Running at the Mouth

The Overweight: The Only Group You Can Still Make Fun Of

I've come to the conclusion that the overweight are the only group left in society about which it is still acceptable to make gross generalizations and cruel jokes.  How this all started is with this audioclip from a Michigan sports radio show, in which the host totally and completely loses his shit over Notre Dame's comeback against Michigan State.  You absolutely must listen to the whole thing.  I've listened to it five times now and it never gets old.  Predictably, the host sneers about Coach Weis's weight (as every anti-ND media type likes to do, because they are woefully out of their reckoning when it comes to substantively criticizing his coaching or his program), yelling that MSU let Notre Dame get to the locker room at halftime where "fatboy" could "feed them pudding."  (I'm telling you, the guy totally loses his shit.)

Then, the comments this post over at Ace of Spades, on a fashion designer using overweight models to make some sort of statement or something, show again that you can mock the overweight with impunity.

Why?  What if that radio host had said, "They let Washington get to locker room at halftime where Ty Willingham could feed them some watermelon!!!!"?  Look, I'm not trying to shame anyone or otherwise act like I'm above such things; I'm really not, though I'm try to be sensitive.  I'm not about to call anyone a "sizist."  I'm honestly curious as to the difference between remarking about a black guy loving watermelon and a fat guy loving pudding.  Both seem rooted in ridiculous stereotype and are based solely upon the outward appearance of the target.  Why is it okay to mock, persecute and discriminate against the overweight without fear of reprisal?  Maybe it has to do with the idea that, while one cannot choose to be black or female, e.g., one can choose to be thin or obese, and thin is the choice that society deems the correct one.  Hence, it is permissible to humiliate one who has made the wrong choice into making the right one.  I'm not sure I'm buying that, though.  I think, for the overwhelming majority, people make fat jokes because they can.

Veteran's Day

I would like to take a moment and honor and remember those who serve and have served to ensure our freedom.  As a non-vet, I talk about sacrifice and honor in comparatively trivial matters such as running or sports in general, but the men and women of our armed forces exemplify selflessness, discipline, class, honor and sacrifice far beyond my imagination.

Thank you and God bless you to our veterans.

Google Image Search Yields Horrific Results

Basically, this started as a post bashing the Purdue Purdon't football team because, well, I hate them.  And since I have no real gift for humor and have to go for the obvious gags, I figured I'd do a "separated at birth" bit featuring Purdon't coach Joe Tiller and Wilford Brimley.  That which resulted from the Google Images search I did (this search, to be exact) could not possibly have been predicted, and could not possibly have been more mortifying.  I think I even threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Under no circumstances should you click that link.  You especially shouldn't click that link if you're at work.  (By the way, if you're into self-flagellation and absolutely have to see what I'm talking about, make sure your Google preferences are set to "do not filter my results."  Believe it or not, I'm not referring to the picture of Wilford with his shirt off.)

Thumbs Down. Big Time.

I've given this a lot of thought, and, I gotta say, I come down strongly against gaucho pants:

Let's just call them what they really are:  culottes.  And culottes suck.

Let's Not Name Them "Parents of the Year" Just Yet

Michael Totten, sitting in for the Blogfather, links a WaPo op-ed in which the author (Radley Balko) argues that parents best serve the interests of themselves, their children and society at large by allowing their teenage children and their children's teenage friends to booze it up under the parents' close supervision.  Totten calls the op-ed "smart" and the parents who subscribe to this view "wise;" personally, I've never seen much intelligence or wisdom in taking the path of least resistance.  ("We've tried nothing, and we're all out of ideas!")

In fairness to Balko, his point is as much to beef against laws and law enforcement officials that penalize parents for this kind of thing as it is to condone the activity itself.  Trouble is, his entire argument rests on the flawed premise that "kids are going to drink anyway, so it's better for them to do it in a safe environment."  That, quite frankly, is hogwash.  Not every high school kid drinks (even on prom night).  I didn't; most of my friends didn't.

But I have other problems with that argument, aside from my anecdotal experience.  First, the vast majority kids who imbibe do so to excess; indeed, that is often the whole point.  Responsible adults should not be enabling such irresponsible behavior by supplying the alcohol.  That's like giving a dog a Hershey bar and thinking it won't hurt him because you're in the room while he eats it.  For that matter, parents shouldn't be buying beer for kids at all, for the simple fact that fewer kids will drink if they can't get it.  Not every kid has a fake I.D., not every kid has an older sibling, and not every kid knows where all the parties are.

Second, what right does any parent have to parent someone else's kids?  Having once been a teenager, I'm quite certain that some parents have no idea that their kids are attending a beer bash, especially where the beer is supplied by another parent.  No one else should be able to decide what's right for my kid without my prior consent.

Third, Balko's argument that supervised parties are all about preventing drunk driving is wrong-headed.  You're not teaching kids not to drink and drive by taking their keys away.  You're only teaching them not to drink and drive when someone's watching.  You haven't taught them to make the responsible choice when you're not looking over their shoulder.  What are you going to do when your kid is in college and you're not there?

Finally, for Balko and Totten to condone "supervised" drinking shows that they don't understand kids.  By giving kids permission to get drunk when you're there, you're giving them the greenlight to get drunk in any situation.  To think a kid won't rationalize that, explicitly because you've let them get drunk on prior occasions, they're "responsible" enough and "grown up" enough to get drunk when you're not around  is giving most kids way, way too much credit.  Even the most mature, responsible teenager will take a foot when you've given him an inch. 

Nope.  I'd rather teach my kid to make the right choice when it comes to questions involving illegal activities, rather than simply allow them to behave irresponsibly because it's easier.  I'm not always going to be there to take their keys.

Having a Seinfeld Moment

I did my interval workout this morning (and I sucked, thanks for asking), and then had to shower right afterward because I had to leave.  Needless to say, the shower didn't take.  Before I knew what the hell happened, I was in Steinbrenner's office defending myself from charges that I stole the Yankees' batting cage and Steinbrenner's vitamins.

Happy Independence Day!

I have nothing eloquent, or inspired, or touching, or profound to say today, so I'll turn it over the old, rich, white, slave-owning aristocrats who also happened to help found the greatest nation on Earth:

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

Thanks, fellas.  And thanks to all who have fought and died protecting our Union.

I'm Catching Up

I've always been woefully behind technology trends, mainly because I resent change; my tombstone is going to read, "Adjust.  Because I cannot."  Accordingly, I was still buying records long after cassettes were the thing.  I didn't buy my own PC until 2003.  I just bought a DVD player last month.

I'm catching up, though.  As a result of some shameless begging, an acquaintance of mine kindly invited me to join gmail, which I jumped on in about 2 seconds.  I'm only, what, about a year behind? 

Anyway, I couldn't be more excited.  My new e-mail address is "dogblogger-AT-gmaildotcom."  w00t!

It's National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month.  It's not exactly a grand tradition, since this is only NPM's tenth anniversary, but I feel like poetry is something I should have an appreciation for.  I mean, I do, to some extent, but it's more along the lines of the poetry of Dr. Suess or anything that begins with "There once was a man from Nantucket."

Anyways, Michele hipped me to the fact that we're in National Poetry Month, and asks her readers for their favorite poems.  As I left in her comments, mine is Frost's Acqainted With the Night.  Full text below the fold.

Having a Marlon Perkins Moment

So I'm driving home today, and out of the corner of my eye I see a streak of red collide with a spot of gray.  I look over, and it's a hawk taking down a pigeon.  Took him right down to the street, then flew off when a car approached. Very cool.