Archive for the ‘Wussification of America’ Category

Remember when you were a kid and the more dangerous something was the more fun it became? Isn’t that why we climbed trees or balanced on a fence post or rode our bikes really fast down hills?

Of course it was.

Kids today have zero idea what they’re missing, mainly because everyone is worried they might get hurt. Back in the day we had some amazing, fun toys, and they were fun because they could kill you.


I guess our parents realized that getting hurt was a learning experience. Hey, if you’re dumb enough to shoot yourself with that pellet gun it’s your fault. Be more careful next time, dummy.

But back to the toys. Here are a few of my favorite toys from the past that could cause extreme pain or yes, even death if used improperly. Hey kids, be sure and read the directions!



Jarts were massive weighted spears. You threw them. They stuck where they landed. If they happened to land in your skull, well, then you should have moved more quickly. During their brief (and generally awesome) reign in 1980s suburbia, Jarts racked up 6,700 injuries and four deaths. Now there’s a fun toy.


g gf mdm

When I was a kid, everybody had a BB Gun. You shot at birds, rabbits, the neighbor’s cat, and each other. I swear I didn’t know a kid who wasn’t shot with a BB Gun at some point. Good times.



Also known as little Bobby’s first Meth Lab! Good God. This toy had enough chemicals to kill a horse or build a small bomb.



Did I have one of these? You bet I did. As you can see, it looked like a finger and shot out little missiles that looked as if they were specifically designed to pierce a cornea or an eardrum. Cool!



This thing put the boom in baby boomer. It shot a massive blast of air and made a sound like an airplane breaking the sound barrier. It may very well have led to deafness in thousands of kids like me. Anyhoo, check out that future terrorist in the photo. Hey Billy, let’s shoot down a 747!



Clackers were essentially two acrylic balls on each end of a string, with a loop in the center. You began slowly clacking the balls together until you got to really fast speeds. Like many toys from the 70s, these were deemed dangerous and taken off the market. According to my research, they were banned because they were being used by gangs as weapons. Maybe I have a sick sense of humor but I find that hilarious. “Bro, that dude’s goin’ down. Go get my Clackers.” As for me, I usually whipped them in a circle over my head and threw them at my sisters.



Basically a water slicked length of vinyl. You were supposed to lay down, but that was no fun. Of course we stood up. Can you say spinal cord injury? And I bet myself and all my friends had at least one concussion because of these things. But hey, we knew how to take a fall back then.



Because nothing says safety like an open hot plate. I burnt the living hell out of my fingers with this thing. Creepy Crawlers were awesome. You had these little metal molds that you’d plug in and they’d heat up to like 1000 degrees. You’d then pour this disgusting, smelly stuff called Gobbledy Goop into it. This would turn the goop into spiders, snakes, bugs, snails, whatever the mold’s shape resembled. They even had glow in the dark goop. Bottom-line, I must have burned my fingers a 1000 times on those molds. Not only that, if you accidentally left them on they’d start smoking, which I did on purpose just to watch. And I can’t tell you how many times I scared my sisters with the fake bugs.



Anyone over the age of 40 is smiling right now. The caps were made for toy guns but we’d just lay them out on the sidewalk and hit ’em with a rock. Or even better, a hammer.



Yes, it actually shot real sparks. As in tiny, hot flames. When I was a kid, if we got bored somebody would invariably yell this: “Let’s burn stuff!” And that is why the Spark Gun was such a hit. What could possibly go wrong?



These things were awesome. You know, if you ignored the fact it sort of glorified the Confederate Army. They could reach up to 35 feet and seemed perfectly sized to lodge into an eye socket, down an open mouth, or through the toy slave’s quarters. Oddly enough these were a big hit in Mississippi. Hey, there’s nothing more satisfying than pretending you’re shooting those equal rights-loving bastards up north.

Not only did we enjoy these dangerous toys, if mom and dad wouldn’t buy them for us we made our own. Hell, I made many a slingshot in my day from tree branches and a rubber band. Grab a handful of ball bearings and you were ready to drop somebody like a bag of hammers. And hey, if we didn’t have time to fashion a slingshot we’d just throw rocks at each other.

Hey, it beat sitting in front of a computer all day, amirite?



So below is a letter that a South Carolina student sent to the local paper. The letter speaks for itself. My comments follow.


Sigh. And so it continues. We can’t boo, we can’t chant anything negative, we can’t insult our opponent in any way. We don’t want any hurt feelings, now do we? Good grief. People fail in sports and get called on it. That’s part of the deal. If athletes don’t realize that fans are going to get on them and it hurts their feelings I recommend they, you know, do something else. And I have a suggestion for Paige Pierce. Enjoy college. Go out and have a beer with your friends. Perhaps a wine spritzer. Oh, and give your ticket to a real fan.

So somebody sent me a photo of this ninny eating wings at Hooter’s. What you see is not an illusion. He’s wearing rubber gloves. I have a couple of observations here other than the obvious one, which is that this guy is a wimp of the highest order. First off, I don’t care if the guy is a businessman, doctor or whoever and doesn’t want to make a mess, this is unacceptable behavior for any real American Male. That’s what napkins are for, dumbass. And tell me, does Hooter’s supply these gloves? Either way it’s an awful move but if this guy brings his own gloves it 100-times worse.

Sigh. More proof that the Wussification of America is alive and well.

Note: Had I been sitting near this assclown I’d have been compelled to call him on it. Behavior such as this cannot pass unscathed.



Put those newspapers away! Disrespectful!

From the Associated Press: The Wisconsin Interscholastic Athletic Association has banned high school students from chanting certain words and phrases at basketball games, and none of them seem close to being hurtful or inappropriate.

In an email sent out to students in December the WIAA banned “chants by student sections directed at opponents and/or opponents’ supporters that are clearly intended to disrespect.”

The following words were reportedly included as examples:

  • “We can’t hear you”
  • “Airball”
  • “You can’t do that”
  • “Scoreboard”
  • “Season’s over” (during tournament play)

Oh boy. I guess it was just a matter of time, huh? We can’t be hurting anybody’s feelings, now can we? Little Johnny might get upset! We can’t be yelling “airball” at a kid after he shoots one! His fragile psyche could be damaged forever, man!

Good God. Make it stop, America!


Because of course he did.

SEATTLE — A federal jury in Seattle awarded $21.5 million in damages to an Illinois man who was injured by an automatic sliding-glass door on a cruise ship in 2011.

The verdict included $16.5 million in punitive damages. James Hausman’s attorneys argued during a nine-day trial that dozens of other passengers have been injured by the doors on Holland America Line cruises because of problems with their sensors, The Seattle Times reported Tuesday.

The company has denied that claim and asked the court to reduce the judgment. It says it will appeal.

 Surveillance video shows Hausman, 61, of Springfield, Illinois, walking through an automatic door when it shut on Nov. 26, 2011, as the M/S Amsterdam approached Hawaii. Hausman, who was traveling with his wife and daughter on the beginning leg of a cruise around the world, got hit in the face and side of the head.

Holland America said in court documents that Hausman walked into the closing doors.

This article provides a good illustration of the differences between 1955 and 2015:

1955: “Damn it! I ran right into that door. I’m such an idiot. I really have to be more careful.”

2015: “Damn it! That stupid door ran right into me! This cruise line is awful. They’re not being careful enough!

Oh, and this bozo will also get rich because of his clumsiness. It’s a great time to be an American, huh?


Note: I might add that although James Hausman went to a doctor and was diagnosed with a minor concussion, he only did so after finishing his vacation. Musta been in terrible pain, huh?


I’ve written before about how we’ve all become soft, how we’ve become a nation of wimps. We’ve become “wussified” if you will. Well, after some exhaustive research by the crack staff here at Shoe: Untied we’ve unearthed some ads that actually prove we were a more hardened breed back then. To wit . . .

 Below we find some awesome playground equipment from back in the day. Trust me, if any of this stuff still exists it won’t for long. Look at all the metal and sharp edges and stuff! A kid could impale himself on that! Outrageous! Then again, wasn’t that sort of the point?


Here we have an advertisement extolling the virtues of the Volkswagen’s new sun roof. Look, you can sit your 3-year old on the roof! Woot! Good times. Seatbelts Schmeatbelts.


Everybody remembers Jarts! Sharp metal darts that weighed about 3-pounds each. What could possibly go wrong? But hey, if you got hit once you learned to get the hell out of the way, amirite?


That’s right damn it! We ate lard! And we liked it!


Below is a great example of how we were tougher back in my day. Look, even the doctors were recommending that we fire up a heater and inhale deeply. And most of them smoked Camels!


Look! back in my day we had darling pet monkeys, and of course one of America’s favorite pets, the adorable baby raccoon! Rabies shots sold separately.


And kids, in my day even Santa had no fear of silly diseases like cancer and heart disease! He recommended cigarettes and tobacco as Christmas gifts! We laughed at the threat of an early death!


So there you go. Irrefutable proof that we were not only tougher in my day, we were infinitely smarter.

So there.

CINCINNATI – Parents are mad that a Catholic school suspended their 6-suspyear-old son for pretending to shoot an imaginary bow and arrow at recess.

Matthew Miele said his son served the second day of his three-day punishment Monday at Our Lady of Lourdes School in Westwood.  He wants the school to drop the issue.

Miele said his son was playing outside when a teacher saw what he was doing and brought it to the principal’s attention. That’s when Matthew’s son was called to the principals office. 

The school has a zero tolerance policy toward threatening gestures.

Yep, the wussification just keeps rolling along. Kids aren’t allowed to pretend anymore. Hey, when I was a kid we pretended to throw hand grenades and shoot machine guns at recess. Hell, I remember our 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Ritchie, acting as judge when we did backflips off the monkey bars:

“Ooh, Dave landed on his head. I have to give him a 3.5.”

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times. We’re raising a nation of soft little weenies who are going to to afraid of their own shadow.



With all the stuff I’ve posted recently regarding The Wussification of America, wussificationI started thinking about all the things that happened to me as I was growing up and how I could have possibly survived my treacherous, unprotected childhood. I already touched on this in previous blogs entitled Killer Toys, Soft Kids and a Sobering Realization, Dodgeball, a Microcosm of Life and others, but I feel as if I need to expound on it a little more.

You know, because you guys deserve it.

Anyway, I started thinking about all the accidents I was involved in as a kid and how my parents and other family members reacted to them. I gotta say that, in retrospect, I’m damn lucky to be alive. Because when I got hurt, more often than not (and when I say more often than not I mean every time), I was told to suck it the hell up.

I know what you’re thinking, kids. Shoe, let’s hear some examples. Well, as always I’m hear for ya . . .

I don’t recall the following story but it’s been retold to me several times so don’t let any of my bloodline deny it, OK? It happened.

As the story goes, I was just a wee, innocent baby, the third child of my mom and dad. I had two loving older sisters who were disgusted thrilled to have a new little brother. One day my wonderful mother had put me down for a nap and had gone to do the dishes. She heard me crying for a bit, and then I’d become very quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, in fact, that mom became a little concerned. So, she went to check on her little angel. What she found was this . . .

My 5-year old sister, who I shall not name here (it was Sara), was carrying yours truly around by the neck, swinging me around like a lifeless Cabbage Patch Kid. Oh, and my face was blue. Hence the silence on my part. You know, because it’s hard to cry when your windpipe is being crushed. Mom saved me, but she never rushed me to the hospital or anything and I don’t think there were any long-term adverse effects on me.

I don’t think.

Then again I do suffer from periodic blackouts and an intense fear of people touching my neck, so there’s that. Oh, and I’ve never turned my back on my sister since. By the way, she’s way meaner than she looks. Kidding. Love ya Sid.

Later on, when I was around 10-years old, I was climbing a tree in our front yard with my buddy Ted. I believe it was Halloween and we were climbing up there in order leap down and scare the bejesus out of passing Trick or Treaters. Seemed like a good idea at the time. So I was ahead of Ted, probably 20-feet off the ground, when I reached for a branch to pull myself up higher. Well, the branch snapped and I henceforth plummeted downward, past Ted, hurtling towards the ground.

I hit, and my mouth must have been open, tongue out, because when it slammed shut upon impact I bit a substantial sized hole in my tongue. And yes, it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. It was dark, and I first thought I’d bitten my tongue completely in half. I ran into the house screaming my head off, blood gushing out of my mouth and in a state of panic. Mom and Pop were sitting on the couch, probably watching “My Three Sons” or something. Here’s the conversation that followed:

Me: “I bi my ‘ongue! I bi a hole in my ‘ongue! A-h-h-h-h-h-h! 

By the way, it’s hard to say the letter “t” without using your tongue. Try it.

Mom, not looking away from the TV: “Put some ice on it.”

Me: “Wh-a-a-a-a-a-a-a???”

Dad, eyes glued to the screen: “Shhhhhhhh! Ernie got into some trouble at school! His dad just found out! Put some ice on it!”

So, I put some ice on it and laid on the bed in my room in agony. I think maybe Dad came in during a commercial, took a look, and said I’d be fine. I might have even got a pat on the head out of it.

So, I walked around for a few weeks with a hole in my tongue until it finally grew back together. I can still feel a lump there though, swear to God.

I guess my point is that If this happened today the emergency squad would come and a team of doctors would be called to do reconstructive surgery to repair the damages. Back then? Nah. Put some ice on it.

Another time my buddy Billy and I were bored and decided to have a war with some old 45s my family had in the basement. For you youngsters out there, a 45 was a record, not a gun. It was round and had music on it. You see, you put it on a turntable and . . . never mind.

Anyway, we set up a couple forts with some old couch cushions and started firing these records at each other like frisbees. I happened to peek up at the wrong time and caught a record right over my right eye, and it put about a 2-inch gash right through my eyebrow. Did I mention it bled like hell? I looked like Mike Tyson had caught me with a right cross. Billy, horrified, ran home like a banshee while I ran upstairs looking for help, where I found Mom doing the dishes:

Me: “Mom, I cut my eye! MY EYE!!!”

Mom, grabbing a dishrag to wipe the blood away: “Oh, settle down. It’s not your eye. It’s above your eye. Put some ice on it.” 

Do you see a pattern here? By the way, I still have the scar in my eyebrow. Battle scar, baby.

Another time my friend Ted (yes, him again) and I found some empty beer bottles in a ditch and thought it would be a cool idea to act out a western bar fight. Hey, it looked harmless on TV.  We both got a couple bottles and started swinging, and about 5-seconds in Ted caught me with a shot right to the temple. Turns out those bottles are harder than they appear. I went down like a sack of hammers, blacked out for a few seconds, and awoke to find Ted standing over me, laughing. Our “pretend” bar fight was over.

I never even told my parents. I just put some ice on it.

I used to spend a lot of time up at my Uncle Myrl’s house. He and Aunt Dorothy had 8-kids so there was always something going on. Everything revolved around sports. One summer day I was up there and we went outside to play some baseball. The problem was, we couldn’t find a baseball so cousin Kevin grabbed a croquet ball from somewhere. We’d been playing awhile, I was pitching, when cousin Mick sent a screaming line drive right back at me. I didn’t get my glove up in time and the croquet ball caught me right between the eyes, knocking me out cold.

And what was the reaction of my loving cousins? They all ran back into the house.

I have no idea how long I was out, but I do remember getting up and staggering back into the house, where everyone was watching TV:

Me: “What the hell? Thanks for nothing.”

Mick: “Hey, look. Dave’s alive.”

Kevin: “Better get some ice on that.”

What can I say? We were a little more hardcore back then. Once I was in the woods with my cousins John, Mark and Martin when I leaned on a tree, embedding a humongous thorn in my upper arm. I mean, it was in deep. Hurt like heck too. I mentioned something about going home to get it looked at when somebody said, “Screw that, we’ll get it out.” Next thing I knew they’d heated up the tip of a bowie knife with a cigarette lighter and went to work. After 10-minutes of painful probing, the offending thorn was found and pulled out.

Couldn’t forego a fun hike through the woods because of a silly puncture wound and copious amounts of blood, now could we?

One when I was about 5 or 6 I my parents and I were sitting on the front porch and Dad told me to run around the house to see how fast I could go. In retrospect it’s pretty obvious he was just trying to get rid of me for a little bit, but that’s neither here nor there. Any, I was barefoot as usual and when I made it back around and stood there panting, he sort of looked down, pointed, and calmly stated, “Hey, looks like you cut your foot there.”

I looked down, and sure enough there was a 3-inch slice of meat hanging off my instep like you would not dream. Blood everywhere too, I might add. But hey, no biggie. Mom just slapped some mecuricome* on it, added a band-aid or six and I was ready to rock and roll.

*For you younger folk out there, mecuricome was a wonder antiseptic that was used to prevent and cure all sorts of maladies. And yes, it had mercury in it. I recall it was red and it stung like a mofo. Sadly it was discontinued years ago. Something about causing cancer or some such nonsense. On a related note, I bet mom still has a bottle stashed somewhere.

I’m also 90% sure I broke a kneecap that went untreated when I wrecked my bike as a kid. How do I know this? Because when I get down on that knee today if feels as if I’m kneeling on a live power line. Somehow, I soldier on.

And it wasn’t just my family. I remember a basketball game back in the day at our school. A player suffered a horrific arm injury, complete with a bone sticking out and everything. As he lay on the court writhing in pain, his dad came out for a look. Here’s the conversation that transpired:

Trainer: “This is bad. We need to get him to the hospital right away.”

Father: “Yeah, I’ll go get my truck.”

Trainer: “We have an ambulance outside. Let’s bring in the stretcher and get him out of here.”

Father: “Nah, I’ll take him. Leave the ambulance here. Somebody might get hurt.”

Kid: “Wait. What?”

Random fan: “Better get some ice on that!”

The father then helped the kid up, walked him to their Ford  F150, and went to the hospital. Screw the ambulance.

What can I say? It was a different time. Hell, every kid I knew back then has similar stories to tell. We knew our parents loved us. They just didn’t panic at the sight of a lot of little blood on their kid. They knew that by not running screaming to our aid we’d learn to handle our problems by ourselves and, in turn, become more self-sufficient. They wanted us to be independent of them, not dependent on them.

So we got hurt. Suffered a little. Even bled.

And somehow, some way, we all survived.

We just put a little ice on it.

MERCER ISLAND, Wash. (KCPQ) — Kids at the Mercer Island School Districtbrother sister chase game medium are now banned from playing the popular childhood game of tag on the playground.

Parents KCPQ News they had no idea about the ban until their kids told them. Now, moms and dads are asking why they weren’t part of the decision-making process.

“Good grief, our kids need some unstructured playtime,” said mom Kelsey Joyce.

It’s a game that practically everyone has played – but if you go to public school on Mercer Island, keep your hands to yourself.

The signs outside one elementary school encourage kids to join league sports teams – but playing tag on the playground is no longer allowed during recess.

Mercer Island School District communications director Mary Grady explained the district’s decision via email:

“The Mercer Island School District and school teams have recently revisited expectations for student behavior to address student safety. This means while at play, especially during recess and unstructured time, students are expected to keep their hands to themselves. The rationale behind this is to ensure the physical and emotional safety of all students.

And so it continues.

Nice job, Mercer Island School District. You must be really proud of yourself. You’ve banned the game of Tag, quite possibly the second greatest game known to children (after Dodgeball of course).

Let’s see. So now we’ve banned Tag, Dodgeball, War, Monkey Bars, Father’s and Mother’s Day cards (out of respect for students without a mom or dad!), Flaming Hot Cheetos, and heaven help us all, HUGS.

What do we ban next, smiles?

Hell, one school even banned the dictionary because kids were looking up inappropriate words. Good God, people.

True story. About 6-7 years ago I was teaching Phys Ed when one of our douchestick administrators walked by. As he did, a little kindergartner happened to be giving me a hug. Later I saw the same assclown guy in the hallway and the following conversation took place:

“You know Dave, you really need to be careful letting kids hug you.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because it could be misinterpreted.”

“Misinterpreted as what?”

“Well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. In addition, the day I’m not allowed to let kids hug me is the day I leave education.”

At that point he just stared blankly at me. But then I swear he said this:

“And there’s also the lice thing.”

Then I just turned and walked away. Why? Because I was talking to a moron.

Alright, I’m going to get right to the point. I’ve finally been pushed over the edge. For the third time in the past month I’ve heard the following words uttered in one context or another from one of my students. Although different sports were involved, in each incident the conversation went something like this:

“Hey Mr. Shoe! Did you hear about our soccer tournament last weekend? We won third place!”

Wait. What? You WON third place? What is this, some psychobabble nonsense somebody came up with in order to save our kids from damage to their self-esteem?

Good Lord.

You know, I think I first heard this senseless phrase one summer when some Euro Trash announcer proclaimed that a biker in the Tour De France had “won second place” in some stage of the race or something. At the time I attributed it to the fact that the announcer was French and well, the French are usually gutless wussies fairly sensitive folk.

But, I guess I was wrong.

It’s a phenomenon that’s caught on right here in my own neighborhood. May God, and Bobby Knight, have mercy on our souls.

Oh by the way, I really feel better now knowing that we won 2nd place in that ’72 Olympic basketball game against the Russians. And to think that for all these years I thought we lost. Whew. That’s a relief.

Additional thought: Can you win 12th place? Serious question.

So here’s where we stand, America. We have kids who are “winning” third place, Junior High games where we don’t keep score, coaches who aren’t allowed to cut players, teams in which every kid is guaranteed to get playing time, teachers who aren’t allowed to give grades, parents who are suing little league coaches who don’t play their kids, gym classes where competition is discouraged, and soccer teams with 12 captains.


Listen, I know our kids need us at times and my son knew I was there for him if he had a serious problem. But doesn’t anybody realize that by protecting our kids from every type of adversity they may face, we are preventing them from learning how to deal with said adversity? That only by letting our kids face and conquer their problems on their own will they learn to handle them in the future? Is it that so hard to understand?

Apparently so.

Because the wussification continues . . .

You guys know how I feel about the Wussification of America. If not, just type it in the search box on the left and read what pops up. Good news, though. Some people feel just like I do. I’m not even going to comment any more on this other than to say thank you, James Harrison. Thank you very much.


First read the comments on Marcy’s Diner Facebook page. My observations are below.


Hey Tara Carson, maybe you’ll think twice before going to Marcy’s Diner and ordering 3 full size pancakes for your screaming kid again, huh? Because Marcy’s Diner won’t stand for it. Not only will you be put in your place, you’ll be called out on Facebook as well. Newsflash Tara Carson: Nobody likes a screaming kid while they’re trying to enjoy their Crumbled Bacon, Swiss Cheese and Tomato Omelette with a side order of Jalapenos. Do it again and Marcy will put a boot up your ass. Why? Because she’s a true American hero. Marcy! Marcy! Marcy!

PS: Your kid’s not traumatized. Chillax, future helicopter mom.

PSS: Honestly, take your kid outside if he’s screaming, for cryin’ out loud. Good Lord.

CANON CITY, Colorado.

A six year old boy is suspended from school in Canon City for kissing a classmate on the hand.

His mother says it’s a crush and the two children like each other. But the school is calling it something else; sexual harassment.

First grader Hunter Yelton told us he loves science and phys-ed. Also, that he has a crush on a girl at school, who likes him back. It may sound innocent enough, but at six years old Hunter now has ‘sexual harassment’ on his school record.

“It was during class, yeah. We were doing reading group and I leaned over and kissed her on the hand. That’s what happened,” said Hunter Yelton.

Because of this behavior, Hunter was at home on Monday instead of at school.

“They sent me to the office, fair and square. I did something wrong and I feel sorry,” he said.

“She was fine with it, they are ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’. The other children saw it and went to the teacher. That was the day I had the meeting with the principal, where she first said ‘sexual harassment’. This is taking it to an extreme that doesn’t need to be met with a six year old. Now my son is asking questions – what is sex mommy? That should not ever be said, sex. Not in a sentence with a six year old,” said Hunters’ mom, Jennifer Saunders.

The superintendent at School District RE-1 says any school record remains within the district. And Hunters’ actions fit the school policy description of ‘sexual harassment’

The school district also says Hunters’ parents may believe that kissing the girl at school is overall acceptable- but that’s where the school disagrees. They’re hoping the suspension changes Hunter’s behavior. Hunter is supposed to return to school in Canon City on Tuesday.

How dare you, Hunter Yelton? HOW DARE YOU?  Are you serious? Kissing your girl on the hand? And in reading group? Sacrilege! Outrageous! Get that kid sexual harassment counseling! The fact that he doesn’t know what sex is, let alone harassment, is beside the point!

And how about those little narcs that went to the teacher? You know what I used to tell my kindergartners – snitches wind up in ditches with stitches. You best remember that, Canon City, Colorado first-graders.

But seriously, Hunter’s taking it like a man, huh? “They sent me to the office, fair and square” he says.  Gotta respect that.

Nice work, School District RE-1. That’s a well thought out and fair act of discipline if I ever heard one. Way to keep a level head and not over-react. Keep up the good work. We must teach these sexual perverts a lesson!

On a related note, I would have never made it past the first week of pre-school if this type of behavior was a suspendable offense at Twin Elementary. I kissed girls like I owned the place. 


Deadly, man.

(Source)On May 8, Atlantic City, New Jersey, 5th grader Aarin Moody reached into his pocket to retrieve a “late note” from his mother and a Nerf gun foam “bullet” fell out. Officials at the Atlantic City School District categorized the toy bullet as a “self-constructed weapon” because “it had a toothpick stuck in it.” As a result, Moody received “a five-day, in-school suspension and a notation on his permanent record stating that he brought a makeshift weapon to school.” According to Fox News, the 5th grader put toothpicks in the Nerf bullets “so they would stick to the ground when he fired them from his Nerf gun.” Moody said he did not put the toothpicks in to cause mischief.

Yeah, you could do some damage with that thing, amirite? Imagine the throats he could have slit. Just a diabolical creation if I ever saw one. Aarin Moody should probably have received life in prison, man. Had the Atlantic City School District not heroically stepped in countless live could have been lost.

Seriously, here’s a great example of the ridiculousness of zero tolerance policies in schools. They’re simply a crutch for administrators who don’t want to make a decision. Where’s the common sense? Here’s how I would have handled it:

“Aarin, what the heck is this, buddy?”

“Uh, I forgot it was in there. I put a toothpick in my nerf bullet so it will stick in the ground when I shoot it.”

“Oh, OK. Better let me keep it in my office. You could accidentally stick someone with this thing.”

Then I would have probably kept it in my pocket and threw it at kids all day. Good times.

C’mon America. You’re better’n at.

AURORA, Colo. – A note sent home with a preschooler scolded her mother 1for packing an Oreo cookie in her daughter’s lunch.

Last Friday a teacher at the Children’s Academy in Aurora didn’t find Natalee Pearson’s lunch to be entirely healthy, so the school didn’t let Natalee eat part of it.

The Oreo cookies came back home with Natalee, along with this note:

Dear Parents, It is very important that all students have a nutritious lunch. This is a public school setting and all children are required to have a fruit, a vegetable, and a healthy snack from home, along with milk. If they have potatoes, the child will also need bread to go along with it. Lunchables, chips, fruit snacks, and peanut butter are not considered to be a healthy snack. This is a very important part of our program and we need everyone’s participation.”

A spokeswoman with Aurora Public Schools said the school gave Natalee a healthy alternative to the cookies.

Listen, I understand the healthy eating initiatives and all that stuff. But if a school told me I couldn’t send an Oreo cookie in my kid’s lunch there would be hell to pay. I’d probably send a Deep Fried Grilled Cheese Sandwich with him the next day as a form of protest. Since when do schools have the right to tell us what to feed our kids? Good God.

Wake up America! They’ll be coming for our Cheez-Its next! What is this, communist Russia? U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

PS – Wait. Peanut Butter isn’t healthy? Whaddafug?



The Road Runner, noted bully.

You’ve all read about the national initiative on bullying and all the recent cases that led up to it. It seems everyone’s being bullied these days. Bullying at school, bullying in the workplace, bullying in the National Football League for cryin’ out loud.

Am I nuts or did bullying used to be limited to children? When I was young I don’t recall any grown men or women being bullied. Now? Everyone can be bullied. It’s a national epidemic.

Because of all these nationally publicized cases of bullying we now have a National Bullying Initiative, aimed at creating laws to stop the madness. So, at the risk of going against the grain and being politically incorrect, please indulge me for a few minutes and let’s chat. If I offend you in any way please take no offense, as this isn’t intended to hurt your feelings or turn you into a victim.

To start, don’t we already have laws that protect people from being harassed, intimidated, and terrorized? And isn’t it a waste of time and money to try and pass laws that are attempting to turn people into saints? Children and adults are always going to make fun of each other on one level or another. That’s never going to change. And you can’t have laws protecting hurt feelings, for God’s sake.

It seems a lot of this seems to have stemmed from a few celebrated cases in which a young man or woman committed suicide and bullying was singled out as the cause.  But the truth is, there is no scientific evidence that bullying causes suicide. The fact is that people commit suicide because of mental illness. It is a treatable problem with a preventable outcome. Bullying, on the other hand, is defined as “an ongoing pattern of intimidation by a child or teenager over others who have less power.” Committing suicide is almost always the end result of a much bigger problem, and almost never results from being bullied. In fact, from what I’ve read suicide is rarely if ever caused by a single factor like breaking up with a girlfriend or boyfriend, getting bad grades or being bullied (or cyber-bullied, another problem that’s been grossly exaggerated). It’s much more complicated than that.

It’s sort of like back in the 80’s, when rock lyrics were being blamed for a few well-publicized suicides. Listen, if your child kills himself the problem goes much deeper than the fact that he was listening to some Ozzy Osbourne or Marilyn Manson records.

I bet every single person reading this was “bullied” in one form or another while growing up. Sure, we were upset, we may have cried or been afraid on some level. Still, we persevered and did so without mom and dad running to our defense, trying to get the “bully” arrested, or God forbid, try and take our own life.

Amazing, really. How did we make it without their help?

I’m going to throw out a wild idea here, but don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, if we raised our children to be more independent and self-reliant they might be able to deal with their problems a little more effectively?

Just a thought.

Sometimes, life isn’t easy. There isn’t always going to be an adult around to protect us, no “anti-bullying” law to magically save us from harm. Often times we have to face our problems on our own and deal with the consequences. By facing our problems head-on, we grow and earn that precious self-esteem that adults nowadays seem to want to simply hand over to us.

So why are we teaching are kids to run away from adversity?

Note: Remember when TV and movies were filled with those awful “bullies”? That Bugs Bunny dude was picking on poor Daffy Duck constantly. And how about Biff from “Back to the Future”? We all know how George McFly dealt with that bad boy – the old fashioned way:


The photo in question. Click to enlarge.

Following the online controversy, Michael Buble issued a statement on April 17, telling Us Weekly his comments were not meant to be hurtful. “I do not court controversy, but I realize that a photo that was meant to be complimentary and lighthearted has turned into a questionable issue,” he said. “It hurts me deeply that anyone would think that I would disrespect women or be insulting to any human being . . .I regret that there are people out there who found the photo offensive. That was not and is not my intention. Women are to be celebrated, loved, respected, honored and revered. I’ve spent my life believing that and will continue to do so.”

So that’s the photo that Buble posted, followed by a comment saying that he “thought there was something about this woman that deserved to be on Instagram.”

I guess I have one question regarding this whole mess. Why is he in trouble? Seriously, is this disrespecting women? He doesn’t even show the woman’s face, for cryin’ out loud. And if you choose to wear shorts with your ass hanging out aren’t you sort of asking for attention anyway? I mean, you wear this attire out in public and are then outraged when somebody looks at you? I have a solution for you, and that is to put on some pants.

Listen, people can wear what they want. Pajamas in public, man buns, sunglasses indoors, mandals, manpris, I don’t really care. Just don’t get pissed when I, or anyone else, makes fun of you.

Free Michael Buble! Free Michael Buble!

This kid will be living with his parents when he’s 35. Write it down.


A massive Easter egg hunt at California’s state Capitol was intended to set a 1world record but turned chaotic as combative parents stepped in to snatch eggs themselves, leaving crying children in their wake, according to participants.

Organizers had set out more than 500,000 plastic, multicolored eggs on the Capitol grounds Saturday with the goal of breaking the Guinness record for the world’s largest egg hunt.

The joyous event quickly turned ugly.

Some parents shoved their way into the hunt and scooped up all the eggs they could get their hands on, according to CBS Sacramento. Arguments broke out over whether adults should be permitted to help their children, the Sacramento Bee reported. The frenzy prompted organizers to make an announcement urging parents to stay out of the hunt.

Although I wasn’t there, I can tell you exactly how this went down. A bunch of parents, the type who always jump in to save their kids at the slightest hint of adversity, saw their precious little children getting out-hustled by a few hard-nosed go-getters who’d been raised by parents who let them fend for themselves from time-to-time. The result? The spoiled, helpless kids were getting demolished so mommy and daddy jumped in to help. Because of this stupidity a fracas ensued.

Good God, man. Disgusting. Get it together, people!

And the Wussification of America continues.

Note: I bet the kids who were getting the least amount of eggs have never played dodgeball in their lives. Sad, really.


So a parent sent this note home with a student a couple weeks ago. Is this what it’s come to? Schools telling us what to put in lunches that our kids bring from home? WHAT THE HELL? I pray to God this is an isolated incident and not a harbinger* of things to come. Hey, if somebody wants to send Dunkin’ Doughnuts, greasy French fries and a side of processed poisonous toad meat to school with their kids then by God we should let ’em. Shoot, one of the greatest days of my life was in 4th grade when I turned a lunch consisting of a peanut butter sandwich, a bag of chips and an apple into 12 Hostess Ho-Hos and a baggie of Cheez-Its. What can I say? I could trade up with the best of them. Good times. And hey, regarding Alia’s lunch up there, at least she had a pickle, amirite? That balances everything out.

*Yes, I used the word harbinger. I’m here to teach you. This isn’t your regular run-of-the-mill blog, kids. Read and learn.

PS: What are the odds dad prepared this lunch? It has dad written all over it.

PSS: Kudos to Mrs. Puckett for refusing to sign the note. U-S-A! U-S-A!

LAKE OSWEGO, Ore. — Lake Oswego High School has removed Mark Shoff from his head coaching position with the basketball team. School district spokeswoman Nancy Duin shared the following statement with KATU: “Mark Shoff will not be coaching the LOHS boys basketball team for the remainder of the season, following an investigation of concerns raised at last week’s Les Schwab Invitational Tournament. A search for a permanent head coach will be conducted in the spring. LOHS administration and staff are focused on supporting their student athletes and families during this transition, and on ensuring the inclusive and safe school environment that the Lake Oswego School District stands for.”  Shoff has been coaching the team for nearly 20 years. One of his former players is Kevin Love, currently a star with the NBA’s Cleveland Cavaliers. Today, Love’s parents told KATU they support Shoff. Stan and Karen Love said, “We feel like he got a raw deal.” They went on to say, “Our son wouldn’t be the player he is today without his high school basketball coach.”

Listen, I don’t condone hitting, pushing or otherwise getting physical with players. That said, this is nonsense. In the video below, Coach Shoff is seen “shoving” the player at the 1:00 mark. Seriously? THAT’S  a shove? But thank you, Lake Oswego School District, for protecting your student-athletes from this heinous monster that has coached for 20-years and helped get a player into the NBA. You must be proud. Good God almighty.

And the Wussification of America continues.

PS – My players will laugh out loud when they watch this.

Chillax kid, it’s a joke. And besides, funny is funny.


3e4r5tg6LEE COUNTY, FL A security guard at a Fort Myers Walmart was caught on video tackling a suspected shoplifter and holding her down. That employee has since been fired for how he handled the situation. Investigators say the man who worked for Walmart loss prevention, saw the woman shoplifting. That worker says he tried to stop them and they took off running. The worker tackled the woman and held her down on the ground. We tracked down the woman’s aunt who said she’s angry about how the situation was handled. “I was devastated when I saw the video. He was a man and the way he pushed her down on the curb,” said Karen Jackson. Investigators say the security guard found nearly $200 dollars worth of stolen items on the woman who was arrested for shoplifting.

Let me get this straight. A security guard saw a woman shoplifting. She ran. He ran. He caught her. He then found $200.00 worth of stolen merchandise on her.

And he got fired? What the hell?

And hey, Karen Jackson, here’s a suggestion. I know you’re angry, but if your niece doesn’t want “pushed down on the curb” perhaps she should, you know, not be a dirty no-good thief.

The security guard was just doing his job.

And the Wussification of America continues . . .

Listen, I know this is a hard, vicious hit. That said, it’s clearly shoulder to shoulder. It’s not helmet to helmet. It’s totally and completely legal. It’s also football. Someday soon defenders will be required to let receivers catch the ball and run a few yards before tackling them. It’s sad really.

Hell, Powder Puff football is getting rougher. Check out the second video below for proof.

(MSN) It’s not uncommon for parents to butt in when it comes to their kids, playing time and sports. But few have taken it as far as Ervin Mears Jr., a New Jersey dad who filed a lawsuit seeking $40 million, as well as two varsity letters and championship jackets, after his 16-year-old son was booted from his school’s track team, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer. According to the suit — which names the coach, athletic director and principal at Sterling Regional High School in Camden County, as well as the superintendent and school board — Mawusimensah Mears was “subjected to bullying and harassment” when he was kicked off the track team May 6. In the suit, Ervin Mears claims Mawusimensah “comes from a family of track winners” and was an “undefeated champ” in the 200-, 400-, and 800-meter runs as an eighth grader. However, in ninth grade, Ervin Mears and Sterling’s track coach reportedly disagreed over which races Mawusimensah, now a sophomore, should run. Afterward, Ervin Mears said, his son was barred from competing in meets. “If he doesn’t qualify, then the clock will say he’s not fast enough,” Mears told the Inquirer. “Let him get some exposure. … Participation in extracurricular activities is a right.” The school told Mears that unexcused absences from practice were the official reason for his son’s dismissal from the team, according to the Inquirer. Mears said that the absences were due to a leg injury and a death in the family. “I felt, in a way, disrespected,” Mawusimensah Mears said. “At practice, I work hard and I try to be the best athlete I can be, but at meet time, I didn’t get the respect that I thought I deserved.”

Hey Irvin Mears Jr., Listen up. I have three things to say to you:

  1. No parent has ever been more wrong with your statement that “participation in extracurricular activities is a right.” Participating in an extracurricular activity is a privilege, not a right. Hence the “extra” at the beginning.
  2. Success in junior high does not necessarily equate to success in high school. The reverse is also true. Kids mature at different speeds, some are almost fully grown in 8th grade, others are just starting. In addition, if a kid is not successful in junior high I dearly hope he doesn’t have a parent like you who blames everything on the coach, takes no personal responsibility and quits, thus never reaching his full potential.
  3. And Mawusimensah Mears, respect is earned, not handed to you because you think you deserved it. Quit leaning on daddy and grow up.

Just another example of a parent jumping in to save his kid when he could have used this whole thing as a learning experience. Good grief.