Innocent Fun, or Foul Play?

Thought for the day:  The game of life is a lot like football. You have to tackle your problems, block your fears, and score your points when you get the opportunity. [Lewis Grizzard]

[morguefile]

Lewis Grizzard scored some good points of his own with that witty quote. There's a lot of truth in it, but I think the analogy can only be taken so far. When people try to force the whole life is like a football game comparison beyond a certain point, someone may have to step forward, blow the whistle, and call a penalty on the play.

I'll tell you all about it in a minute, and let you be the judge, but first? A step back onto Memory Lane, if you will... to the days when we were all (gasp!) teenagers.

[morguefile]

Recognize this stuff? Anybody else remember hanging rolls of crepe paper across the ceiling of a knotty pine-paneled basement with your friends the day before a party? Our favorite trick was to twist two different colors together for an extra special touch of sophistication. (That's what we thought at the time, anyway.) As the evening wore on, the streamers would inevitably stretch and sag, until they literally brushed the tops of our heads while we danced. That didn't stop us from stringing them up for the next party, though. It was part of our thing. 

[morguefile]

Matter of fact, it was so much a part of our thing, we even used them to decorate the school gym for our junior and senior proms.

You know what? As all-important as they seemed at the time, I honestly don't remember much about our proms. (And NO, the fruit punch wasn't laced!) Do you? One thing I do remember is how stressed a lot of the girls got ahead of time, because they were worried sick that no one would invite them. I dunno. Maybe the guys were stressed too, and worried about being rejected?

[morguefile]

But let's face it, it's traditionally been females who place so much importance on events like proms. It's their time to shine. To feel as pretty as a princess. To feel special. As much as proms have mutated from the days when my friends and I danced under crepe paper streamers to records played in the high school gym, I think today's girls dream just as wistfully about their proms. They still want to shine, to feel as pretty as a princess, and to feel special.

[morguefile]

So what happens when teenage boys treat a prom like it's another extension of football? What if they rent a fancy venue, huddle there in their suits and ties...

[wikimedia commons]

and go through an NFL-like draft pick process to decide who to invite to the prom? I introduce you to... the prom draft.

I kid you not.

For an undetermined number of years, that's exactly how some... but not all... boys at Corona del Mar High School in Newport Beach, California have been selecting their prom dates. Based on draft pick number, which is determined by drawing either a lottery-like ball or numbered slip of paper, the boys take turns selecting their dates from the previously-ranked favored pool of girls.  In keeping with NFL draft rules, boys also have the option of  forking over money in exchange for a more favorable draft pick. This year, one boy allegedly paid one hundred and forty bucks for the privilege of picking the higher-ranked gal of his dreams. (They'd never even spoken to each other before! Do you think she accepted...?) The whole procedure is done with much hoopla and fanfare, and they even go so far as to report draft pick results via Twitter. Nothing more humiliating than being selected last... unless it's having that information disseminated to all your twitter-pated friends, eh?

When I read about this in the newspaper, I got to wondering. What criteria do you think the boys use in  those girl-ranking sessions of theirs?

[seniorark]

Intelligence, kindness, and a good sense of humor, maybe?

Maybe...

On the other hand, the ranking might have gone something like this:

"When Mary Lou walks, she has a mighty fine backfield in motion. I think that merits a decent number, don't you?"

"Nah, she follows a strict blocking below the waist policy. Nothing happening above the waist, either. She's good to look at, but doesn't go in for any holding at all."

"I agree," another stud muffin added. "She's a stickler for pass interference. She's been known to rough the passer upon occasion, and gave one guy a shiner for a little innocent illegal use of hands."

"Oh, man, I had no idea. That makes her a strike out, as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude! Wrong sport! Get with the program."

"Oh, right, sorry. My bad. Okay, a low number it is. Besides, I heard she's never on time. Nothing I hate worse than having to put up with a delay of game..."
*****

Okay, so I have no idea how those sessions really went. But word has it, there may not be any more prom drafts in future years. The school's principal... a woman... found out about this year's draft, and wasn't any too happy about it. You could say she stepped in, blew the whistle, and called a penalty on the practice. Even threatened to cancel this year's prom. Whether she did or not, I don't know, but now some school board members are talking about instituting mandatory ethics classes to teach students what was wrong with this whole draft scenario in the first place.

What do you think about those prom drafts? Innocent fun... or insensitive, and highly insulting to females?  Did you go to your prom? Remember much about it? I remember I had a lot of good clean fun, and maybe that's enough. I don't think I would've appreciated being entered in some juvenile draft for the entertainment of the boys in our class, though. (Unless, of course, I was ranked number one... HA!)

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined; no sleep until morn, when youth and pleasure meet to chase the glowing hours with flying feet.  [Lord Byron]

It wasn't that no one asked me to the prom, it was that no one would tell me where it was. [Rita Rudner]

Am I Missing Something?

Thought for the day:  Everything is funny as long as it's happening to somebody else. [Will Rogers]

Now, let me be the first to say I don't have anything against class clowns. (I mean, heck... I married one!) But the pranks we used to pull in school back in the Dark Ages were... funny. By definition, a prank is a practical joke or mischievous act, and in my opinion, that should translate to something that's creative, humorous, harmless, and legal.

I dunno. Maybe I'm just an old fuddy duddy. But I don't think so; I don't think it's just because I'm growing older.

Heck, I don't even remember much in the way of senior pranks when Smarticus and I graduated from good ol' Dundalk High School. (Which has since been demolished...) Certainly nothing organized on a large-scale, anyhow. Closest thing to that was in junior high, when all the boys in our class would roll up their neckties and unfurl them simultaneously. (Yeah, we were bad asses back then.) Or the whole class would drop and then bend to retrieve a pencil at the same time. It was silly, and mildly amusing, and we only did that sort of thing with teachers who had a sense of humor.

                                                           Remember this song?

I came across that picture of plastic flamingos on morguefile.com, and it reminded me of a prank the youth group at our church used to pull when our boys were teenagers. They'd cover some poor parishioner's lawn with about forty flamingos for a week at a time... and all it took was a small donation to get the gaudy boogers hauled off PDQ. Okay, so technically, you could call that a form of extortion, but it was all in good fun (and fund), and if anyone wanted to opt out of getting bird-bombed, they could do so. (As best as I remember, no one did.)

I'm not sure when it started, but evidently big-time  senior class pranks are standard procedure nowadays. So much so, I even found some websites offering suggestions on pranks students could pull. Stuff like:

• Creating a slip-and-slide in the hallway with a sheet of plastic, a bucket of water and lotion. (Oooh, slick!)
• Lining the walls with post-it notes from floor to ceiling. 
• Blocking stairways with plastic cups turned upside down. (Gotta admit... I like that one!)
• Letting ten crickets loose in the hallways. (HA! Another good un.)
• Turning the cafeteria into a beach scene with tiki torches, beach balls, inflatable palm trees, and a plastic pool filled with sand. 
• Having every senior hide an alarm clock somewhere around the school, set to go off at a random time. (Alarming!)
• Putting petroleum jelly on all doorknobs and handrails. (Another slick one!)

Some websites even offer helpful hints as to senior pranks that can be pulled outdoors. My personal favorite involved placing a huge for sale sign out on the school's front lawn. And these others aren't  too bad, either:

• Writing the graduation year on the front lawn... with cocktail umbrellas, toothpicks, or plastic forks. OR with rock salt, which would kill the grass in the desired pattern. (Which might be frowned upon by the establishment.)
• Painting the year on a rock or hillside with non-toxic paint.
• Hanging bras or jock straps from a tree. (HA!)
• Filling the school fountain with bubble bath, rubber ducks, or food coloring. (School fountain? Must be for wealthy schools.)
• Having a root beer keg party. 
• Having a slumber party on the front lawn.
• Putting something on the flag pole, like tires. (I think it'd be funnier to fly a HUGE pair of panties...)

There was a wee little article in the newspaper recently. In fact, so small, it's a wonder I noticed it at all, but that article is what prompted this blog post. It was about what the paper called a senior class prank, which occurred in New Jersey.

Sixty-two students broke into their high school shortly after 2 AM and proceeded to wreak havoc. (My words, not the paper's.) They did some of the standard balloons and silly string throughout the school, and petroleum jelly on the doorknobs, and they even got a little more creative by taping hot dogs to the lockers. In addition, they overturned and broke furniture, spray-painted grafitti on the walls, and urinated in the hallways. Police responded to the burglar alarm, and all sixty-two students were arrested.

I dunno. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I am an old fuddy-duddy... but how does that behavior qualify as a senior prank? To me, that behavior qualifies as vandalism. Personally, they lost my sympathy with the whole broke into part.

But if you wanta read about pranks... about, in fact, some of the best pranks of all time, check out this old post from April 1. 2011. Now those were some pranks!

So, what do you guys think? Did your senior class pull any pranks? Do tell...

Oh, by the way, an update on an earlier post. Remember the story about affluenza I posted in January? Essentially, it was about a drunk-driving teenager from a privileged background who got away with a virtual slap on the wrist and a stay at a ritzy rehab center for killing four people, and injuring numerous others while driving under the influence. The update? The family of the teenager who was paralyzed for life by that accident sued, as I told you they were planning to do... and they were recently awarded two million dollars. Unfortunately, their son is still paralyzed.

Oh yeah... if you're interested, you'd better hurry: the e-version of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade is on sale on Amazon for the paltry sum of ninety-nine cents right now... but only for a couple days.

                                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[Thanks to Wikipedia, morguefile.com and icanhascheezburger.com for the use of their images.]

How to Bridge the Gap

Thought for the day:  Generation gap: A chasm, amorphously situated in time and space, that separates those who have grown up absurd from those that will, with luck, grow up absurd.  [Bernard Rosenberg]

I never saw anything about it in the Bible, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone told me the Old Testament Patriarchs had a major problem with how their teenage sons and daughters wore their hair... or talked... or walked. Heck, I wouldn't even be surprised if cavemen and women harassed their teens over the length of their loincloths.

 Because I suspect there has always been such a thing as ...

                                         The           Generation               Gap.

The problem is, young people insist on growing up, (the little ingrates) and they instinctively rebel against the restraints of childhood. Unfortunately, their chosen forms of self-expression and independence are rarely appreciated by the older generations. (Whose own means of self-expression weren't appreciated by their elders, either.) Don't believe me? Let's take a peek at some teenage fads over the years, shall we?

The older generation thought nothing of getting up at five every morning — and the younger generation doesn't think much of it, either.  [John J. Welsh]

Okay, so the fella in this picture doesn't look all that young, but young people are the ones who started the whole flagpole-sitting frenzy in the 1920s. I'm talking loooong periods of time sitting on a teensy platform mounted on a pole. Making and breaking longevity records. Why? Beats me. I wasn't around back then, but I'm pretty sure I would've been one of the bystanders popping salted peanuts and gawking up at the idiot perched atop a pole rather than being one of the idiots sitting up there myself. (Heck, I never even liked sitting on a banana seat...)

Of course, the twenties was the roaring era of flappers, jazz, raccoon coats, bright red lipstick, and the Charleston dance craze, too. Can you imagine how parents reacted to some of those trends? (gasp!) The girls even let their knees show!

It's hard for me to get used to these changing times. I can remember when the air was clean and sex was dirty.  [George Burns]

The thirties saw the onset of stoop ball and stick ball... which those lame-brained rebellious kids had the audacity to play right in the middle of the street. Okay, 'fess up. Any of you play those games? I did, only we called it curb ball, and I'd hazard a guess that parents were no happier about ball games played in the street in the '30s than they were in the '50s.

Swallowing live goldfish was one of the most popular fads of the '40s. Believe it or not, some kids claimed the goldfish were still alive when they came back out. I dunno about that, but I think we can all agree to a certain ick factor in the notion of anyone turning a pet goldfish into a twitching mid-afternoon snack.

There is nothing wrong with today's teenager that twenty years won't cure. [unknown]

The fifties boasted much more (ahem) sensible teenage fads such as poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and bobby socks. (Anybody remember sock hops?) Lots of guys wore shiny black Cuban-heeled shoes... or had taps on their shoes, so they made a distinctively cool sound when they walked through the school halls. And don't forget turned-up collars, black chino pants, and form-fitting white tee shirts with a pack of Camels tucked into a rolled-up sleeve.

Panty raids got their start in the fifties, too. The first one took place on March 21, 1952, at the University of Michigan, when about six hundred male students stormed a girls' dormitory, and exited with a bountiful booty of swiped underwear. This invasive fad continued across the country for the rest of the decade, and then fizzled out in the '60s. Makes sense. I reckon when the era of  free love blossomed, stealing undies seemed kinda lame... and tame...  by comparison.

Any of you guys recognize this haircut? Typically called the D.A., (short for duck's ass) the boys who wore it were often called greasers, because it took a healthy dab of grease to keep the hair in place. Thanks to stars like James Dean and Elvis Presley, long sideburns were popular, too. It's a pretty safe bet that there were a lot of inter-generational arguments over these hairdos. Especially since they came on the heels of crew cuts and flat tops.

Another fad of the fifties was telephone booth stuffing, where just like it sounds... the object was to squeeze ever-increasing numbers of kids into telephone booths. Or into little cars. Whatever. Not the most pleasant experience for the kids at the bottom of the heap, I'm sure. And not too terribly popular with their parents, either.

The sixties spawned tie-dye shirts, mini-skirts, go-go boots, granny glasses, hair ironing, bouffant hairdos, (Beehive, anyone?) Afros, mood rings, love beads, platform shoes, and bell-bottoms britches.



There was no respect for youth when I was young, and now that I am old, there is no respect for age — I missed it coming and going.  [J.B. Priestly]

Platform shoes hobbled onto the scene in the seventies. (I must confess: I still have a bright red patent leather pair.) I dunno if this was exactly a younger generation fad, since I was well past my teens then, but other fads included streaking, Earth shoes, string art, pet rocks, and ... ready? Eating glass. Yeah, glass. (Gives a whole new meaning to belly crunches, doesn't it?) That nutso fad started with a professional football player, who, I suppose, wanted to prove how tough (but not bright) he was by munching on beer mugs and light bulbs. Unfortunately, young people... especially college students... started to follow suit. Thank goodness, they wised up. I guess they saw the light.

Thanks largely to Madonna, fingerless lace gloves were all the rage in the '80s. Kinda cute, right? And harmless. I'm not sure if they started out as part of the Goth movement or not, but they certainly complemented the Goth look: all black clothes, dyed jet black hair, and even black nail polish and lipstick. Not my cuppa tea, but I guess that fad was harmless enough, too. They just looked like the leading edge of  the walking dead. Come to think of it, I guess they more resembled vampires. Without the fangs.

Body piercing and prolific tattoos became ultra-popular in the nineties, and are both still common today.

Most of the fads since then have been pretty tame. Low-rise jeans. (No worse than the hot pants we used to wear... just longer.) Thongs. (AKA tush floss.)

But there is one fad that absolutely positively drives me up the wall. Finally, and to the point of this post, I present to you one fad, and I can't help but wonder if it's a worldwide phenomenon, or if American youth are the only ones infected with this bizarre manner of so-called self expression...

                                                             

                                                           
                                                                I present to you

                                                       
                                                          the incomprehensible fad,


                                                          the fad driving adults nuts

                                                             
                                                          from one end of this country


                                                                   to the other.


                                                                I present the fad
                                                                 

                                                                     known as...


                                                                      sagging:

                                               

I mean, really? Do you think that's... comfortable? Suppose those kids had to run? Lotsa luck with that, huh? Every time I see kids with their pants drooping below their drawers, my fingers start to twitch, and I'm seized with an almost uncontrollable urge to yank up their britches so hard, it gives 'em all atomic wedgies. And it seems I'm not alone. Check this out:

How about you? Do you get this fad? Contrary to some of the emails you may have seen about it originating in prison as a way for an inmate to let other inmates know he's available for certain activities, that's just a bum steer. Droopy britches may very well have originated in prisons because of ill-fitting pants and no belts to hold them up, but according to multiple sources, it didn't have anything to do with sexual availability. Still... why would young people want to emulate something that may have originated in prison anyway, whatever the meaning?

(Then again, maybe we should just be grateful these kids aren't wearing thongs...?)

This whole post was predicated by a cartoon created by an award-winning Australian cartoonist named Tim Whyatt. Not only is he funny, but he nailed the solution to this angst-inspiring fad of low-hanging pants and exposed skivvies in one of his cartoons. What's more, he agreed to let me share his cartoons with you from time to time, as long as I link back to his webpage and facebook page. Done... and done. Now, want to see his brilliant solution? I guarantee you it'd work if we of the older generations merely attempt to bridge that gap by joining into a united front... (heh, heh... and back...)


                                                                        Ta DA!

Tell me about your favorite... or least favorite... teenage fad. What did you do to drive your parents nuts? What did your kids... or grandkids... do to drive you nuts? Ready to bare your undies in a concerted effort to end the sagging trend once and for all?

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. As a bonus, a fella from Atlanta sang this song on American Idol last year...

[Many thanks to wikipedia and morguefile for the images used in this post.]

Never Too Old to Play

Thought for the day:  It is utterly false and cruelly arbitrary to put all the play and learning into childhood, all the work into middle age, and all the regrets into old age.  [Margaret Mead]

We can never be young again, but doggone it, that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our second childhood. As many a psychiatrist has said, it's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to us.

Even the ol' pessimist Fredrich Nietzsche said, In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.

And Plato said, Life must be lived as play.

Jeez Louise, who are we to argue with those guys? I mean, they were two seriously smart dudes.

So play we must.

Let's investigate our capacity for fun, shall we? Do you have any toys left from your childhood? I only have a few.

It was pretty much the standard in our extended family to pass toys around. Whatever toys I received from my older cousins, I'd later pass on to the younger ones, so I was really surprised to come across this little china tea cup in my parents' house when we were cleaning it out after my father died. As far as I know, it's the only piece remaining from the tea set I played with as a little girl. I don't exactly play with it anymore, but it makes me smile every time I look at it.

This is the only original toy I've kept in my possession since childhood. My aunt made the pouch in about 1954 or so, and my ball and jacks have resided in it ever since. At one time, some of the jacks were brightly colored, others were shiny, and the ball actually bounced. (Now the ball kinda goes THUD.)

These little China dolls were sent to me in the late '50s by military friends who were stationed in Japan. The dolls sat on display  in my mother's china cabinet for years, and over time, the elastic bands holding the arms and legs gave up the ghost. About twenty-five years ago, my father replaced the bands, and my parents sent the dolls to me as a Christmas surprise.














Okay, second question: Since you've been an adult, have you ever bought a toy for yourself?

I did.

What can I say?

I fell in love with Alf.








Okay, here's another one for you. Have you ever bought a toy for your child or grandchild because you wanted to play with it? Boy, oh, boy, have I ever! I could hardly wait for my kids to be old enough to play Stratego, to build models, and to create magic with an erector set. Reading my favorite children's books to my kids and grandkids is even more enjoyable than it was when I read them for the first time as a child.

Does anybody still buy you toys?

Smarticus and I usually give each other fun little gadgets to play with, because we're both overgrown kids at heart. But my favorite... my absolute favorite toy he ever got me is this:

Can you believe it???? It's a genuine original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Bubble Bomber!!! Woo HOO!

Every time I saw the commercial for this toy on TV, I went nuts for it. Kept telling my hubby how I wished our kids were younger so we could buy it for them. (Right.) And ta-DA, he gave it to me for my birthday! (Can that man take a hint, or what???)

It is the coolest thing ever! You put in soap solution and a little bit of cooking oil, which warms up, so when you release a bubble bomb, it's filled with smoke. The bubble hits the ground, goes POP, and out comes the smoke. It's probably been close to thirty years since he gave it to me, and I still love it. It is still the coolest toy ever. (One of these days, I suppose I should let the grandchildren play with it...)

                                                    Okay, one last one to show you.

Isn't he adorable? When you squeeze his belly, he wolf whistles, and says, "I go bananas over you."

                                              Your turn. Tell me about your toys.

A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.  [Pablo Neruda]

[source: seniorark.com]

Oh yeah, I've got a really neat jump rope, too, and a couple hula hoops. Last time I jumped rope with some of the grandkids, I fell on my arse. I thought it was hysterical, but my son and husband were mortified. Said I couldn't play anymore.

Think that'll stop me from playing next time ...?


Oh, no, no, no. I'll just be more cautious.

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

                                                I will not play tug o' war.
                                                I'd rather play hug o' war.
                                               Where everyone hugs instead of tugs,
                                               Where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug,
                                               Where everyone kisses and everyone grins,
                                               And everyone cuddles, and everyone wins.
                                                             [Shel Silverstein]

Why Not?

Thought for the day:  Bodies in motion remain in motion, and bodies at rest stay in bed until their mothers make them get up. [an unidentified third grader]

[THEME: Amateur radio]

Oooh, boy, we've almost made it to the end of the road, huh? Just two more to go.

Ever notice? The letter Y kinda looks like a fork in the road, doesn't it? Well,  I'm gonna cheat a little, and take both forks. Two words for the same letter.

First word? YOUTH.

Not just Scouts, but ALL youth. You might guess that today's young people are too sophisticated to have any interest in something like amateur radio.

But for many, many young people ... your guess would be wrong.

Students I've worked with are fascinated with Morse code. (Just because we don't get tested on it anymore doesn't mean none of us use it.)

Young people are also particularly enthusiastic about talking to astronauts aboard the space station and satellite communications, about fox hunting and the multitude of modes that work in tandem with a computer, and with contesting and  the simple act of talking one-on-one to another young person on the other side of the world. Licensed young people learn about many subjects which aid them in their schoolwork, provide impetus toward technology-related careers, and instill self-confidence. It also provides them with a host of public service opportunities. What's not to love, right? One young lady we know, who is graduating from GA Tech in May, found her path largely through her involvement with amateur radio. As a teen, she won numerous young ham awards, one of which included a week's stay at Huntsville, Alabama's Space Camp. She loved the experience so much, she went back the following year on her own dime. Her GA Tech degree? It's in aeronautical engineering. Oh, and she got that degree through a FULL scholarship from the ARRL. So amateur radio can have an incredible impact on the lives of young people. And more and more, young people are having an incredible impact on amateur radio.

                                                             The other word? YOU.

                                  Have YOU ever considered getting an amateur radio license?

It doesn't matter where you live in the world, or how old or young you are. You don't have to be a mathematics or physics whiz kid or make your living in the engineering field. All you need is the desire to learn, and an interest in expanding your horizons. Didja know? Amateur radio is the only hobby in the world that is actually protected by international treaty. Interested in joining the fold? Here, I'll move over. See? There's lots of room.