Mother Russia

My squeeze is outta town, and I spent most of last night dreaming about bad guys breaking into my house. I slept for shit.

In one dream, I fired a shotgun at an intruder. I always imagined in my waking day that shooting someone with a shotgun would be an easy thing, it being a shotgun and all. But in my dream the truth was revealed. Firing a shotgun indoors, in the dark, was not at all what I expected. First there’s the fearsome report of a gun fired inside an enclosed space, and then there’s the blinding flash of the muzzle in the dark. Let’s not forget the sucker also kicks like a mule. Under such realistic circumstances, it’s not at all certain that you’ve hit your mark, and that you’ve neutralized the danger.

But it tells me I don’t need to have a shotgun at the ready for home assaults. If a bad guy wants to break into my house I think I’ll just let him and my German Shepherd work it out between them, and keep the guns outta play.

On a completely different note, I know that some of you and I are of the same cohort - Baby Boomers, we're called. We grew up in Cold War America. The only significant difference from most of you as I see it is that I grew up in the Washington, D. C. area, and residents of that city learned to become fast friends with THE BOMB in the 1950s and 1960s. I remember air raid exercises during the ’62 Cuban Missile Crisis – better Red than dead, if you ask me.

A student of mine, from Moscow, not long ago was bragging about how the Russians were NOT going to allow the Nazis to conquer them in World War II, even though it meant the deaths of 20 million Soviet soldiers and citizens. In her thick accent she told me "Don't fuck with Mother Russia." It gave me chills then, it gives me chills now.

Do you remember the Red Army Men’s Choir from that Cold War era? They always scared the bajezus outta me: Those dour looks, those dark Russian songs of sacrifice and angst. I’d watch them on TV and think, “One day we may have to go up against those ************* (sons of a gun) , and they look pretty tough.”

Now prepare yourself for the surreal –

http://www.tothepointnews.com/content/view/3114/85/

Oklahoma Public Education

At the liquor store Saturday night, a customer shouted from one of the back aisles, "How many ounces in a pint?" After an embarrassingly long pause, the cashier replied, "I don't know." Then the old woman who was buying a bottle at the front said over her shoulder, "It's eight."

You gotta love Oklahoma public education.

Mark Steel on Idiots in Politics

[George W.] Bush has met Prince Charles on a number of occasions and presumably he must have thought “What a strange system they have in Britain. Over there a complete idiot can become head of state simply because of who is parents are.”

Enroll the Dead

I think my college is missing out on a great service opportunity that we can provide to potential students in our community who are being seriously underserved by other local institutions. We should consider Ouija courses to service the dead. Oh, I know, most of our faculty are not actually psychic, but I feel certain that the administration, once it realizes the value of this untapped resource, would be happy to “train” us in psychic course development and administration, and it would probably require no more than an afternoon or two.

In providing Ouija classes we could dramatically improve our graduation rates, and probably double the semesters’ “state tapes.” The dead, of course, will have to opportunity to achieve the dream of a college degree, a dream that could not be realized while they were alive. All this without ever leaving the comfort of the hereafter.

I say it’s a win-win situation.

Cheater, Cheater, Cheater

I used the same multiple choice questions on my tests in Introduction to Psychology, which is why I don’t return tests for students to keep. I DO return graded answer sheets with missed questions indicated and correct answers supplied.

On Test 1, she got a perfect 25 out of 25. On Test 2, she got a perfect 25 out of 25. On Test 3, since I wasn’t able to show a film I had normally shown during other semesters I had to change answer 11. My student got 24 out of 25. The only question she missed was number 11; the answer she selected would have been correct if I hadn’t changed the question.

Missing only that one question, one chance in 25. Putting that same answer that would have been correct if I’d used the previous test, one in four. The chance that she’s not cheating, one in 100. Priceless.

I can’t prove it, but I know it to be so. She’s an ethnic minority, or a veteran, or a disabled student, so moving against her would be more of a problem for me than I’m willing to undertake right now, but on the next test, the questions will be different than from previous terms.

The Soldiers of Tomorrow

This is my school: I was teaching my Human Sex this morning and the department secretary came into the class and interrupted my lecture. She announced, "I have a emergency message for Jane Cotter who's in your class: her daughter had an accident at school and has been taken to the emergency room." The problem was, there was no Jane Cotter enrolled in my class. There was a Jane, but her last name was Piccolo, not even close. The secretary left, and a few minutes later a security guy came into class and announced that Jane Cotter's daughter had had an accident and she needed to call a number to find out where the daughter was taken for treatment. I told HIM, no Jane Cotter is enrolled in my class. He looked bewildered. A few minutes more into lecture, back came the departmental secretary. She'd looked at the official roll for the Sex class and found out that Jane Cotter was in fact, Jane Cotter Piccolo. I looked at the class and said "She's not here." At this, one of the other students said, "That's because her daughter had an accident at school, and she went to be with her at the emergency room.

And with people like my students, the ones who elected Bush (twice), we're going to win the war on terrorism. It ain't gonna happen.

Food Fight

Squeeze and I went to Friday's the other day for dinner. I asked our young waiter what beers were on-tap. He listed about three common American beers, but told me he couldn't remember the others.

I said, "You work here and you can't tell me the names of your draught beers?"

His reply was, "Cut me some slack, I'm new here."

I told him, "I'm a teacher. I don't have to cut anyone any slack."

He didn't disagree.