Don’t Practice On Me

prac·tice (prăk‘tÄ­s) v.intr.

n.

1. A habitual or customary action or way of doing something: makes a practice of being punctual.
2. 1. Repeated performance of an activity in order to learn or perfect a skill: Practice will make you a good musician.
   2. A session of preparation or performance undertaken to acquire or polish a skill: goes to piano practice weekly; scheduled a soccer practice for Saturday.
   3. Archaic. The skill so learned or perfected.
   4. The condition of being skilled through repeated exercise: out of practice.
3. The act or process of doing something; performance or action: a theory that is difficult to put into practice.
4. Exercise of an occupation or profession: the practice of law.
5. The business of a professional person: an obstetrician with her own practice.
6. A habitual or customary action or act. Often used in the plural: That company engages in questionable business practices. Facial tattooing is a standard practice among certain peoples.
7. Law. The methods of procedure used in a court of law.
8. Archaic.
   1. The act of tricking or scheming, especially with malicious intent.
   2. A trick, scheme, or intrigue.

[Middle English practisen, from Old French practiser, alteration of practiquer, from practique, practice, from Medieval Latin prāctica. See practicable.]

Ok, by now you are well versed in the various ways you can use the word practice. My own interest in this comes from this section:

1. Exercise of an occupation or profession: the practice of law.
2. The business of a professional person: an obstetrician with her own practice.

I don’t know about you, but I dislike the idea of someone practicing upon me. I understand that everyone has to learn and grow in their professions, but it doesn’t make me any more comfortable to think that the surgeon who is cutting me open isn’t old enough to grow a beard and hasn’t actually done a procedure like this since he played Operation as a kid.

But then again I was the kid who noticed that Cavity Sam was butchered at his Bris and never recovered. Maybe that is where my angst over this comes from, I am not sure.

Take a look at the poor guy. How can you not feel for him. Do you not see the anger, the shame, the pain and humiliation on his face. The poor guy. We need to do something to help him.

I am going to write Shola and ask him to be in charge of the Cavity Sam Benefit concert. Together we can rebuild and restore him.