Our kitchen table is a total mess. Aaron & Ben have trashed it with popsicle sticks, glue gun and other building materials for some daffy history project for school. Some way or another their history teacher thinks they will learn more by building miniature models of siege towers, catapults and other models of medieval warfare. As far as I can tell it has only impacted our pocketbook by having to buy all this junk from Hobby Lobby and dealing with the mess. I know the boys could care less about it and are just enduring the idiocy long enough to get a passing grade. You have all read my continuous rants about the terrible state of education when teachers send home these stupid projects instead of TEACHING the subject. And there seems to be an odd set of rules about these things. A working catapult is OK but a scale model of an Uzi would cause a school lockdown? At what period in history is it OK to model killing machines? Who made these rules? Why are my children making ANY models of tools of war? What part of creating imagery of ancient methods of shredding human bodies is considered “education”? Should this be on a resume? The boys parrot the line from every teacher, “If we do not learn from history we are doomed to repeat it.” Studying ancient wars while our people are in Afghanistan and Iraq? Well, Duh?
We could probably pay for a family meal in a nice place for all the money spent on poster board, costumes and art materials over the past 15 years. I know we would all like to have the wasted time back in our lives. At least now the boys are old enough to build their own scholastic nightmares. Many times in the past these projects turned into parental homework and I have to admit Tracey took the brunt of it. Sewing costumes, making a space helmet and arctic sunglasses. And I’m quite sure the kids and teacher had a grand time play acting for a few minutes. Our kids are going to school to be entertained and these projects are a waste of time and money. Until this latest fiasco is finished I’m just leaving the mess on the table. I hope that glue comes off the table and chairs.
Stud Rooster A farmer went out one day and bought a brand new stud rooster for his chicken coop. The new rooster struts over to the old rooster and says, ‘OK old fart, time for you to retire.’
The old rooster replies, ‘Come on, surely you cannot handle ALL of these chickens. Look what it has done to me. Can’t you just let me have the two old hens over in the corner?’
The young rooster says, ‘Beat it: You are washed up and I am taking over.’
The old rooster says, ‘I tell you what, young stud. I will race you around the farmhouse. Whoever wins gets the exclusive domain over the entire chicken coop.’
The young rooster laughs. ‘You know you don’t stand a chance, old man. So, just to be fair, I will give you a head start.’
The old rooster takes off running. About 15 seconds later the young rooster takes off running after him. They round the front porch of the farmhouse and the young rooster has closed the gap. He is only about 5 feet behind the old rooster and gaining fast. The farmer, meanwhile, is sitting in his usual spot on the front porch when he sees the roosters running by.
The Old Rooster is squalking and running as hard as he can.
The Farmer grabs his shotgun and - BOOM - he blows the young rooster to bits. The farmer sadly shakes his head and says, ‘Dammit ... third gay rooster I bought this month.’
Moral of this story? ...
Don’t mess with the OLD FARTS - age, skill, wisdom, and a little treachery always overcome youth and arrogance!
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Border Disorder
