Category: Fourre-tout

“Survivor” is a word that has been misused, abused and squandered.

Call me picky, fastidious, punctilious, finicky, nitpicking or even a pain in the derrière, but accuracy is important to me. Misused words are like recurring four-lettered words: they bother me.

Lately, we have heard a lot about the sufferers of sexual abuse. I definitely feel compassion and empathy for their ordeals, but to be correct, these individuals are not “survivors”, they are “victims”.

The dictionary defines “survivor” as “a person who survives, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died.”

As far as I know, none of the plaintiffs have died. They have definitely been traumatized, and they were right to bring this issue to the fore, but nobody has died.

A cancer patient who is in remission or Elie Wiesel are survivors, a sexually abused person is not.

In the same vein, a horny teenage boy “assaulted” (déniaisé) by a libidinous woman is not a “survivor” but (in the eyes of many) a “lucky bastard”.

A robbery witness often describes what he saw as follows:
“The gentleman pulled a large caliber handgun and shot the cashier twice.”

Well, this man is no “gentleman’. According to a reliable dictionary again, a gentleman is “a chivalrous, courteous, or honorable man.”Anybody who robs and shoots another human being is definitely not an “honorable” person.

In addition, I intensely dislike the so-called French expression “double entendre”. A Frenchman would not understand the intended meaning of these words. The right French expression for “pun” is “un jeu de mots”.

Do not misuse words. If you do, you devalue them. Do not call Trumpland embezzlers “principled men”. There is nothing remotely honorable about crooked politicians who steal from their constituents.

And last but not least, please do not “assault” me for speaking what I believe. I am not exonerating the villains; I am simply correcting what I consider to be a linguistic error.

Thank you for your indulgence.

Alain

“A friend is one who overlooks your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden.”

How much do you know about your neighbor, your pétanque partner or poker sidekick? Probably very little. It is only after his passing that you discover in his obituary how interesting this fellow was. And you regret not having been better acquainted with him.

I don’t know if it is bashfulness or indifference, but most of us alas, know very little about the people we see on a regular basis. We (sometimes) know that they are married and that they have a pet. But this is just about it.
The irony is that a lot of these personal details are public knowledge. Just punch a name in your computer and you will come across a trove of information.

But sometimes for one reason or the other, we don’t click. We often judge a person by his personality and everybody’s assessment is different. This fellow might be a good player but you don’t feel any kinship. You would want to have him with you in a foxhole, but not as a confidante.

Human chemistry works in mysterious ways. You have to feel a certain empathy to get closer to a person. Occasionally you get to know a person better and sometimes you even become friends. When this happens, you are ready to overlook his/her flaws.

“Friendship is when people know all about you but like you anyway.”

But being friends with somebody does not mean necessarily that you know that person well.
After a certain time, and 3 or 4 children, your friend might decide to have a sex change. Did you have any inkling about that? Probably not or maybe either of you didn’t want to talk about it. Are you going to remain friends after this?
Chi lo sa?

The main thing is to be more observant and maybe less guarded because “A good friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.”

Starting a friendship is like dating. It might not work on the first date but it might get better on the second. The main thing is to be patient and tolerant.

If you want to be my friend, don’t be bashful.
Send me 3 copies of a detailed application and after thorough vetting and a discreet call to ICE, I’ll get back to you.

It is not that hard, is it?

Hugs and kisses!

Alain ?

Out, damned tooth! Out, I say!

Yes, the cracked tooth finally came out… in two pieces, quickly and painlessly. The young surgeon who operated on me did an excellent job. It took him less than 20 minutes to extract the cursed tooth and I barely felt anything. Bless his young soul… and dexterity.

I left the periodontist’s office with a crooked smile on my face. I didn’t know if the left side of my mouth still existed, but I didn’t care. The tooth was out and I was (surprisingly) pain free.
We are far from the barbaric teeth pulling methods popularized by countless paintings or illustrations.

But then, two hours later, after the local anesthesia wore off, came the pain; a sharp excruciating, throbbing pain. It was so intense that it brought tears to my eyes. I did not know if I should lie down or walk around, so I did both with no appreciable results.

I gobbled up 2 Ibuprofen tablets in a quick succession, but the pain remained. As recommended, I applied a cold pad to the throbbing area but with no immediate visible effects.

In retrospect, I was right to apprehend this procedure.
“Minor surgery is an operation performed on somebody else.”

Little by little though the pain abated. I don’t know if the ice pad trick did it, but the horrible pain slowly faded away. Will it come back? I don’t know, but right now I am enjoying this relatively pain free moment.

A modern tooth pulling procedure is somewhat pain free, but the aftermath is a tad different. With surgery (even minor) there is always a price to pay… otherwise people would be constantly under the knife.
The best policy is to avoid (as long as you can) surgery… the aftermath is always worse than claimed.

Now would be the ideal moment to light a joint… Medical emergency you know… But I don’t have any of the “Mellow Yellow” stuff handy. Where is my purveyor of illicit pleasures when I need him? Just like a cop… never there when you desperatly need him.

The pain is finally receding… I might live…

Alain

I find that most men would rather have their bellies open for five hundred dollars than have a tooth pool for five. Martin H. Fisher