Dame

Dame: (n) a term used to reference a woman

They build corrals so horses won’t escape.

In doing so, they are admitting that the horses don’t really want to be there. Apparently, the beasts aren’t impressed with a barn and three meals of hay a day.

They want outta there.

To a horse, a stable is a prison. (Or what you might consider unstable.)

Corralling seems to be one of the favored activities of our current world. I don’t think there’s a sentence I could write that someone could not ardently peruse to discover offensive material within.

Why? Because we’re not interested in cleverness and inspiration. We’re only determined to establish our entity by critiquing the thoughts of others.

I can’t keep it straight.

I thought calling a woman a “chick” was extraordinarily out of whack, until some teenagers explained to me that it was “cool, cute and even kind of sexy.”

I guess it’s still incorrect to refer to a lady as a “broad,” unless you’re doing it as a bold compliment, like: “That Senator from California is one tough broad.”

Of course, there are words that are offensive.

The use of the “c word” for a woman is incomprehensible.

I don’t like “bitch”—but women will turn around and call themselves bitches. (I suppose that’s the same thing as when a black person wants to call himself the “n word.”)

I just don’t know.

I’m lost in the desert here without a canteen.

So the word “dame” is not only nasty, but it’s also so old-time that it makes you look like you fell off the turnip truck on your way to market—not only prohibited, but Grandpa-like.

Now, normally we extol things that are traditional as having lasting merit, but in this case, “dame” sounds like the language of the Bowery Boys (and of course, nobody knows who the Bowery Boys are anymore.)

Don’t get me wrong. This is not a lamentation.

I find it intriguing to keep up with words that have flow, character and veracity.

But every once in a while, I’m like that stallion that finds out where the corral begins and has a hankerin’ to take a leap over it.

Cynosure

Cynosure: (n) something that strongly attracts attention by its brilliance, interest, etc.:

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I had a meeting with a fellow who dubbed himself “Bundy Boy.”

I don’t know why he selected this handle since it was nowhere near his name. But he was young, energetic, and full of what the old folks used to call “piss and vinegar.”

He agreed to have a meeting with me because he was thinking about promoting our little music group and taking over management of us—thereby assisting us in getting national attention, a recording contract and, well, just something far away from our poverty.

I remember it so well because he had a spiel. He called it “The Five Thingalings.”

I wanted to laugh, but after all, I was in a subordinate position, sitting in the office of a guy who might be able to throw some light in the direction of my shade.

It was the first time I ever heard this word: cynosure.

He asked me if I knew what it meant. I didn’t. So he explained, “It’s about what’s bright and shiny. Humans are human, but they’re also beings—and as beings, they’re attracted to… are you ready?” he asked me.

I was. He continued, “They’re attracted to sex, silliness, a sad story, beauty and money.”

I thought about it, had no reason to disagree, and so I nodded my head.

Confident that I was on his wavelength, he proceeded. “Cynosure is when you turn the lights up so people can see more clearly what you have to offer. That’s why you’ve got to be sexy. Everybody likes sexy. Even religious people like sexy. They don’t talk about it—but they think about it. And everybody likes to be silly. They pretend to be serious, but after a short time, they’re ready for a good giggle.”

“But,” he went on, “we do like a sad story. It cleans us out—makes us feel we’re really sensitive because we care about what happened to somebody on the rocky road of life. And that story—that story I’m telling you about—it’s much more powerful if it’s being shared from a beautiful package. Just as people like sexy, they like pretty. In their minds, sexy and pretty go together. Nobody feels sexy if they don’t feel pretty, or handsome. And of course, money. Even the Bible says that money answers everything. If you think about it, any problem that comes up in your mind—well, a nice stack of cash will go a long way to solving it.”

After Bundy Boy finished his speech, he sat and looked at me.

It was time for him to offer his evaluation of my “package.”

He was kind, merciful, but truthful.

“My friend,” he said, “you aren’t sexy. Now you might be silly, but if you’re silly and not sexy, it comes off goofy. I suppose you do have a sad story, but when you’re not sexy and not silly, and you have a sad story, people think to themselves, ‘well, of course. He’s a loser.’ And if you’re not sexy, the chance that you’re beautiful is small. And even though we pretend we like beauty on the inside, it’s only something your mother actually feels. And,” he concluded, “by looking at your clothes—especially your shoes—I can tell. You’ve got no money.”

He concluded, “So even though I like your music and I do like you, I can’t work with you. I can’t bring the magic. I can’t cynosure you.”

He stood to his feet and walked toward the door, which I assumed meant that I was also to stand and depart. He patted me on the back and offered a lame, “If there’s anything I can ever do, let me know.”

So I have gone through the majority of my life with no cynosure.

It’s been painful—but I have managed to eke out an existence.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cute

Cute: (adj) attractive, appealing and delightful

There are many foolish things a man can do—like trying to shave while driving down the highway.

But perhaps chief among the ridiculous is espousing a great understanding of women.

I’m not saying they’re mysterious.

But women do not always share a lingo with men when it comes to certain subjects.

I’m talking about sexuality.

I dare say that most women don’t use the word “sexy” unless they’re referring to their boyfriend or husband. Men, on the other hand, award the word “sexy” like certificates of participation at a third-grade class assembly.

Women are much more diverse. For instance:

“He’s nice.”

A kind comment—but also carries the heavier realization of, “I will never sleep with him.”

“He’s funny.”

This is a positive comment from a woman, but if she begins to believe that you’re ONLY funny, how could she ever get serious?

“He’s hard-working.”

Something she admires, but to her detriment, doesn’t always pursue.

But “he’s sexy,” in the female kingdom, is usually reserved for her romantic partner or—oh, yes—some Hollywood star.

So what word will tell you that a woman could consider you viable—not just a friend?

“He’s cute.”

Believe it or not, it’s the same word she might have used when she was in high school. But it opens a door in her brain which allows you, as a man, to become more than a chum to watch Netflix with on a Tuesday night.

In the realm of the female, I think you can pretty well take it to the bank:

“Cute” is a general nod of affection and a quiet proclamation of possibilities.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Curvaceous

Curvaceous: (adj) description of a woman having a well-shaped figure with voluptuous curves.

There are two immutable facts that cannot be denied but certainly would open up debate among those concerned.

  1. Girls who are curvaceous and buxom in high school normally become heavy-set and what we might call “chubby” as they get older.
  2. Boys who seemed to be in great shape in high school, playing football, become portly, often sprouting a beer gut after their escapades on the gridiron.

When high school reunions come around, men who used to be svelte or women with curves which produced great desire arrive at such celebrations looking, shall we say, very “domesticated.”

On the other hand, those students who were ignored, thin or obese, have often gone out and changed their appearance and persona completely.

I am fully aware that a woman’s breasts are a delight to view, interesting to touch for about a minute-and-a-half but are not what you would call “the main course” of a sexual smorgasbord.

A bosom of that sort is a banquet for a baby.

But because we are foolish, we insist that women who have huge breasts are very sexy—until we realize that these curvaceous wonders are really just fat cells.

And consider this: if it’s easy to build up the fat cells in the chest, it is equally as easy to build them up in the waist, the thighs and the cheeks. Both sets. So be careful.

Our society, which is obsessed with curvaceous women, must evolve into a more mature understanding:

Breasts can be problematic for everything—from dressing to disease.

And once we gain a more sophisticated approach, maybe we can just learn that ninety percent of our sexuality is in our brain.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Climb

Climb: (v) to ascend, especially by using the feet and sometimes the hands

Everyone understands the choice but no one discusses it. It is an unspoken piece of information that is decided in the internal workings of every human being.

You have to find out if you would like to go to a gym and sweat four times a week so that when you climb a flight of stairs, you won’t sweat.

There you go. I don’t know why nobody talks about it.

People working out in the gym are not thinking about how they’ll feel when they’re sixty-five or seventy years old. They just want to make sure that if they’re on a date and there’s a half-mile walk to the auditorium, or a two-hour wait standing in line at the restaurant, or four flights of stairs to ascend to reach the destination, that they will be able to do it without looking like they’re flirting with death.

Also, nobody wants to be the one panting the loudest in the bedroom after sex. If you’re a man and it sounds like you’re going to have a heart attack because you made love to your woman, it may just discourage her from trying again.

It is our vanity that presses us on to bench-press.

And for those who think to themselves, what do I care if it takes forty-two seconds for me to recover my breath after climbing a flight of stairs?–well, you will never catch those individuals stomping, dancing or doing a Pilate.

Do people live longer because they are aerobically able to climb without much difficulty? There’s no evidence for that. They just look prettier and healthier doing it.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s much to be said for reaching the top of a mountain with your clothes undrenched.

But unless it is a major concern, or you’re just bound and determined to convey that your tight pecs, flat abs and muscular legs make you more sexy, I think you will probably join the ranks of those who file away from the gymnasium.

 

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Beard

Beard: (n) a growth of hair on the chin and lower cheeks of a man’s face.Dictionary B

Call it an oversimplification, but I believe the three stages in the life of a man can be summed up as follows:

  1. Birth
  2. Arrogance
  3. Disproven.

The key to success in human life, wearing a male body, is to arrive at “disproven” with a sense of humor instead of disappointment.

So it was well after my birth, in my season of arrogance, that I decided I wanted to grow a beard. For the life of me I cannot remember what stimulated this notion, but understanding my mindset in that season, it had something to do with being sexy. Because being sexy in the arrogant period of macho life is Number 1 on the Top 5 of important goals.

Of course, you know the problem.

Each one of us is issued a body filled with genetic mishaps, and within that body are limitations. As it turned out, one of mine was the ability to grow a decent beard.

I should have suspected this since I don’t really need to shave every day and only do so to keep up with the “Bill Joneses.”

So since I don’t need to shave all the time, it’s highly unlikely that my face is going to suddenly sprout a bush.

And it didn’t.

It grew in various portions of acreage, leaving other areas deserted.

I was unable to grow any hair on my cheeks, so my beard made me look like I was trying to become a Jew instead of a gigolo.

I persisted.

I used eyebrow pencil to fill it in for a long time, before finally one day I looked in the mirror and pitied my poor efforts.

As it turns out, I can grow a mustache and a soul patch.

I call it a beard. This shall satisfy my need for arrogance as I continue on in my understanding of being disproven.

 

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Be

Be: (v) to exist.Dictionary B

Since we all exist because our parents got horny, we may want to come along and glamorize the story a little bit. Otherwise, we occasionally are overwhelmed by the futility of life, and may even wonder why we were born in the first place.

This demands a certain amount of arrogance.

Since having a baby is so easy that even dumb people accomplish it, we can’t exactly stomp around and claim that we are part of some sort of cosmic eruption or heavenly proclamation.

Finding a “be” is what is necessary to make us content.

And without contentment, we stop being happy, which makes us annoying and causes other people to wish we’d never been born,

I’m not quite sure which is worse–is it my self-doubt concerning my value, or whether everyone around me doubts my value?

So how do you find your be in a C minus world?

How do you discover how to translate a collision of chromosomes into a beautiful, chromatic, climbing scale of living glory?

1. Never think you’re better than anyone else.

Since we all came from an egg, we should all work on being “good eggs.”

2. Don’t be satisfied with your talent.

Use it and multiply it. Otherwise, you’ll wonder why people don’t appreciate you for doing the same thing you did last year.

3. Be aware.

There is nothing sexier or more powerful, intelligent, profitable and viable than noticing what’s going on around you.

If you take these three things and put them into practice, then you have a chance to not only live a blessed life … but to be instead of not to be.

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Anti-type

dictionary with letter A

Anti-type: (n) a person or thing which represents the opposite of someone or something else.

  • Everybody has sex, but not everybody’s allowed to be considered sexy.
  • Everybody should learn the politics of our generation, but not everybody is comfortable being political.
  • Everybody’s a human being, but not everybody is treated as human.

Everybody is loved by God, but not everybody is ushered into the ranks of the religious.

Perhaps the most unseemly part of our human race is our penchant for wanting to “box things up” and label them, only to end up stacking them on the shelves for storage.

So whenever I hear the words “can’t,” “shouldn’t” or even “won’t,” I have the tendency to want to challenge them. I am fearful of leaving my brothers or sisters out simply because they don’t fall within the boundaries of the prototype.

Yes, they are anti-type.

For instance, I am a big, fat guy who is bald and aging, who happens to like to sing. When I do this vocalizing, I am always astounded that it often takes me much longer to get an audience’s attention simply because I don’t fulfill the stereotype of the typical crooner.

It sucks. But that fact that it sucks does very little to stop the insanity of the prejudice. So I sing without permission, becoming the anti-type of the pop world.

For I’m not so sure that without anti-types we will be able to progress the Adam’s big family much further.

  • We need people with enough confidence to know they are sexy but who are not runway models or six-pack studs.
  • We need politicians who escape the garble of glib and instead, simply impart their message with a bit of candor.
  • And we are certainly desperately in need of people who love one another and God without ever sniffing of religion.

It takes courage.

It also takes a sense of humor.

And I do believe … it will take time. 

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Antiquity

dictionary with letter AAntiquity: (n) the ancient past, especially the period before the Middle Ages.

Every once in a while, a startling revelation will cross my mind, giving me a sensation similar to standing on the deck of the Santa Maria, spying the New World. Of course, as in the case of Christopher Columbus, nor is it to me.

Truth has been around for a long time and it always has three important ingredients:

  1. It actually works.
  2. It doesn’t hurt anyone else.
  3. It’s not ashamed of the failed experiments leading to greater revelation.

Often when I find myself in a circle of believers who are discussing the Good Book and stories of biblical proportions, my brain freezes, as I wonder why they think these individuals had any greater spirituality than we do.

Actually, if I found myself translated back to antiquity, I’d be walking around as a god with my level of knowledge, in comparison to the fear, superstition and incomplete hypotheses of their time.

If we really believe that spiritual evolution stopped on the Isle of Patmos with John the Apostle, or on the mountain with Mohammed, then we are negating hundreds and hundreds of years of scientific miracles and human growth.

I think the Good Book is exactly that–it’s a good book.

As a good book, it has plot twists, character development, elimination of villains, and the exposure of bizarre ideas, as the story line is pushed along towards what we hope will be a happy ending.

Even though our children have a difficult time imagining Alexander the Great or Cleopatra, when we parallel these individuals with updated versions of our own time–like Kanye West and Kim Kardashian–it’s much easier to see where we’ve come from and possibly where we need to go.

I am not of the belief that any good thing should be thrown away. Generally speaking, I don’t walk out of a movie once I’ve paid my premium price, even if the flick is not to my liking. I try to find something usable.

There is much we can learn from antiquity:

We can learn that superstition cannot shout down science.

We can learn that we are learning, and therefore should never be content in our own level of comprehension.

And we can learn that those who made the history books were once just clumsy, insecure flesh-and-blood creatures … who spent way too much time wondering if they were sexy.

 

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Adler, Alfred

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Adler, Alfred (1870 – 1937): Austrian psychologist and psychiatrist who disagreed with Freud’s idea that mental illness was caused by sexual conflicts in infancy, arguing that society and culture are significant factors. Adler introduced the concept of the inferiority complex.

Adler just wasn’t sexy.

You see, that’s the problem with humanity. It’s not that I’m a prude and object to sexualizing. Anything as vastly accepted, recognized and universally shared as sex is undoubtedly has across-the-board appeal.

But if you mention Sigmund Freud in front of the psychiatric community thinking that you are being wise and inventive, you might need to be prepared to be ridiculed for your lack of information. Making everything in life about sex is like insisting that pornography is a rite of passage for discovering how to interact with members of the opposite gender.

Adler had two major problems: he took away the sexiness AND he inserted the need to question ourselves on whether we felt inferior.

That last one’s a killer. That’s why people aren’t making movies about Adler, but every once in a while Freud gets stuck in because he gave us license to explore our strangeness and foibles by blaming our mother and father for a lack of warmth which caused us to become perverted.

That’s the difference. Freud gave us somebody to blame. Adler made people take personal responsibility for their own actions, their own culture, their own environment and their own feelings of insecurity.

Honestly, which one would YOU choose?

But somewhere along the line, in order for a society to grow out of being stuck in adolescence, people have to admit that they might just be their own worst problem. Yes, maybe our parents were not very good. After all the position comes with neither a manual nor any natural inclinations, contrary to popular opinion.

What we do at age thirty-five needs to cease to have anything to do with what happened to us at age four. Otherwise, we pass on the impression that everyone in the world is really sick, waiting for a diagnosis to come along and rationalize erratic behavior.

Adler may have had a whole lot more on the ball because he asked people to trace ALL the factors of their lives, and also to consider that taking a back seat to others is a personal decision rather than a permanent position.

Freud, on the other hand, made everything about erogenous zones and how we feel deprived, which caused us to act out as little children.

So we have to STOP being “children in the marketplace”–grow up, forgive the failures of our families, and start allowing ourselves to inhabit a persona which is ours alone and not at the mercy of the indiscretions of others.

Yes, if our society does not grow out of its “teenager phase, ” we will continue to throw tantrums, lie and never get our homework done.

And when the homework is not done, the national need will never be met.