It looks like we have run out of third-world countries to send our deportees to, so what to do?
Not to worry. We will send them to the next best thing….Indiana.
Remember when steroids used to be an everyday news story?
I was never good, big, or fast enough of a football player to entertain taking steroids to “get me over the top” and gain some kind of advantage in the sports arena. I was too slow to be an offensive weapon, too slow to cover extremely fast and skilled receivers, and too small for the offensive or defensive lines.
But I could hit.
My big brother, a star nose guard in high school, would “toughen me up” when I was seven years-old playing Pop Warner football. After Mom picked us up from our respective practices, my personal session would start.
The instructions were simple and clearly understood.
“You aren’t getting in the house until you knock me on my ass.”
Twenty, thirty times I would hit him with all 75 pounds my body could bring to the fight, and I was never the one to call an end to “practice.”
I would die before I quit.
What came of those sessions with my big bro actually made me a terror in Pop Warner.
No one wanted to play against me.
Or with me.
I was tough on my teammates for not being “violent or mean” enough. I didn’t just want to win every game, I wanted to win every play, and drive home our superior physicality.
I wanted our team to deliver pain on every play.
Seven years-old.
My body would eventually start to break down on me starting with ankles and knees, and my football career was over by my sophomore year in high school.
There is much to be learned from team sports and I have made numerous hiring decisions based on whether a prospective kitchen “team” member had played in organized sports.
You can’t teach teamwork to someone who has not been on teams before. The dynamic of everyone depending on each other to achieve a common goal, the sacrifices one makes, the sacrifices everyone makes, bond teammates like nothing other.
Get this.
Some douchebag Texas rancher was stalking a buffalo to kill it, and the animal turns the tables and kills him first in what is being described as an “unprovoked attack.”
Unprovoked?
How about you are stalking me with guns to kill me in my natural surroundings?
Enough with the “he’s losing it,” stories on the naturally-declining faculties of the president as he approaches eight decades on this planet.
People get old.
And besides, saying “he’s losing it,” implies he hasn’t already lost it.
Go figure.
Wow. Here’s a story.
It’s hot in Phoenix, Arizona.
An expectant mother in Missouri is shot multiple times and she and her unborn childs’ lives are extinguished.
Why?
Because the woman’s estranged husband was “upset” at a message he read.
Oh, that explains it.
Next case…
Stay well.
