The A Word … February 5th, 2019

THE

WORD

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My assumption is that it began with “the f word.”

Feeling that we were very proper, members of our society began refusing to even say the word f-u-c-k, but instead referred to it as “that f word.” The immediate foolishness of this approach is that every time you say “the f word,” everyone listening sounds out the word “fuck” in their minds.

When we added “the n word” to it, thinking we were sparing an entire race of people anger and humiliation, we just gave bigots a way to promote the word.

Likewise with “the c word.”

So I am doing a series on every letter of the alphabet—how each one has a naughty word that most people think should not be spoken aloud, due to its severity or profanity.

Using my recollection of the alphabet from my kindergarten class, I think that takes us to the letter A.

THE A WORD IS ASSHOLE

The “a word” falling into this category is asshole.

The word is a game changer.

For instance, you can say to someone, “I am disgusted with you.” They may be slightly offended by your observation but not devastated.

You could even say, “I can’t stand your attitude.” It’s stinging, but not a mortal wound.

But when you add onto those thoughts a closing remark of, “you are an asshole,” the whole temperature and intensity of the event changes. The reason for your original objection gets buried under an avalanche of offense. Why?

You will discover over these twenty-six weeks, as we investigate each of these words, that they convey a hidden meaning.

Calling someone an asshole says that you believe their actions, lifestyle and motivations are located at the place in the ass where shit comes out.

Therefore, you’re saying the following three things:

1. “You are less than me.” (That in itself could be fighting words)
2. “You don’t have rights.” (Now the person you offended is ready for a fight)
3. “You are worthless.” (Let the punching begin.)

Words that have proven themselves to be so poisonous that they have to be referred to by a single letter always find their birthing in human bigotry. Over the years, they have been portrayed comically and even presented off-handedly. But at their root is the notion of superiority.

This is how Hitler was able to convince the German people that the Jews were rats. In other words, “they are less than us, they don’t have rights and therefore, they’re worthless.”

So rather than presenting this word as immoral, or a term that “good people just don’t use,” we need to realize that “asshole” is still being used—because bigotry has not been adequately exposed.

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Sit Down Comedy … January 18th, 2019

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Sometime back, but still in my retainable memory, I was invited to speak at a youth convention.

It started out slow, as those kinds of gigs often do until the audience realizes you are acceptable and hearable. It ended beautifully, with enthusiasm, passion and even a few tears. I was feeling so inspired that I turned to the gathered and said, “God, you guys look great.”

Afterward, I was greeted by the sponsor of the event, who seemed to lack my joy. He shared that he was greatly uplifted by the message I imparted to the students, but found the use of the word “God” in my closing to be a classic case of using the Lord’s name in vain.

OMG.

Move ahead a little while and it is such a common phrase that we have an Internet abbreviation for it.

I ran across the same problem over the years when I appeared in front of pristine-thinking audiences, using the word “crap.” Once again, move ahead, and I’ve even heard “crap” used in prayers: “Lord, save us from all this crap.”

We get nowhere with language by thinking that certain words are perverse, others are acceptable and a chosen few are supreme.

Let me give you an example:

I have a bottom. I don’t call it a bottom very often, because the occasion to use that word doesn’t arise, and I don’t feel the need to ever be that formal. So instead, I may say, “I’m going to sit on my backside.”

That’s about as vanilla as I can get. I refuse to use the word “tush.” Sometimes when I’m trying to motivate myself, I will say, “I got off my butt and finished dinner.” (“Butt” in this case is required to express to the hearer that a process was necessary to change my stationary position to an active one.)

I would never say, “I got off my derriere and finished dinner.”

Moving along, if I were referring to a woman’s attractive backside today, I might call it a “booty,” only to be playful. But I don’t think I would get the same reaction from her or anyone else by saying, “She certainly has an attractive gluteus maximus.”

Words justify us—meaning they make us come across clearly—or they condemn us—causing us to sound foul or overly cautious.

I have to be honest with you—if I were discussing the government of the United States in its present stand-off, I would certainly put forth this sentence: “The government should get off its ass and fix some things.”

I wouldn’t use “bottom” and I wouldn’t use “butt.” In this case, the word “ass” has a double meaning. It refers both to their languishing position as well as their attitudes, which prevent them from being proactive.

Do you see what I mean?

We need to stop this foolish, politically correct mindset regarding the American language. If a word communicates, it communicates.

For instance, I never say, “I’m going to have a bowel movement,” but I might say, “The baby did a poop.”

If I run across something that’s plain bull, I will call it crap.

If someone is being mistreated and bigotry is being fostered, I might spout, “What the shit is going on?”

If you feel that I should say, “What the potty is going on?” I think you’re either being insincere or you should find a time machine and join us here in the twenty-first century.

Stop looking for whether words are perverse, righteous, foul or sacred. Start noticing how they fit into sentences or questions that communicate the depth of our passion.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … December 6th, 2017

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I Don’t Fit

I don’t fit the manger scene

Not a lass who’s barely fourteen

Nor a man who heeds his dreams

I’m too possessed with my schemes

Never sheepish, devoid of sin

Willing to welcome a baby in

Yet perhaps an ass from the working class

Grunting a complaint over midnight cries

Where would I fit, with all my lies?

I would be the shepherd who remained with the flock

Bound and determined to punch the clock

“Angels we have heard on high”

Don’t pay the rent–let ’em fly

Bethlehem’s too simple and quaint

No time to stress or offer complaint

I just don’t seem to belong

With angels singing a heavenly song

Go to bed, get some sleep

Rise again to sow and reap

For I would never stare at the sky

Believing a star had the answers why

And trek across the desert sand

A stranger in a foreign land

To burst into tears of joy

Because I found Heaven’s Boy

I’m so glad I missed Holy Night

Because I would have failed to see the light

‘Tis the story that touches my pagan soul

And allows me a chance to be made whole

I don’t fit in the manger scene

With Mama and child, so serene

God was smart, with all His clout

To give me time to figure it out

 

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … November 1st, 2017

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I’ll Let You Know

To all the ladies of the Earth

Who grant our species needful birth

It’s time for us to let you know

Some way for us to finally show

That carnal men from far and wide

Flirt, deceive, have notoriously lied

In an attempt to gain power

Have dominated each moment and hour

For she must become an acquisition

To diminish her purpose and position

A sexual object without a name

An adversary available for blame

So men will intimidate

Like gorillas, they imitate

Thumping the chest

Insisting they’re the best

And whispering a little something

Foul, mean–a sour nothing

Harass her ass

He grovels and pokes

Ask for favors

Pretend it’s jokes

If you want to make progress

He wants you to undress

Fill the Bill

Acting Spacey

Dirty talk

Make it racy

If you cry you lose your chance

If you agree you join the dance

So it’s time to finally replace

And rename the macho disgrace

For I am a woman, watch me grow

And if I’m interested, I’ll let you know.

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Cracked 5 … July 17th, 2017

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Other Than the Traditional Transforming of Adam’s Rib, Different Things That God Considered Using in Making Woman

A. Turtle dove tears

 

B. Sugar, spice and everything with a price

 

C. Hairspray and bolts

 

D. Cadbury chocolate Easter eggs

 

E. Jawbone of an ass

PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … June 15th, 2016

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Unclean

He said it would be easy

Not difficult at all

Just to do a somersault

Pretend you took a fall

But I found it hard

Failed to make the team

And heard a snicker or two

I was odd, it would seem

 

She wanted a kiss

Her friends pressed her to try

Yet I was terrified

Not really knowing why

But I agreed to lock my lips

With this fine, willing lass

We bumped our teeth together

I felt like such an ass

 

My first day on the job

My boss explained the routine

He seemed such a gentle soul

No signs of being mean

But when I blew the deal

And ruined the daily plan

He yelled at me with vigor

And called me a clumsy man

 

Odd, ass and clumsy

Seemed to be my lot

So the preacher patted my shoulder

Said, “Be thankful for what you got.”

Finding his advice not so nice

I asked for God’s dominion

A brief delay, then a response

He gave me His opinion.

 

“Don’t worry so much and be uptight

In the quest for what is right

For there is nothing you have seen

Which I have made that is unclean.”

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … January 23rd, 2016

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Dear Man: Do you think I’m smart?

 

Dear Woman: Trick question, am I right?

 

Dear Man: No trick. I just wonder if you find me intelligent.

 

Dear Woman: I guess I’d have to know what you mean by intelligent.

 

Dear Man: Stop analyzing the question and give me your general impression of my brain power.

 

Dear Woman: Yeah, I think you’re smart.

 

Dear Man: No, you don’t.

 

Dear Woman: So it was a trick question.

 

Dear Man: No, but if you thought I was smart you would have answered immediately instead of trying to figure out what I was getting at.

 

Dear Woman: Are you trying to say that you don’t understand why I try to figure out what you’re getting at?

 

Dear Man: Do you think I’m too sensitive?

 

Dear Woman: Are we moving on to another question?

 

Dear Man: Let me explain.

 

Dear Woman: Please do.

 

Dear Man: I think I’ve got something figured out. I have a tendency to share what I feel. You, on the other hand, offer what you think.

 

Dear Woman: I would agree with that.

 

Dear Man: Please don’t interrupt me. I’m on a roll. So I react by feeling about what you think and that forces you to think about what I feel, which more or less–at least partially–aggravates both of us, and because we think aggravation might lead to fighting, we shut up and pout in our own corner.

 

Dear Woman: I don’t pout.

 

Dear Man: Yes, you do. You just call it “going for a drive.” Or “watching a football game,” when you don’t even know the names of the teams. Anyway, once we get aggravated and we don’t deal with it, there’s enough of it left over inside both of us that we’re not courteous to each other, or at least not as much as we should be. And then we are both quietly offended by that lack of courtesy and soon we begin to believe we have drifted apart.

 

Dear Woman: So you figured this out on your own.

 

Dear Man: Yeah. I think a lot about us. Don’t you think about me?

 

Dear Woman: Definitely a trick question. Yes, of course I think about you. It’s hard not to consider someone you share a bed with every night.

 

Dear Man: So what do you think can be done about this?

 

Dear Woman: Maybe nothing. Maybe it’s just the way things are. Maybe it’s part of the imperfection that’s evolving. Who knows?

 

Dear Man: Don’t you think there’s a middle ground? A place between my feelings and your thinking where we can meet?

 

Dear Woman: I don’t know and that’s an honest answer. I really don’t know.

 

Dear Man: We go to church.

 

Dear Woman: Every once in a while.

 

Dear Man: Right. Did you ever notice something? In the story of Adam and Eve, God doesn’t give them two different sets of instructions. There wasn’t a manly way to take care of the Garden and a girly way. Just one way.

 

Dear Woman: I never thought of it, but I guess you’re right.

 

Dear Man: And if I can continue, there’s not a blue Bible for the boys and a pink Bible for the girls.

 

Dear Woman: That’s cute. I bet somebody will eventually try that, though.

 

Dear Man: And without getting too religious, Jesus did say that in the Kingdom of God there is neither male nor female.

 

Dear Woman: I get all that, but what are you trying to say?

 

Dear Man: I’m saying that if God thought we could get along, there must be a way to do it, or he was a real ass for creating an impossible situation, and then sitting back and laughing at our arguments.

 

Dear Woman: I don’t think you can call God an ass.

 

Dear Man: I’m not calling God an ass, I’m saying that anybody who would torture people with a hope that does not exist would be an ass.

 

Dear Woman: I agree.

 

Dear Man: So the reason I asked you if you think I’m smart is that I came up with this idea. What if I took what I felt and tried to make it more thoughtful, and you took your thinking and allowed for more feeling, and we ended up landing together in something that had spirit?

 

Dear Woman: And what would we call that place?

 

Dear Man: Human.

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