Farewell Blake Edwards

ell, I been plannin' plottin' all sortser incendiary whatnot ter be typin' in here since my last post, but I figger acknowledgin' Blake Edwards prolly takes precedence.  I know the man 'sposedly had a speckled sorta success with his movie makin', an' 'sposedly in the end got corralled inter just makin' questionable extensions of the Pink Panther, but I gotter admit I ain't never seen a Blake Edwards film I didn't like.  I ain't seen 'em all, but I can certainly attribute some big effects on my life ter such gems as Breakfast at Tiffany's an' Experiment in Terror.  But the one film that stands out in my kind more'n anythin' as impressin' on me as a youth would be none other than The Great Race.

Now, it wouldn't be a lie ter say that it's a family thing.  As far back as I can 'member my family have had that there movie on a pedestal.  Fact, I have vivid (er not so vivid, as it may be) recollections of crowdin' round the lil black an' white televison set in my brother's room as a lil kid with my elder siblings an' my pappy ter watch that movie in one of its sawed-up network broadcasts.  But, without ramblin' too much, I just wanna note that I clearly acknowledge the effect on myself personally I done carried away from a Blake Edwards film like The Great Race.  The automobilia, the vaudeville, the high adventure, the gritty nature of a western American culture unwilling to relent its stranglehold on the heartland, a climactic sword duel.  All wrapped up in the distinct Edwardsian style of being able to find the off beat humor in even the most heart-wrending of situations.

Mebbe that’s what Edwards’ Great Race wuz all about ter my family.  That twisted streak of humour tied up in the tragedy of the human condition.  My cousin once showed up on my parents’ doorstep after a long haul from his home in the Keweenaw Peninsula of Northern of Michigan with his sorta-fiance an’ moved inter the spare addition in the back of the house while he tried his fortunes in Southern California.  I don’t ‘member her name, rightly, but she didn’t last but a few months ‘fore she stormed off in a hail of shoutin’ and cigarette smoke declarin’ that she could’t handle his family cuz we wuz all “sick and demented”.  Haw haw.

But it’s true.  My family has a sorter tweaked ability ter see the humour on the most bleak of situations.  An’ that’s kinder what Edwards summed up in his films… most aggressively perhaps in Days of Wine and Roses, most cautiously perhaps in The Great Race… the wretched humour tied up in the frustrations of being a powerless creature tied to the marionette strings of a vast, and perhaps careless, universe.

I remember laughin’ uncontrollably at the sequence in The Great Race where’s Peter Faulk done calls out all the calamities that is gonner befall all the automobiles that he has wickedly sabotaged.  All four of them tires poppin’ off the overturned racer used ter elicit the heartiest of joyous spasms.  But it were the wicked comedy entailed in the misfortunes of others… the relief that it ain’t you… the acknowledgement that perhaps the reverence reserved fer the tragedy of bein’ human is a lil overrated.  As my sis-in-law used ter tell her kids when they wuz fightin’ over some meaningless possession, “It’s all gonner burn anyways.”

Speakin’ of the sis-in-law, appreciation of The Great Race is kinder a determinant of all sortser things where my familial relations is concerned, includin’ pickin’ of potential mates.  My sis-in-law done never thought The Great Race were as funny as any of us twisted an’ demented folks did an’ all of us raised our eyebrows at my brother’s choice.  As of currently ain’t nuthin’ questionable happened, but I will note that my sis’ ex-husband done though we wuz all a buncher loonies fer appreciatin’ it so much.  And come ter think of it, no lady I done been involved with finds it all that entetainin’, either… hmmm.

Anyways, I guess I is just tryin’ ter communicate how much of a bondin’ experience fer my familial components Blake Edwards’ The Great Race wuz.  I think that even today, years after we’s all sorter separated an’ our common link is AT&T, the Great Race is sumthin’ we can still all come together over.  It’s a cornerstone in our family construct.

Thank you, Mr. Blake Edwards, fer creatin’ somethin’ of such bondin’ an’ identifyin’ strength fer my family… an’ fer all the good memories of watchin’ it with my family as well.

Adios.

Talkin' Puppies

"The vanity of teaching often tempteth man to forget he is a blockhead." - George Savile

know I’s guilty, lately at least, of yakkin’ a lot ‘bout edumacation an’ it’s various and divers elements.  I figger, though, that I can get some kinder ticket ter ride with that there subject since I’s spend so much of my life involved in it.  In a way, the world of the high school classroom is kinda a microcosm fer society in general so’s there’s a lotter correlative observations I can make ‘tween the two.  Therefore I seem ter look at the world often thru them experiences in the workplace.  Yup.

Today, though, I gots some personal gripin’ ter do concernin’ some opinions I done figger ignorant folks oughtter just keep ter themselves where views on teachin’ is the focus.  If I had a doller fer ever’time I done heard (or been the recipient of) some remark ‘bout teachin’ bein’ easy an’ havin’ unwarranted fringe benefits such as summer vacation an’ whatnot, I’d be a rich man.

Part the First –

When I wuz a lot younger, I used ter hear a phrase thrown ‘round quite a bit in would-be professional circles.  This phrase wuz “Those who can’t, teach.”  ‘Member that one?  I still hear it sometimes. But not with quite the frequency it seemed ter float ‘round in them days of the waning 20^th century.  I’m figgerin’ it were prolly birthed by the fact, at least within California, that in them 1980s an’ whatnot, the state had a shortage of teachers ter adequately accommodate their swelling student populace an’ so’s they wuz givin’ teachin’ jobs ter just ‘bout anybody who wanted ter try the task on fer size.  Remember them “emergency credentials” an’ all that?

Well, anyone with some 20/20 can prolly figger out in lookin’ back that such behavior on the part of them governmental types prolly weren’t the best course of action, an’ I ain’t gonner deny that education suffered from a lotter people who shouldn’t a been teachers getting’ inter a classroom an’ passin’ on their inabilities ter young people.  But I’d like ter point out that, even though there’s a lotter complainin’ ‘bout the new requirements bein’ established fer teacher-types in order ter keep their jobs within the past decade, a lot of them folks who should never have been in the classroom is bein’ weeded out perty successfully.  These days, if’n you wanner teach, it’s a perty difficult position ter achieve (not ter mention maintain).

The big mistake on the part of tryin’ ter “emergency credential” folks basically lay in the premise that if someone wuz good at some skill er had some knowledge of some subject matter, they could teach it.  Believe you me, that just ain’t the case.  Remember all them lousy teachers an’ perfessers you had when you wuz a schoolgoer?  All them folks who really knew their subject, but just couldn’t make it make sense to you?  Yeah, them folks.  Believe you me, teachin’ is a skill an’ an art form all in itself.  Just ‘cuz you is a prize winnin’ novelist don’t mean you’d be any good at teachin’ English.  An’ just cuz you werk fer NASA don’t mean you’d be any good at teachin’ celestial science er the like.  It’s a big misnomer.

So’s, I do gotter give some credit ter the teacher-trainin’ programs an’ whatnot these days in tryin’ ter provide some trainin’ ter newcomers in “how to teach”, an’ I won’t protest too much against policy bein’ designed ter try an’ ensure that folks who find themselves at the head of a classroom are at least beneficial ter a youth’s schoolgoin’ experience.  I ain’t gonner claim there ain’t any exceptions, an’ sure, I’m certain there are folks who have managed to continue slippin’ under the radar somehows… an’ then there’s tenure, of course.  But fer the most part, these days, have some faith that there is at least some attempt bein’ made ter ensure that people who is getting’ inter the classroom is at least bein scrutinized an’ held ter some kinda standard.

It sure helps ter have some know-how, an’ maybe some life experience, in the case of teachin’ some subject matter.  But please discard the notion that teachin’ is just somethin’ that could be easily performed on the side by a professional.  Teachin’ is its own beast.  Trust me on that one.

Part the Second-

The other night my better half an’ I is sittin’ watchin’ some movie, an’ this here movie involved a lotter bits where these fellers who wuz workin’ at a regular 9 ter 5-ish type job wuz standin’ ‘round shootin’ the breeze an’ goofin’ off.  Now, ever’one knows that these kinda behaviors aren’t exactly the most desirable ter a discerning entrepreneur havin’ ter hire employees they is countin’ on ter be part of a profit-makin’ enterprise, but the fact of the matter is that this stuff goes on in every kinda job environment!

Yup.  It don’t matter where you werk.  Some of the day is certainly spent under the guise of bein’ a productive employee attendin’ ter responsibilities, but another gigantic portion of the day is just spent jerkin’ off.  It happens everywhere.  It duzn’t matter if’n you werk fer a fast food joint, a technology service provider, a retail establishment… hell, even the post office an’ the bank an’ the doggone court house is guilty of this kinda bizness bein’ perpetrated by employees.  Hospitals?  Check.  The Pentagon?  I’m certain.

An’ movies an’ television shows an’ comic strips (like Dilbert) unveil this not-so-sekrit-sekrit.  Employees dick around at all levels of the professional world.  They stand around an’ talk at the water cooler, go to the bathroom an’ hang out in the stall readin’ the paper, take extended lunches, stand behind the shop in the alley puffin’ on cancer sticks… it happens everywhere.

Except teaching.

Have you ever considered that from the moment the school day starts in the mornin’ ter the moment the bell rings ter release the childrens onter unsuspecting society again in the afternoon, every moment of a teacher’s time is accounted fer?  Yup.  There’s no loungin’ around talkin’ ter other teachers at inopportune times, there’s no runnin’ off ter the shitter whenever you feel the urge, there’s no clockin’ in 3 minutes late an’ sneakin’ ter yer cubicle in an attempt ter avoid the verbal thrashin’ yer manager oughtter lambaste you with.  Nope.  You sign in three minutes late in the mornin’ as a teacher an’ there are forty maturity-lacking adolescents makin’ a scene in the hallway outside yer classroom door… an’ believe you me, since it’s yer job ter be in charge of them yahoos from the moment that bell rings, there is a good rakin’ over the coals in yer future if’n that situation happens.

An’ that’s the way it is fer the rest of the day as a teacher, folks.  Fer six hours you’s accountable fer this er that group of 30 ter 40-some-odd children who all try as hard as they can ter make the education experience as unsuccessful as possible (keep in mind that if they can keep from actively learning anything over the course of a class period, they have succeeded).  Not to mention that they’s children.  It ain’t 30 er 40 adults (er even semi-adults) you are dealin’ with, folks.  They’s CHILDREN!  Immature, unsensible, compulsive, unfocused, continually distracted.  And on no level can you truly relate ter them becuz that part of yer life is long past.

But, I’s gettin’ ahead of myself a bit.  I is just tryin’ ter make the point that there is no time durin’ a teacher’s day where he or she is not accountable ter the needs an’ whims of a classroom full of children.  Okay… that’s a lie… most teachers get 29 minutes a day fer lunch where they can associate with other adults.  Praise God fer small mercies.

So remember that the next time you are sittin’ in yer cubicle perusin’ yer emails an’ that Tommy’s Chili Cheese Fries from midnight starts rumblin’ in yer lower intestine an’ no one questions the fact that you’s gotter get up an’ head ter the toilet before you’s load yer drawers with the deserved punishments of yer dietary infractions.

Part the Third-

Which brings me ter the conclusion of my observation… the notion that teachin’ is an easy gig ‘cuz teachers get that fringe benefit of a few elongated breaks over the course of the school year.

Here’s the primary thing most folks never realize ‘bout teachin’.  In almost every other profession, an employee works with coworkers who are (ter some degree er another) of a similar level of maturity.  I ain’t sayin’ that everyone is at the same state of life experience er even at similar states of adulthood, but at least most of the people you will end up werkin’ with in the professional world, from flippin’ burgers on up, are at least outter high school an’ startin’ ter accumulate some life experience beyond the classroom bubble.  They’s out an’ about an’ werkin’ at figgerin’ out life ter some degree er another.  But in the teachin’ profession, one spends nearly their entire day with little human beings that are nowhere near a similar level of mental interaction.

Imagine this scenario.  Say yer werkin’ at Steelyermunny Banks Inc. in some cubicle shuffling pie graphs an’ columnar charts, right?  Well, say you’s been werkin’ there fer a few years.  You certainly ain’t no young whippersnapper still tryin’ ter figger out math analysis, but you ain’t no old man ready ter retire yet, either.  You’s just livin’ out life an’ figgerin’ yer step by step path like the next guy.  Right?  Well, you’s meander over ter the water cooler one afternoon after an arduous check up on yer email an’ the ten day forecast an’ who do ya run inter but the new guy, Joe Schmoe, who werks in customer service.

Well, you’s an’ Joe done crossed paths before.  He’s an intern type who’s attendin’ the local junior college werkin’ on the transferable general ed requirements fer a BA in accountin’.  You figger he’s an alright kid fer bein’ 21 an’ still tryin’ ter get over the starry disposition of finally not havin’ ter pay the hipster bum outside the likker store ter purchase alcohol fer him an’ his buddies.  He certainly ain’t someone you’d consider trustin’ management of yer mutual funds to yet, but you’s have certainly shot the breeze ‘bout football scores, articles in the Wall Street Journal, datin’ experiences, an’ who ya consider ter be the most important contribution ter modern music, film, an’ literature.

So you get the picture.  Sure, you’s a few years apart (maybe even more’n a few), but yer both inhabitin’ the same world an’ tryin’ ter find yer way ‘round in it an’ are both in a position ter be makin’ independent decisions an’ whatnot.  Hell, you’d prolly even go out an’ grab a beer er four with the feller an’ not feel like you wuz operatin’ way below yer level of societal inneraction.  Yer both basically adults an’ can see the world through them semi-adult-tinted goggles.

Guess what?  Minors… perty much teenagers in general, but we’ll narrow it down just plain ter minors… is not in the same league as yer coworker, Joe Schmoe.  They’s perty much hormone pumpin’ scatterbrains with absolutely no concept of cause an’ effect, accountability, responsibility, an’ completely lack the verbal skills ter even put their confusion an’ frustrations inter intelligible phraseology (that’s why they draw phalluses on ever’thing… it’s a summary of their frustrations; the attempt, if you will, to draw society’s attention ter their personal frustrations by engaging in the most offensive activity they can muster: drawin’ penises in opportune places).  If you will, high school (an’ younger) aged childrens is perty much comparable ter talkin’ puppies.  They want yer approval an’ they want ter succeed, but their success or failure at acquiring said goals seems perty much related ter some kinda Pavlovian trial an’ error mess.  Yeah, I said talkin’ puppies.

An’ a teacher spends perty much six hours a day locked up in a room with no social interaction of any kind ‘cept with these underdeveloped, socially awkward, vying, spastic, limit-pushin’, button-pushin’ little people.  Can you imagine?  There wuz a period of time right after I started my position as a classroom teacher that I realized I wuz so immersed in the level of my students that I found myself fergettin’ how ter do simple content tasks correctly an’ fallin’ inter the situation of makin’ their common errors in my own work.  It wuz terrifying!

Yup.  All day long.  Cooped up with adolescents.  I ain’t so sure you can even imagine the situation without doin’ it yerself.  You, of course, is gonner argue that there are all sortsa adult types within the teachin’ institution.  There’re other teachers, counselors, principals, assistant principals, deans, custodians, plant managers… the list goes on an’ on… but you gotter unnerstand that a teacher don’t never SEE these other folks.  Lemme give you an example.  Here’s what my standard day looks like right now:

8:23am

8:23 is the grail of kronocentric thinkin’ in my school environment.  That’s the time in the mornin’ ya gotter be signed in.  If’n you ain’t signed the time card by 8:23am you start gettin’ docked in 8 minute increments.  I’s am usually slidin’ in right ‘bout 8:17 er so, sayin’ good mornin’ ter the office manager, checkin’ the mailbox, an’ then it’s off ter the classroom ter get ready fer the day.

8:30am

This is when 1^st period starts.  All my students is’sposed ter be situated an’ ready ter go when the bell sounds at this momentous time.  We’s say the flag salute an’ then fer the next 82 minutes, it’s just me an’ them.

9:52am – 9:58am

Right after 1^st period comes the passin’ period.  This means that fer the next six minutes students is leavin’ their 1^st period whereabouts an’ arrivin’ at their 2^nd period whereabouts.  Theoretically I should be able ter run ter the faculty restroom in this time, but the students comin’ an’ goin’ perty much overlap an’ there ain’t much time ter do nuthin’ ‘cept get situated fer the next 82 minutes.

9:58am

At 9:58, 2^nd period starts.  Students are all ‘sposed ter be situated an’ ready ter go an’ we spend the next 82 minutes wrestlin’ with whatever it is we’s ‘sposed ter be accomplishin’ that day.  Once again, just me an’ them.

11:20am – 11:26am

This is another passin’ period.  At this time, 2^nd period done clears out an’ my Advisory comes on in.

11:26am

Advisory starts.  Fer the follwin’ 29 minutes I done shepherd a group of students towards the eventual goal of graduation.  The purpose is outside the current focus, but once again, it’s just me an’ them.

11:55am

Students done clear out an’ head ter Lunch!

12:00pm – 12:29pm

Yeehaww!  29 minutes fer lunch!  If I is lucky an’ a good manager of my time I can manage ter squeeze in microwaving my lunch fer 5 minutes, makin’ a run ter the facilities, eatin’ my lunch, AND spendin’ a few minutes conversatin’ with whichever of my coworkers is in the lunchroom.  A whole 29 minutes of potential adult interaction!  I repeat:  Yeeehawww!

12:29pm – 12:35pm

Passin’ period ter 3^rd.  Fightin’ through student-crowded halls ter get back ter the classroom.  Kinda like a salmon swimmin’ upstream, I figger,

12:35pm – 1:58pm

3^rd period.  Same as 1^st and 2^nd.  Just me an’ them.

1:58pm – 3:26pm

4^th period… my conference… I get ter sit alone fer awhile an’ grade an’ figger out how I is gonner make it all werk out again the followin’ day.

3:26pm

Yeehaww!  The end of the day.  A surge in optimum health is followed by the soonest possible departure from the workplace… sometimes I can escape as early as 3:45pm, but more typically, with plannin’ an’ followin’ up an’ gradin’ I make it out ‘bout 5pm er so.  Keep in mind I quit getting’ paid at 3:31 er some odd time.

Yup.  Lessee… that’s roughly 300 minutes I spend a day with the talkin’ puppies who, by sheer force of numbers, are tryin’ ter get me functionin’ down ‘round their level.  82 official on-the-clock minutes I done spend by my lonesome gradin’ an’ plannin’.  An’ then there’s that nice 29 minutes er so when I actually have the opportunity ter associate with intellectually developed adult-type persons.

I dunno.  Speakin’ from experience, eventually the nerves an’ psyche can become a lil bit frayed an’ worn out.  Them talkin’ puppies ain’t no docile, passive audience.  They fight you, they fight each other, they try every opportunity ter drive the course of study off track.  It’s a struggle.  An’ it’s just you an’ them.  All day long.

Lookin’ at it this way, is it any wonder that the teachin’ profession builds in deliberate time away from the subject of the job?  After awhile, even the most intellectually developed, most matured adult starts ter get worn down an’ finds themselves suddenly thinkin’ like their students… their mental abilities worn down an’ handicapped by constant an’ continual contact an’ interaction with mentality operating at a far lower level (not always by choice, mind you).  It’s downright frightenin’ when you suddenly become aware of the fact that yer mentality is slippin’; that you are dumbin’ down.

That’s what education vacation is really about, folks.  It’s not some cushy fringe-benefit.  It’s a necessary increment of time teachin’ professionals need ter immerse themselves back inter adult, mentally developed, relatively mature social structure!  It’s the only time durin’ the course of the educational program where a teacher can escape the constant assault of assertive underdeveloped mental state and spend extended periods of time recuperating an’ recoverin’ their faculties.

Without summer break, winter break, Thanskgivin’ break, spring break… teachers would prolly very quickly be reduced ter blubberin’ an’ spittlin’ zombies, their psychological processes rendered defeated by the onslaught of talkin’ puppies.

Now, ‘fore I go, I wanner make sure that no one misinterprets my intentions (as is often the case) where this diatribe is concerned.  I ain’t complainin’ ‘bout my job.  I gotter admit that it may very well be the most stressful thing I ever done, an’ I get frustrated often with what seems like some unrealistic expectations that are made of me an’ my fellow professionals by folks who don’t really know what’s goin’ on, but I like the job of teachin’.  If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t be doin’ it.  There are a whole helluva lotter easier professions ter get inter and stay inter than teachin’.  My purpose here is ter point out that there are parts of the profession that are not known or understood by the ganderin’ public eye.  A teacher may get somethin’ like 14 er 15 weeks away from their students durin’ the course of a school year, but never mistake that fer some kinda howdy-doody-ness wrangled out of the job’s structure.  When one stops ter think about it, vacation’s purpose as a mentally recuperative period fer a teacing professional ter maintain their edge an’ their sanity oughtter be perty doggone obvious.

The joke may go that the three best things ‘bout teachin’ is June, July, an’ August, but the truth of the matter is that the three most necessary things to make teachin’ effective are those vacation time periods.

- Squeezebox Sam

Frenemies

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” – Proverbs 27:6

o’s I might be a right Johnny-Come-Lately ter all this, but I have been usin’ the term “frenemies” fer a bit now in referrin’ ter certain associative conditions I witness within my classroom populaces.  Y’see, as there wuz when you wuz in the educational system (an’ in reality, I think it exists throughout any kind of system where groups of peoples gotter coordinate an’ cooperate with one another fer the supposed greater good), there is folks who is just plain at the bottom of the social barrel due ter their inability ter… lessee… shall we call it “giddy yup”?

Yeah.  You know.  Them folks who, through whatever misfortunate set of circumstances that has done befelled them, just can’t seem ter get with the program an’ make it werk fer them.  This could include everyone from them folks who’s gots an undiagnosed learnin’ disability of some sort (an’ some who’s right diagnosed but won’t utilize any of the measures available ter them ter cope with it) ter them kindsa folks that have just used their class clowniness ter manage ter get through what they perceive as a difficult and undesirable period of life.

The problem is that, typically, these students who’s done spent a lotter time tryin’ ter draw attention away from whatever it is they may be strugglin’ with, exercise their cover-up by pokin’ fun at and drawin’ attention towards other potential victims within the classroom environment.  By the time these clowns get ter high school, however, they’s developed a keen radar fer them folks who is gonna ferret them out an’ try ter make them the focus of the joke, an vise versa, an’ instead of creatin’ some kinder takin’-sides feud, they kinder band together an’ create an’ odd relationship where each permits themselves ter be the laughin’ stock in a kinder takin’-turns basis.  This way they lie ter themselves an’ make out that they is laughin’ tergether rather than at each other… it’s better ter be part of the joke than the butt of the joke, if’n you catch my drift.

You see ‘em in the schoolyard durin’ break periods.  They don’t really have conversations with each other.  They don’t really have anything to talk about since they don’t really actually give one doggone about what’s happenin’ with each other.  They just wanner keep one another at bay so’s they don’t fall prey of bein’ in the outcrowd.  So’s they stand around tergether, usually in a line with their backs ter a wall (practicin’ fer the police line-up, I ‘spose) lookin’ out inter the world tryin’ ter find targets they can agree as a group are worthy of their efforts to use as victims with which to draw attention away from their own perceived inanities.

Hence my labeling of them as “frenemies”.  They ain’t really friends, but instead band tergether inter an uneasy alliance so they’s kin keep track of what the others are doin’ an’ not hafter worry ‘bout bein’ outcasts of some sort er another.  A manifestation of that age old adage ‘bout keepin’ yer friends close but yer enemies closer, I ‘spose.  Practicin’ fer the world beyond high school when they’s all gotter claw each other ter shreds in climbin’ some lamely conceptualized social ladder.

Anyhow, what spurred this here bit of musin’ wuz my sittin’ ‘round listenin’ ter an episode of “This American Life” one afternoon that actually focused on this idea of frenemies.  There wuz some innerestin’ things this here episode brought up that are worthy of mention.  One of them is that, apparently, the definition of the word as it is bein’ worked inter the English lexicon is done bein’ developed as a concept where people done associate on a regular basis with folks they’s feel ambivalent towards.  “They” say that ambivalence seems to be the new route of human association as folks find themselves with fewer friendships outside the workplace an’ whatnot, an’ that 50% of the   people an average person associates with on a regular basis are folks he or she done feels ambivalent towards!

Imagine that!  50% of the people we’s associate with regularly are folks we’s both like AND hate at the same time.  No wonder society’s all screwed up as of late.  Har har.  But seriously, what a thing ter contemplate, hatin’ 50% of the folks you deal with on a regular basis, but havin’ ter like them at the same time, fer whatever the reason.

Accordin’ ter some study quoted in the episode, people walked around with blood pressure monitorin’ equipment on an’ it wuz discovered that when folks come inter contact with someone they’s ambivalent towards their blood pressure done raises more’n than when they come inter contact with someone they actually out an’ out hate.  Logical, I ‘spose, but just imagine how stressed out yer gonner be if’n 50% of the folks you deal with on a regular basis create that kinda reaction in you.  Doggone if’n that don’t rub my fur backwards!

The program also suggested that it ain’t as easy ter remove these here frenemy-istic ambivalent relationships from one’s life as it would seem.  Apparently folks come up against a lotter external type barriers ter getting’ away from them, such as the fact they gotter work with said person, or as in the cases I see all the time, spend six hours a day in the classroom with ‘em.  Also, it sez there’s internal factors of self-perception involved in gittin’ rid of them as well, such as people figurin’ they’s bein’ the bigger an’ better person fer goin’ on with toleratin’ the person who is drivin’ them batty, an’ also figgerin’ that the other person oughtter “man up” and break the doggone thing off themselves rather than makin’ it the victim’s responsibility.

Perty strange.

Anyhows, at this point I is just ramblin’.  Just somethin’ ter think about.  Frenemies.  Apparently we’s all got ‘em.

Here’s the link ter the episode if’n yer innerested.  I found the poetry bit which makes up the third chapter perty innerstin’.  The feller sez that human beings is creatures of contact… an’ whether we’s “kiss or we wound” we’s gotter come tergether.  Somethin’ ter think ‘bout, I ‘spose.

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/389/frenemies

Yup.

-Squeezebox Sam

Education Burger

oday I wanner bitch about education.  As some of you may know, I gots an alternative identity that I spend most of my time pretendin’ ter be.  Y’know the case.  Like Batman.  When Batman ain’t busy bein’ Batman he’s this tycoon-ish feller named Bruce Wayne.  Bruce Wayne is sorter Batman’s day job.  It’s how he pays the bills he racks up while bein’ Batman.  Me, I like ter strap on an accordion an’ aurally terrorize the general public as much as the next feller, but I gotter hold down a day job as well.  All this accordion squeezin’ fer free don’t come cheap.

So’s I teach.  I teach fer the Los Angeles Unified School District.  Now, despite what the know-it-alls-who-don’t really-know-nuthin’ have ter say on what seems a perty regular basis these days, Los Angeles Unified ain’t all bad.  In fact, despite all the shit-slingin’ goin’ around, I am not so sure that education in California in general is as bad as it is made out ter be.  It’s kinda like Babylon, I figger.  Babylon were prolly a perty good gig ‘til God decided ter execute some judgment on it an’ that there writin’ on the wall appeared.  So’s we gots some writin’ on the wall as of late where education in California is concerned.  That don’t mean all is lost, but I am figgerin’ there’s gotter be some attention paid ter the writin’ itself.  That is if anyone in this state can still read.  But I guess that there statement I just made may just very well contradict my typical natural state of cynical optimism.  I is just bein’ contrary.

Now, these thoughts may be kinder scatterbrained.  I dunno that I am even attemptin’ ter make a singular thesis.  There’s just some things I been mullin’ over that I need ter get out of my head an’ out there inter the world.  So don’t be lookin’ fer no logical an’ well thought out tour de force er nuthin’.  I is just thinkin’.  An’ sometimes that’s dangerous.

First of all, leastways I see it, if there’s a problem with education in Los Angeles Unified, it’s primarily a situation of downright top heaviness.  I mean, who ARE all them folks in the Beaudry buildin’ an’ what is it exactly that they do all day?  I know there’s constant talk ‘bout teachers bein’ paid too much fer the supposedly cake-ish job they do, but in relative cost terms, there’s a whole lotter more money bein’ spent in that there downtown girder an’ concrete monument than there is out here in the trenches.

Case in point:  I have a friend who quit LAUSD a few years back ter go inter teachin’ at the community college level.  Well, a few weeks back he gets a letter in the mail (forwarded, ‘cuz he’s long since moved) from Los Angeles Unified an’ this here letter sez they overpaid him 10,000 dollars!!  10,000 doggone dollars!!

An’ the clincher is that there ain’t no explanation.  It’s just a letter sayin’ basically:

“When you werked fer us we done overpaid ya 10,000 dollars.  Tell us how you’d like ter pay it back.  If you decide not ter pay us, we’ll sue you.”

An’ that’s it.  I mean, what in Tarnation is goin’ on with that?  10,000 dollars is like three net paychecks.  My friend don’t remember there bein’ no radical overpayments on any of his stubs, so’s it musta been some error that done went on fer a long time.  So what LAUSD is sayin’ is that they overpaid him a net amount of 10 grand over some long period of time, an’ then it took someone THREE YEARS ter realize they done overpaid him?  And now they gonner come lookin’ ter extract the supposed overpaid amount… with no explanation as ter how it happened… no explanation as ter when it happened…  no explanation at all.  Is we serious?

I’ll tell ya what I think.  Not that you asked, but yer readin’ this so’s I’ll go on an’ tell ya anyhow.  I think that in all this budget crisis-ness the District is done gettin’ desperate, an’ ‘stead of coughin’ up at the top, where the money is, they’s done goin’ after the little guy as seems perty typical these days.  I mean, how’s my friend gonner work this bit out?  Hire a lawyer?  Try to face down the Evil Empire?  I would put money on the possibility that he ain’t the only target an’ the District is just plannin’ on folks coughin’ it up ‘cuz they don’t even know wheres ter begin to fight it.

An’ I dunno if you’ve heard about the state of California an’ its furlough days beeswax er not.  If’n you’ve any dealin’s with the courts er the DMV er whatnot in the past year er so it’s prolly been in yer news, but fer those of you who ain’t awares, state employees is gettin’ unpaid involuntary vacations so’s the state can try an’ save money.  Well, now that’s done come down ter the teachin’ circuit an’ education employees is done takin’ furlough days as well (an’ the kids get reduced instructional time… a worthy sacrifice in their eyes, I ‘spose, but I guarantee it ain’t helpin’ their success in the world none).  The clincher, of course, is that the Bureaucrats is nobly takin’ their furlough day breaks as well… but in my opinion, a furlough hack out of a 50,000 dollar a year job sure has a helluva lot more sting than a furlough hack out of some 6 digit income.  Since they started invokin’ them furlough days late last school fiscal year I do believe I’m under some 2,700 net dollars er so.  That’s a lotter money to have evaporate on ya in a four er five month period.  An’ now Obramara wants me ter start payin’ income tax on the health benefits the District pays fer me?  I dunno… s’startin’ ter rankle a lil bit.

Anyhow, yeah, top-heavy.  That’s what I wuz yakkin’ about.

An’ then there’s the classroom philosophy that’s bein’ passed down the line itself.  Didja know that America is one of them few countries in the world where the intent of education is ter behave as if ever single person who comes through the system done has the ability (an’ the assumed desire, mind ya) ter learn just like everybody else.  All participants in the education system in America is expected ter operate at the exact same level of skill.  An’ on top of that, the world ain’t doin’ a whole lot ‘cept gettin’ bigger an’ more complicated so’s the amount of “bein’ good at a little bit of everythin’” that’s expected out of school-going youth today is way bigger than what I had ter deal with just a decade an’ a half er so ago.  What’s that bit about knowledge doublin’ every decade er so?  Is there really the expectation that school-going youth is gonner keep expandin’ the embracing capabilities of its brain ter keep up with the technical an’ technological an’ social advancements of world society on every single doggone front??

The American Education system seems ter think so… but then here in California it seems dead set on rammin’ every student through a liberal arts crash course with the intention of turnin’ every one of them inter some sorter super-scholar that is just gonner wanner learn stuff ‘cuz learnin’ makes ya a better person er some such balderdash.  At least they better wanna be smart fer their own sake ‘cuz there sure as hell ain’t the job availability that supports the supposed “sky’s the limit” paradigm that keeps gettin’ dangled in front of them like some cosmic carrot.

An’ where technology education is concerned, get this one:

I dunno how well you know what’s goin’ on in Los Angeles Unified, but a few years back the whole schmear decided it wuz gonner join the technology age an’ get itself online.  So along came lausd.net an’ now everything is tryin’ ter be accomplished in the world of www.  Even roll an’ grades have done moved on over ter the innernut domain an’ we teachers done gotter mark students present er absent online at the beginnin’ of class.  Perty swanky an’ technologically savvy I ‘spose, perhaps a doggone down an’ dirty pillar-istic example of acknowledging the importance of technology advancement and its necessity in the workin’s of modern society.

But the problem is that, as with all things California an’ education oriented… an’ magnified manifold within LAUSD itself… it ain’t the top-of-the-line-best-money-can-buy kinda thing you would think the precious denizens of tomorrow would deserve.  An’ so, the damn thing is regularly glitchy, runnin’ intolerably slow, er just plain down fer the count.

Students more than ever seem ter not be buyin’ inter the “education in California has yer best interest in mind an’ therefore you oughtter participate willingly becuz all we wanner do is help ya develop the skills ya need ter be successful in life after the education system”, an’ believe me that an on-campus innernut connectivity that is surpassed by the set-up they could access at any friend’s house don’t serve none ter eradicate their doubts.  How can they believe that the education system done has their best innerests in mind when it won’t even shell out the money ter insure they’ve got the best possible resources ter help them develop the supposed necessary skills ter move this country inter the 21^st century?

Honestly.

An’ then there’s test scores.  Did you know that there ain’t no personal accountability fer the mandated test-takin’ student?  The government done hands a school-goin’ youth, who prolly don’t wanner be in school ter begin with (I mean, think of all the more fun an’ more desirable things you wanted ter do instead of goin’ ter school when you wuz that age), an’ expects them ter apply themselves at their best possible level… even though there ain’t no intrinsic motivation fer them ter do so?  Try tellin’ a school goin’ youth: “You should try yer best at this here evaluative test the government wants ya ter take becuz the government wants ter see how capable you are of bein’ tested on all the information you’s ‘sposed ter be learnin’ in school… but it don’t count fer a grade er nuthin’… just do yer best becuz you should want ter do yer best.”

Yeah… right.  Sounds perty plausible that they’s gonner expend maximum effort on some test that don’t determine whether they’s gonner get a good job, get a reward… hell, them tests don’t even determine if’n they can graduate er not.  The only one they worry about is the California High School Exit Exam (the CAHSEE) becuz they can’t get their diploma without passin’ it, but many students are so attuned ter the meaningless of governmental evaluations that they can’t even muster the effort ter pass that one the doggone first time around.

An’ my reputation as a good teacher is gonner be determined by whether er not some damn adolescent WANTS ter do their best on some unrewarded test?  Come on, now.

So, what else… lessee… oh yeah… in case you don’t know this, the educational institution is perty much a two-fold entity.  It has the job of both teachin’ youngin’s content (that’d be the regular ol’ readin’, writin’, arithmetic bizness) AND socialization.  Think about it.  Where do young people learn ‘bout how ter behave in a place that ain’t home before they move on out inter the outside world if’n it ain’t at school?  They’s are ‘sposed ter be exercisin’ their abilities of interaction and performance in a professional environment.

Now, the problem with this here situation that has arisen in recent decades is that my job as a teacher has become more an’ more focused on teachin’ appropriate behavioral practices than it is on teachin’ content.  Basically I spend a lotter classroom time tryin’ ter teach them damn kids just plain how’s ter behave in some kinder environment that ain’t “hangin’ with the homies on the street corner”, an’ believe me, they don’t like it one bit.  Somehow young folks of today, at least in the urban environment I deal with on a daily basis, ain’t seemin’ ter get any kinder trainin’ in social graces anywheres but in the classroom… an’ on top of that, since they’s KNOW that kinder thing ain’t ‘sposed ter be the responsibility of the classroom, they’s protest and challenge it bein’ taught.

A good example is one of my coworkers’ stories from the other day.  She sez some knucklehead comes inter class bein’ rowdy an’ uncouth an’ she admonishes him:

“Please sit down an’ be quiet.  Class is about ter start.”

An’ this young feller retorts with:

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?  This is geometry class.  You ain’t ‘sposed ter be teachin’ manners!”

Case in point.  Just what is these kids doin’ in the time they ain’t bein’ wrangled in the classroom?  What kinda behavioral instruction is they getting’ out in the world outside of the educational institution an’ when did it become the educational institution’s primary responsibility ter teach them simple things such as respect, diligence, connectivity, an’ perseverance?  An’ who’s let ‘em get away with this ridiculous lack of discipline fer so long that they come ter high school in such a rag tag fashion?  When did I become an executor of policy ‘stead of an imparter of knowledge?

Who knows.

I’ll tell ya one thing.  I do have a fear fer the future, cuz it ain’t lookin’ ter be as bright as it used ter be.

Hmmm… am I done?

No, wait… I almost fergot ‘bout overcrowdin’.  So’s, we all knows of course that over the past few decades the focus of the educational institution (cuz every young person is able ter be brought up ter the same level of skill and ability with just a lil extra effort on the part of educators) has been personalized an’ individual instruction, right?  Yup.  Educators is ‘sposed ter be makin’ education more effective than ever by spendin’ time with each student as an individual an’ craftin’ the curriculum ter fit like a glove fer the learnin’ needs of each individual student.  This is to ensure that every student not only gets an equal shake, but also ter make sure that every student can answer them non-personalized questions on them standardized tests the government (an’ the L.A. Times an’ Daily News) done puts so much value in.

Well, it don’t seem like such a bad idea… but howzit when ya consider that just five years ago it were required in 9^th grade that there be a ratio of only 29 ter 1?  That’s a lotter students ter try an’ get to on a regular basis within a 56 er 82 minute class period every day.  But it ain’t so bad as nowadays where it’s legal ter have a ratio of upwards of 42 ter 1 in the classroom at any grade level.  Anyone else think this is startin’ ter undermine the established principle of personalized classroom experience?

Let’s do some math, doggone it.  It ain’t my strong point, but I figger this is straightforward enuff that I can work it out fer us.  Currently, I teach three 82 minute class periods a day.  I’m one of the lucky ones an’ have a class average of ‘bout 35 students.  That means that within a single class period, I have ‘bout two and a half minutes a day ter work with each student independently.  That’s ‘bout eleven minutes an’ some odd seconds per week that I can devote ter each student individually per week.  Well… that duzn’t seem so bad, eh?  What am I complainin’ about?

Well, when am I ‘sposed ter teach, doggone it?  Say I’s got 410 total minutes available fer each class period per week.  That duzn’t seem so bad, right?  I mean, even if it takes me five minutes a period per day ter take roll an’ get them doggies settled down an’ werkin’, I still’s got 385 minutes of instructional time a week ter divide ‘tween content an’ addressin’ student needs… yup.  Well… how’s ‘bout I be conservative an’ I say I spend twenty minutes er so a day in direct instruction.  That werks out ter a hunnerd minutes er so of weekly instructional time, leavin’ me with 285 minutes.  That’s still 57 minutes a day I oughtter be able ter focus on independent werk an’ werkin’ with students on an individual basis.  Lessee… with an average of 35 students per class, that gives me 1.6 minutes er so per kid per day.  Wow.  That’s eight minutes per week per student that I oughtter be able ter address all their questions an’ git ‘em up ter speed fer the government expectation that they’s all gonner be Rhodes Scholars an’ make the United States proud beyond comparison with the rest of the world… an’ all on a shoestring budget.

Oh, wait… I fergot that I surrender 69 minutes of classtime a week ter my own required professional development.  That’s where us teacher types are required ter go sit in a room with other teacher types an’ discuss how best ter address our student population with the resources we’ve got.  Sometimes time well spent… most of the time it’s time just spent.  But it adjusts our factorin’… lessee… minus the 69 minutes I get left with 341 minutes of class time… minus that there 25 minutes fer orientin’ everythin’ makes 316… minus the twenty minutes of a period spent directly instructin’ them childrens makes 216 minutes… which leaves a whoppin’ total of six minutes an’ some number of seconds I am able ter focus on each student individually over the course of a week.  An’ that ain’t takin’ inter account the nuances of classroom interruptions, behavioral problems, fire an’ earthquake drills, funny schedules fer standardized testin’, students who think it’s alright ter pack up fer leavin’ five minutes ‘fore the bell rings, an’ tryin’ ter squeeze in opportunities fer them ter learn how ter operate at a professional level with one another.  An’ don’t even get me started on time allotted fer writin’…

An’ that’s just what I get paid fer.  What ‘bout all the gradin’ an’ editin’ an’ course plannin’ an’ whatnot I do when I’m OFF the doggone clock?  I dunno.  Wouldn’t it just seem ter make sense that maybe, if’n we’s got these high expectations of all our American school children, it would pay ter have a smaller ratio of students ter teachers?  I mean, these broods already gots problems just plain knowin’ how ter behave in the educational an’ professional environment, not ter mention a lack of innerest in even the general notion of education.  What good duz it do them ter jam ‘em as tight as possible inter a classroom permittin’ this an’ that one ter play avoidance, disruption, an’ ter slip unner the radar if they can mange it?

Seems kinder ridiculous.

Then there’s the “Avoidance of Failure by Deliberately NOT Trying” problem.  Look, as the world has gotten bigger an’ harder ter pigeon-hole an’ categorize, it’s also gotten a lot scarier ter the youthful outlook.  A hunnerd years ago, supposedly all ya had ter worry ‘bout as a young person wuz whether er not ya groomed yerself an’ had good enuff manners ter be acceptable within the social circle.  Acquirin’ enuff vocabulary an’ know-how done went a long ways ter help keep ya from lookin’ like an ignoramus as well, I ‘spose.  But today, it almost seems that if’n ya don’t know what a computer mainframe is, er how fast (in kilometers per hour) the Earth rolls ‘round the Sun, it’s made out that yer gonner be a gigantic social failure. 

Let’s face it, test scores is getting’ waved in students’ faces aller the time, alertin’ them I ‘spose ter how little they ‘sposedly know (an’ this is aside from the fact that test scores is gettin’ waved in teachers’ faces aller the time supposedly alertin’ them ter what bad teachers they is).  Imagine if you wuz some kid who has been born inter a world that’s just plain too big ter get yer head ‘round, an’ on top of that you’s bein’ told constantly what a failure you is an’ how there ain’t no future fer you in modern society lessin’ you shape up an’ learn EXACTLY how ter use a semicolon… you wanner know what these youngin’s do when a test comes along then?  I’ll tell you.  They’s just don’t do it.

Yup.  You read that right.  They just don’t take that test, the results of which might further damage their self-esteem an’ let ‘em know again just what a giant failure they is when stood up against the government’s expectation that they needs ter be scholarly superhumans.  These are the students who put their heads down before the test even starts, play eenie-meenie-miney-moe with the bubble-in answer sheet, cause disruptions in the testing environment so they’s can escape… there are even some creative enuff ter create dot-matrix-ish pictures outer the bubble answers available ter them.

What’s the point of such behavior you might ask?  Well, the point for them is that if they don’t take the test seriously (or even take it at all) they can always say, “I didn’t fail that test.  It was lame.  I didn’t even bother trying.  Those results prove nothing about my scholarly abilities.”

Yup.  Can you even get yer head ‘round that one?

Alright… I’m ‘bout done.  Here’s some comedic pictures addressin’ my most irritatin’ classroom pet peeves.  They’s perty self explanatory.

-Squeezebox Sam

The Audacity of Some Folks

"Do not rich men oppress you, and draw you before the judgment seats?" - James 2:6

"Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?" - Yip Harburg

o’s the other day, The Omen O’Brien duz me the favor of drivin’ me on over ter COSTCO ter pick up some paper towels, some bottled water, an’ some ass-wipe.  Lemme tell ya, there ain’t too much ter make ya feel like a mighty hunter returnin’ from a successful foray inter the savage jungle like comin’ home with the trophy of a 36-roll package of toilet paper.  Which reminds me of a joke: 

So this Indian (a cowboy an' Indians Indian... not an India Indian) is at the reservation mercantile an' he is inquirin' 'bout what the cheapest possible toilet paper he can get is.  Well, the mercantile clerk, he done sez "Here's this no-name brand toilet paper.  It's the cheapest you can get." 

So the Indian buys a few rolls of it an' leaves.  A few days later, though, the Indian comes back an' tells the clerk "Y'know, I got a good name fer that no-name toilet paper you done sold me the other day."

"Oh yeah?" responds the clerk.  "What should its name be?"

"You should call it John Wayne toilet paper."

"Huh?  Why's that?"

"Cuz it's rough an' it's tough an' it don't take no shit off an Indian."

But I’m gettin’ off track.

So, as I wuz sayin’, the other day The Omen O’Brien is drivin’ me to COSTCO.  Why am I relyin’ on The Omen ter drive me to COSTCO you ask?  Well, as fate seems ter have it, my reward fer doin’ my part to save the earth by ridin’ my bicycle 12 miles round trip ever’ day ter work an’ back is that the battery in my motorvatin’ heap is right dead.  Yup.  The irony is right burnin’.  But I’m gettin’ off track again.

Alright, so the other day The Omen drives me on over ter the local COSTCO in his big red pick-up truck ter acquire a few household necessities that are helpful ter have in such plentifulness as ter make it worth the while ter acquire ‘em en masse from COSTCO.  But him bringin’ me ter COSTCO ain’t the focus of the rant I have to roll out.  What the real focus is, an’ I ‘spose it coulder happened just ‘bout anywheres so’s the whole bit about COSTCO is irrelevant anyhow, is that there wuz this feller standin’ there at the bottom of the entrance ramp ter the warehouse who’s I just gotter say somethin’ about.

You know the type.  Head ter toe in sparkly, overembroidered, overscreenprinted garb that renders anyone suited as such inter a walkin’ billboard fer a myriad of brand name nimroddery.  On the bottom the feller wuz sportin’ some overly baggy black acid-wash jeans with elaborate embroidery of crosses an’ vines an’ tribal-type whackiness on the thighs, the seams, and the buttocks atop a pair of them fancy, multi-paneled would-be exercise-come-basketball shoes that people were shootin’ each other fer in the late twentieth century.  On top the feller had a button up, tails-out black long sleeve shirt decorated in much the same fashion as his trousers an’ a high-perched cockeyed faux-weathered-an’-worn trucker cap emblazoned with some stylishness er another.  An’ don’t lemme ferget the “Love Kills Slowly” monikered factory-patinaed ruck-sack the feller had slung across his back.

So you get the picture, right?  You can see this feller in yer mind’s eye?  Well, as The Omen an’ I done wrangled a shoppin’ cart an’ passed by this guy, you’ll never believe what transpired.  As we pass by, the feller nonchalantly (an’ relatively understatedly, as I assume he were tryin’ ter avoid attractin’ the attention of the COSTCO employees ter his ploy) asks:

“Hey, you guys got a dollar?  Some spare change?  Help a brutha out?”

Now, I don’t make any claims ter bein’ the saltiest tortilla chip in the bag an’ this weren’t no moment of exception ‘cuz it took me a coupler seconds of movin’ past Mr. Ed Hardy hisself ‘fore it fully dawned on me as to what had just occurred.  I mean, I’ve done my fair share of passin’ on dollars an’ spare change ter fellers sportin’ cardboard signs at the bottom of the freeway ramp.  I’ve played the game of wonderin’ if they were really as hard up as they appeared an’ if their marks-a-lotted sob story were truth er not.  I’s even gone so far on occasion as ter drive the north San Fernando Valley’s resident homeless feller to the CVS an’ buy him his choice of wine.  I mean, who am I ter judge what the feller’s gonna spend his money on, eh?  An’ it’s a whole spot better than the sour feelin’ left in yer gut when ya spend some hard earned cash on a Happy Meal fer the hard-up guy who turns out to have no qualms ‘bout pitchin’ that meal inter a trash can soon’s as he figgers you ain’t lookin’ no more.

But I am digressin’ again.  What my original point wuz aimin’ at bein’ wuz the audacity of this here dude dressed in a wardrobe that prolly cost more’n the attire of The Omen an’ I put together askin’ ME fer a doggone spare dollar?  What the Hell?  Is this what we’s comin’ to?  Bums an’ homeless folk more fashionably and expensively dressed than a law abidin’, job-holdin’, upright citizen such as I?  I mean, figgerin’ that even a lowly Christian Audigier t-shirt done run 70 er 80 dollars, I’m figgerin’ a conservative estimate of the dude’s costume at somewhere’s ‘tween 300-400 dollars.  Opposedly, I wuz wearin’ a 5 dollar Salvation Army found Red Kap shirt, a pair of cut-off black slacks that prolly came from Ross er Marshalls a decade ago, an’ some Surplus Store acquired lace-up winos.  Hell, prolly the most expensive part of my wardrobe were my sale-find J Crew boxer shorts with robots on ‘em.  Don’t count my graying wife beater an’ once-white socks ‘gainst me none, if you please.  The Omen in black t-shirt an’ Dickies jean shorts prolly wuzn’t bustin’ the proverbial bank either.  As my nieces an’ nephews have become accustomed ter sayin’: “Even the week ends in WTF.”

I was admonished by my better half later on about how's I should unnerstand that peoples' priorities can be different from one another an' obviously bein' stylish wuz at the top of this panhandler's list.  Now, I can unnerstand that, but if'n yer gonna forego yer rent er yer grocery necessities in order ter outbling the guy next door, don't try an' foot yer bill with any kinda subsidization from my hard earned paycheck, thankyouverymuch.

Don’t mind me.  I didn’t say nuthin’ ter the guy.  I think all I managed wuz some kinda incredulous head shakin’ an’ a relay of the experience ter The Omen as we moved on inter the COSTCO.  But still, it’s been ranklin’ me righteously fer a few days now an’ I just had ter get it off my chest.

Time ter move on, I suppose.

Here’s some assistance fer those of you who need them visual aids…

Old Skool Homeless Guy and Dog Chic

New Skool Homeless Guy and Dog Chic

Yup.  The times they is a-changin' alright...

-Squeezebox Sam



It musta been one of them days...

 t's one of them rare occurences where I ain't gonner bitch none.  Surprisin', yes?  Unfortunately, I likely ain't gonner say much that's gonner interest the layman none, either.

Well, as some of you may know, I finally entered the realm of the iPod world about a year an' a half ago.  It weren't like I could afford it any more than I could in previous considerations, but it were a case of bite the bullet er lose all the hard work I put inter uploadin' my 1,000 CD collection ter the iTunes in my computer at work.  Heh.  Well, needless ter say, my 13,000 pieces of musical inspiration is doin' just fine these days packed away inter a lil iPod Classic.

That's 'side the point, though.  What I really wanner say is that I gotter admit that the iPod done changed the way I listen ter my music collection.  Puttin' that baby on shuffle has reminded me of stuff I got that I ain't listened to in a long time, sure, but it's also brought to my attention a lotter stuff I was fairly hazy on even ownin', ter say the least.  That's usually good, I must admit, but have ya noticed that most of the time that there shuffle is a skip-skip-skip kinder experience?  Sometimes that confounded lil bit of technology just refuses ter play anythin' I want ter listen to in an unexpected kinder manner.

But, this past Thursday, I turned that sucker on 'bout 2pm er so when my conference period started at work an' let it play straight through my gradin', email answerin', an' even the bicycle ride home (somethin' I don't typically condone).  An' I must admit, that there iPod didn't do me wrong.  Check out this here coupler hours worth of random shuffle playlist...

Love is Just a Gamble – T-Bone Walker

Blues On Purpose – Nina Simone

Country Boy – Little Jimmy Dickens

I’m Yours, You’re Mine – Morphine

Wild Side of Life – The Stanley Brothers

Fast Freight – Ritchie Valens

Attack – The Exploited

Hole – The Jesus and Mary Chain

Someday Someway – Robert Gordon with Link Wray

Trying Your Luck – The Strokes

He Never Left Me Alone – The Reverend Gary Davis

Cut – Low

Jo Jo Gunne – Chuck Berry

No Quiero – Ry Cooder

If The Lord Be For You – The Reverend Gary Davis

The Tranquilizer – Orbital

All The Pretty Horses – The Friends of Dean Martinez

Jazzmaster – Alex Reece

He Can Be Found – The Louvin Brothers

Tijuana Jail – Johnny Bond

I Got It – Little Richard

Kentucky – The Louvin Brothers

The Stomp – ODB

I Got a Rocket In My Pocket – Jimmy Lloyd

Ridin’ the Storm Out – REO Speedwagon

Bring His Guitar To Me / Burn Sahara Burn – Brian Tyler (Six String Samurai Soundtrack)

The Chase – Alan Reeves (Kill Bill Vol2 Soundtrack)

Kisses Sweeter Than Wine – Jimmie Rodgers

Supercop – The Road Kings

Elevator Operator – Royal Crown Revue

The Wedding – Trevor Jones (Excalibur Soundtrack)

The Swag – Link Wray

Kitty Cat Song – Mack Stevens

On A Plain – Nirvana (MTV Unplugged)

Cold – The Cure

King Creole (take 3) – Elvis Presley

Theology / Civilization – Basil Poledouris (Conan The Barbarian Soundtrack)

Danny Boy (Londonberry Air) – The Glenn Miller Orchestra

Death of the Inferno – The Bad Things

How Do You Know It’s Love? – Eric Serra (The Professional Soundtrack)

A Get Together To Tear It Apart – The Hives

Why Can’t I Touch It? – The Buzzcocks

P.O.E. – Adam and the Ants

Waterslides! – The Aquabats

Feeling Lucky – The Jesus and Mary Chain

Love At The Swimming Hole – Louis and Bebe Barron (Forbidden Planet Soundtrack)

Hello There Rockin’ Chair – Sid King and the Five Strings

Happy Roving Cowboy – Hank Williams (Health and Happiness)

Graveyard / Night With Two Moons – Louis and Bebe Barron (Forbidden Planet Soundtrack)

Open Up Your Heart and Let The Sunshine In – Frente! (Saturday Morning Cartoons)

Tropicalia – Beck

Ready Steady Go – Paul Oakenfold

Mercy – The Collins Kids

Under the Bridge – The Red Hot Chili Peppers

An' "Under the Bridge" almost cinematically wrapped up as I pulled The Red Baron BMX kustom up in front of the apartment buildin'.

Yeah, I know it prolly ain't the most innerestin' bit of writin'.  Just a long list of my iPod doin' me right fer a change.  But sometimes ya just gotter point out when things seem ter go right in the world, eh?

Yeehaww!

-Squeezebox Sam