This is my 100th post. In general, I'm feeling good with the effort to marshal writing skills under this particular guise. Short but not too short. Free form streaming. Lots of whining. No sucker punches. Probably not enough humor for my sister. But, hey, you can't please everybody. And to all of you regular, sometime, readers of this blog, sign up as followers, you sly, lazy, mothers...
When I was a child in grade school, in SF, I was shaken down for my milk money practically every day by a kid that said he was a friend, but needed my dime or nickel for his whatevers. The threat of being hit followed me like a dark cloud. After school at a day care center where I waited for my working parents to pick me up, there were tiny gangs of boys, aged 8-10, who beat the crap out of you when they didn't get what they wanted ie coins or food. The nuns that ran both institutions were clueless, and of course, the kiddie population was too scared to spill the beans. And then one day, my brother got beat up. His shoulder and arms were covered by bite wounds, deep teeth marks, and his nose was bloodied. My parents were horrified.
After a series of suicides nationwide, specifically linked to bullying in public schools,
gay, and lesbian youth have found 'friends' and strong backing in the White House, on Capitol Hill, and most importantly with the US Department of Educ. Bullying now described as a civil rights issue places the onus on the schools to work harder to protect victimized students. Imposed penalties include loss of federal aid and potential prosecution. Opponents of this legislation don't like the creation of protection for a specific class. A tired, weak and woeful refrain. Segue: Tara Sullivan, a New Jersey columnist who was barred from interviewing Rory McIlroy in the locker room after his monumental melt-down in the Masters, one of the largest sporting events in the country yesterday. Augusta officials later apologized. Too little. Too late. Stick it.
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