Clear

Clear: (adj) transparent.

I will never be transparent.

There’s no need for me to mislead you with a promise by offering my definition on the subject.

I don’t want you to see through me. Honestly, I don’t think it’s any of your damn business. I don’t trust you enough.

I like you real well–you seem fun. But you’re not worthy of me sharing my feelings and then leaving them to your interpretation.

If you would accept it on face value, it would be fine.

But you won’t.

You’re like everybody else. You’re an amateur psychologist, counselor and theologian. You aren’t even aware that you’re still in the amateur category. It’s not your fault.

I’m the same way, too. I should caution people not to be too transparent around me.

So I believe there’s a definition for “clear” other than transparent: able to be understood.

You don’t need to comprehend why I’m occasionally fussy and touchy if I am willing to let you know that I sometimes suffer from delusions. I can make that clear.

If you love me, you can adapt and forgive me for such indiscretions without trying to know all the details or solve all my problems.

For instance, I don’t need politicians to be transparent. I just cannot tolerate it when they’re opaque, refusing to allow me a clear look at their motivations.

“Let me make something clear” is a great statement if it’s followed by a candid admission of strengths and weaknesses.

Please do not be offended.

I’m not always transparent with God.

Silly, don’t you think? Since, if there actually is a Divine Creator, He is omniscient, all-knowing.

I don’t care.

He’s just not gonna get the whole story from me.

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Cellophane

Cellophane: (n) a thin transparent wrapping material made from viscose.

I love cellophane. Not intimately, but certainly personally.

You can see through it. It’s great for wrapping sandwiches. They call that “Saran-Wrap.”

I have two complaints. (It is very American of me to lead with the fact that I love something and then quickly explain why it also annoys the hell out of me.)

So doing my duty for God and country, I will tell you that cellophane sometimes gets too attached. You try to remove it from a package or unwrap something and it clings to your hand.

The first instinct is to reach over and remove it with your other hand–but then it clings to that hand. So you end up shaking your paw in the air to dislodge yourself from the sticky situation, resembling an exercise one might do to alleviate stress.

Clingy.

“Don’t cling to me, baby. I’m no good for you.”

It won’t listen.

Secondly, there are times it refuses to cling. I have lined up a whole series of sandwiches, preparing to wrap them up, only to discover when I finished, and it was time to put the last fold down, it would not stick to itself–popping up in the air to mock my efforts. So then that side of the sandwich has to be carefully placed on the bottom of the cooler, to make it look like the sandwiches are well-wrapped (when you know in your heart they aren’t.)

And then when you arrive at the family picnic, someone always says, “Who wrapped this sandwich?”

They are fully aware of which cooler they took the sandwich from–it’s just a way of humiliating you.

So even though I do love cellophane, I certainly have my beefs against it.

Maybe someday we will work out our differences. And then I will be happy.

And it will be a Glad Wrap.

 

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Boor

Boor: (n) an unrefined, ill-mannered person.

Personal revelations are risky.Dictionary B

You may think you’re being transparent or even clever–but others might find you to be a boor.

In other words, distasteful.

But at the root of all comedy–which is really the best doorway to mutual human understanding–is a certain amount of surprising revelation.

Yet there is a reason we disdain bathroom humor, even though we all take a crap.

So what can we share without people squinting and expressing their disapproval over our candor?

Tricky business, huh?

For instance, I could tell you that I enjoy farting. It is very true. But there is a certain amount of my readership that would assert that such a confession is classless. They would feel superior to me. Even if I explained that I try to do most of my farting under the covers, and not welcome others to visit, or that the relief it gives to my tummy has an almost supernatural-salvation sensation, I would still be in danger of being cast into the role of the boor, who must be segregated from the decent folk.

So to keep from being an outcast, I would never, ever admit to you that I relish farting.

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Besmirch

Besmirch: (v) to damage the reputation of someone or something in the opinion of others.

Dictionary B

I don’t often take the liberty of addressing contemporary issues in these essays, but I am greatly troubled by the way our society is handling a particular human being.

Yes, I may be the singular person in America who feels sorry for Donald Trump. He possibly is the only truly innocent person in this whole cavalcade of ridiculous parading around, while turning our Democratic system into a clown act gigging at a whore house.

After all, Donald Trump has always made it clear who he is.

One can watch three episodes of The Apprentice and understand the man. He has two personas: an entertainer who acts as a salesman, or a salesman who greatly enjoys entertaining. Therefore he has dual goals:

  1.  To garner emotion from you
  2. To get you to buy something.

Unfortunately, he has tapped a bitter well in the American culture which spews poison. Once he realized there was a great flow from this poisonous digging, he pursued it–being the salesman that he is. The fact that we are unable to cap it is our problem, not his.

Of all the candidates running for President, Donald Trump is the most transparent.

The problem lies in our own secret rooms, where we still maintain a vigil of prejudice, but try to act embarrassed because this New York billionaire thespian acts it out for us.

So be careful when besmirching the reputation of this awkward soul.

He is what he is, and by the way … that’s all that he is.

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Aquarium

dictionary with letter A

Aquarium (n): a transparent container of water in which fish and other water creatures and plants are kept.

Sometimes I look back at the hiccups in my life and giggle over my choices, predilections and the fads that permeated my consciousness temporarily, only to fall to the wayside as a new idea punctured my awareness.

About fifteen years ago I decided I wanted an aquarium. I think I saw one in a movie, thought it was cool and believed it would be a conversation piece for individuals who came into my home and seemed incapable of speech.

I did what I usually did–researched the subject just enough to make me totally unqualified.

Unqualified, but verbose.

So I bought the tank, filled it with water, got the pellets, put in the little furniture, rocks and stuff to go along with it, and bought myself some fish.

Let me tell you–I selected my fish based upon what looked pretty and interesting. The proprietor of the pet shop, in great generosity, donated five gold fish, which looked rather bland and unappealing.

I threw all the fish together with no concern for cultural integrity.

In two or three days I noticed that my gold-fish were gone. I looked for them in the bottom of the tank, planning to retrieve them for a decent burial, but no luck. I looked along the sides, but not there either.

So I called my pet shop owner and he explained to me that those pretty fish I bought were…well, shall we say, cannibals.

They ate the gold-fish.

I asked him why he didn’t tell me that in the store and he gave that lame response often provided by shopkeepers.

“I thought you knew.”

So you see, much like my gold-fish, my interest in aquariums was short-lived. But it gave me pause for thought.

In the aquarium kingdom–and I assume paralleling into the human–the pretty and interesting fish always eat the dull and boring ones.

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Apoplectic

dictionary with letter A

Apoplectic (adj.) 1. informal overcome with anger. 2. dated relating to apoplexy (stroke).

If anger is a turd, then rage is a pile of manure. And if we were able to deal with our turds, we wouldn’t have to shovel our shit.

You see, that’s the problem.

Some sense of false kindness prevents us from speaking our hearts, causing us to be deceptive rather than forthcoming.

It doesn’t change the fact of what we feel. Choosing a gentle answer does not make us more gentle. It actually causes us to create a second storehouse, where we stockpile resentment instead of building up our barns of blessing.

It is impossible for me to live a blessed life if I’m pissed off–and the longer I stay pissed off, the less chance I have of ever satisfying the breach I’ve created in my own emotions and soul.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the driving habits of the American traveler. People who would normally appear rational lose all sense of dignity when they get behind the wheel of an automobile, because they feel they’re protected by armor, like a knight on a crusade to kill dragons. They become profane, horn-honkers and selfish intruders into the lives of other human movers.

Why? Because the anger that should have been dealt with days ago is now stinking up the joint.

There is one mission in discovering the value of human life: don’t be afraid to say what you feel … as long as you’re prepared to be wrong.

And since most people are not suited for such an admission of guilt, they would rather keep their feelings to themselves and maintain them in a chest of self-righteousness.

  • Rage is what kills.
  • Anger is what opens the door to communication.

If we allow ourselves to be transparent in our emotions, we will avoid the danger of rage.

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Annul

dictionary with letter A

Annul: (v) to be declared invalid, with no legal existence.

Every time I hear about a marriage being annulled, I don’t know whether to cry or giggle.

I’ve even been told that it can happen as much as a month after the nuptials.

My understanding is that the annulment is possible because the couple has not consummated their commitment.

Isn’t that weird?

I mean, you go through all the courting, awkward dinners, flirtations, proposal, planning, picking invitations, choosing a cake, booking a church, selecting bridesmaids and a best man, speaking the vows, dancing at the reception, and you get in the car, look at one another, and go … “Damn, you’re ugly!”

Or worse yet, they actually do have sexual relations and one or the other is so unimpressed that they decide there is no way they could continue for another week.

“Maybe if we lie about seeing our private parts, we can annul it instead of divorce it…”

What I’m asking, I guess, is, how would you ever recover from this?

For instance, you start dating again, you meet someone you really like and the time comes to become transparent, talking about your past and the relationships that have already transpired. And you have to admit to this new person that you have been married, but it was annulled. Does it not beg the question–why?

And the answer to that question may be too embarrassing to share with anyone, let alone an individual you are trying to woo.

Yes, annulling may be a continual process which annuls everything for the future.

So I guess wisdom is that we should all be careful who we pick to be our mate, because it may be too painful to pursue the game … and end up with “checkmate.”

 

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