Word: Blinkered

blinkered

[bling-kerd]

adjective

1. narrow-minded and subjective; unwilling to understand another viewpoint.
2. having blinkers on; fitted with blinkers.

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               “Hang on, there’s something I’ve got to do.” Chris said.  His girlfriend, Sally saw what he was looking at and let out a quiet groan.

               “You know it’s pointless, right?” She asked.

               “I know, but it’s still fun to see them squirm.”

               “Just…just make it quick, okay?”

               Chris laughed wickedly and hurried off towards his target.  A middle aged man wearing eye catching clothes and holding a large, anti-gay sign, telling the world about how Jesus hated gay people in a very unpleasant way.

               “Hey.” Chris said with a large smile on his face.  The man turned his head to face the newcomer.  “So, uh, you hate gay people, right?”

               “Gays are a blight on this world.” The man said.  His voice was a New England accent, but carried an odd Southern aspect as well, like he came from both the north and south simultaneously.  “Anyone who supports them will burn in Hell.”

               “I see, I see.  And you’re a Christian, I take it?”

               “I am dedicated to the word of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ, yes.”

               “Excellent, wonderful, yes.  So, how’s being a huge hypocrite working out for you?”

               The man’s face scrunched up in confusion.  “What?”

               “Well, it’s just that you’re such a huge hypocrite that it must do wonders for your lifestyle.”

               “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

               “Oh, you know, saying you’re a dedicated Christian while going against it’s core principles and all.”

               “I would never go against the words of the Lord!”

               This was Chris’ favorite part.  He stifled a laugh at what he knew was coming.  He could not wait to see how this man would react.

               “Of course not.  So, you must really like cherries, right?”

               “What?  What do cherries have to do with anything?”

               “Well, you pick them so often that you must love them.”

               “What makes you think I’ve ever picked a cherry in my life?”

               “Sure you have.  If you think you’re a good Christian, you have to practice cherry picking on a nearly daily basis.”

               The man had just caught on.  He sputtered incoherently for a moment.  Chris was thrilled.  This was a good one.  He was going to have a lot of fun with this guy.  “How…how dare you!” The man cried.

               “Hey, I just calls it likes I sees it.  I mean, come on, do you even know what Christianity is all about?”

               “Of course I do.  It’s about accepting the Lord Jesus into your heart and following his word.”

               “And what is his word?”

               “What?”
               “Jesus.  What kind of things did he say?”

               “Well, for one thing, he said gays are the spawn of Satan.”

               “Really?  What section was that?  Because I’m pretty sure Jesus had nothing to do with gay people.”

               “Oh he did.  If you knew the Bible, you’d know that.”

               “You sure about that?  Because I’ve read the Bible.  Multiple times, actually.  How about you?  Have you ever read it?”

               The man looked hesitant for a moment.  “I…I don’t need to read it.  I know it.”

               “What does that even mean?”

               “It means I know it well enough that I don’t need to read it to understand it.”

               Chris had to force himself from laughing.  “You sure?  Because I’m pretty sure Jesus said a lot of things about getting along with other people.  You know, not judging people, forgiving others, and just being all around nice to other people, no matter what.  You know, things like that.”

               The man’s tongue worked around his words.  “You…you…you don’t understand Christ at all!” He roared.  “Christ, our Lord would never accept gays!  They go against everything He has taught us!”

               “Because it says it in the Bible?”

               “Exactly!”
               “You want to know what else the Bible says?  It says slavery is perfectly fine.  It also says that it’s okay to stone people, that shellfish is bad, and that women should completely cover themselves.  Sounds pretty good, huh?”

               “You…you…you’re going to burn for all eternity in the fiery pits of Hell!  There’s a special punishment out there for people like you!  Those who disrespect the word of God and His son will be punished by the worst that both God and Satan can inflict upon your immortal soul!”

               “Yeah, well, can’t be any worse than what you’ll get for going against everything you say you do.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend is waiting for me, so have a nice day.”

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I have the distinct honor of never having met a person like this.  And for that, I am very happy.  I imagine people like this are...frustrating.  

Word: Tummler

  

tummler

[too m-ler]

noun

1. a male entertainer, as formerly employed by resorts in the Catskill Mountains, who combined the duties of a comedian, activities director, and master of ceremonies to keep the guests amused throughout the day.
2. any lively, prankish, or mischievous man.

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            Kyle made sure his footsteps made noise that was audible over the TV.  He did not want to startle his grandpa and cause something to fail in the old man.  He stood nearby, cradling his notebook and waiting for a commercial.

               “Grandpa?” He asked when one arrived.

               The old man looked at his grandson with a face like well worn leather.  “What is it?”

               “Um, I need some help with a homework assignment.  See, I’m supposed to find out about what jobs were like in the past.  I figured the best way to do that is to ask someone.  So I want you to tell me about your old job and what that was like.”

               “What class is this for?”

               “Home Ec.”

               “Home what?”

               “Home economics.  It teaches us about things like interest and taxes and how to keep track of money and stuff.”

               “Good.  Sounds like a good class.  Damn fine class.  Wish I had learned all that when I was your age.”  He said with an approving nod.  “Much better than some of that other stuff you’re learning.  I mean, who really needs to know how big circles are?  I say just use a damn measuring tape and you’ll be fine.”

               “Uh, grandpa?”

               “Hm?  Oh, right, right, right.  My job.  Let’s see.  I’ve had many jobs, so that’ll be tricky.”

               “Just use the one you had the longest.”

               Kyle sat on the couch next to his grandpa and got his notebook and pen ready.  His grandpa closed his eyes and Kyle thought the old man had fallen asleep.  But then he opened his eyes and began.

               “Let’s see.  The job I had the longest was with the old Cattamong Hotel, a few miles away from here.  Of course, it’s gone now, just like all those places.  Beautiful place, that hotel.  Great hiking trails all year long.  I started there in the 40’s, a few months after World War II ended.  I was pretty young back then, younger than you, certainly.  Didn’t know a damn thing. 

               “Started cleaning up after the guests.  It was hard work, the pay was trash, and frankly, I wasn’t very good at it.  I know, how hard can it be to clean up after people, right?  Plenty hard, that’s how.  People are slobs.  Always have been, always will be.  Funny how that works, isn’t it?  A man can be neat and clean in his own home, where he’ll be cleaning up all the messes, but the moment someone else is doing the cleaning, he becomes a filthy pig.”

               Kyle cleared his throat to get his grandpa back on track.

               “Oh, sorry, got carried away.  Now then, where was I?  Oh, right, cleaning.  Yes, I was a terrible cleaner.  But I was damned entertaining.  I knew how to keep people happy, and it wasn’t by making their room smell nice.  Now, I knew how to make people laugh.  It was easy back in those days.  You could say just about anything and nobody would get offended.  Everyone’s too sensitive these days, if you ask me. 

               But anyway, I was funny, and I knew how to talk to people.  My bosses saw that and gave me a promotion.  I moved up from the cleaning staff to the entertainment.  Now there was a job.  Good pay even for a newcomer like me, and people loved me a lot more than when I was just cleaning up after them.  And damn was I good at it.

               So good that I worked my way up to become a tummler.”

               “A what?”

               “A tummler.  Fancy way of saying the head of the entertainment department.  I did it all.  During the day, I was planning events for the guests, making sure there was always something to do no matter what your tastes were.  And at night, I was the show.  I was either introducing acts, or was an act myself, depending on who was available at the time.  And that was a damn fine job.  Damn fine.  Made good money, met fine people, and enjoyed life.  Hell, it’s how I met your grandma.  She was a guest that got swept up by my show that she decided to stay around.  And well, a few years later we were married.”

               “That was allowed back then?”

               “You could do a lot of things back then that you can’t do now.  You could drink and smoke all you wanted, long as you were old enough.  You could romance who you wanted and talk to who you wanted.  Long as you did your job right and didn’t embarrass anyone, nobody cared what you did.  At least, that’s how it was for me.  Don’t know about other places.  I’ve had a few jobs since then, but never as long as that hotel.  54 years, that’s how long I stayed there.  Would’ve been longer, if it hadn’t shut down.”

               Kyle worked to write everything down.  When he was done, he looked over what he had written.  He still needed some things to complete his assignment.

               “Okay, cool.  Do you think I can ask you a few more questions?”

               “Sure, sure.  Oh, but it’ll have to wait.  The show’s back on.”

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I could never do a job like this.  I'm not social enough.  In fact, to me, it sounds like one of the worst jobs I could do.  There's worse out there, but this is pretty bad for me.

Word: Eggbeater

eggbeater

[eg-bee-ter]

noun

1. a small rotary beater for beating eggs, whipping cream, etc.
2. Slang. a helicopter.

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       Alex tore through the living room, looking for his fiancé, Liz.  He found her sitting on the couch, reading something on her phone.  Hearing him running around made her look up slowly, blink a few times then turn back to the book.  She idly noticed he was carrying a plastic bag, but thought nothing of it.

               “Honey, look at this!” He said quickly.  He reached into the bag and pulled out a novelty egg beater.  He proudly held the kitchen tool up for her to see.

               “So, what about it?’

               “So?  So?  Look at it.  Just look at it.”

               He moved in closer so she could get a closer look at the thing.  It was shaped vaguely like a helicopter, with the hand crank acting as the tail rotor, and the main blades running into the main body, with the handle being the rest of the copter.

               “Okay, it’s a helicopter shaped egg beater.  So what?”

               “Really?  You don’t get it?” Alex asked with slumped shoulders.

               Liz shrugged.  She both marveled and wondered at his ability to find entertainment in such a thing as a novelty kitchen tool that they would probably never use.

               “It’s an egg beater!” He said excitedly, as it that said anything.  Liz looked at him blankly, hoping for an explanation that never came.

               “Yeah, I can tell.  So what?”

               “It’s an egg beater shaped like an egg beater.”

               Liz blinked in confusion.  “Uh, Alex, that would just be a normal egg beater.”

               “Oh come on, you seriously don’t get it?”

               “What’s there to get?”

               “An egg beater is also another name for a helicopter.”

               Liz looked at him, now even more confused.  “What?  That can’t be right.  I mean, why would anyone call a helicopter an egg beater?  It doesn’t make any sense.”

               “It’s true.  Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

               Liz closed her book and began her search.  It did not take long for her to find that Alex was, inexplicably, correct. 

               “Huh.” She said simply. 

               “You get it now, right?  Why this is so amazing.”  Alex said, holding out the beater.

               “I guess it makes a bit more sense.  Kind of.  I mean, as much as this ever can when the underlying premise is so ridiculous.”

               “Oh, it’s hilarious, and you know it.”

               “Not really.  I guess it’s slightly entertaining, but not hilarious.  Still, I guess it’s a good conversation starter.”

               “Good enough.  I’m going to go put this on the counter.”

               Alex ran off to do just that.  He did not give Liz enough time to say anything to keep him from putting it somewhere prominent.  She lay back and grumbled at his choice of décor.  She would have to go in later and put it somewhere a bit more discrete. 

               She lay back on the couch and started to read more.  Her mind started to wander back to the egg beater though.  And the more she thought about it, the more she came to a single conclusion.

               “Huh.  I guess it is kind of funny.”

               *********************************

Now I'm wondering if something like this actually exists.  I didn't see any, but I also didn't look very hard.  And if it doesn't exist, someone should make one.  I don't think I would buy it, but someone would.