In honor of Martin Luther King on his birthday, I thought I’d share this little anecdote that led me to ask the above question. Read it, and then you can decide for yourself.
My son has played basketball for the city junior league for several years. Before the season begins, each kid tries out so that the coaches can score them and create balanced teams.
At least that’s the pretense. The reality is that most coaches already know the kids and the parents and create the strongest teams they can. If you are not part of this clique, your kid ends up on the shitty team. Guess who’s not part of this clique?
So, we begin each season on a positive note, hoping that our team will win at least a couple of games. About half way through the season, however, I end up driving a dejected kid to the game while he sighs, “We’re just gonna lose anyway.”
At the first practice session, we get to size up each team member, and hope springs eternal that there will be at least a couple of standout players.
Last year, for the first time, there was an African-American kid on my son’s team. My immediate thought was, “All right! Maybe we’ll have a chance now!”
Well, it turned out that this kid was by far the worst player on the team. How bad was he? I barely know anything about basketball, and it was even obvious to me that this kid was terrible.
I was confused. Just because this kid was black, I expected him to be a great basketball player, and then when it turned out he wasn’t, I just couldn’t comprehend it. What a rip-off!
On top of that, the best player on the team was actually a skinny, short Asian kid. I was dumbfounded. “Wait a minute—The black kid is the worst player and the little Asian kid is the best player? What the hell is going on here?”
Then I began asking myself, why would I automatically assume that a black kid would be good at basketball?
What if I was black and had no interest in basketball? Would people always want to talk basketball with me, and then be disappointed when they found out I had no interest in the game at all?
Or what if I was an Asian kid and really loved basketball? Would everyone just ridicule me because there aren’t many Asian basketball players and I should really be focusing on math?
Or what if I was Jewish? Would gentiles always ask me about Mideast politics, or the meaning of certain Jewish holidays, figuring that I’m expected to know everything about them just because they’re Jewish topics?
Wait a minute…I am Jewish and gentiles do ask me that stuff!
Do their questions make them racist? Do my assumptions about the basketball players make me a racist? You be the judge.
Sayonara and Shalom.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
IT GETS WORSE
Not to start off the New Year on a negative note or anything (why, I would never do that!), but today I am here to tell you something that nobody else will: The Truth About Having Kids.
And here it is: Enjoy your children while they’re young, because by the time they hit 12, it’s over baby.
What’s over, exactly? Let’s see…
Their wide-eyed innocence. Kissing you good night, or just kissing or hugging you for no reason at all. Talking to you excitedly about their friends and what happened that day. Looking to you for protection and guidance.
And what can you expect when your child enters the “tween” stage?
To them, everything is lame and sucks, especially YOU. You are now an embarrassment who says and does everything wrong. If you’re lucky, your children will treat your every action and utterance with either massive eye-rolling or the silent treatment, or both.
When they were little, you only had to worry about your children simply being healthy and safe, and you could pretty much control that.
Now, you have to be concerned about some serious stuff: safe sex; who your children pick as friends and as girlfriends/boyfriends; grades (which really count now); the cost of college; driving; car insurance; too much TV; too much Internet; too much texting; too much video gaming.
And speaking of media, you will no longer have any use for Yo Gabba Gabba, or Barney, or The Wiggles, or Bob the Builder. That stuff probably drives you up the wall now, but one day you’ll find yourself longing for the days when your kids watched it over and over again. It was pure and sweet and harmless.
Once they become tweens, they will become attracted to R-rated movies, videos and music. And even if you don’t let inappropriate media in the house, your children will find it or get exposed to it one way or another.
Remember how you would sometimes catch your little ones doing something wrong? When you caught them, they looked so guilty and their tears would come flowing.
Well, when they get older, you hear about their misdeeds second-hand—from their friends, from other parents, or maybe even from school officials.
Any semblance of control you thought you once had is now gone. If you don’t believe me, take a good look at those groups of 12- to 17-year-old boys and girls the next time you’re at the mall or a fast-food joint. That is what your little baby will become, and there is nothing you can do about it! If that doesn’t scare the shit out of you, you’re still getting high on the fumes of Baby Wipes.
Then the day finally comes when you hear that your precious little angel is saying (or texting) the F-word. And that’s when you know it’s really over. Your bundle of joy has turned into just another a-hole…just like you were at that age.
So, enjoy your little ones while you can, but now you know the truth about having kids.
Come to think of it, no one ever tells you The Truth About Being Married, either, but that’s a topic for another day. Here’s a hint, though: look at the title of this blog posting.
Oh, and Happy New Year!
And here it is: Enjoy your children while they’re young, because by the time they hit 12, it’s over baby.
What’s over, exactly? Let’s see…
Their wide-eyed innocence. Kissing you good night, or just kissing or hugging you for no reason at all. Talking to you excitedly about their friends and what happened that day. Looking to you for protection and guidance.
And what can you expect when your child enters the “tween” stage?
To them, everything is lame and sucks, especially YOU. You are now an embarrassment who says and does everything wrong. If you’re lucky, your children will treat your every action and utterance with either massive eye-rolling or the silent treatment, or both.
When they were little, you only had to worry about your children simply being healthy and safe, and you could pretty much control that.
Now, you have to be concerned about some serious stuff: safe sex; who your children pick as friends and as girlfriends/boyfriends; grades (which really count now); the cost of college; driving; car insurance; too much TV; too much Internet; too much texting; too much video gaming.
And speaking of media, you will no longer have any use for Yo Gabba Gabba, or Barney, or The Wiggles, or Bob the Builder. That stuff probably drives you up the wall now, but one day you’ll find yourself longing for the days when your kids watched it over and over again. It was pure and sweet and harmless.
Once they become tweens, they will become attracted to R-rated movies, videos and music. And even if you don’t let inappropriate media in the house, your children will find it or get exposed to it one way or another.
Remember how you would sometimes catch your little ones doing something wrong? When you caught them, they looked so guilty and their tears would come flowing.
Well, when they get older, you hear about their misdeeds second-hand—from their friends, from other parents, or maybe even from school officials.
Any semblance of control you thought you once had is now gone. If you don’t believe me, take a good look at those groups of 12- to 17-year-old boys and girls the next time you’re at the mall or a fast-food joint. That is what your little baby will become, and there is nothing you can do about it! If that doesn’t scare the shit out of you, you’re still getting high on the fumes of Baby Wipes.
Then the day finally comes when you hear that your precious little angel is saying (or texting) the F-word. And that’s when you know it’s really over. Your bundle of joy has turned into just another a-hole…just like you were at that age.
So, enjoy your little ones while you can, but now you know the truth about having kids.
Come to think of it, no one ever tells you The Truth About Being Married, either, but that’s a topic for another day. Here’s a hint, though: look at the title of this blog posting.
Oh, and Happy New Year!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
MY FAVORITE QUOTES OF THE YEAR
Between Jerry K Jr. and me, as I was walking out the door:
Me: I’ll be back in 15 minutes. I need to get some gas.
Jerry K Jr.: Why?
This one occurred when Jerry K Jr. was getting ready to go to bed. Please understand that the only ones in the room were our dog, him and myself.
Me: Did you brush your teeth?
Jerry K Jr.: Who, me?
During a school field trip last year, a male student returned from the restroom with his zipper down.
Female teacher: Andrew, your fly is down.
Andrew: Why do you have to look down there, Miss?
Mrs. Jerry K to Jerry K Jr., while he was being particularly annoying at 6:00 am:
“Why do you have to do everything I hate?”
I saw a dad with his small son at Costco. The boy was dangling his leg out of the shopping cart. Exasperated, the dad smacked the boy’s leg, and said:
“I’m going to have to spank you, because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Me: I’ll be back in 15 minutes. I need to get some gas.
Jerry K Jr.: Why?
This one occurred when Jerry K Jr. was getting ready to go to bed. Please understand that the only ones in the room were our dog, him and myself.
Me: Did you brush your teeth?
Jerry K Jr.: Who, me?
During a school field trip last year, a male student returned from the restroom with his zipper down.
Female teacher: Andrew, your fly is down.
Andrew: Why do you have to look down there, Miss?
Mrs. Jerry K to Jerry K Jr., while he was being particularly annoying at 6:00 am:
“Why do you have to do everything I hate?”
I saw a dad with his small son at Costco. The boy was dangling his leg out of the shopping cart. Exasperated, the dad smacked the boy’s leg, and said:
“I’m going to have to spank you, because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
MY NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS
• No more high-fiving of any kind. I actually saw two women high-five each other because they both got their periods on the same day. Kind of takes away the whole meaning of the high-five, don’t you think?
• Eat more Nutella.
• Determine once and for all if Ricky Martin and Elton John are gay.
• Perfect Aunt Flossie’s kasha recipe.
• Stop going to Best Buy, rearranging the DVDs, and then complaining to the manager that they are disorganized.
• Try to understand why receptionists at spas and massage parlors are always so tense.
• Avoid using the phrase, “There you go.”
• Transition from having fun only with chicken parts to having fun with the entire chicken.
• More licking.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
“DOES YOUR WIFE READ YOUR BLOG?”
Here at the lavish Fun with Chickens headquarters, I get thousands of emails every day asking the same question: “Does your wife read your blog?”
The answer, simply, is no.
Since I began this blog back in the early ‘70s, we both somehow knew immediately that it would not be a good idea if she read it.
This instinctive agreement is difficult to explain, but maybe this little anecdote will shed some light.
This morning at breakfast, Mrs. Jerry K mentioned that she really likes the song, “Billionaire.”
I explained how much I hated that song. “I even wrote about it in my blog. He says he wants to be a billionaire, and my reaction is, well, who wouldn’t?”
A contemptuous look was aimed at yours truly…so of course I wisely continued.
“Then he says he wants to meet Oprah. Right! What are they gonna talk about—dieting? Their love of Maya Angelou’s poetry?”
Contempt then turned to disgust, as she said, “THAT’S what you write about in your blog?”
…And THAT, dear friends, is why it's best if my wife doesn’t read my blog.
The answer, simply, is no.
Since I began this blog back in the early ‘70s, we both somehow knew immediately that it would not be a good idea if she read it.
This instinctive agreement is difficult to explain, but maybe this little anecdote will shed some light.
This morning at breakfast, Mrs. Jerry K mentioned that she really likes the song, “Billionaire.”
I explained how much I hated that song. “I even wrote about it in my blog. He says he wants to be a billionaire, and my reaction is, well, who wouldn’t?”
A contemptuous look was aimed at yours truly…so of course I wisely continued.
“Then he says he wants to meet Oprah. Right! What are they gonna talk about—dieting? Their love of Maya Angelou’s poetry?”
Contempt then turned to disgust, as she said, “THAT’S what you write about in your blog?”
…And THAT, dear friends, is why it's best if my wife doesn’t read my blog.
THE DECEPTIVE LURE OF BEING HOMELESS
I know this makes little sense, but I often envy homeless people.
Many was the time I would see them sleeping peacefully under a freeway overpass, and admire how little they had to worry about.
No worries about paying the mortgage, or having the latest smart phone. No getting pissed off every time the cable TV bill arrives, and pondering for the billionth time whether you should be spending so much money on so many channels.
No frustration over the latest car repair bill or car insurance payment. No wondering how you will afford the latest clothes or electronic gadget your kid is coveting.
Some people even pay a monthly fee for a storage unit to house all the useless junk that they never use.
Of course, I could go on and on.
What a blissful life the homeless must have, I tell myself, freed from all these superficial burdens.
They can just go from place to place, no strings attached, and sleep under the stars. They aren’t tied down, working the same routine day after day and kissing the boss’ ass just to keep everyone happy and struggle to maintain a lifestyle.
The homeless must look at us and think we’re suckers.
But then I take a closer look, and realize that most of these homeless guys actually do have material possessions.
They are usually pushing around a rusty, rickety shopping cart that’s like their own personal storage unit. I’m not sure what exactly they have in those carts, but there must be some pretty useful items if they want to remain tied down to it.
Where is the freedom from material possessions that I was so romantically envying whenever I saw these people? Could it be that they are actually enslaved to this crap just like the rest of it, but on a more, shall we say modest, level?
I remember I once even saw two homeless ladies in a McDonald’s both pushing their shopping carts and greedily eyeing each other’s stuff while guarding their own carts.
So not only are they tied down to this junk just like we are, they also have to worry about it being stolen, just like we do.
So I guess even if we want a simple life free of monthly bills, a numbing routine, and all the crushing consumerism, there is some need within us, regardless of income, that makes us end up with obtaining, and being enslaved by, material possessions.
Sigh. Homelessness isn’t the answer after all. There really is no escape.
Many was the time I would see them sleeping peacefully under a freeway overpass, and admire how little they had to worry about.
No worries about paying the mortgage, or having the latest smart phone. No getting pissed off every time the cable TV bill arrives, and pondering for the billionth time whether you should be spending so much money on so many channels.
No frustration over the latest car repair bill or car insurance payment. No wondering how you will afford the latest clothes or electronic gadget your kid is coveting.
Some people even pay a monthly fee for a storage unit to house all the useless junk that they never use.
Of course, I could go on and on.
What a blissful life the homeless must have, I tell myself, freed from all these superficial burdens.
They can just go from place to place, no strings attached, and sleep under the stars. They aren’t tied down, working the same routine day after day and kissing the boss’ ass just to keep everyone happy and struggle to maintain a lifestyle.
The homeless must look at us and think we’re suckers.
But then I take a closer look, and realize that most of these homeless guys actually do have material possessions.
They are usually pushing around a rusty, rickety shopping cart that’s like their own personal storage unit. I’m not sure what exactly they have in those carts, but there must be some pretty useful items if they want to remain tied down to it.
Where is the freedom from material possessions that I was so romantically envying whenever I saw these people? Could it be that they are actually enslaved to this crap just like the rest of it, but on a more, shall we say modest, level?
I remember I once even saw two homeless ladies in a McDonald’s both pushing their shopping carts and greedily eyeing each other’s stuff while guarding their own carts.
So not only are they tied down to this junk just like we are, they also have to worry about it being stolen, just like we do.
So I guess even if we want a simple life free of monthly bills, a numbing routine, and all the crushing consumerism, there is some need within us, regardless of income, that makes us end up with obtaining, and being enslaved by, material possessions.
Sigh. Homelessness isn’t the answer after all. There really is no escape.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A JET SKI? I DON’T GET IT
Every summer, my family spends a week at a lake that is filled with boaters, swimmers, water-skiers, and jet skiers.
(The water itself is a greenish brew of fish crap, duck poop, swimmers’ pee, and oil from the aforementioned boats, but that’s another story.)
On the first morning, I awake at 8 a.m. At that time, civilized people should be doing one of three things:
1. Sleeping
2. Having coffee and reading the morning newspaper
3. Exercising (walking or running)
But as I look out from the deck of our lakefront rental, I actually see people riding their jet skis at 8 a.m.!
I find this utterly confusing.
What exactly is this compulsion to get up so early and feel the need to jet ski? Is it really so fascinating that you just can’t wait to get up on that thing and zip around the lake?
Actually, I don’t understand the whole jet ski thing at all.
It’s not like your jet ski is taking you on some sort of adventure. You are not going to unexpectedly encounter some beautiful waterfalls or wildlife.
It’s a lake. You are basically riding in a circle. A lake is pretty enough, but one end of it looks just like the other.
Then again, all these kinds of activities hit me the same way. I will usually try anything once. I’ve rented a jet ski and I’ve rented a boat. But after you experience jet skiing or boating one time, what is the point of doing it again?
Sure, going on a jet ski is fun, but once I’ve tried it, what will I gain from doing it again? Is the second or third time on a jet ski going to be that much different from the first? Will it be more fun? No, it will be exactly the same experience.
What I find completely baffling is that some people will actually buy their own jet ski and drag it up to a lake every chance they get. Of course, that also involves getting a trailer for the jet ski, along with a vehicle capable of towing everything.
And then when you are home, you have to store all this stuff somewhere. Is it some sort of status thing to proudly display this bitchen jet ski in your driveway?
All I know is that sure is a lot of expense and effort for doing something that is really the same thing every time you do it.
Here’s a thought: Instead of spending money on the exact same activity, why not do something different each vacation? Maybe a little hiking at a national park, or exploring a new city?
But a jet ski? Come on!
(The water itself is a greenish brew of fish crap, duck poop, swimmers’ pee, and oil from the aforementioned boats, but that’s another story.)
On the first morning, I awake at 8 a.m. At that time, civilized people should be doing one of three things:
1. Sleeping
2. Having coffee and reading the morning newspaper
3. Exercising (walking or running)
But as I look out from the deck of our lakefront rental, I actually see people riding their jet skis at 8 a.m.!
I find this utterly confusing.
What exactly is this compulsion to get up so early and feel the need to jet ski? Is it really so fascinating that you just can’t wait to get up on that thing and zip around the lake?
Actually, I don’t understand the whole jet ski thing at all.
It’s not like your jet ski is taking you on some sort of adventure. You are not going to unexpectedly encounter some beautiful waterfalls or wildlife.
It’s a lake. You are basically riding in a circle. A lake is pretty enough, but one end of it looks just like the other.
Then again, all these kinds of activities hit me the same way. I will usually try anything once. I’ve rented a jet ski and I’ve rented a boat. But after you experience jet skiing or boating one time, what is the point of doing it again?
Sure, going on a jet ski is fun, but once I’ve tried it, what will I gain from doing it again? Is the second or third time on a jet ski going to be that much different from the first? Will it be more fun? No, it will be exactly the same experience.
What I find completely baffling is that some people will actually buy their own jet ski and drag it up to a lake every chance they get. Of course, that also involves getting a trailer for the jet ski, along with a vehicle capable of towing everything.
And then when you are home, you have to store all this stuff somewhere. Is it some sort of status thing to proudly display this bitchen jet ski in your driveway?
All I know is that sure is a lot of expense and effort for doing something that is really the same thing every time you do it.
Here’s a thought: Instead of spending money on the exact same activity, why not do something different each vacation? Maybe a little hiking at a national park, or exploring a new city?
But a jet ski? Come on!
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