Cushion

Cushion: (n) a soft bag on which to sit, kneel, or lie.

I must warn you that if you are sensitive, parochial or very squeamish about sexual matters, you probably shouldn’t read any further.

So now that I have everybody’s attention…

I will tell you an embarrassing story.

When I finish telling you this tale, I will share why.

When I was eighteen years old, I had a girlfriend who went off to Europe and didn’t contact me. It was understandable in the sense that what we had shared was a high school affair. She experimented with me and I with her. She just thought the experience was done sooner than I did.

Problem was, the experiment brought about a pregnancy in the Petri dish.

Therefore, the lack of hearing from her left me upset, bereft, and dare I say, horny. (We all know that once you awaken the magical worm or open Pandora’s Box, there’s no going back to hand holding and kissing.)

Yet, I had no intention of finding another girl and having sex.

But no one—and I say NO one—ever taught me about the miracle of masturbation. I had no idea.

Even as I write this, I realize how unlikely that seems. But all I knew was that I had a penis that was looking for a vagina, and absent a vagina, an adequate stand-in was needed.

So one day, lying on my couch, I unzipped my pants and let my little wanderer out. I noticed that when I rubbed it against the couch cushion, it felt pretty good. After a few minutes, though, it also hurt.

It was a contest.

Does it hurt more, or does it feel good more?

I persisted—so much so that my little trouper got all inflamed and angry. It was very sore.

Trying to figure out what to put on my friend to make him feel better (because alcohol was bad and Ben Gay was out of the question) I opened the medicine cabinet, and there was my mother’s bottle of lotion. I put some on my hand and reached down to comfort the reddened area.

Eureka!

I not only comforted my penis, but ended up discovering, in that moment of time, what was missing from my training.

It was a magnificent moment.

Earth-changing.

I was grateful.

My girlfriend did come back and she became my wife.

But I will tell you one thing: it’s a damn shame if a young boy does not know the correct male usage for hand lotion.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Curse Word

Curse word: (n) a profane word, especially as used in anger or for emphasis

I just can’t keep up with the current scrutiny that determines what we have decided is profane.

For instance, early during the Civil War, should Admiral Farragut, during the Civil War, have said, “Darn the torpedoes!” instead of damning them? Or do we give him license because he was in the heat of battle and it’s our way of supporting the troops?

When the old-time revival preachers kept using the word “damned,” cursing people to “hell”—was that profane? Or was it merely offering a suggested punishment and potential destination?

Was it profane when Southerners for generations referred to the black race as “niggers?” (I even did it as a little kid. “Eeny-meeny-miney-moe, catch a nigger by his toe.” I was surprised when it was rewritten a few years later, and “nigger” was replaced with “tiger.” Nowadays I wonder if PETA would object to us tugging on the toes of tigers. Is that profane?)

Is it profane to sit in a health class with junior high school students and tell them about the vagina, the penis and explain the power of masturbation?

In speaking forth the level of disgust for something we don’t care about, is it all right to say, “Don’t give a shit?” Or should we change it to “don’t give a bumble-bee?”

I just really don’t know anymore.

When I was much younger, you weren’t allowed to say “God.”

Now we live in a world of “OMG.”

Somebody once corrected me for using the word “crap.” When I asked how they would finish the phrase “I don’t give a…” they piously offered the word “hoot.”

We know why we use profane words.

We know how this ceases to make them profane.

There are times when what we are saying is more important than being proper in our wording.

It’s why the word “ain’t” hangs around—for just the right slang moment.

Here are the five curse words or phrases I think should be eliminated:

  1. You will never…

That is pronouncing a curse on someone by limiting their possibilities.

  1. You are just like…

That is cursing someone with an identity they may very well be trying to escape.

  1. If you don’t believe, you can’t be saved.

Maybe I would believe if I saw that your belief did anything positive for you.

  1. You’re just a…

Anything that follows that phrase is a curse to limit the person you are speaking with, to a very small corner in a very tiny world.

  1. I don’t forgive you.

There is the ultimate curse.

So there are my curse words.

What in the fuck do you think?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crotch

Crotch: (n) the human body between the legs.

For all those people in the world who think there’s nothing new under the sun, or that all the great inventions have been explored and exposed, I offer to you on this fine day the concept of coming up with an proper name for the region between one’s belly button and upper thigh.

Yes, a name that is not gross, inappropriate or makes little kids giggle.

It is hard to believe that the word “crotch” is probably the most acceptable term for this skin space.

Stop and think about it. You’ve got…

Genitals

Pubic area

Penis

Vagina

And groin

Do you see what I mean? If some ingenious soul would just conjure some pleasant term to share when identifying this area other than the odd phrase, “private parts,” he or she probably would receive eternal gratitude from the world of grownups, teetering between prudishness and naughtiness.

Suggestions?

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C


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Crone

Crone: (n) a withered, witchlike old woman.

An obsession with attributing certain characteristics to either the male or the female is one of the surest ways to showcase misogyny.

It’s not bad enough that we believe that women like gardening and nurturing things, whereas men are hunters and gatherers. The fact that there are thousands—perhaps millions—of examples to the contrary does not seem to deter people from “genderizing” activities.

For instance, for years hurricanes were designated by only using women’s names because “they’re so unpredictable.”

Of course, we grew out of this because we know that men are just as unpredictable as women.

But when it comes to the word “crone,” we are pretty sure that such a disfigured, frustrated, bitchy and aggravated person could only have breasts and a vagina.

Fascinating, huh?

After all, we’ve never seen old men who are nasty, backbiting gossipers, who can’t find a good word to say about anything.

Although Charles Dickens did give us that great crone with Ebenezer Scrooge.

Do you think it would have been even more popular if it had been Abigail Scrooge?

Then we could have eased the common misconception of the masses—that vitriol is normally passed along by the chicks.

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Covenant

Covenant: (n) an agreement between two or more persons to do or not do something specified.

 I have neither the time nor the patience to seek out another person to agree with me to seal the deal. So I guess I cannot officially call my rant a covenant.

But I will anyway—because no one is here to stop me.

I do have a covenant with myself. Bluntly:

I’m sick of the shit.

I’m sick of people making a livelihood off stirring up trouble.

I’m sick of politics being given a free pass to be disingenuous and evil.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I’m sick of the shit put out by a religious system that hides behind two or three verses of scripture, to attack and destroy two or three billion people.

I’m sick of the shit inside me—which causes me to want to hold back the true essence of my soul for fear that I’ll be found unworthy. Hell—I am unworthy, and so far, still alive.

I’m sick of the shit that makes us believe we can be prejudiced against half of the population simply because they nurture a vagina. Many times we’re grateful for that vagina, so for us to declare it insipid, weak and lesser might be considered hypocritical.

I’m sick of the shit that I was taught as a boy which kept me away from the simplicity of loving my neighbor as myself, but instead, checking skin tone first.

I’m sick of this shit.

And I don’t think I’m alone.

The only problem is, the people who might have enough heart and spirit to be sick of the shit won’t use the word shit. And the folks who are reveling in the shit don’t really think it’s stinky, just historical. (Sometimes historical is hysterical…)

So I may be more alone than I think. But if you’re sick of the shit, just like me, do me a favor and join me in this covenant.

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Conceive

Conceive: (v) to form or devise a plan

“The imaginations of a man’s heart are evil continually from his youth.”

Rather than considering this a degrading statement from the Good Book, we should understand that it is the working climate and funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
environment that exists in the interactions of human beings, as we attempt to move forward beyond our jungle roots to a lifestyle with a higher sensitivity.

What we’re working on is how we conceive things.

If every woman is just a storage house for a pair of breasts and a vagina, and every man has to be concerned about the length of his penis, as every country contends that it is the first and the best, and all religions struggle for supernal supremacy, it is a good idea to slow down and realize that since we normally conceive things in wickedness, it might be healthy to saturate ourselves in contentment and find deeper and purer motives for our actions.

We don’t have to.

We can become defensive and think that since everybody else is so rudely constructed, we must maintain our lack of civility if we want to survive.

Yet in a rock fight, the only people who escape injury are those who refuse to throw rocks, but instead, retreat to contemplate richer and more enlightened solutions.

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

 

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Clumsy

Clumsy: (adj) awkward in movement or in handling things.

Sexual intercourse looks dumb.

It is so awkward and clumsy that when we first meet a potential mating partner we have to get ourselves all worked up–sometimes drunk--to participate in the ritual, and then, after several months or years of interacting, marriage often occurs, where no one is quite able to get as worked up again, so merely on the stimulus of doing the act, we often find ourselves embarrassed, if not unmotivated.

It’s clumsy.

What makes it even more clumsy are people who think they are adept, talented or professional at it. Then it becomes similar to a bull in the pen, bragging about his graceful ability to take a dump.

What truly makes sex significant and endearing is how clumsy it is. If both parties would submit to the stumbling aspects of the action, giggle a little bit more and listen to one another, it could continue to be pleasurable for a long time.

But we view it with a funeral-home grimness.

How can anything be important if monkeys can do it eight times in an hour? Really??

Is there such a thing as a sacred vagina or a sanctified penis?

It’s clumsy.

And if we discuss it too much as if it’s a pertinent issue, the clumsiness of it becomes ridiculous, and we, fools for approaching the topic with such gravitas.

I’m clumsy. I’ve never been with anyone who isn’t clumsy. Although some people insist they are excellent lovers, the truth of the matter is, they have an over-exaggerated sense of their own prowess, which is not necessarily shared by their bedfellow.

Let’s relax.

Things that should be clumsy, like sex, are regaled as great art forms. Things that should be meaningful, like concern for one another and kindness, are treated as lowly.

This would be a good place to start. Have a serious conversation with your love partner about how to be kind to your neighbors, and when you get done, run to the bedroom and have clumsy sex…and laugh about it.

 

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