Saturday, October 01, 2005

To Sleep, Dream

My insomnia has come back with a vengance. Beyond the fact that I was incredibly sore last night (more on that later), the wheels in my head were spinning very fast and were quite loud.
There's something absolutely terrible about being awake in the dark. Now, I love that stretch from two to six where the world is dead, but only when I want to be out in it. When I want to sleep, and I can't, that's a whole different ballgame.
So as I lay there last night, I couldn't stop thinking about the most random things. First, however, you may want to know why I was sore (or maybe you don't care). Yesterday, I played tennis with a guy who is a lobbyist. It was very interesting talking to him about his work. It was also embarrassing because the guy beat up on me. I had no footing and no feel for my shots. At one point, I slipped and my ankle was not pleased. Anyway, it reminded me of the lawyers I used to work with on the Tobacco trials. That was one aspect that kept me up last night. I thought alot about the fact that it had been some time since I left that job...and I didn't miss it. At the same time, I didn't really miss the people I worked with either. Yet, I wondered why that wasn't a bad thing.
Now, the other thing that kept me up was getting hit by a car. That's right, I got hit. It wasn't super serious, but my right leg, especially my hip, is really sore. As I strolled (ok hobbled) across the Hwy. 100 Northwest Athletic Club parking lot, I noticed a guy on his cell phone getting in his car. I should have thought about that, but I didn't. I was thinking about my ankle, and my game, and the world. My car was two down from Senor Cellphone, so I walked on the same side. Still on his phone, not paying attention, and starting to back up, Cellphone dude hit his gas to accelerate back and hit me with the corner of his car. This is essentially what went through my brain in the seconds it took for him to hit me and me to go down.

Wow, that was bad. You suck. Work on the backhand. It's amazing what people will hire lobbyists for. What the hell is that? (At this point, the left side of a Audi Quattro hits my right side.) Ah jiminy! Don't fall into the other car. Crap, here comes the ground.
What really angered me, was the response I got from Cellphone guy. He stops, open the door, goes to the back of the car, looks at the corner, then at me, and says, "Are you ok? (I nod yes, tough my hip hurts) Did you damage the paint?"
Ok. not, "Can I help you up? Can I do anything?" Nope. Did I damage the paint. My first thought was, "Get out the tennis racket and hit the car HARD!" I didn't do it. I should have, but I was kinda shocked on two levels: This guy's idiocy and this guy HITTING ME WITH HIS CAR!

The other thing that was utterly fascinating (considering I couldn't sleep) was seeing Jesse Ventura on The Big Idea With Donny Deutsch. This was a repeat as he had been on Thursday night, but a few things struck me about the former governor of this state:
1. He is looking more and more like a retired pirate. All he needs now is an eyepatch, a peg leg, and to talk with "Arghs," and "Ayes". Seriously. He didn't have the hat on, so his totally bald top was shining in the light.
2. He shakes ALOT. I don't know if he's sick, but man, his head was almost like a bobble-head. He would shake like a snake preparing to strike. It was very strange.
(Side note: I think Tom Arnold is on drugs. He exhibits all the signs, and he CANNOT sit still for a second on that Damn Sports show).
3. (And most odd) A great deal of what Ventura had to say made sense. That's right. You heard me. He made sense. He talked about the failure of governments, people, the left and the right, etc. He talked about how people use God as a shield instead of answering the tough questions. He talked about how several members of the government support the War in Iraq "for freedom," but then limit those same freedoms in this country. It was kinda cool. Sure, part of it was that I was (and am) tired, but it showed that he at least understands politics better than alot of people.
When you can't sleep, you look to make yourself busy. You try to tire yourself out. Maybe it's by reading (which usually works for my wife). Maybe it's writing or correcting papers (which I don't recommend doing when tired. You miss MANY things). For me, it's different things. It's watching old movies to feel comfortable. It's reading Shakespeare to rememorize the sillioquies. Most importantly, however, when I can't sleep, I think about what's come before me. I think about students I've worked with and wonder if they are ok. I think about what I've been through, where I've come from, and where I hope go. I think about the next generation after me and whether or not they'll have a world to enjoy.
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy quoting Hamlet to his cats at 3 in the morning. I could be wrong.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Ramblings for the Evening (9/29/05)

Wow, I'm tired...and I'm feeling a little bit snarky. It's just one of those days, so forgive the tone of tonight's Ramblings. So, without further ado: GET TO THE CHOPPER!
Leo Sternbach Died:
"Who," you ask? I've never heard of this man. Fair enough. You may not have heard of the man, but you know his invention: Valium. Leo Sternbach was the inventor of Valium. He died in his home at the age of 97. Here's my question: The man was sick. He was in pain. Do you think they fed him a bottle of his own invention to "ease his pain"? Or do you think this is another Atkins situation? What am I talking about? Well, Dr. Atkins may have died from a heart attack, not "the fall" down those steps. What if Sternbach was the same way? Perhaps he just decided that all of his shuffleboard buddies were dead, so he took a bunch of the pills to end it all. Maybe I'm just a little cynical.
No Sex For YOU!:
This is both hysterical and slightly worrisome. The law can now decide whether or not sex is ok? Beyond just banning sex for this young woman, there are other problems. First of all: How the hell are they going to monitor this? I've heard of ankle they place something like that on the genitalia and it sounds an alarm? Instead of a Prince Albert (look it up if you don't know), you get a Big Brother.
However, the bigger problem is the desire for "naughty sex". The more you can't have something, the more you want it and find ways to get it. You want to go to a bar? You get the ID. You want to smoke up? You find ways to hide it. You want to have sex in your parents house even though the law says no? You'll find a way. Everyone does.
What's next? No gum chewing! You can't pet the dog more than 3 times! If you break parole, you can't watch the sunrise!
Look, I applaud this judge for thinking outside the box (it really is great), but there's creative, and there's plain crazy.
Kate Moss in Rehab:
Word on the street is that she's so thin from snorting the coke that she can actually glide under doors without opening. Fellow rehabers are now placing towels in the cracks to keep her out.
The BEST Show on TV YOU Aren't Watching:
I'm sorry, but it's true.
Arrested Development is one of the most clever shows ever written, but people are now afraid of smart humor. You want proof? More people watch According to Jim. It's a cookie-cutter sitcom, but more people watch it. AD has smart humor, it repeats certain jokes, but not to death (for example, whenever the character Gob is scheming, the song "The Final Countdown" plays in some way). The show stays in reality from week to week. One character had his hand bit off by a runaway seal, and he still has a hook to this day. Heck, there's a new character coming on called Bob Loblaw (say it quickly).
Give it a shot, folks. It's really quite brilliant.
and finally....
Oh students. You're all so worried about colleges. Look, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: You DO NOT NEED TO PANIC! Think about Douglas Adams, kids. The first rule is "Don't Panic!" So you're not ranked #1 in your class. Big deal. That doesn't mean that the University of Minnesota is going to pass you over. You know how you don't get into college? You don't apply. That's really it. If there's a college you really want, but you don't get in on your first try, then go somewhere else, work your ass off, and then transfer. My sister really wanted to go to Columbia. She didn't get in. She got into Barnard. Her first year, she went hardcore and got a 4.0. Then she transfered to Columbia. Long story short (too late), she got her degree at Columbia.
I know that it looks bleak sometimes, but remember, everyone is scared. Hell, I was scared when I was a Senior. I thought, "Oh man. No one's going to accept me...I'll never make it...I'm dumb...blah, blah, blah."
Everytime you think you won't make it, do this:
1. Stop
2. Take a deep breath and hold it
3. Count to 3
4. Let it out
5. Now, realize that your life isn't decided by the college you go to. You have so much more time ahead, so relax.
Of course what do I know? I was the guy who offered to buy drinks for my interviewers. I could be wrong.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Beauty and the Beast

Nature is both amazingly beautiful and frighteningly powerful. She's that girl in high school of which you were afraid (or boy, your choice). Very good looking, but will quickly turn on you if you aren't ready.
Thanks to Jibbers for the photo.

The Wheels on the Bus Go....

Hmm. It seems that my last few posts have been a little...angry. It also seems that now that I've asked for comments and emails, you've all gone quiet. Sheesh. Did I scare you all away or something? Am I blogsaken?
Well, tonight, I will try to be more...poignant. I present:
The Wheels on the Bus
I don't know about you, but there are times, especially when I am uncomfortable, that I just say or think the wrong thing. I know it happens to my wife too and a few others I know. It's strange. What do I mean? Well, here's an example:
A few months back, My wife and I were visiting my parents, and I was outside cleaning up around the house (it was Spring, and the broken branches and such needed to be cleared away). I stepped on what I thought was a solid grate, but it gave away. I fell, but managed to catch myself on the edge. So there I am dangling 15 feet in the air over a dark hole, and all I can do is laugh. My wife, who had been watching me, did the same thing. She didn't move. She laughed. My mother, also outside, was horrified. Why the hell were we laughing? I was for certain going to fall and break something. How is that funny? However, she couldn't move. Now, I got lucky. There was a small chunk of concrete sticking out, and I could push off of it. Thus, I didn't fall. But there are other times when I have felt (or been told) my actions were inappropriate.
When I was in college, my father suffered a heart attack and had to have a triple bypass. That's serious surgery. My entire family returned to New York over Spring Break to be with him. After his surgery, he lay in a hospital bed to recuperate. Now, they told us this part was the "wait and see" part (meaning this is the part where we wait and see if he survives). All I could think about was the song, "The Worms Crawl In." Everyone knows that song.
The worms crawl in
the worms crawl out
they eat your nose
they eat your hat
they crawl in skinny
and crawl out fat.
That just kept running in my head, and suddenly, unbeknownst to me, I was humming it aloud. My mother caught (mothers do that, you know) and quickly kicked my shin. Everytime I think back on my father's heart attack, that's the first thing that shoots into my head. Is it a defense mechanism? People talk about "laughing in the face of danger!" Is that what I did when I almost fell?
As I said, it's not just me. I used to date a girl who was raped. When we finally became intimate enough (or close enough) to talk about it, she told me the details. The thing that stuck in my mind more than anything else (and again, I don't know why) was that while she was being violated, the song "The Wheels on the Bus..." kept going through her head. She didn't know why. Yet, her experience jived with mine, in a sense. It was a simple kids song, as it were, that popped in her head. Guess what I think about whenever I hear that song now.
A buddy of mine told me that whenever he goes to the dentist and is being worked on, he thinks about the song "Whip It (Devo)". He has no clue why, but the second he hears the polisher, the opening notes pop into his head, and the song plays over and over until he's finished.
Another friend of mine is afraid of heights. He has to hum or sing "Habanera" from Carmen whenever he's on a ladder or even just afraid. Now, I love Carmen but hearing that song over and over again when you're working on lights can be...grating. Still, it kept his head in the game, which I what I needed when I worked with him.
As for me, I no longer have just one song. When I feel the silence pushing in on me (usually when I can start hearing the ringing in my own ears) multiple songs push into my head. Maybe it's a song by Moby, or maybe Mahler, or maybe I start hearing songs from the production of Cabaret I worked on. Honestly, it varys. There are, however, a few things that do not ever pop into my head. Hymns, for one, because I don't really know any.
Maybe I'm crazy. I don't know. Still, the heart and mind will do anything to protect each other. Perhaps the brain brings up these songs because we love them. A woman (or man) being violated brings up a memory of a happier time, and, as to paraphrase Shakespeare, music is emotion shared with a crowd. It is the physical manifestation of our feelings. I agree.
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy at the doctor singing "Moon River" during my prostate exam. I could be wrong.

Friends in High Places

(9/26/05) 6:44 p.m. (CBS) — CBS News correspondent Gloria Borger reports that Michael Brown, who recently resigned as the head of the FEMA, has been rehired by the agency as a consultant to evaluate its response following Hurricane Katrina.

Ok, I really don't like to get political (which is actually the subject of a letter we'll be talking about next week), but this one caught my eye, and I just couldn't let this go.
Obviously, it pays to have friends in high places. Seriously. A former Arabian horse man (fired) who blew the response to the hurricane is back to evaluate its reponse. Huh? That's insane, folks. Imagine an operation is screwed up, and the patient dies. The doctors and nurses involved have the blame put on them, and the lead doctor resigns saying, "I made mistakes, sorry." Now, the hospital brings that doctor back and says, "We want to know where we went wrong. We would like you to come back as a consultant and tell us where the operation went well...and where mistakes were made."
Folks, there's no way that doctor, nor Mike Brown, can actually do that job objectively. He was INVOLVED in the mistakes. What's he going to say? "Well, I find that the National Guard worked really hard at evacuating survivors, but my indecisions kind of hampered everything."
Hell, he's already said that it wasn't him, it was all the local goverment. In fact, he, "told the president 'this is going to be bad one,' before the storm hit."
Seriously, this situation shows it pays to have friends in high places. Seriously, doesn't Bush know anyone else who is more qualified for this? Ask Jeb if necessary. Brown had no qualifications for the job, but now he's back at FEMA. You think the people of New Orleans are happy to hear that?
Brown isn't the only one, however. Dennis Kozlowski, the former Tyco schmuck (and I can't be objective about him, because he stole millions and showed no remorse for it) was told that a few companies want to hire him when he gets out. What? This man committed some serious ethical violations of business...and he can have another job doing the same thing? What happens if he does it again? "We didn't see it coming."
If you're friends with a person in a high place (a mayor, a political figure, etc.) more often than not, you'll have a bone thrown your way when you're in trouble.
Let me make something EXTREMELY CLEAR to anyone who reads this: I am not sitting here and attacking Republicans/Conservatives. I understand that the same thing happens with Democrats/Liberals too (Yes, I remember
Marc Rich), but bringing Brown in to look over FEMA when he was part of the screw-up is insane. If he's just answering questions about what he did, that's one thing, but if he's supposed to pass judgement on where the agency screwed up, then he better be on that list.
Then again what do I know? I'm the guy who said that Kennedy needed fewer agents watching him, watched him get shot, was fired, and then was brought back in to figure out where we went wrong. I could be wrong.

Monday, September 26, 2005


A new segment here on Ironic Teachings: Mail Mondays.
We (and by we, I do, in fact mean just me) get interesting mail and comments here at the old blog. I decided that I would share some of those comments or thoughts with you, my dear readers. First, however, some business. I would like to point out that I have a new link under my student section. Many of my readers (as well as myself) are fans of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and other Adams novels. Well, there is a true to life guide, and I am inviting anyone to check it out. It's quite...interesting. So, let's get to the mail.
1. This particular message was left by local celebrity (and self-proclaimed, "D-Lister") Jason DeRusha. I made the comment that I felt important because he had read my blog. Well, he responded (and if you don't believe me, click
1. You guys think I'm a local celeb? D-list at best.
2. You guys think I have an intern? I wish.
3. It really is me. Your blog is right above mine on the aggregator. I consider us neighbors. I like IT!
Now, Mr. DeRusha may not think highly of himself, but we here at Ironic Teachings think he's great (and not just because we're neighbors on MN Speak's Aggregator AND
Slanderous Minneapolis). All we ask, Mr. DeRusha....Can you get Shelby to comment as well? Just kidding. Keep up the good work and thanks for checking us out.
2. This e-mail came from a rather angry Minnesotan. I'm used to it, but my intern (
Evil Cat) was quite shocked and was so angry, he ate a bird...seriously.
Dear Ass,
Why don't you go back to New York transplant. We don't want you here.
A Fan (I'm using a pseudonym in order to protect anonymity. I'm nice that way.)
Dear Fan,
Once upon a time, the human race had this wonderful gift given to it. It was called humor. Humor allowed us to laugh at things that we knew couldn't be true (or even things that could be true). We knew that people who used humor (often called humorists, or humourists to the Brits) were, in fact, either kidding, or pointing out life's foibles (a real word, look it up). Unfortunately, something has happened to humor: Modern society took it out into the back alley, raped it, and then beat it to death with a lead pipe. Seriously! If people were that thin-skinned, would George W. Bush ever go out in public? Would Clinton? Now, as to your "transplant" comment: I'm sorry that the city I am from is the honest to God center of this planet and that Minnesota is really associated with choking football teams and Fargo, but shouldn't you be glad that people are moving here? We help the economy. Yes, I did previously write about the
bad aspects of Minnesota, but I also wrote about the good. Get over it. You live in a cold state, but you have such thin skin. Sheesh. You would think with the Vikings choking so often that you would be used to teasing. (At least from Packers fans, right?)
3. This lovely e-mail comes from a guy I went to high school with. I honestly have tried to keep a low profile, but he found me after reading my comments in USA Today. He then managed to track down my blog. This email came to me from him.
Hey Leab,
Damn it's been a long time. How've you been? I'm good...(He goes on to explain what he's been doing with his life, etc.) I saw that you wrote a piece in USA Today. Good for you! You're wrong, but good for you. People don't want to go to the movies anymore. There is no shared pathos, because we cannot get into modern films. Even Christians couldn't really get into The Passion of the Christ because of audiences, complaints, and a new "sensitivity" to violence. DVDs are better. Get with the future! We all want to be the guys on MST3K (Mystery Science Theatre 3000, for the uninitiated) who make up jokes when the film is bad and make comments about what makes the film good. Nothing more. Nothing less. At the same time, Hollywood gives us nothing we care about anymore. How do I know this? I work for them. (He goes on to explain that he is a screenwriter, but again...anonymity. Then he finishes his email.)
Dear Old Buddy,
Sorry, but you're wrong. There still is a pathos in the theatre. We have a shared connection. We laugh together because we are all in the moment with each other. No one turns and says, "What the hell are you laughing at?" (In a comedy.) Yes, DVDs are easier, because you can stop them for bathroom breaks or food, but you lose the connection of the darkened theatre. Most houses do not have that top of the line home theatre setup that draws you in to the world. You always know you're in your home. If I had seen Crash for the first time in my home, I don't know that I would have had the same experience as I did in the theatre (or theater for most Americans). Besides, years of theatre going hasn't stopped most people from talking during the movie. Happens all the time now.

Thanks for joining me for the first edition of Mail Mondays. If you want to join in, either leave a comment anytime (preferably where I'll see it) or email me at
Have a good night folks.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Ramblings for the Evening (9/25/05)

Boiler plate warning: If you don't know what I're new here.
Wow, so this is what light looks like. Yes, I spent the last few days feeling like our founding fathers...just not as important. So let's get to the ramblings: DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT!
Life without Power: Other than the fact that I was giving out batteries and lending out flashlights...and dealing with annoying Xcel people (I will NOT forgive you!), it was quite peaceful. I used one of those flashlights that you can wear on your head to read. One of the things that I found the most interesting was re-reading Calvin and Hobbes. I used to read the fantastic comic when I was a kid in the 80s (that's right, I was still a kid in the 80s). I found it very funny then, but as I re-read it now, I realized that there were a lot of jokes that I did not get as a kid. Calvin talks about "paradigms", "human nature", and more. How could a kid understand some of these jokes? I don't think my middle school talked about hegemony. Did any of yours? Yet, Calvin is discussing hegemony in one panel. So, on a hunch, I looked back over some of the other cartoons I used to read. Bloom County was a given. If you didn't know who Gary Hart was, then you lose out on a few jokes. It was overly political. However, there were others that were the same way. Baby Blues is cute, but it's funnier to people who have gone through the whole baby thing (or so I am told). Then again, I still don't get 9 Chickweed Lane. Seriously. Anybody get it?
Other than the reading, being powerless gave me a chance to catch up on my painting. Granted, when the sun went down it became really hard, but the flashlights helped.
What the hell are you selling?:
Ok, the Honda Civic Hybrid ad is about something that helps the Earth, and that's great, but the commercial honestly looks like an ad exec walked into a room and said, "Wow, I just dropped acid, and the so...CLEAR!" Then he or she dreamed up an ad where the people talk in trippy images. It seems to be happening everywhere now. Nissan has an ad where the car looks like it's in a funhouse mirror. And, if it's not looking drug induced, then it's totally about sex. Granted, I don't mind the commercials, but it's just odd. Look at the Tag commercials. You wonder why so many young boys think that tapping that older woman is cool? Look at the commercial where the kid's girlfriend's mom hits on him. Or the body soap commerical where the girls pole dance. Think that tells precocious young minds something?
Hey Kids! It's Time to Talk about the Fuzz and the Sock:

Modern psychologists are now saying that it is ok for kids to believe in people like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. It allows the imagination to soar. The same thing can be said for The Muppets. Instead of telling kids, "No, Kermit isn't real. He is, in fact, a sock with fabric and ping-pong ball eyes," parents are now encouraged to let the kids believe they could meet Kermit. Now, that being said, people still need to know what's real and not real. So the question becomes: (and I know I'm getting away from the stated topic) how do you define what is real?
Kermit is real in the sense that the puppet (and he is a puppet, folks) exists. However, there truly is a hand in there controlling him. So, if you're having a tough time explaining to your kids or friends about puppets and such. Well, here's a cartoon to help explain it.
and finally...
Manners, people, Manners:
Sigh. I know I've talked about this before, but it's such an important topic. People: We are becoming more and more rude everyday. It's unfortunate, but true. I was playing Tennis yesterday (I'm part of a league), and my opponent and I ran a little over time. We had scheduled an hour and a half to play the match, but he (my opponent) has a slow, methodical serve, and we had long rallies. Now, there were two couples who were going to play mixed doubles, and they had apparently reserved the court we were on. They were also desperate to get on our court. Here's the thing: There were four other courts, and they were all open. These people could have started at anytime, but they felt that they needed court 1. Why? Because, "it's right by the windows where everyone can see us." That's right: It was all about being seen by the other people. Here's where the manners come in. I am about to serve. I'm in mid-movement, and one of the guys steps on my court and starts to talk to me. "Hey you!" he shouts. Beyond the fact that his actions are bad for tennis etiquette, he's also stepping into my serve. I have a hard and fast serve (I'm not bragging, it's the best part of my game...perhaps the only part of my game), so if he steps in front of me, I could drill him and hurt him. That would not be good...and it might be costly. I managed to stop my arm, but almost threw out my shoulder doing it. "Hey you!" he shouts again, "Let's flip courts. We're supposed to be here." Thus begins a conversation that takes a dark turn (I admit it's because of me.)

Me: "I'm trying to serve, sir. You need to move off the court."
The man I lovingly refer to as "Rat Bastard": "We're supposed to be here. Move to two."
Me: "We're in the middle of a game in the middle of a match. We'll be finished soon. Please move off the court."
RB: "No. We're supposed to be here. You need to move. Now!"
Me: "Sir, we were here first. We're almost done. PLEASE move so we can finish. Then you can have your court."
RB: "I'm going to get the manager and tell him about your conduct!"

RB's Wife: "You should be ashamed."
Me: "Please move off the court so I can finish. Then you can have the court!"
They move to court 2 and talk loudly about how badly I serve, my fashion sense (What the hell is that. Am I supposed to be stylish yet sporty?) and more. They never stop talking while I'm trying to play. At one point, the other guy sees I am about to win a point and tosses a ball on the court to void the point (Seriously. What an ass!).
Now RB returns with the manager.
RB: "Get him off MY court."
Manager: "Sir (he is addressing RB), they are allowed to finish their match. It IS league play. I will tell you again, please move to 2 until they are done. (Then to me) Did you verbally threaten this man?"
Me: "No way!" (My opponent even chips in a "Not a chance.")
RB and his group move to two but continue to act like children. I finish out my game, which I win, and my opponent goes to serve. This will be the last game. If not, then we have to switch sides, and we (my opponent and I) agree we'll move over. As soon as my opponent goes to serve, RB returns to my court.
RB: "Get off my court. You finished. It's my court now. Get off."
Me: "Sir, please, PLEASE stop. If he wins this game, then we'll have to switch sides. Then we'll switch courts, ok?"
RB: "Well that's not fair to us (He indicates his court). Then we have to switch during our game. No, you should have to switch."
Me: "Sir. I am losing my patience. This is the last time I will tell you: Let us play, then we'll switch. Is that too hard to understand? Why do you want this court so badly? How is it different from the other courts?"
RB: "It's right by the windows where everyone can see us play."
Me: "Sir, to use your line, get off my court."
I walk away to the baseline. RB steps to my court and follows me berating me for "not having the proper respect for someone like me." I have been extremely patient, and I have tried talking to him nicely, but he doesn't listen. Finally, I think about high school students, and I decide I need to "assert" myself. I take a deep breath and say:
Me: "Sir. I've tried to explain this to you, but you don't listen, so I'm going to tell you in a way you'll understand: GET THE FUCK OFF MY COURT, ASSHOLE! You and your skank wife should be warming up on 2. The longer you hold us (I indicate my opponent) up, the longer you have to wait. Now, turn around, slap on some BenGay on your raggedy-ass knees and shut THE FUCK UP! You didn't ask nicely, the manager told you to wait, so LEAVE US ALONE. You and your friends need to be patient. What the fuck is wrong with you? Just wait. We'll finish this game and then either leave or move to 2. I'm sorry that you won't be watched by everyone, but that's too bad. Now, go warm up and leave me the fuck alone, asshole!"
RB and his friends are stunned. My opponent, who knows me pretty well, starts laughing and says, "I want to serve now." RB leaves to the other side, but his court is now silent. We finished the game (I won) and we leave. RB and his gang don't even move until after we've left the bubble.
Now, here's my problem. I have been running into people like this more and more. They believe they are in the right. It's like the bossy woman on my flight back. Because I say it should be, then it should be. RB couldn't wait another few minutes. Instead of talking to me like a regular person, he begins with a command. Look, I work with high school students. When one of them throws a command at me, I just look at them and laugh. Emma can attest to this. One of the things that pissed her off so much was that I wouldn't do what she wanted when she wanted. What happened to civilized conduct in public. I can't blame parents, because they do it too. Old people nowadays are rude too. I love my father, but he still cuts people off in lines, because he feels he should be first (remember the "special" kid and the ice cream?).
Stories like this are all to common now. For example, I'm Mr. Leab, or I can be just Leab, but I will not let students call me by my first name. (Speaking of which: Worm. Remember the "confidence building" Spam? If it's spam, how did they get my first initial? It's not in my profile. I think it might be a person...) I call everyone Sir, or Ma'am if they are older then me. I'm not trying to make them feel old, I'm just showing respect. I believe in "Please", "Thank you", and "You're welcome". Maybe I'm in the minority now. People wonder why our country is de-evolving as it were, it's because manners are disappearing. And no, this is not a Liberal/Conservative thing, because both political parties suck at manners now, so don't even try to make this political. It's totally and utterly a societal thing. Rich, poor, black, white, whatever. Everyone is becoming rude. Even I became rude when I cursed out RB. Doesn't matter if I was justified, I shouldn't have done it.
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy taking too long on Court 1. I could be wrong.