Of Cabbages and Kings

Some organizations should make their names more fitting

By LUELLA DOW

Contributor

What do some words really mean? This is not a subject one could use for college credits, but there are mysteries within, some laughable, some profound, some worth a passing thought.

The first thing that comes to my mind is the euphemism entitled “Correction Center.”

Correction, as listed in the dictionary, means to reprove, amend, reform and “right on, brother.” If you're encased in a cell in the “right on, brother,” I guess that's better than being in the hoosegow the old timers used to talk about.

Of course, as tax time draws near, we mustn't forget our old friend the Internal Revenue Service, many times referred to as Infernal Revenue Service. Whenever a bureaucracy has “service” in its title you can bet your boots there's a tax to pay.

Here's one I didn't know about: We rural citizens are used to looking for spikes when we approach a railroad crossing. Sometimes they are sticking up several inches above the platform. Anyone who has tried to call the railroad company about the problem knows they usually are out to lunch. On page 68 of my phone book is a U.S. railroad track safety inspector phone number. Hey folks, now we won't have to take our hammers along in the car. Take the phone book instead.

Let's talk about Spokane Transit Authority. Ever wonder what the “authority” refers to?

If your car has ever been in an argument with a city bus you know the answer. That bus has the authority to fold your SUV into a little red wagon. And I wouldn't challenge it if I were you. Those rumblings you hear are the bus saying, “Get out of the way.” And the hissing noise is not from the brakes as some would have you believe. That bus is hissing like a disturbed cat. Better check to see if there are claws underneath right next to the wheels.

Speaking of autos, would somebody explain this to me: When you see a sign that reads “fender benders,” does the company mean they will fix your bent fender or perhaps they will give you a new one? I'm not sure how many bent fenders a person needs. Should I buy one? Or should I just wait for somebody to give me one? Like a bus from the Spokane Transit Authority.

Ponder this strange phrase: “Council for the Defense.” Now, de fences on my property don‘t need counseling. They get along just fine. I will say this about the barbed wire variety, though. Every time I try to go through one it grabs hold of my shirt and says, “Whoa there, now I've gotcha.” Those fences don't care if a person should hang there until next week. You might get mighty hungry before someone came to rescue you. I'll tell you what, when a kid tells the teacher ‘my dog ate my report' I tend to believe him. Anybody who's been in the clutches of a barbed wire fence knows anything's possible.

Luella Dow is a Cheney area author who can be reached at lotsaplots1@aol.com.