Textual Malfeasance

Can't not smile even though sad-sack times have come

I'm going to put this on a continuous loop on my TV. Yeah, I know - it's been around for a long time, but I never tire of it. Forget Mother Teresa: Jim Henson should be next on the canonization list:

You can't make this stuff up

How best to describe my community:

A 66-year-old man shot himself in both his legs Saturday afternoon while trying to loosen a stubborn lug nut with a 12-gauge shotgun.

Deputies at the scene reported the man blasted "double-ought" buckshot at the wheel from "arm's length."

The deputies described the man's legs as "peppered" from his feet to his mid-abdomen with pellets, pieces of the wheel and other debris. Some injuries went as far up as his chin.

The man had been repairing the Lincoln Continental for two weeks, and had removed all the lug nuts on the right rear wheel except for one. (Kitsap Sun)

If the wheel being attached to the hub is any indication, the lug nut has yet to budge, weeks later.

Flag Day Santas

Last night I got out the boxes full of Santas so the decorating could commence. I know which boxes to get out because last year, in a fit of organization brought on by disgust, I consolidated Santas into the fewest possible boxes and, since it’s impossible to organize without a label maker, I labeled every box. A neat, crisp, machine-printed label trumps hand-scrawled text every time, so there is no guessing for me, this year, which of the several hand-written legends on boxes to believe: Kids' Tree Stuff or Lights for Windows.

I don’t have to guess because on every box full of Santas I had the foresight to carefully apply, equidistant from the top left corner and perfectly level, this label:   

Christmas Santas

Apparently I was worried that I might mistakenly haul out the boxes full of the Halloween Santas.

Ouch

My daughter’s friend, describing cramps:

::It feels like a bunch of baby clowns wearing brass knuckles and trying to get out.

Where'd she go?

When my grandmother was circling the drain my mom would call the nursing home when she wasn't there to get an update on her condition. This was the last conversation with a staff member:

::How's she doing?

:Um, Helen is not doing so well. In fact, she's no longer with us.

Grandma had refused to wake up or eat for several days so Mom was pretty sure that meant, despite the first sentence, no longer with us in the animate sense.

Who, me?

I was blathering on about something probably unimportant and my aunt said,

::You do tend to be a bit objective in your comments sometimes.

Options

Written in the many layers of dirt on the back of a white - when it's clean - bus:

Also comes in white!

Not painful enough

A license plate frame on the back of a clapped-out mid-90s Trans Am parked at Wal-Mart:

To bad being stupid
isn't painfull

This was a make-it-at-a-kiosk-in-the-mall frame and the demeanor of the driver suggested that it wasn't an ironic commentary on the state of education today.

Help you

While at the laundromat washing comforters that are too big to fit in a home washing machine, I spotted on a door the back of a cardboard box fashioned into a homemade sign that said:

Need
Help!!
KNOckINg DOOR

At first I thought it was an explanation that when one heard knocking on the door, one should assume that the knocking was an indication that someone on the other side of the door was in need of assistance of some sort. Then I realized that if a patron were to need help, said patron should knock on the door. If this sort of thing amuses you, you'll enjoy www.engrish.com.

The economy of low expectations

While talking to my daughter a while ago, it occurred to me how simple life can be when one does not have exceptional children.

She's joined the school tennis team and has never played tennis before. She's a senior, but on the JV team (one of the benefits of a small school is that just about anyone who wants to can be on a school team). I asked if there was a game schedule yet and she said yes, but it doesn't matter because JV does not play any matches. Why not? She didn't know - I'm guessing that there are not enough JV players in the league to form whole teams. In fact, when our exchange student played basketball last year, sometimes there were not enough JV girls from one school to form a team so they just divided both teams randomly up into two teams so they could at least play. I love that.

If you're not going to compete, then what's the point of playing tennis for the school (and paying for it)? So you can get good enough to play on the varsity team, which is obviously not an option for a senior with no experience. "And that's just the way I like it," she said. She just wants the exercise and to have something productive to do with her friends after school besides homework and without having to embarrass herself in front of spectators.

Because I'm the parent of unexceptional kids, I don't have to worry about playing time and bad officiating getting in the way of sports scholarships, and she gets to concentrate on learning how to play and having fun. I don't have to splash out on an expensive tennis racket to make sure she's not playing at a disadvantage. No worries that they put Tiffany in instead of her while the college recruiter was there because Tiffany's mom, that bitch, is louder.

As just an above-average student and not an exceptional student, I don't have to worry about the stress she'd endure if she were to be in all AP classes, the concern that she'd be at a disadvantage because few AP classes are offered at her small school, or that she's stuck not learning enough in a math class with a brilliant mathematician who believes that teaching is nothing more than presenting and moving on. No worry about whether she'll be accepted to Stanford. If my kids were passionate about and gifted at anything, I'd do whatever necessary to help them pursue their goals. As it is, though, they haven't taken up too much of my time. It is more expensive, though, the lack of scholarship opportunities.