May 17, 2008

When the lights go down...

While eating supper at our favorite Mexican restaurant (Amigo Juan's), the power went out. Luckily, our food had already arrived. We finished eating, and when we tried pulling out of the parking lot, there was traffic everywhere. Power was out for as far as we could see. But, since Wal-Mart is on the other side of the Interstate, we figured they still had power. Wrong! In fact, they were turning people away at the doors! Cops were at every intersection, directing traffic. As we pulled out of the Wally World parking lot, an officer was pulling in (presumably to keep looting to a minimum). Once we got to the other end of Hope, though, those folks had power. All that matters in that regard is that good ol' DQ was up and running!

Yeah, so I kinda messed up my "assaulted" joke, which is why I will never make it as a comedian... It was SUPPOSED to go... "Okay, so these two NUTS walk into a bar... One of them was assaulted!" Oh well...

Do you watch Desperate Housewives? The whole line with Lynette and the psycho girl that has called the doctor and said that her mother beats her is what scares the crap out of a lot people these days: The cops will come and arrest you just because someone (ANYONE) called the cops and said you hit your kid. That is ridiculous! I love how people like to pretend America is the land of the free, when really, we are ruled by fear and intimidation more than 'freedom.' Don't get me wrong, I love America and respect and honor all those who live and die for the ideals for which this country is based upon. But, since I have the freedom to express myself (assuming that freedom is not jeopardized by the government electronic monitoring system (whose name escapes me right now)...), I must say that parents can no longer freely discipline their children because we know that at any given moment, our kids can dial 9-1-1 and have our butts hauled to jail. Though, I can tell you right now, if that ever happened to me, there WOULD be a reason for me to be in jail... :-) (just kidding)... All I can say is that I hope the little girl on DespHouse gets her due when the time comes... Also, if they are going to write Nicolette Sheridan out of the show, why didn't they just let her character hang herself? Oh well...

I found this a while ago, and thought I had posted about it... I looked through my blog and didn't see it, so here ya go:

What Teachers Make
By Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful, de-finite-ly bea-u-ti-ful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart)
and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make,
you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?

(Here is one version posted to YouTube)

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