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Grandgirl starts school today

My eldest granddaughter just started 1^st grade today.  Unlike her Poppy (my pet name) she has been ready for full time school for the last 6 years.  My belief is that most children today have far surpassed our generation in general intelligence and reading ability by the time they begin school.

Maybe I should just speak for myself. 

In my granddaughters case her parents (especially her mother) worked closely to teach her skills that I know I never had at this age.  We saw photos of her widely smiling and enthusiastically waiting for the bus to arrive.  We spoke with her this evening and she was so excited about her class, her teacher and school in general.

On my first day of school I ran away. 

I went to a Catholic elementary school (St. Attica’s) and there were 8 grades.  My mother hired a neighbor girl, Suzanne, who was in the 8^th grade, to walk with me.  I was instructed to hold her hand. I was no baby and this was never part of my agenda so I broke away, ran fast and somehow found myself following other kids who I assumed were going to the same school.

At day’s end we were all assigned to a line that would have us walking in formation to our individual neighborhoods.  I knew Suzanne would be waiting so I jumped into the wrong group and ended up in very unfamiliar territory.

Suzanne, in tears, sat at my house with my mother until I somehow returned safely.  I had not seen her so upset since the time she was babysitting and my brother (Johnny Fangs) chased her around the house trying to bite her.

That first day had other traumas especially the dungeon-like classroom, the cold and dampness of an English castle and my first grade teacher Sister Chewbacca.
I am truly pleased that my grandgirls are being made ready for their journey through education.  Hopefully they won’t follow in the footsteps of their Poppy who, when invited anywhere, always checks between sofa cushions, car seats and glove boxes for loose change.

The Granny Parakeet

It finally happened this past Sunday. We were about to embark on a shopping trip and there it surfaced on our television just as we were about to leave.

Many years' ago we lived in an apartment and the landlord was adamant about just what pets were permitted.  Dogs were verboten, indoor cats with extreme reservation and smaller creatures were OK as long as they were not poisonous and could not slink out of their enclosure.

Our kids were curious about critters and they too wanted something to "boss-around" so we had made every effort to bring nature out of it's environment and into our living fun house. 

We had cats that survived many years, as well as fish, turtles, mice, lizards etc. all "apartment size" and needing care.   

We did purchase one creature that never made the grade, Tonto, our beloved parakeet.  The kid at the pet store, Lenny the bird expert, was introduced to us by the store owner.  In retrospect, that owner knew just what he was doing as Lenny had all the up-sell skills and sales pitches as good as they get at any appliance store or car dealership.  By the time we left Bird World of Pennsylvania we lugged around enough bags making us appear as if we were on a safari.

Tonto had to have not only bird food, he needed a large cage, water feeders, mirrors, toys, some scratchy thing to sharpen his beak (I learned the hard way that I should have left THAT piece in the store), perches and a plastic female "parakeet-love interest" to perch alongside him. 

We believed it was so Disney-like. Here we were and all these critters could live in harmony, lions laying down with the lambs, all was right with the world everything peaceful and loving.

It turns out it was certainly cartoon like but not Disney, more in the order of Warner Brothers-Looney Toons.  It was Sylvester and Tweety Bird playing out right before our eyes. Cat chasing bird, bird striking cat with a frying pan, cat putting bird in mouth, bird lighting candle causing cat to spit out bird, feathers and fur flying all over the place.

Something went very-very bad, and needed correction.  Last in-first out so Tonto went packing and found a good home.

Our nest is empty and we are free to roam without having to care for neither youth nor pet.  Grandgirls visit along with their stuffed animals, but all that remains at the end of the day are the two of us and some dead plants.

So what happened this past Sunday?  My wife saw and ad on TV that turned her into my grandmother.

I take after my grandmother and buy anything I know my grand-girls will like.  There is no need to spend hundreds of dollars when the girls will get a kick out of the singing wall fish, bubbles, a perpetual drinking bird, dominoes or some other cheap cheesy little dollar store toy.  

I recall my grandmother buying a cheap-o toy from a magazine ad.  It offered 100 dolls for $1.00.  Since she had about a zillion grandchildren, and usually a few were always hanging around, she knew that some of the girls would surely like the dolls.  I don't think she expected what she was going to get but her granddaughters happily played with them.

My wife, on the other hand, is very careful in her toy choices.  Each selection must meet strict standards for playability, design, color, engineering and the soccer mom seal of approval.  Her purchase usually involves "easy payment terms" and much assembly required.

Well there it was on the television and she just knew my cheesy antenna was now focused on the latest gotta get for the grand girls. To my shock and amazement she agreed with my selection and was racing me to dial the 800 number.

"Perfect Polly", the parakeet, is touted as the World's Perfect Pet" (that's a mouthful).  Polly is life size and very realistic, sits either on a perch or your finger and moves both her head and tail while chirping.  Just 2 AAA batteries, no food, cage or anvils to drop on the head of a stalking putty tat.

I cannot believed we finally agreed on a purchase.  I just hope the girls like it.  If not, I'll seek out Tonto and see if he could use another "love interest".

I dare you to view this commercial without laughing. Yes, it is unbelievable, really stupid and I bought a green one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gpYlff6NqY


Continues below

Polly and the Pirate

(Now it is Thursday August 15, 2013)

A two-legged Pirate walks into a bar and he’s got a one-legged mechanical Parakeet on his shoulder.

   

The bird has a golf tee replacing the missing appendage.

The bartender says to the Pirate “Hey Buddy, what’s the deal with the one-legged Parakeet”?

The Pirate replies “ARRRRRRRRR I bought her at a cheap “As-Seen-On-TV” display at a major department store.”

He continued “I took her out of the box, installed her batteries, put her on her perch.  The perch is defective and she fell and her right plastic talon came off where it was glued”.

The bartender said, “ What kind of a funny punch line was that”?

The Pirate replied, “ARRRRRRRRR it’s not funny, I am out 15 bucks!

The Epilogue

Polly, The Pirate and the Store Clerk

A Pirate walks into the return department of a major department store. 
He has a boxed one-legged mechanical Parakeet sporting a golf tee for the missing appendage.

Billy, the Return Department clerk, inspects the package and looks perplexed because something appears different but he cannot seem to put his finger on it.

Suddenly he has a "Eureka" moment and turns to the Pirate and asks "do you know the bird still has the batteries inside her chest"?

The Pirate replies "leave 'em there.  Just give me my 15 bucks and I'll be gone".

Billy refunds the purchase and wishes the Pirate a nice day.

The Pirate says "ARRRRRRRRRRR" and shoves off.

THE HOWDY HORN

Let me vent for a moment regarding traffic. 

I am unfamiliar with current daytime driving protocol as most of my motoring is done during the vampire hours.

My concerns usually involve avoiding a collision with wildlife, joggers and guys who the courts deemed “not eligible due to imbibing” so they leave for work 2 hours earlier, riding un-lit, non-reflective 20” bicycles, complete with banana seats, baskets and pink handle streamers and recently purchased for $5 at a yard sale.

I must admit I am rather spoiled and isolated and happy to know I have dodged another bullet that will distance me from anger management training.

My employment driving has always been close to home.  I feel somewhat superior and fulfilled when I hear there is the usual 8-mile backup on the expressway and I am not there.

I have been behind the wheel just after dawn (and occasionally during the day) and noticed very distracted driving behavior. This was long before the invention of the smart phone and texting.

Here is a partial list of some actions I observed:

·          Brushing teeth

·          Eating and drinking

·          Getting dressed

·          Putting on make up

·          Shaving (I lie not)

·          Applying deodorant (again, I lie not)

·          Reading books, magazines and newspapers

·          “R” rated behavior.   (It may have gone on a little further but the driver spotted my binoculars then sped away and lost me).

I often wonder if these motorists live in their vehicles.
Surely all of the above can be performed at home but in all honesty I too may have been guilty of some of the above behavior, but I admit to nothing.

A driving issue that leaves me perplexed is the use of the automobile horn.

In the very very very olden days, horseless carriages were required to have a man walking before the vehicle waving a red flag or honking a horn to notify the frightened citizens and livestock to be cautious of the advancing 1-mile-per-hour doom machine.

Later due to budget cutting and downsizing the flag walker was replaced when someone (named Dan) said “let’s just strap a horn on the darn thing and fire the little guy”.

The flag waver was then placed on the unemployment roll and died shortly after. The budget cutter (Dan) was given a huge bonus, a window office, a medical-dental plan, 5 weeks vacation two pair of wingtip shoes and free bread for life.

Horn honking puzzles me greatly.  
In my neck of the woods I know a lot of people and I drive a very recognizable vehicle so when I perceive a horn is noised in my direction I cannot tell if it is friendly or aggressive unless I can see the author and notice him/her either smiling or finger-digit saluting and gritting their teeth.

I have also observed that motorists can be broad-brushed into two distinct categories regarding their reactions towards the beep. 

·          Group A seems to ignore the recognition and continues to blissfully motor-on .  These are the Mr. & Mrs. Magoos’s, those totally carefree and oblivious to their infractions. They just continue going onward-ho leaving the honker in the dust.

·          Group B, the other group, needs therapy.

I can also categorize the honkers into two distinct groups:

·          Group A likes people, recognizes their friends, they are courteous, helpful and a pure joy to have them alongside you.

·          Group B are overly aggressive, overworked, tired, cranky, foul-mouthed teeth-gritters and would rather have their SUV slam into you while the horn blows loudly than hit the brakes.

  (Group B ALL belong to the same gender...you decide)

Today, while out among the day dwellers, I too had heard honking in my direction but I could not identify neither the source or the temperament from the tone.

My wife had a great suggestion.

All cars manufactured in the future should be equipped with two horns, one a mean nasty finger-saluting horn and the other a happy horn, a HOWDY horn.

The mean, nasty horn would be loud and ear piercing, possibly like a foghorn turned up to maximum volume. 

For the happy friendly “HOWDY” horn think Minnie Pearl with her flowery price- tagged bonnet and big country smile.

At the very least the distinction of sounds will prevent confusion and help the non-Magoos among us avoid a road mishap. 

Further lab testing will be required before we implement such a plan. 

We wouldn’t want any loud noises to cause a Prius to implode.

Here is the HOWDY HORN

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjX1LpSow_g

Nature's Fireworks

I recall an early interest in astronomy that corresponded to my fascination with the Mercury space program.  I read in a magazine that I could make my own Planetarium for my bedroom using a flashlight, an old Quaker Oats oatmeal carton, some tape, cardboard and a hole punch.

After my visit to a real Planetarium I was excited to get started even if I had to consume oatmeal for breakfast.

I would attempt to speed up the process by eating raw, uncooked oats with a spoon, anything to bring the night sky to my bedroom ceiling.

All  the components were in place. Mom really didn't believe that we polished off the box so quickly, but to be honest I had assistance from our family mutt, Sandy, who would eat everything and anything (including the liver) I would sneak under the table.

The project was a success, somewhat rudimentary, but I could punch out the constellations on cardboard and display them for the three of us who shared the room. I was enthralled, my brothers, on the other hand, just wanted to use the flashlight to hold up to their faces and scare one another.

Then August arrived and presented a different problem.

One night while at summer camp we took our sleeping bags and slept out in a field to watch the annual  Perseid meteor shower.  When I returned home I attempted to somehow animate my Planetarium, duplicating that event, leading to it's quick demise.

Each year I look forward to viewing this light show in the heavens. I recall good times when I would sit out on the back deck with my son, or alone, awaiting nature's fireworks.

This wonderment also corresponds to my wedding anniversary so I am reminded that I must go now and buy something.

Look up in the night sky and enjoy the view.

There is a link below that may provide some assistance.

JGT

http://earthsky.org/tonight/wheres-the-radiant-point-for-the-perseids 

Gone on Holiday

I noticed him on those days I would take a short cut along a country road and there he sat, on an old worn lawn chair smiling and waving to all who passed by.

I never knew his name, we would make eye contact and I would return the gesture and be on my way.

I haven’t had to take that passageway for a few years so I do not know if his daily routine is still followed.  Judging by his appearance I assumed he was retired and just wanted something to do.

My wife once saw him and told me she fully expected one day that would become my destiny.

This week I made the mistake of hitting the wrong button on my television and instead of my Pandora channel on the Roku, I got to see a female marionette read a news story from a teleprompter, (complete with a video) regarding the Queen Mommy and the closely followed royal birth canal.

Her Royalty was asked about her choice regarding the sex of the about-to-be latest addition to the Very Wealthy British Welfare Monarchy.

The Royalness expressed no real preference; she was hoping the big drop was imminent as she was about to embark on Holiday.

ON HOLIDAY!  ARE YOU (expletives abound feel free to add your own) KIDDING!

I have to ask readers of this blog, and Americans in general, to look deeply into today’s society and tell me just how overworked and stressed the Brit elite must be to warrant time away from THAT workload?  (Hey, I am not finished getting my “Irish up”).

While you’re working 2 maybe 3 part time jobs in order to avoid foreclosure, and your spouse had to take a pay cut and double a workload to maintain their job, can you think fondly of those crazy Royals and their need to de-stress from all those grueling smiles, waves, polo matches and luncheons with heads of state all choreographed by an endless array of minions on the royal payroll.

My gosh all they basically have to do is just show-up.

I can only imagine talk around their dinner table.

“Dear, was your day dreadful?”
“Why yes, thank you for asking.  I had to wave to maybe 1000 common folk and actually watch a few dozen sycophants curtsey before me.”

“Oh dear, may I get you an aspirin?”

“Make it a scotch, neat, and bring the bottle”.

Well, I decided to go for a drive to seek out the old gentleman on the lawn chair just for a quick wave and a smile.

The chair was still there but there was a sign next to it. The sign read: “Be back soon, gone on Holiday”

In case you want to know more about life among the exhausted elite, I have enclosed  an official link to the British Royals.

Grab a scotch and read on.

 http://www.royal.gov.uk/HMTheQueen/DayInTheLife/TheQueensworkingday/Morning.aspx

Juan Valdez the marriage counselor

I live in an area of the country that has a convenience store chain that rivals the famous 7-11.
 

Actually there is no rivalry as the 7-11’s sit almost comatose as hundreds, thousands; no millions of daily caffeine-addicted zombies dutifully embark on a trek and head out to these Mecca’s for one of many offerings that will kick start their day.
 
Serious caffeine-heads rush to these stores. There is a never-ending supply of customer traffic.

Our area residents never work they just drink coffee.
  
Starbucks traffic is pitiful, just the same small handful of lame-o hipster freeloaders who just hang around for the Internet. They should pick up their free WiFi from their neighbors, like the rest of us.

I too am guilty of patronage, not because their coffee is the worlds best; it is just that we have not mastered the art at home.

This week, while grocery shopping, I came to realize that we are approaching a 40th wedding anniversary and the latest brand of coffee purchased now numbers 248.   We have tried (and failed) an average of 6.2 different brands/year, not to mention the 69 coffee makers, various filtered waters and 7 different grinders used during those periods when we believed going right to the bean would provide the ideal brew.

Our marriage has come to a impasse. Of the many things that could bring a couple to differences, who would have thought that a major concern was over a cup of joe.  We have tried caffeine counseling but our cards and emails to Juan Valdez remain unanswered (someone mentioned that he is a fictitious character but don’t believe it. I was told the same about Mr. Goodwrench).

I continue my pursuit, refusing to quit or even (gulp) switch to tea!

Sorry, tea consumption is so reminiscent of all things British, an interest foreign to me and a source of puzzlement as to why so many in this country stayed glued to their news pulses, this week, awaiting the new arrival of the future crown.  By the time little Georgie gets a shot at the top post I would have long been decomposing and onto a different journey.

My quest moves forward.  I still hope for a response from Juan Valdez but in any case  I may have found a new lead in this video.
Later,
JGT

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJuhNDrX008

 

Two wheels are better than none.

 

My life began at 10 when I got my first 2-wheel bicycle.  Certainly my driver’s license afforded unlimited boundaries within the boarders of two oceans, but a bicycle gave me quick access to surrounding neighborhoods to observe life beyond 8-10 city blocks.

I took advantage of this freedom, especially during the summer months when I would find myself wandering into sections of the city containing parks with TREES!

I understand my excitement at the word “trees” may appear to be a bit unusual but my street had no trees, zero, nada, none.  The city gets very hot in July and August.

I would glance out my bedroom window and watch squirrels scurry up and down the telephone poles, jumping on the roofs.

They too were probably in search of trees.

These explorations were some of the best times spent, getting in touch with nature, meeting new people, fresh air, exercise, finding new and unusual pets to drag home. The adventures were cut short, a few summers later, by two words: “bicycle lock”.

A hard pill to swallow, reality setting in, but there was really a sense of shock with the discovery that my bike had been stolen, and yes I did not lock it.

As important as losing my main mode of transportation was to me, there are many parts of the world where ownership of a bicycle can mean the survival of an individual, a family, even a village.

Here is an amazing story of Izhar Gafni, an inventor, engineer, dreamer who just may have found a solution to help the planet and it's inhabitants live a better and longer life.

Great story.  Watch both videos.

Video #1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM79zn2i24k

Video #2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txSboSNQINs

Fly me to the moon.

Freshman year at Holy Alcatraz Catholic High School for Boys began my true introduction to formal “hands-on” science.  Prior to that time my experience was limited to exploring a chemistry set owned by my childhood friend Ricky. 

We made more than ink until his grandmother banished me from her basement for a concoction I dreamed up   Somehow my brew emitted a putrid sulfur / rotten egg aroma that permeated the firewalls of a few of the neighboring row homes.

There was no real formula, it was at best a watch and see if anything would begin to percolate or catch fire.  We weren’t expecting the really foul smell but there it was, I couldn’t cover it up, the dirt was on my hands and I was busted and banished.

I was shocked my parents never found out but I certainly was not going to volunteer my guilt.

I don’t recall exactly the name of my freshman year science course but I know I had to weigh things; there were test tubes and my favorite, BUNSEN BURNERS! Now I was not only able to mix stuff and see what bubbles over, I could melt things when the priest on guard duty would sneak out of the room, somehow "called" to attend a pressing matter, only to return reeking of Lucky Strike cigarettes.

Sophomore year Biology found me gathered around a table with 3 lab partners, none of which were willing to dissect anything.  I always seemed to pull surgical duty be it a frog, worm, heart, eyeball you name it I was the anointed.  It was not that I was smarter; my cellmates were quicker at fleeing to the rest room to lose their breakfast. 

I was last boy standing.

(At this point I need to set the record straight.  I continue to maintain my innocence, as I was not the one who turned on the ovens roasting the frozen dead cats that were thawing on trays awaiting science experiments from the biology club.  I thank the guilty party as the early dismissal was surely appreciated.)

What really fueled my scientific curiosity was the coming Apollo 11 Moon Landing.

After I first saw Sputnik floating across the night sky, and all through the Mercury, Gemini & Apollo programs, I was excited about space exploration and it’s future projects.  Each new launch found me riveted around the black and white. Apollo 11 would now help fulfill President Kennedy’s goal of reaching the moon by the end of the decade.

On July 20, 1969 Apollo 11 landed and six hours later Neal Armstrong made that historic first step as the world enthusiastically watched.

It was one of those moments in life where you knew exactly where you were as it was happening.

We now celebrate the event with barely a notice. Two days ago was the anniversary.  Did you remember?

During those years our nation had a unified purpose, a goal that not only gave us a dream to fulfill, but space exploration provided numerous benefits that touched every aspect of our lives.  Lest we forget, check out this link from NASA.

  http://spinoff.nasa.gov/Spinoff2008/tech_benefits.html

Sunday Funnies

Sunday morning and I am doing something I have not done for many years, sitting back and reading the funny papers (comics to the newbies).

I find Dilbert very funny, and I get the humor even though I am not permitted to work in an office environment along with other people.

That is a mandate from my employer.

I surely miss Opus but I am glad that some of my favorites like BC and Wizard of Id have continued on by family members after the passing of Johnny Hart and Brant Parker. They maintain much of the same flavor as their creators.  Must be in the genes.

Peanuts can certainly continue, as much of its humor is timeless.  It was the first comic strip I ever knew, read to me by my mother when I was a child, often as a bedtime story as we did not have a vast library of children’s books. Charles Schultz as the nightly sandman must have subconsciously been the reason why I once seriously considered comics as a career choice. 

I was on a cartooning fast track, studying the history, following the work of the masters, practicing the craft and even submitting a weekly cartoon to a local newspaper.  I finally gave up the quest after the realization that I lacked the two major ingredients of a good cartoonist; a sense of humor and the ability to draw.

Of all the Peanuts characters the one I identified with the most was a minor player never appearing very much. That was Pigpen.

I thought of Pigpen a lot recently as my region of the country is going through a heat wave that necessitates frequent showers, 2 even 3 daily.  I was the kid who would leave the house, just bathed, only to return ten minutes later asking for a drink of water with sweat glands on overload and a dirt ring around my neck.  I now know why there was always a slip-n-slide in the backyard and my pool membership card had #1 on it. 

I needed to be kept wet.

Anyway I hope you are enjoying your Sunday morning and can get back in touch with your inner child and read the funny papers again.

 

 Here is a short tribute to Pigpen

Most mispronounced words

From November 12, 2012

My friend Mike told me a story about his mother and sister who were traveling through Havre De Grace, Maryland.

They were so impressed by this beautiful area but were uncertain as to the pronunciation of the name.

When they stopped for lunch they decided to ask a young man at the restaurant about the proper pronunciation.

To paraphrase the conversation:
Mom & Daughter- "This place is so lovely, how do you pronounce the name?"

Young man looking very confused- "McDonald's!

How many mispronunciations occur daily and we are completely unaware?

Here is a list of the most common. 


http://infohost.nmt.edu/~armiller/mispronounce.htm

A childhood memory moves on

From January 27, 2013

What do old cowboys, Popeye and the Three Stooges all have in common?

A very sweet woman named Alleen Mae Beller.

I withhold belief in ESP but strangely I thought of a woman just yesterday who died today, exactly one day after her 90th birthday.

Alleen Mae Beller was born in Kansas City on January 25, 1923. She became an entertainer/broadcaster and during televisions’ infancy she was a fixture on the Philadelphia airwaves. Legally changing her name to Sally Starr she had a profound influence on the young viewers in the late 1950’s thru the 1960’s.

I have had the opportunity to meet her on 2 occasions, once as an 11 year old when I sang on her television program and again about 25 years’ ago when she was the parade’s Grand Marshall for a town celebrating it’s 100th anniversary and I drove the convertible she rode.

The television studio was very small, probably about the size of a garage consisting of a large camera, Sally’s western backdrop and a plain wooden bench where we sat while waiting for our orders to step up and perform. When the camera was off for commercials she made it a point to sit with us (I was part of a quartet) and take a genuine interest in us all. She was truly very sweet and kind and left us with a fond memory.

The same was true during her parade ride in the very hot July sun. I mentioned our former meeting and she seemed to recall our group’s performance. She also was very cordial with the parade bystanders and seemed to really enjoy the interaction with her fans, now parents and grandparents who grew up with “Our Gal Sal”. My young son, riding shotgun in the convertible, was also impressed as she had a real love connection with children.

I have attached a brief history of her life and career from the Philadelphia Broadcast Pioneers hall of fame.

She deserves this tribute.

Good-bye Sally Starr and thank you.

http://www.broadcastpioneers.com/sallystarr.html

Rugby-Really do we need another kid sport?

From June 7, 2013

I grew up playing 2 sports, soccer and baseball. I loved them both and if I could I would have wished to become a professional baseball outfielder.

I began playing on team sports at a very young age, and in all my years I have only been on two winning community championship teams and played in only one high school championship game.  We lost that one.

Unlike today’s victors, only winning teams would receive trophies. The losers would just have to suck-it-up and try harder next season. I do not know how our poor fragile egos survived.

Growing up soccer parents never showed for games or had interest in the sport. It was too new and unknown to this country.  

Occasionally some foreign-speaking parent would shout obscenities to a referee from the sidelines but most parents were interested in “normal-sports”, baseball, football, basketball etc. With their busy work schedules, and 5 o’clock cocktail hours, they were way too tired to learn the rules of a new game. Even our high school soccer championship game had only one spectator, a girlfriend of one of the team members. The other girlfriends were too busy with their 5 o’clock whatever's. 

If I were raising kids today I would feel the same way about Rugby.

Really, do we need another kids sport?

My son-in-law loves the game, is very knowledgeable and he both plays and coaches. Rugby is swiftly becoming the “new soccer”. To me it does look intriguing, interesting although a little strange but I can certainly understand his enthusiasm for the sport.  

It just may take too long for me to learn the rules so it will eventually interfere with my Internet browsing and cocktail hour.

If my child had a desire to join a Rugby team I would strongly encourage him/her to stay at home and play video games. We are being led to believe that our children need to leave the sofa and get some fresh air and exercise like we did in our day.

Can we really trust all those child obesity statistics bombarding us daily in the media? 

The added bonus of sofa-sports is that video game playing hones skills that may one day lead to a career as a drone pilot. My child could get a nice cushiony government position hunting down and “neutralizing” our citizenship.

In these times when we convinced all our children that they must have a college degree so they can incur mountains of debt, no prospects for a job in their field and can move back home for maybe forever, at least the skill sets they receive can have them set for life on the federal payroll.

Another benefit is that if the kiddies are home all the time, they can’t be bullied, and could learn to defeat their adversaries with drone missiles.

I would be doing my part in helping to save the planet by not using all that fuel driving to and from travel games.

So in effect we all win.

Now when do we get our trophies?

JGT

Just in case you have one of those strange little creatures at home that desire team sport participation, and wish to become a Rugby player, here is a short video on the rules of the game.http://youtu.be/tiCiehJAFSgSee More

A Guide To Learning About Rugby

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