Stupid and Stupider

Lately, we’ve been hearing about some stellar ideas from the imbeciles in society about colleges and  It’s about time to address this at The Eastern Shore level.
college life.

 

At a recent Democratic Presidential Candidate debate, Bernie Sanders, the guy who is clearly not taking his meds, suggested all Americans pay for the college education of everyone who wants one. 

 

They would be available at no cost.  That statement would be true if you don’t figure in the fact that someone has to pay for the school tangibles; classrooms, books, salaries, cafeterias, dorms, beer kegs, and football uniforms, all have to be paid for.  If the students don’t pay for that stuff, who does?

 

Answer:  The taxpayer.

 

We would be led to believe taxpayers are under-challenged because they still have enough money to pay for postage to mail tax returns to the IRS.  That cash should go toward the education of kids who are too stupid to come in out of the rain.

 

Free anything is not free.  Free samples in Sam’s Club costs Sam’s Club and the manufacturers.  They are offered to the shoppers to entice them to buy that product.  Contrary to belief, they are not being served as a no-cost lunch.

 

Colleges also offer some scholarships to outstanding students who may lure friends or equally-qualified students to that institution, primarily to earn academic credentials for turning-out great graduates.

 

If some pimple-faced puke wants to go to Harvard to study Medieval Lesbian Writings, or Stanford to get a degree in 15^th Century Basket Weaving, hard working Americans should not be forced to pay for such frivolity.

 

As a high school student, back when Thomas Jefferson was a classmate of mine, I was required to take two elective classes each semester.  Mine included German, English Literature, Shakespeare, Writing FORTRAN Code, and Advanced Placement Physics, over the years.

 

Classmates saw this as an opportunity to attain an “easy A,” and took classes such as Home Economics, Finger Painting, and Appropriate Gluing Techniques.

 

College was once a place where expression of ideas and feelings were encouraged.  Today, if students feel “uncomfortable,” administrators are forced to resign.

Back during desegregation, blacks demanded equal classroom space, identical books, equal pay, and simple respect.

 

Those times were in the 1960’s and ‘70’s.  And, if you just awoke from a 70-year coma, you would believe nothing had changed if you listen to the civil rights rabble rousers.

 

Lies and half-truths are driving the modern college campuses because political correctness, and the fear of being labeled a racist, has been driving an out-of-control bus to the town of Nowhere Good.

 

At the University of Missouri, students claimed they were subjected to overt racism and felt uncomfortable.  The president resigned because of pressure from whiners.

 

The realization that blocks of power in the form of racial bullying can be used to leverage nearly anything, may actually be utilized to attempt to bring back blue unicorns.

 

Halloween costumes are shunned, Christmas is eliminated, conservative thought is discouraged, while socialism, bullying, and stifled-speech are encouraged and applauded.

 

This is an ideal time to say “NO” to this mindless mayhem called “higher education.” 

 

If the students wind up with a monumental student loan, they should get jobs.  If those jobs don’t pay enough to repay the loans, they need to rethink those “easy A’s.”

 

Pay for your own stuff, and get a life.

 

Amen.

Special: True Story of Thanksgiving Day

Every year we hear more about the secular holiday, Thanksgiving Day.  It means many things to many different people, and most of what you now hear is bunk. 

 

Buttinski’s – folks who don’t have lives of their own, so they want to get involved in yours – have been trying to rid America of this special day of gluttony and sports and naps.

 

They try to blame the extermination of Indians on the white man, and claim the original immigrants were vegetarians.

 

It’s time to gather the family around the table and read the real story of Thanksgiving Day to them. 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++

 Back in 1621, the Pilgrims and Puritans, who were transplants from that awful place, Europe, finally had a good harvest of crops and decided to celebrate to give thanks.

 

Puritans were people who left England for more religious freedom, while Pilgrims were common folk who were escaping high taxes and reality TV shows.

 

Weather was terrible – too much rain, snow, not enough rain, hail, drought, and pestilence, caused poor harvests for years.  At last, ideal weather, along with better farming techniques, helped these refugees produce a great crop.

 

In the interim, many immigrants died from both starvation and diseases so, this bounty was true cause for celebration.

 

The Indians were patiently waiting for the Europeans to die so they could get their hands on those neat black coats and buckled hats, but alas.

 

To ingratiate themselves, and get the best fit of the clothing, they assisted the Pilgrims and Puritans by feeding them until sizes were perfect.

 

The Indians gathered turkeys and stuffing and mashed potatoes to help fatten-up the nasty white folks.  All worked well until this terrific harvest, when the homeboys no longer needed the Indians’ food.  That’s when the great massacre happened.

 

Known as the First Civil War, the ungrateful white folks tried to kill all the Indians and began naming all their football and baseball teams after them as a way to slur them.

 

This program worked so well that it took nearly 400 years to make things better for the last living Indian, Pocahontas.

 

Enlightened college students figured all this out and, driven by “white guilt” and “white privilege,” had begun campaigns to eliminate all sports teams with Indian names by 1633.

 

They even changed the name of Indians to “Native Americans.”  All seems to be working out well for them.

 

Pocahontas got her image on a coin.  Or was it Sacagawea?

 

In any case, the Europeans added an amendment to The Constitution to have everyone in America eat turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce for dinner, and sweet potato pie for dessert.

 

That same Amendment – the 38^th – requires football and basketball games to be played on that day.  And, it made Keno legal in 17 states.

 

In 1637, Macy’s decided to have a parade, and Santa Clause showed up to celebrate, too.

 

But in an ardent effort to include African-Americans in this strictly white holiday, the Pilgrims and Puritans invented Black Friday.

 

And everyone lived happily ever-after.

 

And that’s the truth.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Travel

Each year my sainted wife, Smokey the Cat, and I, make an annual pilgrimage to God’s Waiting Room (GWR), otherwise known as, Florida.  We do this for Thanksgiving.

 

This trip usually takes us two days and begins when the leaves have all fallen off the trees on The Eastern Shore, and the Canadians depart their cold, snowy country.  Not the geese, either.

 

I know this because, all the way down Interstate 95, I see nothing but vehicles with Canadian license plates.

 

One Winnebago after another, all towing cars, all driving in the left lane going 37 MPH, cruised to GWR.  They closely resembled a freight train of gypsies wearing stupid hats.

 

It was a shame they were forced to share the left lane with all those folks from New Jersey.  It seems those signs that read Slower Traffic Keep Right, are pretty confusing.

 

Here’s a quick lesson.  Stand up.  Face north; use a compass if you must.  Point to the east with one hand, the west with the other.  The one that is eastward it your right hand.  If other cars are passing you on that side, you need to get over into the right lane and stay there.  Amen.

 

By the end of our second day of travel, it was official: the last person left Quebec and was heading toward Georgia, in the left lane.  I hope they turned off the lights, eh?

 

We had a time getting Smokey into his cage for the remainder of journey.  He so enjoys hiding behind the headboard of the hotel bed, clawed into the Berber carpet, as if hanging onto a cliff.

 

Real coffee, good coffee, and the obligatory $3 plastic bottle of water were bought at the gas station, for the short trip to the first rest area.

 

We desperately tried to drive slowly enough for the Canucks to catch up, but alas.

 

Just for the record, I am the best driver in the world.  Just ask my sainted wife.  So, here are a few quick tips for your next road trip.  And, they’re free.

 

When driving, stop texting.  Some woman in a Chevy Cavalier was texting something critical to the national security while in the middle lane, driving 31 MPH.  Yep, New Greaseyites and Canadians thought they were in the Twilight Zone, actually passing someone.

 

If you pull out to pass a vehicle, pass it.  A new joke is out there for the douchebags that drive those semis.  They pull out to pass, and then slow down.  I followed these assclowns for seven miles.  Must be a game of some sort for the simple-minded truck drivers.

 

Stay in the middle or slow lane – remember our little lesson? - unless you are passing.  The passing lane is no more scenic than the middle or slow lanes.  Trust me.

 

Finally, at the rest stops, pull into a space.  Here’s a freebie: You will not find anything closer to the door.  Besides, when you go to Walmart, with your pants up around your chest, you walk for endless hours “for exercise.”  Try getting some at the rest area.

 

We arrived safely, thanked God for an amusing trip, and enjoyed an adult beverage.  I may wind up as stuffed as the turkey.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

By the way, check back on Thanksgiving Day for a special treat! 

Learning Something New

The Jeff Rodgers

Every once in a while we receive material from outside sources that needs fit special criteria in order to make it onto our selective site.  Since those criteria are extremely hard to achieve, there has never been one to make its way to the point of public viewing.

 

Those goals include the information must be interesting, verifiable, and family-oriented. 

 

A few weeks ago, I got a snail-mail letter from an acquaintance.  Well, he’s more than an acquaintance; more like a friend.  He’s not a best friend.  He’s a good friend.  Well, I’ve had dinner at his house so, he’s a pretty good friend.  And, we had steak and great conversation.  He’s a great friend and correspondent.  But, I digress.

 

That envelope contained a newspaper article that was interesting enough, verifiable, and family-oriented.  In its original form it truly is clean but, I needed to edit it with synonyms to both keep it clean and add humor.  Read on and you’ll understand.

 

The article headline reads: “Largest fossilized poop exhibit coming to Bradenton museum.”

 

Yep.

 

Now do you see where this is going?

 

A sub heading reads: “Amazing Coprolite Collection to be on display for National Fossil Day Saturday.”

 

The amazing part for me was there is a National Fossil Day.  The fact it is held in Florida makes sense since it is primarily comprised of fossils driving Buicks.

 

But, I also had to look up “coprolite,” as I had never run across that word before.  Ever.

 

It seems coprolite is Greek for “dung stone,” which means there was enough of it lying about for an entire nationality of people to invent a word for it.

 

“Hey, Nikko!  Did you see that pile of coprolite near the Parthenon?” is what I imagine Ajax yelling across the Acropolis.

 

“Now’s a good time to tell me.  Yuk!” replies Ajax, while scraping off his sandal.

 

In any case, The Amazing Coprolite Collection, which this is, includes 1,277 individual pieces of fossilized poop, certified by Guinness World Records.  These precious samples came from 15 states in the United States, according to this Herald Staff report. 

 

The part they left out was that 973 of them were collected from my lawn and originally placed their by neighborhood dogs.  Thanks!

 

Jeff Rodgers is the South Florida Museum Director of Education who has a collection of his own, and is “especially enthusiastic about this special exhibition.”

 

The really good news that on that special Saturday, admission to this bonanza of poop was “less than half-price: $9 for adults, $8 for seniors, and $7 for kids.”  Sorry we got this too late to make an attendance difference.

 

Nonetheless, Jeff added that seeing crocodilian coprolites and spirals of fossilized fish poop was what he considered “a good day at work.”  You bet.

 

This guy really knows his $#!+, and he has a $#!++4 job.

 

I just had to do it.

Happy What?

We just celebrated that special religious holiday to which everyone looks forward, and we know what

it is because we see all the Christmas trees on display on stores: Halloween.

 

Somehow America skipped over the fact that Halloween is a Christian celebration, something those secularists who so greatly fear they attempt to rid the world of baby Jesus, but plow full steam ahead for “the sake of the kids.”

 

We took religion out of the schools for “the sake of the kids.”  Now it is fashionable to put it back into the schools so that everyone can be jealous of the other kid’s costumes.  But, I digress.

 

In the vein of “the sake of the kids,” I was concerned about their health and well-being.  I have been bombarded with news about too much this or too much that and how it can all be bad for the kids.

 

One city actually attempted to ban Halloween altogether because someone’s child was allergic to peanuts.  It seems this rug rat’s mother was so successful in getting snacks eliminated from school, for the benefit of her kid, she wanted to flex her maternal muscles and show everyone how much clout she possessed.

 

Thank God other sane parents said, “ENOUGH!!!”  If your kids are allergic to peanuts, keep them home.  Don’t penalize the rest of society.

 

If your kid can’t play soccer because of lack of athletic skills, don’t eliminate sports.  Tell your kid to take up knitting or cheerleading.

 

In any case, I tried to help out the kids and their parents by offering gluten-free snacks in the form of celery sticks and baby carrots.

 

Of course it was a popular and healthy contribution.  I also offered tofu, but they seemed to opt for the veggie stuff.  Good boys and girls, indeed.

 

My sainted wife, on the other hand, passed out gluten-filled pretzels, much to my chagrin.  She and a neighbor actually tried to get one of the kids to go home and get crab dip to assemble a party.  No luck, though.

 

Still the children arrived to grab treats wholesale.  There were fairies, Star Wars characters, several Grim Reapers, a starlet, two soldiers who weren’t deployed to Iraq, a cowboy, lobster and mermaid, and a zombie or two or three.

 

Four guys with beards appeared, too.  Thinking they were the Duck Dynasty fellows, I complimented them on their costumes.  They were actually just too old for kiddie activities like ‘trick or treating,’ and their facial hair was real.  They would have preferred a cold beer instead of celery.

 

Yet, the kids had great luck while their parents enjoyed themselves hobnobbing with the neighbors.

 

All was well on The Eastern Shore.  And I kept the Reese’s cups for myself.