Cruise

Cruise: (v) to sail about on a pleasure trip.

I stumbled upon a little piece of personal revelation, which after much thought, might just end up being worthy of universal application.

(Not everything I think falls into this category. Many things that I pursue pertain mostly to me, and would not be helpful or even interesting, to an outsider.)

For instance, my daily regimen in approaching healthy eating would certainly bore the most prideful listener.

But what I’ve discovered is that nothing in life has immediate appeal—nor is it dead-on-arrival.

Each one of us ends up talking ourselves into everything.

So it only stands to reason that we talk ourselves out of other things.

For me, one of those things is a cruise on a ship.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with such an adventure. There have even been television shows produced extolling the pleasures of food, fun and romance—even promising that the boat itself might just be “love.”

But somehow or another I have talked myself out of this.

I talked myself into being a musician. Honestly, there’s little that’s more tedious.

I convinced myself of the glories of fatherhood. Yet this did not happen until children were afoot.

But I’ve also talked myself out of… Let me see:

How about a daily run? I think a daily run would be possible for me if there were someone trailing me slowly in a jeep, firing a machine gun at my heels. Yes, I would need adequate motivation.

So as I think about a cruise, the following four things immediately annoy me:

  1. Walking up the plank to get on.

I don’t know why. It just seems like I’m lining up in a prison yard for daily gruel.

  1. Cramped quarters.

To make money, a cruise ship must have little cabins, and of course, the smaller they make them the more people they can put onto the ship, and therefore, the more profit.

I am a big man, constantly perturbed by living in a medium world.

  1. A constant barrage of food.

Perhaps I’m odd, but after I eat, the last thing I want to do is go dancing in the Mambo Room.

Doesn’t that sound horrible? Where is the time for digestion?

  1. And finally, the pool.

If the boat is for love, then people are peering extra carefully at one another for the potential of unexplainable romantic entanglements.

When I go swimming, I’m thinking more about cannonballs and floating. Probably not the mindset of Carnivale.

So you see, I have not given a cruise a chance—because I have convinced myself that it is not worthy of my consideration.

I probably should have done that with bologna and sausage years ago.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C


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Bermuda Shorts

Bermuda shorts: (n) casual knee-length short trousers.

Dictionary B

For the sake of lingering pieces of vanity, I would like to say that I am completely unfamiliar with Bermuda shorts, but unfortunately, I was around when they hit the shores from Bermuda, and shortly thereafter, basically disappeared.

Let me tell you something about fashion: fashion is the latest trend available to those who basically look good in anything.

If you have a bulge here and there, misshapen space or a cluttered cloister, you are very unlikely to ever be comfortable or attractive in the latest threads.

Such it was with Bermuda shorts.

They were knee-length, usually had some sort of odd print on them, and they left the rest of your leg exposed.

When I tried them on, it appeared that some sausage had seeped out of the bottom of its casing.

Not to mention the fact that no matter how tall you may be, when you are chubby you appear shorter. Bermuda shorts helped to accentuate this dwarfism.

I didn’t wear them a second time.

Matter of fact, I might have been one of the souls instrumental … in mocking them off the fashion runway.

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Bedouin

Bedouin: (n) a nomadic Arab of the desert.Dictionary B

What is the difference between an Arab and a Jew?

It’s a question you are not allowed to ask in our day and age of politically correct diplomacy.

Even though there are many people in Israel who are white with blue eyes and blond hair, it is not the natural personification of a Jew.

The land was once a kingdom of Bedouins.

If you read the history of the Jewish race and that of the Muslims, you of course immediately find that they have a common father and a total disagreement over the issue of which son of Abraham should have predominance.

It is amazing to me that this rift between the Jews and the Muslims is viewed as a spiritual conflict, since there are so many sexual overtones to the story.

Abraham had Ishmael by Hagar.

Then he had Isaac by his wife, Sarah.

So immediately, the process is tainted by the introduction of the byproduct of genitals.

On top of that, it was decided that the Jews would become different from the Arabs by trimming off the tip of the penis, thus creating the circumcised and the uncircumcised.

So once again, we have a return to focus on the male sexual organ in determining Heavenly approval.

And then it is further complicated by who married who, who screwed who and whether they should have done that indiscretion in the first place.

So I guess the theory of Middle East politics and theology is that it doesn’t matter what you put in front of the grinder as long as your particular favored sausage comes out at the end.

 

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Anchovy

dictionary with letter A

Anchovy: (n) a small shoaling fish of commercial importance as a food used for fish bait. It is strongly flavored and preserved with high amounts of oil and salt.

The dangerous thing about knowledge is that it rarely accentuates your pleasure, but rather, puts a pin in your balloon and leaves you with the reality instead of the misrepresentation.

There are many examples, but on this day, they seem to be embodied in the tiny anchovy.

Little did I know that they were bait.

Even though many of my friends like anchovies on their pizza (a taste, I have explained to them, which could just as easily be achieved by dumping a salt shaker on the crust) I really don’t think any of them know they’re eating fish bait.

But it should be obvious. Don’t the little things have hairy legs?

Now, I have on occasion eaten a pizza with anchovies because I was surrounded by individuals who thought it was a status symbol to prefer the little boogers on their Italian delight.

I have even pretended to enjoy it. Even though I pride myself, to some degree, in being a candid-type fellow, I am not without my pretense. And the specter of being the only person in the room objecting such a refined pizza-topping choice has left me succumbing to the mob mentality and participating in eating what I now know is fish bait.

  • I suppose I shouldn’t make the point that we wouldn’t eat night crawler pizza.
  • Anyone up for minnows and onion?

But truthfully, I have no problem with anyone who has a certain taste, unless they have selected it because they think it makes them more refined and sets them apart from the sausage servants and pepperoni paupers.

Now, if I run across one of them, I will inform them that they’re hooked on what belongs on a hook.

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