|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
How About "Doodyhead?"
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
I was in the first grade when I learned my very first cuss word. Oh sure, I knew all the 6-year-old classics, like "poopyhead," "butt," and "weiner." But now I was well on my way to being a grown-up, because I knew the "S-word."
One of my friends taught it to me, and we would sit in his yard, and use it in a sentence -- mostly incorrectly -- and nearly wet ourselves with laughter.
I even used it in school once. Nobody was around, so I quietly whispered it into my pencil box in my desk, so no one could hear me.
Things changed for me that day. I was a rebel. A 6-year-old, glasses-wearing, mom-still-picked-out-my-clothes rebel. Pretty soon, I moved on to whispering it in the boys' bathroom, whispering it into a school book, or whispering it as I walked home after school.
Of course, that was nothing compared to the time I said the F-word that same year.
It was completely innocent, and I didn't even know it was a bad word. Some friends and I were rhyming words by running through the alphabet. Someone said "duck," and I had the misfortune to be the second person down the line. So when I said the new word, everyone else gasped in shock, and someone ran to the teacher, blood spewing from their ears.
When my teacher realized I had no idea what I had just said, that was the end of that. Or so she thought. As the saying goes, you can't unring a bell. When I saw that my word choice created such an uproar, I added it to my whispering repertoire.
Of course, this is nothing compared to Brandy McKenith's recent cussing experience. She's a 7-year-old second grader from Pittsburgh who said the word "hell" to a boy and was suspended for a day.
According to a story in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, the classmate said, "I swear to God" to her. So Brandy told him "You're going to go to hell for swearing to God."
And with the same tolerance and sense of justice that made the Spanish Inquisition a smashing success, Brandy was sent home for a one-day suspension.
A school system spokeswoman told the newspaper, profanity is prohibited by the student code of conduct, but the definition of profanity is not provided.
This presents a problem because "hell" is not a dirty word to everyone. It can be a place, a swear word, or even an adjective. But I think in this case, Brandy was referring to the place, which means it's not actually a dirty word -- no more than Hell, Michigan or Hell Hole, Utah.
Needless to say, the suspension was a surprise to everyone, especially Brandy and her father.
"Why would I get suspended for something stupid?" she wondered.
Why indeed. It has something to do with the fact that Zero Tolerance policies themselves are stupid.
Brandy's father, Wayne McKenith, is understandably upset. He told the Tribune-Review: "Kids are bringing guns and knives to school. . . They've got dope. And we're worried about 'hell?'"
No, apparently we're also worried about the use of the word "gay." At least they are down in Lafayette, Louisiana.
According to Associated Press Story from December 2003, 7-year-old Marcus McLaurin was punished because he said his mother is gay. At least that's what it says on the discipline form he brought home that November.
Apparently, a classmate asked Marcus what the word meant, so he explained it was when"a girl likes a girl." A teacher overheard the remark, and told him "gay" was a bad word. The next week, he was required to write "I will never use the word 'gay' in school again" numerous times.
However, Lafayette schools superintendent James Easton denied that Marcus was disciplined for using the word "gay." He said in a written statement that it was for "ordinary student disturbances."
That's odd, because according to the original disciplinary form filled out by Marcus' teacher -- which can be downloaded at CBSnews.com -- it was all about the "gay" thing. She wrote "(t)his kind of discussion is not acceptable in my room. I feel that parents should explain things of this nature to their own children in their own way."
And she's right. Teachers have the responsibility to allow or prohibit certain kinds of discussions in their classroom. However, punishing a 7-year-old for explaining what "gay" means is overly harsh, especially since he's talking about his own family.
Personally, I think the whole thing is a load of S-word.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of February 6th, 2004)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Because It's Time to Go
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
"Sweetie, do you have to go to the bathroom?"
"Are you sure?"
"I know you're watching a movie."
"Yes, but you've been watching it for over an hour."
"So it's time to go to the bathroom."
"Because it's time to go, that's why."
"Because you haven't gone in a while."
"Because I don't want you to wet your pants."
"Because you'll get it on the couch."
"But then the couch will smell bad."
"Because potty has urea in it."
"It's the stuff that makes potty smell bad."
"I don't know. That's just the way our bodies work."
"Well, when you drink water or juice, it makes its way into your kidneys where it--"
"Kidneys."
"No, not your friend Sidney. Kidneys."
"No, I don't know what Sidney did at nursery school today."
"Really? That's awful!"
"Did she get hurt?"
"But why was she punching Bobby in the first place?"
"Really? Does your teacher know about this?"
"Well, if Bobby ever does that to you, you let me know."
"No, I'm not going to punch him."
"I don't know what I would do. Talk to his mommy and daddy, I suppose."
"Because people shouldn't-- hey, I thought you had to go potty."
"I know you don't have to, but you still should."
"Because it's time to go, that's why."
"We've been through this."
"I don't want you to wet your pants, because then the couch will smell bad and--"
"That's right, urea."
"No, not Sidney. Kidneys."
"I'm not really sure what kidneys do. I know they help you go potty."
"Yes, your kidneys still work even when you're done going potty."
"Two."
"I have two kidneys too."
"Everyone has two kidneys."
"They're in your tummy somewhere."
"No, you didn't eat them."
"They're just in there. Everyone is born with them."
"'Born' is when babies come out of their mommy's tummy."
"I'm not going to answer that."
"Because you're only three."
"Don't pout at me. I'm not telling a three-year-old how babies get into their mommy's tummy."
"Because I said so."
"Come on, let's go potty."
"I know you don't have to go. But you should go just for me."
"Because it's time to go, that's why."
"Well, you should still try."
"I don't care. It's been over an hour."
"That's 60 minutes."
"If you watched Mister Rogers and Teletubbies, that would be 60 minutes."
"I know you like Teletubbies."
"Yes, I do too."
"I don't know, Tinky-Winky, I guess."
"No, I won't sing the Teletubbies song for you."
"Because I don't know it."
"I know I was singing it this morning with you, but I forgot it during the day."
"No, I don't want you to teach it to me right now."
"Because I want you to go potty first."
"Because it's time to go, that's why."
"Yes, then you can watch the rest of the movie."
"I don't know if the Teletubbies would play with the Lion King or not. He'd probably eat them."
"Nothing. I didn't say anything."
"No, I didn't."
"No Sweetie, don't cry. The Lion King isn't going to eat the Teletubbies."
"Because I was just joking, that's why."
"You're right, that's not funny."
"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, the Lion King won't eat Cookie Monster either."
"Because he wouldn't."
"Look, I don't have time to explain it to you."
"Do you understand copyrights and intellectual trademarks and the difference between commercial entertainment and public television?"
"That's why I don't have time to explain it to you."
"It's just the way grown-ups talk when they mean the Lion King won't eat Cookie Monster."
"Uh-oh. Did you just potty?"
"Okay. Run to the bathroom and take off your pants."
"That's alright. These things happen. It was an accident."
"Don't cry. You're still a big girl."
"Go on. I'll be right there."
"Agh! Don't sneak up on me like that."
"She's crying because she wet her pants."
"No, I was not keeping her from going!"
"Because I wasn't."
"She kept asking me all these questions, that's why."
"How is she going to learn anything if I don't answer her questions?"
"Could you clean her up and help her put on some new panties?"
"Because."
"Because I'll explain copyrights and intellectual trademarks and the difference between commercial entertainment and public television if you don't."
"Thank you."
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of February 13th, 2004)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Adventures of Letterman
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
Erik has been out of the office this week, so we are reprinting an old column from 1997.
As a father, I worry about things I never used to. I worry about what any parent worries about: are the kids healthy, are we feeding them right, is that Barney the Purple Dinosaur I hear on the TV?
I also worry that my daughters are going to start dating earlier than I want (about 40 years too early), or that she is going to grow up and make me known across the world as "the father of the biggest serial killer in the entire world," or worst of all, marry an accountant.
When I was a child, my biggest concern was that I didn't miss Sesame Street or Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. My one-year-old sister and I watched them every day. But we never ever missed The Electric Company.
My favorite segment was the Adventures of Letterman. Letterman was a football player, and his costume was a varsity letterman's sweater. Coincidentally, the letter on his sweater would be the very letter featured in this episode.
There was also an evil villain, SpellBinder, who looked like Boris from the Bullwinkle the Moose Show. Spellbinder liked to change items into other items with his magic wand. Many of these items had captions, telling the viewer what they were. For example, a container of French fries had the label "snack" above it. So Spellbinder would change some letters of the word, which changed the item itself.
One unlucky man would sit down at a table, ready to enjoy his "snack" of fries. But Spellbinder had other plans. He would zap his magic wand, changing the "snack" into a. . . "SNAKE!"
The snake would immediately wrap itself around the poor man, and he would squeak out a choked cry of help, as Spellbinder chuckled evilly. (I never did figure out what he was actually trying to accomplish, but he seemed to enjoy it.)
It seemed that the victim's cries would go unheard, but wait! One person did hear him: Letterman!
"Faster than a rolling O, more powerful than a silent E, able to leap a capital T in a single bound, it's a bird, it's a plan, it's LETTERMAN!" the announcer would announce, as Letterman raced off to help the victim. (Letterman was apparently attending Calvin Klein University this time, because he had a 'CK' on his sweater.)
But Spellbinder was ready for him. Not only was the snake big enough to crush one helpless victim, he wrapped himself around Letterman too.
"Oh no, what will happen to our literary hero?!" my sister would cry out. Actually, she made gurgly noises and pooped in her diaper, but I knew what she meant.
Well, Letterman wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, so it didn't occur to him right away that the means to his salvation was on his own chest. But soon, the idea would hit him, and he acted.
The announcer would tell us, "Tearing the 'CK' from his varsity sweater, and placing it over the 'KE', he changes the snake back into a snack!!"
I decided this was the coolest thing ever, so I told my mom I wanted to be Letterman, and detailed my plan. She cut out a few letters -- two M's, an L, and an O. She taped three of them to the wall, and spelled LOM, and taped the other M to my chest.
Spellbinder had changed my mother into a Lom! I didn't know what that was, but it was pretty nasty -- purple and green, with slimy tentacles and three eyes coming out of its neck. My mother, always willing to play along with insanity whenever she recognized it, even did the announcer's voice.
I coached her for several minutes on how this worked, so when she said, "faster than a rolling O, stronger than a silent E," I raced into the living room out of the kitchen with the extra "M" proudly emblazoned (taped) to my varsity sweater (Kool-Aid stained t-shirt).
I gave my mom a break and did the rest of the announcer's voice: "Tearing the 'M' from his varsity sweater, placing it over the 'L', he changes the Lom back into Mom!" Mom cheered and thanked me profusely, and assured me that she was very happy to no longer be a Lom.
That was good for me, because Lom's don't give cookies to their sons.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of February 20th, 2004)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Springtime Predictions. . . of Science!
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
It's official! The First Day of Spring will be March 10th.
At least that's what the Goshen (Indiana) College SAPs tell me.
According to an article in the Wakarusa (Indiana) Tribune, my flagship newspaper, the Goshen College SAPs -- Scientists/Scholars Advocating Precision -- have attempted to predict the scientifically-derived first day of spring for the past five years.
They're 4-for-4 so far, so I've got high hopes for this year's prediction as well.
Using the Official Maple Tree of Goshen on the college's campus, the SAPS use a Sapometer (pronounced like "thermometer") to compare the strength of winter to the strength of spring. Winter is represented by a bucket with a stuffed groundhog surrounded by a scientifically-determined amount of ice (i.e. "that looks about right"); Spring is represented by a bucket with a scientifically-determined amount of maple sap collected since February 2nd (i.e. "as much as they could get"). The two amounts are then placed on a special Weighing Apparatus of Science.
This isn't the official name, of course. It just makes me sound like I know what I'm talking about if I say "of Science."
This year, the Head SAPs, Sasha Dyck and Kelcie Glick, weighed the two buckets, and 150 Witness of Science watched the scales tip to March 10th.
Although more serious (i.e. "boring") scientists may pooh-pooh this sort of experiment as ludicrous and silly, let me point out that they were the ones who said "pooh-pooh" in the first place.
Besides, I am fully confident the SAPS did not just use any old bucket, but rigorously tested, precision-calibrated Buckets of Science.
You just can't argue with Buckets of Science.
According to the Tribune, Goshen Mayor Allan Kauffman, who graduated from Goshen College with a Natural Science degree, said his confidence in the SAPs "far outweighed any shadowy superstitions associated with small-brained, ground-dwelling creatures." He then challenged Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania mayor James Wehrle to a fight and vowed to "go medieval" on Mayor Wehrle.
Okay, he didn't really say that last part. However, Mayor Kauffman did challenge Mayor Wehrle to reconsider his reliance on the groundhog for the prediction of warmer weather.
And with good reason. In all the years that Punxsutawney Phil, the famous groundhog/weather barometer has been "predicting" the weather, he only has a 39 percent success rate. At least that's what the Goshen College website of Science says. Punxsutawney Phil's own website gives him a 100% success rate, but offers no scientific proof whatsoever.
Since I live 20 minutes away from Goshen College, I declare them to be correct.
This 39 percent is actually a crucial point, considering there are only two options: "Spring will come soon or it will come in six weeks." This means, statistically, you have a 50/50 chance of getting it right -- a simple "Yay or Nay" guess by the sitting Mayor of Punxsutawney would yield a correct result half the time. But Phil only gets it right 39 times out of 100.
In other words, Punxsutawney Phil is less reliable than your basic coin flip.
On the other hand, according to the Goshen College website of Science, the Sapometer appears to have a 100 percent success rate. Never mind that they have only made four complete predictions. 100 percent is still 100 percent.
In 2000, the inaugural Sapometer determined that February 29th would be the first day of Spring, and the National Weather Service recorded a high of 67 degrees in nearby South Bend.
In 2001, March 7th was the predicted day, and the temperature reached the 40s. While some may argue that this is too low to be a Springtime temperature, the fact that many Goshen College students and faculty wore shorts and skirts that day suggests otherwise.
Shorts and Skirts of Science, no less.
The Sapometer stunned the world on February 15, 2002, when it said Spring had already arrived. And last year's "mid-March" prediction prompted the entire Science Department faculty to wear shorts outside, blinding several police officers, who had been called to the campus to investigate "a mysterious glow outside the science building."
For the past four years, Science faculty and students have donned their shorts and skirts, gathered outside to eat Ice Cream of Science, watch the flowers grow, and scientifically scoff at the notion that Spring's arrival can be predicted by a rodent -- a non-scientific rodent, no less.
And if they invite me, I'll be happy to join the SAPs on March 10th, and report on the results of this year's Sapometer prediction. Especially if they get my favorite ice cream, Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie.
Of Science.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of February 27th, 2004)
- Return to the top of the page
- Return to the home page
|
|
|
|
|
|
Click here to see what I do for a living
|
|
|
|
|
 |
