Stop playing with your balls

[Darrell KSR]

http://t.co/aUCcATVdIw


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[bigsky]

Planet Camazotz.

[dan_bgblue]

http://www.sabatinipersonalinjurylaw.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/school.playground1.jpg

[badrose]

I continue to be amazed, though I don't know why. It's sad that kids don't have the opportunity to learn some common sense through exposure to what should be both fun and safe activities. Just wondering how the people define "injuries" and "serious." Not that I can't see some potential there but aren't there some natural gravitations that sort this sort these things out?

[Doc]

When I was growing up, we played MUMBLY PEGS at lunch. Our teacher hoped nobody came back inside bleeding or limping. Then go home to a spirited game of Jarts

Of course we also played "Smear the queer" where the point was to throw the football to somebody and then beat the crap out of them. Today that would be toss the nerf ball to the transgender and apologize for doing so.

[badrose]

When I was growing up, we played MUMBLY PEGS at lunch. Our teacher hoped nobody came back inside bleeding or limping. Then go home to a spirited game of Jarts

Of course we also played "Smear the queer" where the point was to throw the football to somebody and then beat the crap out of them. Today that would be toss the nerf ball to the transgender and apologize for doing so.

Unbeknownst to us, we learned the concept of "mutual destruction." LOL

I have to admit I was naive as to the reality of homosexuality, even in high school. I thought the terms, queer and --ck my --ck were just a way to break balls. Never occurred to me those people or acts actually existed. Of course homosexuals AFAIK were never a part of the game, smear the queer.

[Darrell KSR]

Badrose, our student body president died of aids in NYC years after graduation. I had no idea he was gay, and didn't know anyone who was. Today I know many, and I can't believe how naive I was.

Sorry for the OT.

Back on topic... I'm slow to be outraged by many things that enrage others more quickly. But this one just seems ridiculous on every level.

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[CitizenBBN]

When do they issue the plastic bubbles?

The logical conclusion of Safety Nazism is the elimination of organized sports, recess, anything where anyone can ever get hurt.

Here's the thing: if you LIVE LIFE at all, you run the risk of getting hurt.

Like Doc, we played mumbly pegs all the time. Sure people got hurt here and there, ironically my worst recess injury was with a baseball, but not as much as you got banged up working on the farm. It was hardly cause to plow under the baseball field. By being exposed to risk you learn to be mature and handle life. I feel so sorry for kids of these control freak germaphobe parents.

[MickintheHam]

When I was growing up, we played MUMBLY PEGS at lunch. Our teacher hoped nobody came back inside bleeding or limping. Then go home to a spirited game of Jarts

Of course we also played "Smear the queer" where the point was to throw the football to somebody and then beat the crap out of them. Today that would be toss the nerf ball to the transgender and apologize for doing so.

I can't remember a time when I didn't have a knife in my pocket growing up. The World didn't seem so bad back then. Now, I couldn't tell you where my pocket knife is. It's probably somewhere in the dresser. But there was a lot of time spent on the playground examining each others knives. The pocket knife you owned was a reflection of your taste and character. It was like carrying a handkerchief in your back pocket. It was part of being a guy. Now I'm not always sure who the guys are.

My dad always made sure I had a knife, a handkerchief and a book of matches in my pocket at all times. I even had to produce them when he asked. "Son, wipe your nose with your handkerchief. Son, when was the last time you sharpened your knife?" Those were questions he always asked. I always thought it made me a better person.

[DanISSELisdaman]

Knives were carried by all the boys in our school. We played rough and got tough. Our favorite game was, Cowboys and Indians with BB guns, bow and arrows and slingshots . I didn't have a bb gun and when I became the main target for one of the boys that did, I broke up an old stove grate into slugs and used them in my slingshot.

[MickintheHam]

When I was growing up, we played MUMBLY PEGS at lunch. Our teacher hoped nobody came back inside bleeding or limping. Then go home to a spirited game of Jarts

Of course we also played "Smear the queer" where the point was to throw the football to somebody and then beat the crap out of them. Today that would be toss the nerf ball to the transgender and apologize for doing so.

We were a little more politically correct. We played Kill the Man with the Ball.

[Lfbj00]

http://khsaa.org/10082013-commissioners-directive-on-postgame-activity/

This happened today here in Kentucky.

[KeithKSR]

Unbeknownst to us, we learned the concept of "mutual destruction." LOL

I have to admit I was naive as to the reality of homosexuality, even in high school. I thought the terms, queer and --ck my --ck were just a way to break balls. Never occurred to me those people or acts actually existed. Of course homosexuals AFAIK were never a part of the game, smear the queer.

Funny this topic came up. Yesterday I was talking to a colleague that is about two years older about how we used to play politically incorrect, by today's standards, games like smear the queer. We played this as young kids on the playground, we didn't even know queer meant anything other than strange.

I remember when folding lock back hunters, like the Buck 110, were all the rage. You wore your knife in its sheath to school attached to your belt, and there wasn't anything said about it.

I hated study hall, I always found somewhere to go, something to do and by the time I was a senior my study hall teacher got so tired of me signing out everyday he told me not to come back. I usually hung out in the library, if the librarian was out I would go hang out somewhere else. One day I spent the hour hanging out in my history teacher's room, who had his planning period at that time. He was sharpening his pocket knife while we were shooting the breeze, he got finished and asked me if I had my knife with me. I told him I did and handed it to him. The knife I carried at the time was a Boker I had traded for, he put an edge on the knife that put a factory edge to shame before handing it back to me.

I remember when a lady came to school every so often, about once a month, and taught kids about God and gave us those little Gideon Bibles.

I remember when the school day began with the pledge, that has not been the case for decades, except for a brief reprisal following 9-11.

Times have changed, a lot, and not for the better.

[Darrell KSR]

Speaking of "the good old days," being with my Dad a few weeks ago at his wedding brought up some old stories. Some aren't fit to be retold; others would fill a book and have enough left over for a series of best sellers.

He played basketball when he was in high school in Hickman back in the day, I guess around 1950-2 or so. Dad's last 3 classes of the day were Lunch, History, Basketball.

He would dress out at lunch in his practice gear, and begin shooting in the gym. When lunch was over, he would dribble the basketball down the hallway to the history class. His history teacher told him that if he just showed up for class, he'd pass him.

So he would dribble the basketball down the hallway, stand outside the door, wait for "Cartwright" to be called when the roll was called, answer "here," shut the door, and go back to the gym.

He made a "C" in history.

Dad got beat by a length of garden hose by his teacher, skipped school for 6 weeks, stole chickens from his neighbor by cutting a hole in his floor, pouring steaming hot water through the floor so it would attract the chicken, and then grab the chicken when it came through, and a whole host of other stuff. His skinny-dipping story where he and the other boys got shot by a landowner with a shotgun who told them he didn't want his wife to see the boys skinny-dipping in the Mississippi is legendary.

His homemade bomb (nothing and nobody hurt), the dancing, the dating, the cars, the fights, you name it.

Those were the good old days. Some of it I'm happy doesn't exist anymore; others, the country misses very much.

[Doc]

Most of my families inappropriate stories revolve around booze and death. My grandfather dies when my father was 14, drunk driving. I had an uncle pass out while fishing and down in the bilge water of a rowboat. Had an uncle died while drunk driving on my brother's birthday (different year) which is also the date I had a near fatal driving accident (different year) while drunk.

As a kid, I lite the center parkway of hurstbourne lane on fire with a smoke bomb. Had 3 fire dept out there to put it out. In 2nd grade I was shimming up the volley ball pole when somebody grabbed my leg and pulled me down. Caught my junk on the hook the net would have been attached to, needed a bunch of stitches. Was to embarrassed to tell anybody at school so I didn't mention it until I got home could not take my undies off because they were packed up into the laceration. Rather odd couple of weeks that followed that including a questioning by the principle and teacher as to why I didn't say anything immediately. Like a 7 year old kid is going to tell his teacher he just had his balls ripped off! Only one person has ever seen that scar

[CitizenBBN]

Doc I could have gone 3 more lifetimes without the sympathy pain I just got from reading that volleyball pole story. :dejection: