Before those involved could have a chance to mourn or deal with the horror of the shootings, so-called experts were spewing opinions on who (or, usually, what) is to blame.
The most common is to blame the guns. Sure, the NRA is not my favorite, they are pretty radical and have strayed from their roots of teaching gun safety and so on. Lots of other culprits, like the parents. Or the school system.
The New York Times took the opportunity to blame society saying in an opinion piece that the shootings are because young men are not given the tools by society to deal with (whatever, it gets too murky for me at this point). Ya mean they're crazy? Yep, got that.
In typical fashion, NYT will lead you to believe that all members of society should stop, abandon all normal behavior and stand on their heads in deference to some extremely small minority of misfits behaving in an aberrant, dangerous manner. Hugs all around, folks.
As you can tell, I reject that view. But in a conversation with one of my oldest friends (Jimmy) last night, I think we agreed on one thing--society has not found an effective way to protect our school children from this. Grandpa Joe Biden decided that the way to do it was to ban guns from schools. Apparently, the shooters didn't read the signs. But it made it impossible for anyone to shoot back. Thanks Joe.
How can the society protect our school children? Well, banks choose to hire armed guards, because history proved that if they didn't, guys with guns would come and take the money. Old time bank robber Willie Sutton was asked why he robs banks, and his answer was "That's where the money is." One strategy would be to hire guards. Another, to arm teachers. An argument by my liberal friend was that there isn't enough money to hire teachers, let alone guards. I reject that argument. The stakes are too high.
Besides, pouring lots of money at education doesn't provide more successful outcomes for students. Take Kansas City Public Schools--several years ago, their records showed that they spent $19,000 per student per year, and the results are appalling.
So, blame guns, society, parents, Republicans (you have to blame Republicans, don't you?). But the fact is that we as adults and "normal" citizens have failed to protect our school children. That is a task that we should not allow to be accomplished 98% of the time--it needs to be all the time.
Thursday, February 22, 2018
HOW OUT OF TOUCH
Spring training started last Monday. Games start this weekend, and I just missed it. Too much CNN and MSNBC, I guess. Out of touch with the important stuff.
To me, the start of spring training is so much more significant than some rodent in Punxsutawney predicting the end of winter, because when full squads report, winter is officially going to end.
The East Coast has been chilly and miserable this winter and the midwest is still in the middle of some cold weather--it was ice and snow a couple of days ago, then 6 degrees in Sioux City with a NW wind at 25 mph. Yep, that's winter on the Plains. Did you ever wonder how people got along in teepees with that kind of winter?
My Royals are "rebuilding." So many from that World Series Championship squad are gone due to free agency, so the code word for "watch out" is "rebuilding." Alex Gordon, 34 years old and in the last two years of his big contract, promises they will play hard. Wonder when baseball GMs will quit throwing money at aging stars? Gordon never lived up to offensive potential as a youngster, but was a fan favorite and really good defensive outfielder. In the first two years of his current contract, his batting average is .214, a shade under the Mendoza line and a liability in the outfield. But, if you wear Big Red Goggles and bleed Royal's Blue, he is still ok.
I hope we're not in for a bunch of years like we endured back in the day. As Buddy Bell said about the 2005 Royals, "I never said it couldn't get worse."
Still how bad can it be when Spring Training is underway.
To me, the start of spring training is so much more significant than some rodent in Punxsutawney predicting the end of winter, because when full squads report, winter is officially going to end.
The East Coast has been chilly and miserable this winter and the midwest is still in the middle of some cold weather--it was ice and snow a couple of days ago, then 6 degrees in Sioux City with a NW wind at 25 mph. Yep, that's winter on the Plains. Did you ever wonder how people got along in teepees with that kind of winter?
My Royals are "rebuilding." So many from that World Series Championship squad are gone due to free agency, so the code word for "watch out" is "rebuilding." Alex Gordon, 34 years old and in the last two years of his big contract, promises they will play hard. Wonder when baseball GMs will quit throwing money at aging stars? Gordon never lived up to offensive potential as a youngster, but was a fan favorite and really good defensive outfielder. In the first two years of his current contract, his batting average is .214, a shade under the Mendoza line and a liability in the outfield. But, if you wear Big Red Goggles and bleed Royal's Blue, he is still ok.
I hope we're not in for a bunch of years like we endured back in the day. As Buddy Bell said about the 2005 Royals, "I never said it couldn't get worse."
Still how bad can it be when Spring Training is underway.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
RAY ELLIS
The place where Ray Ellis was born, grew up, spent his adult life and died has been obliterated. Make way for a pivot sprinkler. He was a bachelor, lived with his mother, no offspring (and I will bet the farm on that one). The 1950's equivalent of a Millenial.
Except Ray worked, and he worked hard. Not effectively or efficiently, but hard. Ray gave me my first "real" job, I was 12 and he was a neighbor. About $1 per hour, and it was hauling alfalfa bales and stacking them on a pile in the yard. I earned enough over three days to buy a baseball glove that cost $30 in Columbus at the sporting goods store. If I were flipping burgers in today's world, that glove would be worth about $300...but since it now comes from Haiti or someplace, it doesn't cost that much.
My brother and I would laugh at Ray for keeping the hog feed in the cattle pen and the cattle feed in the hog pen. Then transported back and forth with 5-gallon buckets until his arthritis made him so stooped that he resorted to 2.5-gallon buckets.
The hogs that should have been castrated young were left to grow and my brother and I didn't laugh so hard when we had to hold them when they were as big or bigger than we were. Their breath is not heavenly, either.
A woman who works at the local post office where I live could be his mother's, Nettie Ellis's, sister. Except Nettie was probably born in the 1880's. I hesitate to broach that subject with this lady...the story would get too complicated, and for what?
Why does Ray come up in my mind so many times? Maybe due to the work, the pay, the peculiar smell that his 1951 Chevy car had--he had been to town, bought five gallons of 2-4-D concentrate to spray for weeds, and it spilled all over in the trunk. The car was new for about 5 minutes, I guess. It was awful.
Maybe all those things, but maybe because all remnants of his life have been wiped clean. No physical evidence, no offspring. And damned few people who remember him. Well, Ray, I do. Vividly. But it is unintentionally nihilistic--because that just doesn't mean a blasted thing.
Make your own vows and conclusions from that.
Carry on.
Except Ray worked, and he worked hard. Not effectively or efficiently, but hard. Ray gave me my first "real" job, I was 12 and he was a neighbor. About $1 per hour, and it was hauling alfalfa bales and stacking them on a pile in the yard. I earned enough over three days to buy a baseball glove that cost $30 in Columbus at the sporting goods store. If I were flipping burgers in today's world, that glove would be worth about $300...but since it now comes from Haiti or someplace, it doesn't cost that much.
My brother and I would laugh at Ray for keeping the hog feed in the cattle pen and the cattle feed in the hog pen. Then transported back and forth with 5-gallon buckets until his arthritis made him so stooped that he resorted to 2.5-gallon buckets.
The hogs that should have been castrated young were left to grow and my brother and I didn't laugh so hard when we had to hold them when they were as big or bigger than we were. Their breath is not heavenly, either.
A woman who works at the local post office where I live could be his mother's, Nettie Ellis's, sister. Except Nettie was probably born in the 1880's. I hesitate to broach that subject with this lady...the story would get too complicated, and for what?
Why does Ray come up in my mind so many times? Maybe due to the work, the pay, the peculiar smell that his 1951 Chevy car had--he had been to town, bought five gallons of 2-4-D concentrate to spray for weeds, and it spilled all over in the trunk. The car was new for about 5 minutes, I guess. It was awful.
Maybe all those things, but maybe because all remnants of his life have been wiped clean. No physical evidence, no offspring. And damned few people who remember him. Well, Ray, I do. Vividly. But it is unintentionally nihilistic--because that just doesn't mean a blasted thing.
Make your own vows and conclusions from that.
Carry on.
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