Greatest Speakers in History

Why do we care so much about moronic sports figures? Who cares if some overpaid, undereducated idiot gets in a scuffle outside a "gentlemen's club"?

Me. That's who.

But, why?! I hear you asking. Let me break it down for you.

There are few things I enjoy more than watching pro-athletes in front of a camera. 90% of the time, it's HIGHLY entertaining.

Now, let me clarify: I'm not talking about the Peyton Mannings, the Reggie Millers, the Derek Jeters. There are many and multiple athletes who are intellegent, well-spoken, and share great insights to their respective games.

However, we never get to hear them. Instead, we're constantly forced to listen to someone whose grasp on the English language (and reality?) is tenuous at best. And I love it!

I am a "train-wreck interview" junkie. Very few things amuse me more than a player trying to sound smart.

Some go the "Mike Tyson Vocabulary" route: using words someone has told them are "neat" words. Using the word-a-day calendar, but never actaully reading it, just abusing whatever word is there.

Some go the "If I talk in circles, no one will know I'm an idiot" route: These are a little harder to spot. These folks have mastered BS. When asked why they lost, "Well, see, losing is losing. A loss is a loss. Tonight's loss was a loss."

Some go the "Captain Obvious" route: When asked why they lost, "The other team scored more points." Thank you. What a wonderful insight into the pro life. Glad to see as a pro,(and "college-educated"...excuse me while I laugh) you give the same answers my 7th grade players can come up with. John Madden is their patron saint.

So the next time you flip over to ESPN, and you see an athlete who couldn't find a coherent thought with both hands and a road map, settle in, and enjoy.

Some quotes to get ya through the day

You can observe a lot just by watching.
-- Yogi Berra

They say a tie is like kissing your sister. I guess that is better than kissing your brother.
-- Lou Holtz

"Sure, there have been deaths and injuries in boxing, but none of them serious."
Alan Winter.

I asked a ref if he could give me a technical foul for thinking bad things about him. He said, of course not. I said, well, I think you stink. And he gave me a technical. You can't trust 'em.

--Jim Valvano

"Nobody in football should be called a genius. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein." Joe Theismann, former quarterback

Just a lil warning!

The following is a synopsis of an ISP press briefing held last week. See my thoughts following the synopsis.

Indiana State Police will add 150 troopers to patrol the roads during the upcoming holiday weekend."Thanksgiving is traditionally one of the most traveled holidays of the year," the agency said in a news release. "Last year, 14 people were killed on Indiana roadways during the Thanksgiving holiday weekend.

"As it has in the past, ISP is participating in Operation C.A.R.E., or Combined Accident Reduction Effort. The extra patrols will last from Wednesday through Sunday.

"Troopers will be specifically looking for drivers who are drinking and driving, speeding, following too closely or driving aggressively," the announcement said. The officers will also be checking for seat belt and child-restraint violations.

Per their Superintendent they are going to start issuing citations for
1) 6 miles over the speed limit .
2) Failure to Yield
3) Improper Lane Movement (which includes not signaling 300 feet before you change lanes if traveling over 50 mph or not signaling at all)
4) Following too Close

5) Passing an Officer

1: Ok, no biggie (unless you're a ZMS band teacher. However, I always heard it as "9 you're fine, 10 you're mine.")

2. Again, no brainer...however I think most Hoosiers need to retake their Driver's Ed test since we're slowly adding roundabouts. Wow. There are some clueless folks out there. My particular favorite is those who've never mastered the concept of centripetal force and have to slam on the brakes to keep from shooting out of their circular path.

3. There should be an equal penalty for leaving your blinker on for more than 300 ft after making your lane change.

4. This is a $160 fine! Yes, sports fans, that's not a typo.

5. Ok, how brainless do you have to be to PASS A COP?! Hello?! McFly? Of course, these are probably the same folks that irritate me in numbers 2 and 3.

Bottom line: please be safe as you travel this holiday weekend. And remember heaps of turkey = heaps of tryptophan. Tryptophan + car = bad. Tryptophan + couch + football = greatest thing ever! (Tryptophan http://www.howstuffworks.com/question519.htm)

Breakin it down for ya

(Ok, so this is posted a little late, just catching up on posting some older stuff!)

I'm stepping outside my normal bounds today, and I'll be breaking down the two NFL championship matchups.

Colts Vs Patriots

What at first seems like a no-brainer, gets more interesting as you look deeper. It seems the Patriots have a clear advantage over the Colts. The Patriots are bipedal mammals. Have weapons (albeit old, antiquated muskets). And at one time, were the world's greatest army. Easy win, right?

The Colts however, have a tremendous speed advantage. And, if they stick together as a team, they may just pull of their famed "Stampede" play (I'd like to see you reload a musket in the middle of a stampede). Also, many of the experts factor out the messy field conditions. Think about it, have you ever seen a herd of horses "hold it in" for two+ hours? Me either.

All-in-all, while the pundits are letting their "loyalist" side show by sticking with the Pats, my money is on the Colts.

Saints vs Bears

I don't know how the NFL is allowing this to happen. Honestly. Ferocious, flesh/meat eating animals vs holy dudes in robes. Add to that, doesn't one have to be older than Bloede to even be considered for the Saints?! The Saints do have one shot though. They've got an AMAZING coach. He did create the world after all. Then there was that whole "then there was light" episode. If the Coach is on His game this weekend, the old guys just might pull it off. Still, I'm taking the team with claws and fangs.

A Sad and Tragic Realization

With all the excitement surrounding the Colts first Super Bowl appearance since moving to Indy, many people are overlooking the tragedy to follow: No more football until August.

For those of us who are pretty much "football only" life pretty much stinks in the off-season. What other options do we have?

College basketball: Eh. It's become too much like the NBA. It's decent for maybe killing a part of a Saturday afternoon, but that's about it.

NBA: No. Nope. Ain't happenin. I'm not sure what's more sickening: the "it's all about me" players or the fact that these multi-millionaires can no longer beat third world countries in a game that WE INVENTED!

Baseball: Ok, I know I'm on thin ice here, but I can't stand the game. Let the batter keep the bat. Make outs like kickball - ya gotta get hit with the ball. Score bench-clearing brawls like a boxing match. Something. Please! Nothing like cramming 10 minutes of action into 3 hours.

Golf: So, this one has hope. Primarily due to it's tremendous ability to put you to sleep for that much coveted Sunday afternoon nap!

Hockey: This still a sport?

So, enjoy Sunday. Revel in it. Soak up all the yummy, football goodness that is the NFL. Because pitchers adjusting themselves and Shaq bricking free-throws is gonna make for a long off-season.

A Heartfelt Thank You

This is the goodbye I sent in to our local newspaper, honoring our secretary who retired as 31 years of service to our school.

It's time to celebrate Mrs. Judy Holman, and her 31 years of dedication to serving Zionsville Schools. Starting at Eagle, then moving to the "new" PVE, then ZLMS, and then ZMS, Judy has been the face of our school for over three decades.
Through her former students' and colleagues' marriages, divorces, births, deaths, highs, and lows, Judy has been the rock so many of us have relied upon. From scheduling our parent conferences FOR us (oh, do we ever miss that!), to listening to our bad day (how does she ALWAYS know when a teacher needs a hug?), to driving sick teachers home, Judy has been the emotional heart for many of us as long as we've been here.
I know for those of us that come from PVE/LMS, four days will always remind us of Judy's love and compassion.

Veteran's Day: Due to her deep patriotism, I'm not sure she's ever made it through one without a box of tissues.

Thanksgiving Lunch: Candles, tablecloths, parents, grandparents, a full meal, and a smiling Judy.

Christmas Breakfast: Apply all of the above, but add 2 semi-trucks full of Christmas trees and assorted decorations. And, of course, every bus driver, custodian, maintenance worker, and cook got to work extra early that day because no one wants to miss her biscuits and gravy.

Awards Day: Critter, a few friends, and a box of tissues

Judy, thank you for being our friend, mother, and grandmother. And thank you for being the being the bright, smiling, understanding face that has greeted visitors to our school for 31 years.

We hope you and Dalton enjoy your well-deserved time together. And, of course, you both have a life-time invite to PayDay Friday.

A Lil History

Most of my posts are actually edits of what I send to our teaching staff every other Friday (payday). I send out some lil reminder that says, "Hey, time to go drink. Get off your ass and let's see who's class has the biggest dumbass." Below is an actual "invite".

4/14/1818 Webster publishes his first dictionary. Appropriate drinks: Absolute, Bombay, Coors, Drambuie, Everclear, Frangelico, Guinness, Harp, Icehouse, Jack Daniels, Killians, Leinenkugel, Makers Mark, Natty Light, Old Peculiar, PBR, Q (help!!), Red Dog, Sam Adam's, Tequila, Urquell - Pilsner, Vodka, Woodchuck, XXX (from the cartoon moonshine jugs!), Yankee Brew, Zima (feel free to add a Jolly Rancher, Grimm)

4/14/1865 Lincoln assassinated. Appropriate drink: One shot, served from behind

4/14/1912 Titanic hits iceberg. Appropriate drink: Anything on the rocks

Driver's Ed

Boy, 8, drives teacher's car home

An eight-year-old boy stole his teacher's car and drove a mile home.

Akos Szabo from the western Hungarian village of Koeszeg broke into the car, adjusted the mirrors and drove home to his shocked parents who were not aware the boy could drive.

Szabo said he had taken the car because he did not feel like walking home.

He has not been charged for the theft but has been expelled from school.

My take:

1) Either a) The 8-year old knows how to hotwire a car or b) he swiped her car keys. (note: the story doesn’t specify if the teacher was male or female, but obviously…)

2) We’ve recently heard the latest “National Crisis (which is, of course, the school’s fault)” is childhood obesity. He went through all this trouble to not walk a mile! A MILE! Why, in my day, it was a 10 mile walk, in the snow, uphill – both ways… (sorry, somehow I started channeling old-man Bloede’s thoughts...scary place to be.)

3) I do give him credit for adjusting the mirrors. Perhaps I can take Uland’s driver’s-ed course, and he’ll teach me what those shiny things are for.

4) As the parents, exactly what would you do when you look out and see your precious, bundle of joy has just pulled up in a stolen car? (You know the dad, on some level, had to be very proud! Angry, sure, but your boy driving at 8?! Very proud)

5) I’d love to know what model of car he stole. When I see “western Hungarian village”, images of BMW’s or Lexuses (Lexi?) don’t pop into my head. Yugos do. And seriously, he could’ve pushed the Yugo home faster than getting that piece of [insert appropriate modifier here] to start would have taken.

6) I’m not sure I could walk into my principal’s office and tell him a kid just stole my car. (Ok, I’m a bad example. While I’m not the Boy Who Cries Wolf, I am the one who usually convinces the boy it’s a good idea.) And then, would you want to be the principal who has to call the cops and tell them a student just boosted a car? We still haven’t solved the fire extinguisher mystery. What’s the chance of finding a car?

Happy (belated) St. Patrick's Day!

As many of us will be celebrating St. Patrick chasing the warmth out of Ireland, I thought you could use some toasts to liven up your festivities.

May those who love us, love us
And those who don't love us,
May God turn their hearts
And if he can't turn their hearts,
May he make anvils fall from the sky,
to land on their heads with hilarious pranging sounds.

—-

May the leprechauns be near you,
To spread luck along your way.
And may all of the medications

Take the awful hallucinations of tiny screeching people away.

—

Ireland: It's the one place on earth
That Heaven has kissed
With melody, mirth
And meadow and mist
And decades of religious-based warfare

—

On this day St. Patrick,
Surrounded by friends and more
Take that guy wearing a "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" pin
And throw him the out the back door.

—

Down at the pub,
Reveling all night
Pray they don't run dry of Guinness
And substitute Bud Light

—-

Bless Bono's round, shiny glasses,
for they are round, and they are shiny,
and he is Irish.

—-

May all your sorrows be like a Shamrock Shake,
available for a limited time only.
Also, may they be a minty green in color,
putrid to the taste, and contain sodium benzoate as a preservative.

School House Rock, 2006

I was previewing the School House Rock DVD last night to make sure the ones I wanted to show were on there. (Yes, as a child of the 70's, my first formal education was School House Rock. Ok, and Bugs Bunny.) In History right now we're on The Constitution, and of course we've listened to The Preamble Song until our ears have bled.

This got me to thinking, what would School House Rock look like today?

"I'm Only A Bill"

Original: Describes the process by which a bill becomes a law. Includes: veto, over-rides, committees, etc.

Updated: Describes the process by which a bill really becomes a law. Includes: Special Interest Groups, filibustering, bi-partisan politics, and kickbacks, etc.

"Inter-Planet Janet"

Original: Describes the planets in the solar system

Updated: Due to budget cuts, NASA can no longer afford exploration. We do have some lovely 1969 footage of Buzz Aldrin comibng his hair though.

"Mother Necessity"

Original: Describes some of the greatest inventions of early America and their inventors: phone, telegraph, airplane, cotton gin, etc.

Updated: Due to copyright laws, we can't mention any new inventions without paying outrageous attorney fees or having corporate sponsorship. "Budweiser Presents: School House Rock!" just doesn't sounds right, does it?

"Conjunction Junction, What's your function?"

Original: Perhaps the most famous and well-loved of all SHR songs. Teaches the purpose and usage of conjunctions.

Updated: "Spell Checker, Spell Checker, what's your function?" We awl no a spell chequer wood never make a mistook, write?

"The Great American Melting Pot"

Original: Describes how the US became a collage of different ethnicities.

Updated: After many lawsuits and races riots of what each ethnicity would be referred to as, the update was canceled. Instead a new project was started called "This Land is My Land (or Building a Big Fence)". It has a Southwestern, Marty Robbins feel to it. (Bonus points if you get the Marty Robbins reference)

"I'm Going to College"

Original: Explains how the Electoral College works to elect our president.

Updated: Explains how the Supreme Court, hanging chads, Dade County, FL, exit polls, and confused senior citizens elect our president.

On second thought, perhaps I'll stick with my 1972, campy, cheesy versions.

Never figured me to be the nostalgic type, did ya?

"Sponge"Bob gets the third degree

“Sponge”Bob gets the third degree

I went to my buddy’s house the other night for dinner. I throw a couple of home-brews in the Jeep to give to my hosts and head over. As usual when I arrive, I pop my shoes off, and make myself at home. 10 minutes later, his dog is puking on my foot. Ever felt warm dog puke on your socked foot?
We get through dinner, and my buddy remembers he has some touch-up work to do on his shower floor. Here is the conversation he and his wife had as closely as I can remember it.

Him: Hey honey, do you have an old sponge I can use? I need to do some touch up work on the shower floor.

Her: I have this new sponge. Why do you need a sponge?

Him: I need an old sponge to finish the shower with

Her: Why do you need a sponge?

Him: To spread the coating with.

Her: I thought you’d use a paintbrush.

Him: No. The directions said “a sponge or rag”.

Her: Did you read the directions?
Him Yes.

Her: With your glasses on?

Him: Do you have an old sponge I can use?

Her: I have this new sponge. Are you sure you don’t need to use a brush?

At this point, I’m trying my best to keep my mouth shut. Correct me if I’m wrong here, please. All he was asking for was an old sponge. Not a swatch of silk. Not her fine china. And old sponge.
I’m also thinking “Thank God I’m not married!!!”

Her: Well, there is an old sponge below your sink.

Now, why couldn’t we have started there? He didn’t demand a sponge. He nicely asked if there was on old one.

My tongue now bleeding from biting it, I couldn’t help myself. I jumped into the fray with both feet. I might have gotten “the look” from his wife, but her mother happened to be there too. Seems she was as confused as I was about the whole “Do you have a sponge” dance we’d just witnessed. Not often the in-laws are on the husbands side.

Epilogue
My buddy forwards the rough draft of this to one of our secretaries who jokes around with us all the time. Her take? “(The wife) was definitely right. I don’t see the problem here.”

And people ask why I’m not married. It’s simple: When there’s a rulebook so that I can to know when I’m right (I’ll pause for laughter) and when I’m wrong, I’ll consider putting on the cleats and getting in the game. =-)

Guess they were "sick" during sex ed, huh?

Disclaimer: Ok, so this may smack of "Urban Legend" however, I saw the interview papers. Also, there's a point of science in here that I've done some research on and it is possible.
On with the show.

A good college buddy of mine ended up going to work for Social Services. At first she was dealing with welfare and the like, but has since moved to CPS (Child Protective Services). This is a story from her time with the welfare folks. A younger couple comes in with the following story as to why they are pregnant even though they promised not to because they can't take care of the many they have.

On your typical Friday/Saturday night Couple A and Couple B are on a double-date. Parked in a deserted parking lot. (I know, all you ladies want the digits of these Don Juans) Couple A is in the front seat having sex. Couple B is in the backseat just fooling around.

Couple A finished having sex. Dude A takes of his condom, flips it inside out, and gives it to Dude B to use for protection.

Guess who's baby Girl B is pregnant with?

Mhm. Again, I'm a creative dude. But I seriously am not warped enough to think of this! (ok, so maybe I am, but this time I didn't)

So, some questions:
1. How many of you have a buddy good enough that you'd want to use his broken-in, spunk covered condom? I have some awesome friends. Guys I'd trust with my life. I ain't touching NOTHING that is dripping.

2. Do you think this was the plan all along? And how did Guy B talk Girl B into going along with this?? I've met some damn good salesmen in my life, but this guy could sell Ray Charles artwork to Helen Keller!

3. Do you tell the kid? "Yeah, Jim Bob, (oh, come on, you KNOW that's an option for this kid's name based on the story) me and your momma got something to tell you..."

4. How did they get the message "Use a condom" but not the message "Use a NEW condom" Hell, I'm not even allowed to use the same plate at a buffet let alone a goo covered rubber.

5. We've all at least attempted to have sex in a car. But with an audience waiting for you to finish so they can use your condom? Talk about performance pressure!

Sure, plenty of room!

Just received this email from our French teacher:

"Help! I've lost my life sized poster of the Eifel Tower! if anyone sees it lying around, please return it! It was taken off of my door.
Merci!"

My reply:
"Ummm, how would a life-sized poster of the Eifel Tower fit on your door?"

Her reply:
"Huh?"

Yes folks, this is one of the people educating the youth of America.

The case of the missing hotdogs

As I mentioned in an earlier post (A rose by any other name) I used to work at a summer camp. Below is a stroy from my time as the Outdoor Education Director at Jameson Camp (read the above post for some details about the camp).

Each summer, one of our ten-day sessions was always "F.U.N. Camp" Fitness, Understanding, and Nurtition. That's right: Fat Camp.

My first summer we used a Deal-A-Meal type system until we found out kids were getting beat up for their food tickets. (Folks, I really can't make this kind of stuff up.) So we switched to a different system where the counselors would just monitor what everyone ate and help them choose appropriate portions. Fine. Great.

One day, I'm sitting at a group's table because their counselor has the day off. They're busy eating and another counselor comes up behind me and tells me a 20 second story. 20 seconds. Not enven half a minute. I look back at my table and two hotdogs (bunless) are now missing. They were in the bowl before, 20 seconds later...gone. Vanished.

Me: Where are the two hotdogs?

Them: *shurg*

Me: Last chance before you're confined to your beds during rest hour.

Them: *shrug*

(Note: NEVER threaten fat kids with inactivity if they don't comply with your request. It ain't gonna work.)

So we troop off to the boys dorm for rest hour. The group I'm watching heads to their beds. Being the middle of summer, the dorm was kinda warm, so most of the boys would take their shirts off when they laid down. D'adrian starts to take his shirt off.

A quick description of "Big D": This is a massively large, 5'2" 10-year old kid. Easily 200+. Rolls upon rolls upon rolls. The only way he'd get out of bed in the morning was if a radio was on so he could dance as he dressed. I'll give you a minute to picture that.

D'adrian starts to take his shirt off. It gets caught on one of his rolls, and out fall the hotdogs. Yes, dear Reader, he had hidden the hotdogs not just up his shirt (because that would be silly), but under one of his fat rolls.

Me: D, were you seriously gonna eat those dogs that you stuffed under your sweaty roll?

D (HUGE smile): Uh-huh!! They's good that way!

A Rose by Any Other Name

Nicknames are an interesting thing. I'm not talking about Robert who goes by Bob or Kristin who goes by Krissy. I'm talking about those names that others bestow upon you with or without (and usually the latter) your consent.
I've had two such nicknames in my life: Opie and Greasefire.

The Story of Opie

In high school I was a scrawny kid. My 8th grade wrestling picture of me in one of those oh-so-flattering singlets looks like I just walked out of a concentration camp. My best friend at the time, Melissa, was dating a HUGE football player. Stud linebacker. Now I have fairly reddish/brownish hair. This dude takes one look at me and his first words to me are, "Duuuuude, you look like Opie!" What was I to do? Let's see, I can A) say, "Thanks, but no thanks" to Mongo and piss off said gorilla or live with it. I'm still here and breathing, so you can guess the route I took.

Greasefire is Born

I worked at a summer camp for 3 summer. (Oh, the stories I have to tell about that place!) Quick intro to Jameson Camp: We served at-risk kids. Our translation of this boiled down to: If they've been kicked out of school and no other camp would take them...welcome home! We had some great kids. However, they tended to get lost in the crowd of sociopaths.

One of my jobs was to take each counselor's group camping at some point during their 10-day stay. So, I'm out in "the wilderness" as these mostly inner-city children called it and have a pretty good fire going.

I love fire. Big fan. I don't just have a nice, little cooking fire going, I could have signaled the International Space Station with the fire I had going. As I'm standing there admiring my creation, the natives are getting hungry. Bacon cheeseburgers are on the menu tonight. EASY to cook over a fire. I get everything ready to go then turn to start cooking of there fire, and then reality sets in. There's NO WAY I can cook on this massive blaze.

Here's the situation: I have two choices. A) Attempt to cook on the inferno endangering myself and the quality of the food. B) Pissing off 15 juvenile delinquents.

Cooking it is!

I put the pan of bacon on the fire and within microseconds: massive greasefire. It's burning so hot (along with the rest of what I used to think was a good idea) I can't get the pan off of the fire. The bacon is LONG gone at this point. I finally get the pan off and it's completely toasted. Oh, the other counselors had a field day with "the expert" having such a fun night.

Epilogue: The burgers turned out fine, just no bacon. As the kids were goofing around after dinner, I collected a nice pile of rocks and placed them next to my sleeping bag. We didn't use tents, just slept in bags on tarps. Remember the types of neighborhoods this kids came from? Needless to say, Davy Crocket they weren't. As I got them all settled down and in their sleeping bags, they'd start to laugh, giggle, etc. Every time they did, unbeknownst to them, I'd chuck one of my rocks into the woods.

Them: What was that noise?! (remember, to these kids a squirrel and a few birds is the only nature they've been exposed to)

Me: Oh, probably just an ol' coyote looking for some food.

Nothing shuts up kids like the thought of being prey. That'd last for about 20-30 minutes when I'd repeat the whole process until they finally went to sleep. I know, I know. Evil counselor. All I have to say is you take 15 kids, most of whom could probably make a nice shank out of their toothbrush, into the woods overnight, and you see what tricks you come up with!

Clack-on. Clack-off. The Clacker!

Remember those toy clackers? Well, let me tell you a story.

I usually don't tell stories about our students here, but this one is far too good not to share.

A young man, we'll call him Bobby, is in our "Special Needs/Life Skills Room" (that's the room where the kids learn to cook, wash clothes, not eat paste or anything that came from an orifice - be it your own or someone else's). Because of the difficulties some of these students have, this room has its own bathroom.

Well, turns out that every time Bobby farts, he sharts. (kinda like a vurp but...) Every time. So one day they're in the middle of finding a new pair of underwear for Bobby, he's standing in the bathroom, naked from the waist down. He comes out of the bathroom.

Bobby: Mrs. Smith, I need a band-aid.

Mrs. Smith: Why do you need a band-aid Bobby?

Bobby: My penis hurts.

Mrs. Smith: You're penis hurts?

Turns out that while Bobby was half-naked in the bathroom waiting for his skid-free undies to arrive, he was playing with a toy clacker and...WHACK!! Caught the ol' General in between the flapping plastic balls.

Mrs. Smith (straining not to laugh): I don't think a band-aid is going to help unless you're bleeding, Bobby

Bobby then proceeds to examine his package right there in front of everyone for traces of blood.

Mrs. Smith: You know, Mr. Thompson (a male substitute-teacher in the room) has a penis maybe he can help!

I'm going to pause here for a minute. The above statement may be the absolute best passing of the buck I have EVER seen!! Politicians should take lessons from this women.

Mr. Thompson (ever quick on his feet): Well, I hit my penis with a clacker one and the pain went away after five minutes.

Bobby: Ok!

And Bobby resumes doing whatever it is one does while waiting for new tighty-whities to be brought.

And people wonder why teachers drink.