I was once in a college writing class and was asked to where each person was asked to put down something profound. On a whim, I jokingly wrote, "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives." Surprisingly, the professor had never heard these words, which are the opening line of a soap opera that was very popular and may still be, although I wouldn't know either now. While I'm not a soap opera fan, they didn't go off until I had been home an hour or so after school, so I could usually hear those playing in the background while I patiently awaited my opportunity to turn the channel. I wanted to see "Scooby Doo" or "Rat Patrol" or "Hogan's Heroes." I quickly told the professor that she didn't tell us to come up with something profound and original after he read it aloud and several members of the class laughed, embarrassing her. The following week, I wrote a piece about a murder in which the victim is an alarm clock, but one reading it might not realize it until the end of the article. It was based on an early morning episode in which the dual-bell clock that sat by my bed at the time was unceremoniously abused. It made a much better impression and thus I was soon out of the 'dog house', especially since one of the other writing assignments done by a classmate was on "The Case for Legalizing Marijuana," and another was on whether the toilet paper roll should be hung with the paper near the wall or away from it. No, really, I'm not making this up.

As many of you know, my sense of humor has gotten me in trouble more than once. For instance, I sometimes make comments without even thinking that sometimes cause me more than a little discomfort.

I saw a lady at an event recently wearing a ball cap and with dark hair. When I don't wear my glasses, I can still see, but details aren't all that 'crisp' and clear. In this case, she is someone I should have known. "I just haven't had my hair colored in a while," she said as an answer to my foolish statement, "I thought you had blonde hair."

The other night, I made a comment to someone in a meeting about getting wise counsel. He noted he was talking to his pastor about something. I said, "You can tell how smart he is based on how often he agrees with me." This drew laughter from some folks in the room, but some others might not have been as comfortable with that joke. I didn't laugh when I said it, since such jokes are only funny to me when said at least semi-seriously.

Most people who know me well can tell when I'm joking, which is typically any time I think I can get away with it. I usually only joke with people whom I like and those with which I am comfortable. Strangers typically get a more straight-laced version of me, but sometimes even that version can say things that it shouldn't.

It isn't every day that I come out with something like that, but it is pretty often. In another case, someone stated, "I don't understand why I can't lose weight." The person was standing in line with a plate filled with food, waiting to get a big dessert plate—no doubt to go with a diet soda. "It's no mystery," I said. "Eat less and exercise more."

A similar incident happened when I was told about a person not getting enough exercise, but that one got me in enough trouble without me bringing it up.

Many moons ago, I heard a complaint from a man needing money who had come to me for a loan. Since the fellow had children, I felt moved with compassion. (Some of you are thinking, "Yeah, right." I really am compassionate. I believe that I should do everything I can for myself before seeking aid and I don't mind making suggestions). After asking what avenues the person had pursued, I offered that person some work, and suggested they check the local fast food establishments for employment opportunities. This was in the late 1980s and before the 'great recession;' now everyone is looking for work, even at fast food places). I was told, "I wouldn't work fast food."

I replied, "If you're too good to work for their money, you're too good to borrow mine." That went over like a lead balloon. The comment was particular insulting to me, since I worked at a restaurant myself and I understood how hard it is.

Sometimes people think they 'deserve' something, for no other reason than the fact they were born here. The entitlement complex really makes me angry. Do we deserve what we work for? It's only by the grace of God coupled with our efforts that most of us even have jobs—not to mention an opportune birth at an opportune time in a nation that's still free due to the sacrifices of others. I'd say we have little cause to boast, let alone an entitlement to a free living.
 

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