A rare instance of a marginally political post from BeginInTheMiddle:
As I scanned the blog pages this morning, I came up with something disturbing. Moxie, who I enjoy reading (and let's not forget, is quite the hottie), lists a previous post entitled "Warms the cold heart" and as disgusting as the t-shirt referred to in that post is to me personally, I agree with her right to post her thoughts on this or any subject.
Furthermore, I disagree with those thoughts.
Let me say that again.
I agree with her right to post her thoughts on this or any subject.
I disagree with those thoughts.
That's what it's all about. We have the right to think/write/say/do what we want, to agree or disagree, and to post it. I've never understood how those who enjoy living in a free society can be so militantly against certain things. It's all or none. The choice someone else made may not be the choice you'd make, but isn't it wonderful that you have the right to choose?
Let me also say that I firmly believe no one has the right to judge anyone. This post was totally judgemental (snippet: "heartless, unprincipled liberal who kills babies") and Moxie had every right to make it so.
I just disagree.
And others do too. My thanks to Madame Butterfly and Blonde But Bright, and to The Binary Circumstance for posting their views, and my thanks to Moxie as well for posting hers.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Top 3 reasons the runt would never play football:
#1- Many years ago, I decided and made it public knowledge that my son would not play football. He would not become part of a sport that was so dangerous. I believe this realization came when he was 2 years old and broke his leg. To be more precise, probably at the exact moment that I had to give him the first of several baths with a cast attached. Baseball, yes. Basketball, sure, if he wants to. Soccer, why not? But football - no.
#2- X-box never had such a devoted follower as the runt. Neither has Mrs. Freshley's, Little Debbie, Nabisco, etc. He has a daily digital-mandibular workout with them all. Therefore, fully physically demanding sports such as football have never been in the forefront of his mind. Nor in the 'back 40', so to speak.
#3- Remember Coach Kilmer in Varsity Blues? How about the whole premace of Blue Chips? Movies are movies, meant for entertainment purposes only. However, we live in South Arkansas, people. Football is serious business here. Just like in the movies.
No, really.
Sometime between those early years and today, I realized that organized sports may actually do him some good. I suppose this particular realization came this last year when he seemed to become so bothered by our fairly recent family status change.
This afternoon will be his 3rd football practice. The first was Monday, and that was, to say the least, the turning point for us both. There we stood on the practice field faced with mom's and dad's (mostly dad's) with their own runts in tow, some in full football practice attire, and some like the two of us - clueless. Almost embarrassed. My head fills with the runt's whispers, "Mom, I don't know why you are making me do this. I told you I didn't want to" which were stopped cold with my own whispers, "Shut up." Never will he know that my 'shut up' was meant not for him, but for the voice in my own head. His whines translated to: "It's 93 degrees, he's too young for this, this is dangerous, what the hell am I doing?" with each whispered whine from him.
So, as my better judgement from years past and present day wrestled with each other, I pushed him out of the nest and turned and left the field. When I picked him up an hour later, he was wringing wet with sweat, tired, dirty, and thirsty.
And not unhappy.
And neither was I.
"How was it?" I asked.
"It was ok." he answered.
So I ask you:
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME PEEWEE FOOTBALL?!
#1- Many years ago, I decided and made it public knowledge that my son would not play football. He would not become part of a sport that was so dangerous. I believe this realization came when he was 2 years old and broke his leg. To be more precise, probably at the exact moment that I had to give him the first of several baths with a cast attached. Baseball, yes. Basketball, sure, if he wants to. Soccer, why not? But football - no.
#2- X-box never had such a devoted follower as the runt. Neither has Mrs. Freshley's, Little Debbie, Nabisco, etc. He has a daily digital-mandibular workout with them all. Therefore, fully physically demanding sports such as football have never been in the forefront of his mind. Nor in the 'back 40', so to speak.
#3- Remember Coach Kilmer in Varsity Blues? How about the whole premace of Blue Chips? Movies are movies, meant for entertainment purposes only. However, we live in South Arkansas, people. Football is serious business here. Just like in the movies.
No, really.
Sometime between those early years and today, I realized that organized sports may actually do him some good. I suppose this particular realization came this last year when he seemed to become so bothered by our fairly recent family status change.
This afternoon will be his 3rd football practice. The first was Monday, and that was, to say the least, the turning point for us both. There we stood on the practice field faced with mom's and dad's (mostly dad's) with their own runts in tow, some in full football practice attire, and some like the two of us - clueless. Almost embarrassed. My head fills with the runt's whispers, "Mom, I don't know why you are making me do this. I told you I didn't want to" which were stopped cold with my own whispers, "Shut up." Never will he know that my 'shut up' was meant not for him, but for the voice in my own head. His whines translated to: "It's 93 degrees, he's too young for this, this is dangerous, what the hell am I doing?" with each whispered whine from him.
So, as my better judgement from years past and present day wrestled with each other, I pushed him out of the nest and turned and left the field. When I picked him up an hour later, he was wringing wet with sweat, tired, dirty, and thirsty.
And not unhappy.
And neither was I.
"How was it?" I asked.
"It was ok." he answered.
So I ask you:
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME PEEWEE FOOTBALL?!
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