A mayor in Germany was stabbed in the neck by a thug who disagreed with the mayor’s ideas on immigration. Ironically, the victim was saved by a fast thinking kebab shop owner, an immigrant incidentally.
Supposedly protesting the importation of “terrorists,” a “loyal” German became a terrorist and was countered by a peace and life-loving immigrant. Can it get any more incredible?
Page 2. A lady in Virginia hit “something” as she left home for work, but did not check the front of her car until she arrived at her destination 50 miles away. Upon walking around to the front, she was “greeted” by an angry hiss. A bobcat had been trapped in the grill of the car.
Animal control sedated the wildcat and removed it. It will be returned to the crossroads where it was originally struck. Can’t you imagine the conversation with her compatriots?
“You will ever guess where I have been and how I got there....” Talk about “Mr. Frog’s Wild Ride.”
Page 3. I had a dream the other night about a clandestine security force whose task is to surreptitiously guard sensitive installations and facilities. They do not wish to be publicly identified or even associated with the facility proper. And the property cannot be linked with their activities for the purpose of lawsuits and other such retaliatory events.
They also focus on “deterring” repeat incursions by the trespassers without leaving any evidence of the interaction. (If you get my meaning.) Their motto is, “We leave no marks, but make a lasting impression.”
Outta my head. In two ways.
Page 4. I shoulda been a liberal arts major, like sociology or political science. No hard facts to remember and laws which control reactions. A prof at a Florida University (unnamed for now) has developed a new class: White Racism.
Silly me. I thought that educational institutions had a curriculum of history, science, and things like that which were amenable to measurement or documentation. World Wars I and II, the Korean War, VietNam, Desert Storm, and all of those events can be documented. But to teach a class on “attitudes and prejudices” seems a little less rigorous than General Physics, Organic Chemistry, Quantum Mechanics, and Medieval Art. How will he grade the class? Do you have to parrot his prejudice back to him or can you roam the field?
Oh, wait. He is not prejudiced. He is pointing out others’ prejudices. (Remember the old “three fingers point back” rule?)
Page 5. Remembering old times. I played basketball in high school and had a great time. I just recently connected with a cousin of mine who also played on that same team. I recently bought a new pair of sweat/lounge/sleep pants and as I admired them I recalled an incident from that ball team.
A bit of background. There were three “big” men in our area and conference. One guy who stood 6'4 and attended a big, Class B school about 50 miles north of Stratton. Another guy closer to home, whom we played two or three times a year, was 6'5. And our champion was 6'6, the tallest one of all. So we had in interesting competition with those three schools, as I believe that all three were in the same class. But we were the smallest school.
When we were sophomores we ran into them, probably at a tournament. We had some fairly new, but pedestrian warm up jackets that we were proud of. Well, these guys came out of the locker room with complete, new, flashy warmup UNIFORMS. I recall their pants swishing around their ankles as they raced through their warm up routine. They looked like the Harlem Globetrotters. We all were mesmerized.
The coach noticed our fascination with their warmups and quickly gathered us together to take our minds off of their intimidating procedure and clothes. “Hey guys,” he encouraged us. “They put their pants on and take them off, one leg at a time, just like we do. They will only have five guys on the floor. We can take them.”
We all glanced at our big guy and sighed a little bit of relief. At least, they would not be playing too far above our heads. As we huddled before the tip off, he reiterated, “One leg at a time.”
About that time, they took hold of their belts and “whoosh!” jerked them off in a single motion. I don’t know if they were velcro or snaps, but it was impressive.
As I recall, we did not ever beat that team. It was not their pants. They had five guys (Hey, that would be a good name for a burger joint) ...five guys who were better than our five. But I still hoped we would prevail. I bet we could beat them now. NOT.
So when I hear that people take off their pants one leg at a time, I smile.
