How are you?
If you answered 1, “o.k.”-
you are a contemporary.
Same with 2.
One theory says it comes from “all correct”…
Simplifying to phonetic with a spin it becomes oll korrect…
Then “okay”, “o.k.”
#3 is the predessesor.
As in “ALL (is) RIGHT
Kind of dumb?
THAT is the point.
I suppose saying “o.k.” is less annoying than “IDK”- I dunno.
Why do you not know?
I analyze my feelings to the marrow. I like to say I am okay (o.k.) if people ask because (A) I am alive.
There is no B. Or C. Or more, because I have a painful condition. It gives me sick ideas that I think are minimally offensive and maximally entertaining… to a low level of pro writer.
My ideas to me are hell.
If someone asks me, “What is on your mind?” And I say, “Oh I am so glad I am 40 and not 15 (I flashback less now).”
I endured a hernia for a year and at first the pain shot into my back.
It was more fantasticly awesome than a near death experience because of how very truly Auschweitz the pain was for the next 18 months. I have a level of autism spectrum disorder along with hereditary angioedema. I could not define or express my pain.
I freaked my mom out. Adults should have known better than to teach ANY kid that God sends unbelieving persons to hell. There should be a license for that. There isn’t.
There was a big emphasis that you feel good when you know God loves you.
Had a religion over my head.
Had a very finite way to deal with pain.
Had maximum pain. And I still do. HAE is an “8 everyday” pain.
Honestly, I redid my mind.
I figure with this eating me, Aesop’s lion with a thorn is me. My rescuer? Not a mouse.
Actually, I ransacked the old religion and put the man with a wood throne from 33 A.D. next to me. Crucified, we talk back to back for LIFE. I deserve what? That old argument of sin and scumbags is dead. I have needs and my sin is being pathetic.
You would never know what I feel if you met me. I am one of God’s best kept secrets.
As for you, are you o.k.?
If you donate a $1,000,000 love gift to my mini-series, ministries, menses- you would be a knuckle-head.
I don’t have that.
In Arabia they call my stare way to heaven “Isa Il-masaih”. I stare away like a goober St. Bernard… he drags me along the sea shore.
ONE set of foot prints the whole way. And kicks and tons of dog shit.
Are you suprised to hear a holy man say shit? I am not holy. Shit, man… HE is.
The military has an allowance of cussing. In the Lord’s army, I avoid fuck the f-bomb. I mean I avoid the f-bomb. Why? One reason. I don’t know what the hell it means. I am not speaking in tongues here. Every language of man is junk weight.
You ever frame a word that you have said?
I frame in my head.
I do not know how that works.
A scripture says
May God be true and every man a liar. I am bracing myself. Stellar order and mercy will come to me yet again.