it does what it was trained to do.

 

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Annuity

dictionary with letter A

Annuity: (n) a fixed sum of money paid to someone each year, typically for the rest of his or her life.

In my saner moments–in other words, when I’m more sane–I actually come to conclusions that are factual instead of impudent.

Because when I read the definition of “annuity,” I thought how wonderful it would be to have somebody who would present me with a check on January 1st which would cover my expenses and frivolous notions for an entire calendar year.

Trying to be noble, I would say that this would make me more productive because the fear of financial failure would be lifted from my shoulders.

But then candor enters my tattered soul and I have to admit that this would make me nothing but lazy.

  • After all, without a bit of uncertainty, I don’t work as hard.
  • Without a tinge of peril to my health, I might stop eating vegetables.
  • Without some insecurity about my love relationships, I might doze off on my commitments and cease to be interactive with the kind souls around me.

Yes, even though I don’t want to admit it, I am a better human being because things are occasionally screwed up. Not only are they defiled by my efforts, but many of them are ruined by my friends, associates and just flukes of nature.

I become more proficient and appreciative because I have to adjust and correct errors. Sometimes jubilance comes to my heart because I have miraculously figured out how to make ten dollars work like twelve.

Without this, I become a “kept man,” a prisoner to the generosity of others instead of the beneficiary of my own talent.

So even though I am not so virtuous as to turn down such an annuity if it was offered to me (hint, hint) I am fully prepared on this lovely day, to concede … that I am better off without it. 

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