Credit Rating

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Credit Rating: a classification of credit risk based on investigation of a potential customer’s financial resources

You’ve probably never thought of it—or maybe you have—but shall we refer to it today as “the big four questions?”

The answers to these questions determine your suitability, respectability and popularity in our society.

  1. Are you skinny?
  2. Are you wealthy?
  3. Are you hip with the trends?

And question four:

Do you have a good credit rating?

We are so intense on question four that we have a number assigned to it, and that particular number determines whether you are considered to be “up and coming” or “down and trodden.”

While everyone is terribly concerned about racial inequality in this country, nobody is in the least troubled about the potential of judging another by turning to everyone and whispering, “He’s a 493…”

At that point, we are all supposed to understand that this person is either extraordinarily unlucky, a criminal or has absolutely no sense of what to do with a dollar bill.

Could there be a greater condemnation? After all, you can have black skin and put on a beautiful suit of clothes, walk into a room speaking great King’s English and even the white supremacists have to comment, “He’s one of the good ones.”

But if you walk in a room with a low credit score, it doesn’t matter what color your skin is, the condition of your clothes, your sparkling attitude or your smile.

You are a credit risk.

Therefore you are a social leper and a cultural bewilderment—similar to having financial AIDS.

That fact that this is the acceptable way we conduct business in this capitalistic climate does not seem to bother anyone.

There are many reasons you can have good credit.

There are even more reasons you can end up with bad credit.

I do not think we should do away with the system—but I think we should make sure that the system doesn’t do away with us.

 

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Cot

Cot: (n) a light portable bed, especially one of canvas on a folding frame.

Possessing a plethora of stories and examples of how the phrase “one size fits all” does not apply in real life, I will now turn my attention to the common cot.

When I was a boy I was never little, so therefore, I was never a “little boy.” I had a man-sized weight for a child’s number of birthdays. Yet when funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
I visited relatives—since I was supposed to be a kid—they tried to fit me into child situations, spaces and even leftover pajamas from their beloved children who were now grown but were once obviously skinny and attractive.

All of these experiences are worthy of the horror genre. I have broken toys, disabled bicycles, split out pants and—oh, yes—destroyed a cot or two in my journey through childhood obesity. This was long before anybody talked about it—when you were considered “big-boned” so parents wouldn’t be embarrassed because their child was a fatty.

Aunt Wilma had a cot which she supplied each and every summer during a week-long visit, always insisting I had used it the year before, even though I explained that it was not only too narrow for me to lie on, but also not sturdy enough to withstand my bountiful booty. She pooh-poohed me, as grown-ups often do.

Each year I faced the same dilemma. Knowing that the cot was not going to work (because I had already broken it the year before) I assembled it every night while she was in the room giving her good-night kisses and hugs, and then, upon her departure, folded it up, removing the bedding, to sleep on the floor, trying to make sure I woke up early enough to arise and reassemble the cot to its former haphazard position before she came in to bring us all to the breakfast table.

It was exhausting.

It was a farce.

And what made it worse was that my aunt patted me on the head every single new day and said, “You see? You were wrong. The cot works just fine.”


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Bimbo

Bimbo:(n) an attractive but empty-headed young woman, especially one perceived as a willing sex object

Dictionary B

The vernacular of vitriol.

Yes–I’m talking about those words and phrases which are tossed off to quickly communicate our disdain, dislike or disapproval of some group of people.

It does not take long to get the pulse of the heartbeat of prejudice.

For instance, when it comes to referring to fat people, we have:

  • Fatso
  • Fat butt
  • Fat ass
  • Fat head

Now, consider the vernacular of vitriol when it comes to skinny. Not as many choices, huh?

So you see, society has decided who should be targeted and how they should be attacked. Never is this any more evident than in a discussion about the genders.

Insults given to men often are received as compliments:

  • Macho
  • Big thug
  • Lunk
  • Muscle-brain

As you can see, each one might be considered a negative–except in the ears of he who actually possesses the attributes.

But when it comes to women, it’s much more pointed:

  • Nag
  • Bitch
  • Air-head
  • And of course, bimbo

So we take a human soul who may be a bit more innocent, less traveled or even purposefully refusing to be jaded, and we target her as good for nothing but sexual pleasure.

It is a dangerous practice which is pursued daily in our country with discrimination and bigotry.

After all, no one ever refers to a white bastard. We prefer black bastard.

We will never uproot prejudice in our country until we gently and intelligently take a microscope to the twisted language of meanness.

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Belligerent

Belligerent: (adj) hostile and aggressive.

Dictionary B

I began my journey to becoming a better human being the day I realized that nothing can really offend me unless I privately fear that it’s true.

In other words, you can accuse me of all sorts of evil, but if I have no awareness of such iniquity dwelling in my heart, being belligerent is unnecessary.

I become angry and hostile when other folks stumble upon my insecurities and speak them aloud, making me feel that I must attack them to protect my own delusion.

So for years, I was very upset if someone called me fat. It wasn’t because I was skinny, it was because every time I looked in the mirror I saw a fat man–yet felt that it was nobody’s damn business to confirm the obvious.

On the other hand, you can tell me all day long that I’m not the best piano player in the world, and I will not only nod my head in agreement, but also explain inadequacies of which you may not have been aware.

The presence of belligerence is the absence of confidence.

For when we are satisfied that all is well with our soul, it is very difficult for other people to interrupt our well-being.

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Basketball

Basketball: (n) a game played between two teams of five players in which goals are scored by throwing a ball through a netted hoopDictionary B

I was the fattest kid in my class.

It is a distinction without appreciation.

But I liked basketball.

I started playing it when I was seven years old with another kid who ended up being a champion at hoops. So I was fairly good–especially for a fat boy.

But I did not look like a basketball player. This was troublesome to folks–because talent needs more than ability. It requires a “look.”

Basketball players are meant to be tall and skinny.

I was 5 foot 11in every direction.

So when I joined the team there was a chuckle and a cynical ripple among my peers. When I competed, there was some amusement.

And when I made the first string, there were those who were astounded that there was nobody to beat me out, and grown-ups who thought I might run up and down the court and have a heart attack.

It’s been this way for me in everything in my life:

  • I am not an attractive man, so some of my friends thought I would never procure a woman.
  • I have short, stubby fingers, so most people thought it would be impossible for me to play piano.
  • I never went to college, so how do I have the audacity to compose and write?

More often than not, we require the “look” of basketball along with the skill.

And as fans, we often are not satisfied unless all the visuals are present … to accompany the slam dunk.

 

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Appetite

dictionary with letter A

Ap·pe·tite (n): a natural desire to satisfy a bodily need, especially for food.

I stumbled across a conversation on the Internet between two women, arguing with one another about food.

Each of them had posted a picture of herself, so I had a quick visual of the combatants.

The extraordinarily slender woman was piously offering advice on better food choices that her “friend” might want to select to escape the rigors of obesity.

The “friend” in this case, who was a plump lady with a big smile, lamented in her diatribe about people who judge her by her appearance, offering way too much advice on how she could become more attractive and meet their standards.

It fascinated me in this day and age, when people are so convinced that we are “born a certain way,” that we excuse all of our prejudice against one another based on the necessity of consuming food.

For I will tell you this–because I am a fat man, I know more about calories, good food choices and what is healthy than twenty skinny people. I can tell you exactly how much I overeat, and how those particular carbyhydrates or sugars affect not only my plumpness, but also my mood.

There is no chubby person in America who couldn’t apply for a license to become a dietitian.

The sooner we realize that our appetites are primal, if not genetic, the better we will be able to address them, bringing them under our scrutiny if not our control.

I have the metabolism of a sloth, so I also have to fight to escape having the exercise regimen of the same creature. In other words, I would much rather hang from a tree by two claws than fall to the earth and run about hunting bananas.

Add to that the fact that I do not eat because I’m hungry. I tend to eat because the refrigerator has not yet been emptied. It seems to be my mission.

I don’t expect someone who’s thin and burns calories by looking at a book to comprehend this dilemma. But I do think one of the more cruel aspects of human prejudice is to squint at the weaknesses in others as we smirk at our own.

Appetites are what confirm that somewhere along the line we had a merger with the jungle. Addressing them, acknowledging a problem and controlling them is what confirms that we have a divine lineage.

 

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