What a bunch of weenies. Really. It must be such a responsibility to always be so full of oneself to declare how everyone should behave.
The hysterical climate change evangelists are now suggesting we stop eating meat to combat global warming.
I’m going to go pop a roast in the crock pot. Mmmm mmmm good!
It means I feel really old. I’m now older than a candidate. How the heck did that happen?
If you say it’s because I’m getting old, I won’t be your friend anymore.
Check out this little ole article at ESPN that tells the tale of 9 year old Jericho Scott, who isn’t allowed to pitch on his little league team because, get this, HE’S TOO GOOD!
WHAT?
Yeah, it turns out the kid can pitch 40 mph and stay under control. That means somebody’s kid is going to be struck out at every bat. Oh, poor babies. Um, once upon a time the point of playing sports was:
1. to have fun
2. to learn discipline
3.to learn how to suck it up when you lost so you’d be motivated to work hard and win — I don’t care what all you tree-hugging-self-esteem-pushing-let-me-buy-my-kid-a-trophy-he-didn’t-earn folks think, and spell out the facts. The game is about WINNING. Yes, somebody has to say it. WINNING. Not sportsmanship, although that is essential. Not teamwork, although that is a given. Not even that bad word, trying. WINNING. W. I. N. N. I. N. G.
Somewhere along the line people (read: parents) have hijacked organized sports and turned it into a whining fest. If those kids had any sense, they’d trade the $200 cleats, the $150 “professional-style” uniforms, and the manicured lawns for a sandlot somewhere and go play ball.
Disgusting.
