Tag Archives: stung

Boxer

Boxer: (n) a person who takes part in the sport of boxing

In 1976, I went out to see “Rocky” when it first came to the theaters.Dictionary B

I had never thought about boxing.

Matter of fact, I had a disdainful view of it, as some sort of practice by “ignorant folk from the poor side of town.”

But Rocky changed everything.

Watching two well-oiled men pummel each other made me wonder what it would be like to buy some boxing gloves and just goof around with them. So a friend and I picked some up at a local sporting goods store, (by the way, they were quite expensive) and cleared out an area of his garage to simulate a ring and decided to find out what it was like to “get punchy.”

We started slowly.

It went along pretty well. I punched him in the arm, he punched me back in the mid-section, and I was thinking, this is really no big deal.

All at once he took a swing at my face. His glove made contact right in the middle of my nose. I could have sworn that it was driven back into my brain, where it lodged and refused to return. It stung, it burned, I couldn’t open my eyes, and blood started pouring out.

My friend was horrified, apologizing in every manner he had learned during his very proper upbringing.

I finally got the bleeding stopped, but it was two days before I got rid of the headache.

I don’t know why people want to punch each other in the face.

But I will tell you that it is not pleasant–and is not recommended for anyone who might discover he’s a wimp.

 

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Bee

Bee: (n) an insect of a large group to which the honeybee belongsDictionary B

There certainly seem to be a lot of design flaws in Mother Nature.

I am not offering this as a criticism, nor do I think I could have done a better job stomping around the Universe.

It’s just that in the mortal brain, we have a tendency to seek sense where Nature only offers tension. The whole process is held together with tiny fibers, little branches, and maybe chewing gum and lint.

How it actually works is beyond our comprehension.

For instance, I would love to be friends with the bee.

I’ve heard of the good work they do.

  • I realize that they pollinate plants and flowers which keep us alive and allow us to eat, escaping starvation.
  • I am very favorable to honey, the by-product of their process.
  • They are colorful.

But then, they have this thing called a “stinger.” And because I do not want to be stung, I am tempted to kill them, and therefore be party to terminating their noble work, and in a sense, setting in motion my own suicide.

It’s really crappy.

Why couldn’t the bee sing like the bird, so we would be able to admire both mission and personal traits?

But mingled in there is the need for the bee to defend itself against those who would try to quell its progress. So the bee threatens with a sting.

It is bizarre.

It is beyond my grasp.

Yet it works.

And when the bees started to die off a few years ago, we very complex human beings were sent into a dither over the prospect of losing the little fellas.

For after all, we need them.

So we must remember, there are many things in life that benefit us … which are also allowed to sting us if we misuse them.

 

 

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