I am sorry but this Table-Blog sparkles with admonishment to use TACT. I wish I could write a hand written thank you note.

I write illegible too...

Tack-- the notion behing the word, I partially understand, comes from the Latin word 'to touch'...

It's to use the right words of expressions in awkward situations. I remenber telling a Jesus joke that was a flop. The Mennonites ask me updates on news and they tell me the price of milk, barley, and corn etc., The bad tackless joke I told was: Why wasn't Jesus born in ___(My home town, pop. 350)?" huh. I said God could not find a virgin or three wise men.

Gads, did I hear about a barn with cows, sheep, and chickens in old-town Israel's Bethlahem. I learned about insence, herbs, and gifts. I heard about Herod and a bright star in the East. Then I had to backwardly explain the virgins still are around...in town. The joke was not comming from a wise rural farmer, I admit.

__

Tack, is to be in touch with the subtle-nuances of situations. It's to be proper with words and not get into odious or bad-taste abbrasive comments that go "to and fro" and get sick and become just corrosive jest. Self-aggrandizement and intentionally intending to sadden and hurt. Of course I realize our words need to burn at times and we are permitted to hurt to make one properly self-aware.

For Example: To compare W.S. character who was commenting about Falstaff, would offend the toughest skin. I paraphrase: 'Look at Falstaff walk and jiggle like a overflowing lard bucket dripping lard as Falstaff wiggles his hip butt and walks.' Now, that's NOT the spirit of kindness or social

tact.

___

However, you sense non-Tack is in degrees. Never say to a bald women, 'You look like you are sad as a man with a man's receding forehead' or 'You losing weight?' Well, It look like some fat is falling out over your belt.

"Raghead?" I got my feelings hurt from one worst than that about my oversized, baggy, smelly, overall farm pants. "You wear six day style _hitters." huh.

___

A bufoon is distinguished from one with good tack. In classical Greek there was (still is today) a 'bomolochos' from 'bomos'..."alter." And 'Locas' meaning, one who hung around the sacred places, a kings crowd, or, let's just say a person wanted to be a famed politico's pal? GOP.

The bufoon is "one who may be paid to run a right-wing blog? The male or female bufoon is 'locos' and "one who lurks and lies in wait." They mau NOT like to be called a "begger" but metaphorically, they are LOOKING for SCRAPS. To get a meal (job), they are trully outrageous. Tater skins? Worse. It's to be

RIBALD.

They are low-caste characters in Life's stage performance. Literally: Foul jesters, vulgar, dirty, coarse, sacked clowns, perverted mentally, bumptious...Bad characters.

To me, Glenn and other are demythlogizers...a bone is a bone...scraps are refuge scaps, and those he and others expose perceive what is disrepect,crude, derisive, and it's a effort to use proper ridicule. Sometimes after I write a thought, I leave to ponder and think...'Hope I didn't hurt the feeling of someone who didn't deserve it?' A "pop" in the "snout" is better than the flattery-stench kiss's from one who is full of guile. Other people are ribald in nature, misanthropic., etc., lofty, spirtually malnurished, and are the ones actually sadly laughable.

They are ridiculous. They traffic in crude search for filth to project.

_

To the contrary, shared ideals and beautiful speech is uplifting. Virtue stories edifies a person and contain well-told tales to enhance a Life. I remember my father who was a teller of simple stories. He was an observer ("What a three ring circus is this life."), and he was way less-stern than his well-intioned father who we affectionately called, Old Grandapa Bebop. I only realize looking back, Beebop was in great grief. We liked to see him for Sunday dinners, but we were relived when he went to his lonely home. He was a West Point officer, and his wife and West Point son had died within two weeks of one another. One son died in a plane crash. His wife in a car crash on the way up to West Point to pick up belongings. I can't supress sharing this today...WHY?

It's just very strong on my mind to respect the dead? My grandfather had us children sit up straight. My father poked-healthy homor that was not depreciating and in good taste after stern Bebop left for home. So, after grandpa left...and we loved him...Us children could loosen up and listen to dads nimble wit...who was never mean...he was always barring his soul.

People are to be beckoned to be who we are at our best and most generous appreciative self. To detatch from hate and war is to be kin to each others' shared humanity. Glenn often mentions none are perfect. I love that word, and I agree, we sure-enough ain't Perfect.

Burp.

To have a sense of where the national conversation needs to go...(?).... is the SEARCH and Hunger for nourishing truth.

We can't easily escape mental conversation. Or, we will experience inner soliquey? We can decide if we use uplifting wit, humour, or yearn to degrade each other and act ribald? It is a "high play" game being alive. Its beauty and honor and nobility or is it (?) then, when we are dead? Maybe there are yet a few secrets and mysteries.

Honor.

I love that word Honor and Tactus. Maybe I've been walking the beach to much.

Its Wonderful.