RSSI have a modest proposal. From some of the comments, I fear many of the readers of Fred’s columns would call for the execution of Jonathan Swift for his outrageous cure for Ireland’ difficulties.
Come on, folks. Google “satire”, then relax.
Fred strikes me as a bit like this dialog in Patton:
Lt. Col. Charles R. Codman:
You know General, sometimes the men don’t know when you’re acting.
Patton:
It’s not important for them to know. It’s only important for me to know.
Sometimes I know. Sometimes I think I know. Sometimes I haven’t a clue. But I enjoy Fred in all three situations.
Even as the kid always picked last, I enjoyed baseball and football on our side lot. Hated Little League and Babe Ruth. How come? (Rhetorical question.)
I want to know who to sue over the asbestos kit you could get by writing to the Asbestos Association or whatever they called themselves. Had rock, fibre, fabric, and you could do all sorts of stuff with them. Even encouraged you to “play with fire” to demonstrate its insulating qualities. Who hasn’t mercury-coated a dime or rolled globs of it back and forth in the pencil tray on the school desk? How did I make 81?
Junior-year chemistry teacher (an ordained Methodist minister) had us making all sorts of stuff that went bang. BIG bangs. With his encouragement, for $1 we bought our own copies of a mail-order, mimeographed booklet titled “Dazzling Chemistry Experiments” (as I recall). We did a presentation of what we learned in the school’s chapel. I still remember the smoke filling the hall from the top downward and the Potassium Iodide we planted on some seats leaving purple stains on the other guy’s pants. Any of that today would get you handcuffed and hauled away. And the Dean and Chem teacher fired.
I didn’t know a single kid with ADHD (cause we all had it, I guess), nor one with a peanut allergy or Autism. What changed? I remember staying after school and being sure not to whine about it to my parents or face something much worse. I recall the vice principle shoving a kid into a locker, without first opening the door, one afternoon while I was being penitent. That was 1951. He would be eligible for parole about now. Was that “excessive punishment”? Probably. But it noticeably humbled the JD-in-the-making.
We built log cabins by molesting forests not owned by ourselves but whose owners overlooked that fact. They were just trees, and “Boys will be Boys!”. We dug a cave, eight feet underground, sure that the tree roots above would support the unshored roof. Had it collapsed they would have never found us.
My Boy Scout leaders would have expelled anyone molesting us, with visible bodily harm. We always had a Benediction at the end of each troop meeting. OMG!
The hardest thing to predict may be the future, but the hardest thing to relive is growing up.
But it is the only way of knowing what they are up to ahead of time. I watch none of them “live” (our TV being limited to Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune) but I feel compelled to scan the headlines on several of their web sites every morning and read the most dangerous sounding articles. Then I read Fred, or Ron, or Lew, or ……. to get the truth.
Bonus: Fred always makes me chuckle. A modern H.L. Mencken.