I think that Bo might be right about the Onion not being what it once was, but I still fairly regularly read it and they recently had the best line about Schwarzenegger out of anyone else.
It went something like
"Who would've thought that an untalented Austrian artist obsessed with the human physical ideal would have such an easy time coming to power?"
Get it? Like Hitler?
I've mentioned a couple of times how my classroom was recently ravaged by an airplane fueselage, but did I mention that the while my room was being comandeered for the dramatized Arminian altar call my beloved Omara Portuondo album that I burned from Peter was swiped?
No doubt by guajira hating rednecks.
It was the album with the "donde estas tu?" and all the rest.
This morning there was a fire in my classroom. OK, it was a very small fire, but fire nontheless.
The air condidtioning in my room wasn't working well and one of the students recomended that we go to the empty room next door. I said sure, and I brought my overhead notes as we walked across the hall. I pulled out that room's overhead projector put my notes on top (about the election of 1796 and the subsequent Adams administration, in case you were wondering), plugged it into the outlet and fired that bad boy up.
But here's the thing. It actually fired up. At first it was just a nasty smell, and then some smoke came out of the little fan vent (the one that you stuck bits of paper in back in 9th grade) and then there was a faint light coming up from beneath the glass, far to wimpy to project my notes. So I opened the lid and there was a flame inside! And it was getting bigger! So awesome!
I said, "The overhead's on fire" and you would've thought that I had shouted to the class that an armored truck carrying the bling bling of 100 Ja Rule's had just crashed, spilling gold and diamonds everywhere. These kids were ecstatic. This was far better than early American economic inflation and artificially raised interest rates.
So I tried blowing it out, no luck. I sent one kid out to get the fire extinguisher, and he came back with this stoic look on his face. He said "Alright guys, back it up. I'll take it from here" or something like that.
So I open the lid and he shoots the yellowing powder all over the place, coating every square inch, every desk, every book in the class. Including my pants and shoes. Even right now, they are still covered.
It looks like some kid originally shoved a sock around the bulb as a prank. The teacher who used to use that overhead noticed a smell a long time ago and shoved it into a corner with an "out of order" note on it. I guess someone took the note off.
The fire extinguisher kid is the school's newest hero. I overheard him tell someone that the first thing he did was evaluate the scene for danger. Then he stopped, dropped, and rolled. And then he checked the doorknob for heat and all of that.
So now when other kid's come up and ask me "Was there really a fire in Mr. Osborn's class this morning?" I say yes, and I embellish the story about the fire extinguisher kid and his heroic deeds. The story now involves him throwing the girls in the class over his shoulders and carrying them to safety, climbing a tree to save a cat, and giving CPR to an infant.
It was more fun than lecturing.
Oh man, I really want this.
But it costs alot and I have little money and I gave away my helmet and stylin' jacket when I sold my motorcycle last spring.
Eventually, I'll get another bike. I just have to wait for now.
But isn't it just dead cool?
So, it is almost time for the weekend. All that I've got to do is teach one journalism class "Is the term 'Operation: Iraqi Freedom' an example of government propaganda?"
I've been having an interesting debate with Peter and Ben in the comment section of Ben's post about Michael Moore about nationalized health care. Any other true believers out there?
Guess not.
My wife Sarah-Ginny wants to do nothing but lay around all weekend. I really want to put the guideboat on the roof of the Toyota and go rowing. We'll see what we actually do.
I have been letting my classes out early, arriving to class late and showing up to school as much as 10 minutes early because for the past two weeks my watch has been at the jewelers getting a new battery. Can you believe that? Two weeks and $30 for a new battery. There was a message on the machine last night from the jeweler saying that my watch was ready, so maybe I can start doing thing roughly on time again. I'm tired of asking students what time it is. It's even worse when you are asking 7th graders, none of which wear watches, and one of them pulls out their contraband cell phone to tell you the time. And then what do I do? How can I confiscate that phone when the kid did me a favor?
I've been confiscating lots of things lately. Catalogues, magazines, phones, food, make-up, and NOTES. I nab those things all day long. I don't read them out loud, but maybe I should. I pin them on the bulletin board at the front of the classroom and everyone passing by stops to read it. I don't know if it stops future offenses, but everyone else seems to enjoy it.
Ok, so my school (and the church that it is affiliated with) had their elaborate alter call called Judgement House the past two weekends and I went on Saturday night. Considering the resources available, it was impressive. The idea is to scare people into churches. The presentation is about an engaged couple that is in a plane crash and one goes to hell (a blacked out trailer with 11th graders in devil costumes jumping about) and one goes to heaven (which is a white draped room with a crimson clothed youth pastor playing Jesus who hugs everyone).
I am not an Arminian, so I can't quite agree with the details of their salvation message, and I am something of an iconoclast, so I'm not a fan of people portraying God, but that aside, it certaintly got alot of people genuinely emotional.
But that seemed like that was the gist of it. It pulled your heartstrings and was an emotional experience.
Light on theology, heavy on bloody corpses.
But there is much more good than bad here, so I what are you gonna do?