Blog number 489******* 15 February 2011
This came from a teacher I know.
"I just wrote a referral for a kid and another annoying brat said "can I have one too?" in an attempt to undermine my authority so I sent him to the office too.
A few minutes later two counselor ladies came in to see why I couldn't control the class. They said the second kid shouldn't have gotten a referral and he was getting a second chance.
As I was explaining why he didn't need a "second chance", the kid walked out of the room. The ladies said 'oh I guess he didn't want a second chance'
I said, 'yes. That's what I have been trying to tell you.'
I love it when people who never manage a classroom try to tell people who do, how to do it."
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
OBSERVATION NUMBER ONE
Blog number 488******* 12 February 2011
This is my son's observation.
"I just figured out why men are so annoying and women not so much. Men are always trying various tricks and gags to get attention. Women do not have to do this as they get attention automatically.
Think of lions in a pack. The rival males are always trying trying trying. The females just sit back and wait.
Thats why a loud attention striving female is so annoying - it's jarring to the psyche."
This is my son's observation.
"I just figured out why men are so annoying and women not so much. Men are always trying various tricks and gags to get attention. Women do not have to do this as they get attention automatically.
Think of lions in a pack. The rival males are always trying trying trying. The females just sit back and wait.
Thats why a loud attention striving female is so annoying - it's jarring to the psyche."
Friday, February 4, 2011
HERE. STEAL THIS.
Blog number 487******* 03 February 2011
My son wrote me and told me that he lives next to a couple in the same apartment complex. He said that "none of us like them," that no one talks to them or even looks at them. "Anti-social nasty people," as my son puts it.
He said they have four cars for two people. They park one car to block two spaces, so two cars block four spaces and then they get a little considerate and only use one car for each space. So, two people, four cars, six scarce spaces. Nice people.
When my son told me about this, it reminded me of neighbors we once had in my senior year of High School in Emmetsburg Iowa, a small farming community of ten thousand souls.
My mother, father, and four of us kids lived in a house on the outskirts of the town on an acre that was shared with another house in which lived a reclusive couple in their forties.
There was a battery lying in the field behind both the houses. It had been there for several weeks until one day I decided to pick it up and take it and sell it for fifty cents. Just as I leaned down and got my hands on it, the lady came out of her house and yelled at me, saying, "Leave that alone. It's ours."
Now, I knew damn well that the battery wasn't hers. Somebody had simply left it there as junk. But my mother had already said something about being careful with those people, so I walked away and left the battery, saying nothing.
The weekly paper had, about this time, been publishing articles about a rash of thieves stealing from the farmers around there. One day I read in the paper about our anti-social neighbors being caught by a farmer and his daughter (who was in my grade) lying in wait with a shotgun as the thieves were driving down the lane coming out of the farmer's acreage. The couple got out of their car before they reached the farmer and started throwing stolen coal out of the car.
Warmed the cockles is what that article did. To be in the paper for the whole community to read and know about. Not only thieves, but pretty stupid as well. Way to go, idiots!
My son wrote me and told me that he lives next to a couple in the same apartment complex. He said that "none of us like them," that no one talks to them or even looks at them. "Anti-social nasty people," as my son puts it.
He said they have four cars for two people. They park one car to block two spaces, so two cars block four spaces and then they get a little considerate and only use one car for each space. So, two people, four cars, six scarce spaces. Nice people.
When my son told me about this, it reminded me of neighbors we once had in my senior year of High School in Emmetsburg Iowa, a small farming community of ten thousand souls.
My mother, father, and four of us kids lived in a house on the outskirts of the town on an acre that was shared with another house in which lived a reclusive couple in their forties.
There was a battery lying in the field behind both the houses. It had been there for several weeks until one day I decided to pick it up and take it and sell it for fifty cents. Just as I leaned down and got my hands on it, the lady came out of her house and yelled at me, saying, "Leave that alone. It's ours."
Now, I knew damn well that the battery wasn't hers. Somebody had simply left it there as junk. But my mother had already said something about being careful with those people, so I walked away and left the battery, saying nothing.
The weekly paper had, about this time, been publishing articles about a rash of thieves stealing from the farmers around there. One day I read in the paper about our anti-social neighbors being caught by a farmer and his daughter (who was in my grade) lying in wait with a shotgun as the thieves were driving down the lane coming out of the farmer's acreage. The couple got out of their car before they reached the farmer and started throwing stolen coal out of the car.
Warmed the cockles is what that article did. To be in the paper for the whole community to read and know about. Not only thieves, but pretty stupid as well. Way to go, idiots!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
FIRE IN THE HOLE!
Blog number 486******* 03 February 2011
I was watching television the other night and my ankle started itching, so I scratched it with my other foot and felt a bit of pain. I looked and there was a red welt about two inches long, quarter inch wide. I was puzzled. I had my wife look at it and tell me what she thought it could be. She said it looked like I had scraped my foot across a branch or something. I thought and thought, but didn't remember anything like that. So I forgot about it.
The next day I'm taking a shower and as soon as the water hit that welt, I knew from where the injury had come.
Last year I cut off the bottom of my overall pants legs because I had shrunk two inches and the cuffs kept getting caught under my feet. Over time, the cutoff cuffs became scraggly. So I'm out using my weed burning tool and I noticed a little heat around my feet. I looked and my pants cuffs were on fire. Hah!
What I felt when the water hit that welt was where I was burned by my precious tool turning on me. Can't trust anybody.
I was watching television the other night and my ankle started itching, so I scratched it with my other foot and felt a bit of pain. I looked and there was a red welt about two inches long, quarter inch wide. I was puzzled. I had my wife look at it and tell me what she thought it could be. She said it looked like I had scraped my foot across a branch or something. I thought and thought, but didn't remember anything like that. So I forgot about it.
The next day I'm taking a shower and as soon as the water hit that welt, I knew from where the injury had come.
Last year I cut off the bottom of my overall pants legs because I had shrunk two inches and the cuffs kept getting caught under my feet. Over time, the cutoff cuffs became scraggly. So I'm out using my weed burning tool and I noticed a little heat around my feet. I looked and my pants cuffs were on fire. Hah!
What I felt when the water hit that welt was where I was burned by my precious tool turning on me. Can't trust anybody.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
BRUBAKER DAMN IT!
Blog number 485******* 02 February 2011
On the telly news behind me as I sit here writing this, I hear that "they" now think the person that posed for the Mona Lisa was a man. Goody.
Could somebody please explain to me what is so necessary about knowing who the model was for that painting? Will it save lives, make somebody happy, make somebody richer, make my day?
Every few weeks or months, going on lo these many years, somebody comes up with a new opinion as to whom that model was. Was there even a model? Who knows? Who ever can know?
And even if it turns out that it will save lives to find out who the mystery person is, or if that information will make somebody happy and somebody else richer, and even make my day, even if all of this will occur, HOW are we going to find the answer to this most perplexing question? Huh?
We search for the smallest thing, can't find it. We search for the largest thing. Can't find it. We interpret Nostradamus' "predictions" ad nauseam. We opinion vigorously events and things that will never, under any circumstance, ever become fact.
It seems to me that opinions have a much greater reputation than they deserve. We even have people paid great deal of monies to give their opinions on news programs. People on the street are asked to give their opinion about this or that nonsense. As if it could matter to anybody.
Judge Joe Brown has a portion of his program where people can call in and give their opinion as to how the verdict should go. Isn't that a little "way beyond ridiculous"?
Meanwhile, off in the corner, hidden away, are mysteries that are solvable, mysteries that are important in the ways of saving lives, making people happier, making people richer.
But let's not talk abut those mysteries. Because opinions don't count at all with these mysteries. Facts are the only things that matter. And searching out facts is a lot more troublesome than asking someone their opinon.
On the telly news behind me as I sit here writing this, I hear that "they" now think the person that posed for the Mona Lisa was a man. Goody.
Could somebody please explain to me what is so necessary about knowing who the model was for that painting? Will it save lives, make somebody happy, make somebody richer, make my day?
Every few weeks or months, going on lo these many years, somebody comes up with a new opinion as to whom that model was. Was there even a model? Who knows? Who ever can know?
And even if it turns out that it will save lives to find out who the mystery person is, or if that information will make somebody happy and somebody else richer, and even make my day, even if all of this will occur, HOW are we going to find the answer to this most perplexing question? Huh?
We search for the smallest thing, can't find it. We search for the largest thing. Can't find it. We interpret Nostradamus' "predictions" ad nauseam. We opinion vigorously events and things that will never, under any circumstance, ever become fact.
It seems to me that opinions have a much greater reputation than they deserve. We even have people paid great deal of monies to give their opinions on news programs. People on the street are asked to give their opinion about this or that nonsense. As if it could matter to anybody.
Judge Joe Brown has a portion of his program where people can call in and give their opinion as to how the verdict should go. Isn't that a little "way beyond ridiculous"?
Meanwhile, off in the corner, hidden away, are mysteries that are solvable, mysteries that are important in the ways of saving lives, making people happier, making people richer.
But let's not talk abut those mysteries. Because opinions don't count at all with these mysteries. Facts are the only things that matter. And searching out facts is a lot more troublesome than asking someone their opinon.
GIVE 'EM WHAT THEY WANT AND THEY'LL BE HAPPY.
Blog number 484******* 02 February 2011
My son sent the following to me.
Today in class I had this girl who said I was giving her the creeps and could she leave. She said I seemed really creepy to her.
I told her, "Yeah. I get rejected at clubs all the time I asked a woman if the seat next to her was empty and she said yes and if you sit there this seat is gonna be empty."
I told her my parents moved to Arizona to get away from me. I told her I don't have any fingers. I told her, "Poor me."
I kept on in that vein and by the end of the class she was laughing and wanted me to come over and talk to her. Ha ha.
My son sent the following to me.
Today in class I had this girl who said I was giving her the creeps and could she leave. She said I seemed really creepy to her.
I told her, "Yeah. I get rejected at clubs all the time I asked a woman if the seat next to her was empty and she said yes and if you sit there this seat is gonna be empty."
I told her my parents moved to Arizona to get away from me. I told her I don't have any fingers. I told her, "Poor me."
I kept on in that vein and by the end of the class she was laughing and wanted me to come over and talk to her. Ha ha.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
DAMMIT, ALEX! (ANOTHER KARTR STORY)
Blog number 483******* 01 February 2011
I was so proud of Alex and how good he was doing leaving women alone and keeping to himself and how it makes him more attractive to women. I can actually see this.
I wanted him to read this blog entry of my editor's about how good he was doing so that he would be inspired that he's on the right track. Then after talking to him earlier, I came in and saw him back to his old tricks - hitting on this cute brunette. She kept trying to end the conversation and get back to what she was doing but Alex wouldn't have any of that nonsense.
Crap, man. Now it seems like he got so lonely that it made him even more desperate. Like he told himself to try harder, not understanding that relaxing and acceptance would get him what he wants. Nobody likes a pushy salesman.
OK. The woman just left. Dammit Alex!
I was so proud of Alex and how good he was doing leaving women alone and keeping to himself and how it makes him more attractive to women. I can actually see this.
I wanted him to read this blog entry of my editor's about how good he was doing so that he would be inspired that he's on the right track. Then after talking to him earlier, I came in and saw him back to his old tricks - hitting on this cute brunette. She kept trying to end the conversation and get back to what she was doing but Alex wouldn't have any of that nonsense.
Crap, man. Now it seems like he got so lonely that it made him even more desperate. Like he told himself to try harder, not understanding that relaxing and acceptance would get him what he wants. Nobody likes a pushy salesman.
OK. The woman just left. Dammit Alex!
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