Words To The Wise Often Fall on Deaf Ears

    Sing a song of sixpence,
    A pocket full of rye.
    Four and twenty blackbirds,
    Baked in a pie.

    When the pie was opened,
    The birds began to sing;
    Wasn't that a dainty dish,
    To set before the king?

People who opine, as bloggers do, sometimes must eat their words. Unless, of course, they refuse to. People who comment (since they, too, opine) also must eat their words from time to time. Unless they, too, refuse.

I have, over the years of my life, found myself in front of a not-so-tasty bowl containing some statement I made in good faith... only to find it false or mistaken. I have come to find the taste of crow to be somewhat palatable, if not especially flavorful. Many times, it is a bit spicy.

Am I about to acknowledge some faux pas I have made? No. That is not my intent here. I just want to remind you that we all goof from time to time and someone, somewhere, has recorded those goofs. And is likely just waiting for the best moment to fling them in your face.  It's usually the person who will eventually become your ex... wife or friend.

What other reason would someone want to remind you that you are human, after all?

Because I have been embarrassed by something I have said in the past, I try very hard not to remember ill-timed (or ill-spoken) words. This should make it easier not to be the person serving up that crow to others. It doesn't. Words are not often meant to have meaning outside the context of the conversation in which they are uttered.

There are many interpretations to the poem with which I began this piece. I have always taken it to mean the following:

Choose your words carefully, you may have to eat them later.

Winston Churchill once said...

 In the course of my life, I have often had to eat my words, and I must confess that I have always found it a wholesome diet.