>> ^bareboards2:

promote this: Winston waited for members of the media to gather by his locker after the game, then told them: "If this isn't posted in the paper or run on your (website), this is the last time you're going to talk to me."

As for the Nascar analogy, I don't think the fans CHEER when an accident happens.
I grew up seeing footage of football stadiums going silent when a player was hurt or knocked out, and cheering when they stood up again.
You guys who are justifying the cheering are part of the problem that Eric is talking about. So numb to common human decency that you argue about what he is saying.
Cheer the big hits. Don't cheer a human comatose on the field.
In my opinion. Except Eric is right, and therefore I am right.


I'm sorry but this country is filled with blood thirsty bastards who love it when anyone with brown skin is killed in a horrific fashion. Is it that much of a leap to think they'd cheer a guy they don't like being seriously injured? We're not evolved as much as we'd like to think we are.

*promote this: Winston waited for members of the media to gather by his locker after the game, then told them: "If this isn't posted in the paper or run on your (website), this is the last time you're going to talk to me."


As for the Nascar analogy, I don't think the fans CHEER when an accident happens.

I grew up seeing footage of football stadiums going silent when a player was hurt or knocked out, and cheering when they stood up again.

You guys who are justifying the cheering are part of the problem that Eric is talking about. So numb to common human decency that you argue about what he is saying.

Cheer the big hits. Don't cheer a human comatose on the field.

In my opinion. Except Eric is right, and therefore I am right.

YOWW! Hope they got plenty of ®Acme Bruise Cream on hand in the locker room for these gals....

I trust the other players will forever after keep filling his locker with cockroaches.

>> ^ChaosEngine:

>> ^criticalthud:
so the US guys train more and harder (since, they're from AMERICA, fuck ya!) and have better locker rooms? and more money makes the athlete?
hmmm....
just ribbing you. sure, lots of variables, those included.
a strange one is...track and field isn't even really popular in the US. Most athletes opt for other sports.

Well, I'd imagine @Unsung_Hero got it right. More money for athletes = not having to flip burgers at a "day job" = more time to train.
Also not so much locker rooms, but dieticians, personal trainers and so on. Contrast with (for example) Ireland which got it's first olympic sized swimming pool in the 90s.


Ok, then explain how we don't do as well in distance events. do we not train for those? Why do those broke-ass kenyans whup up on us fancy pants all the time? must be the diet?

>> ^criticalthud:

so the US guys train more and harder (since, they're from AMERICA, fuck ya!) and have better locker rooms? and more money makes the athlete?
hmmm....
just ribbing you. sure, lots of variables, those included.
a strange one is...track and field isn't even really popular in the US. Most athletes opt for other sports.


Well, I'd imagine @Unsung_Hero got it right. More money for athletes = not having to flip burgers at a "day job" = more time to train.

Also not so much locker rooms, but dieticians, personal trainers and so on. Contrast with (for example) Ireland which got it's first olympic sized swimming pool in the 90s.

>> ^ChaosEngine:

>> ^criticalthud:
as for the US doing well....
maybe we just like running in a straight line more.
or maybe hybrid vigor plays into it.
but also in the US between the 1700's and the late 1800's, there was some forced selective breeding going on.

I would imagine it's simply a product of better training facilities and more money invested in athletes which allows them to train more.


so the US guys train more and harder (since, they're from AMERICA, fuck ya!) and have better locker rooms? and more money makes the athlete?
hmmm....
just ribbing you. sure, lots of variables, those included.
a strange one is...track and field isn't even really popular in the US. Most athletes opt for other sports.

Well sir, if the film contains military equipment on Hollywood loan from the U.S. Armed Forces then this little Leni Reifenstahller piece of poo proper-gander is Government-Approved!!

Hurt locker just did not do it for me......bored to SHIT!

Stupid. "It's an artillery shell." Are you kidding me? I can't believe these guys haven't had training on recognizing IEDs. Even dumb ol' sillyvilian me knew IEDs were often made with shell casings. Just a stupid brainfart that could have killed him and anybody close by. He done goofed, and he should have got his ass chewed. Maybe they don't get Discovery Channel there, or he hasn't seen "The Hurt Locker" yet.

After the game in the locker room he got beat up for being such a ball hog.

Rock on!!! x
In reply to this comment by eric3579:
She's got stickers on her locker
And the boy's number's there in magic marker
I'm hungry and the hunger will linger
I eat sixteen saltine crackers then I lick my fingers

Well every morning I deliver the news
Black hat white shoes and I'm red allover
She's got a big mailbox, that she puts up front
Garbage in garbage out, she's getting what she wants

Who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous of who?
If I get busy then I couldn't care less what you do
But when I'm by myself I think of nothing else
Than if a boy just might be getting through and touching you

Spike heels make a hole in a lifeboat
Jumpin' and waving, I'm talking and laughing as we float
I hear a whistle, that's how I know she's home
Lipstick, eyelash, broke mirror, broken home

Force fed, force mixed 'till I drop dead
You can't defeat her, when you meet her you'll be what I said
And Lord knows there's a method to her madness
Bustin' those jokes as I float in a sea of sadness

She doesn't know but when she's gonna sit and drink up a few
I'm sure she's drinkin two, but wondering what for and who
And I'm solo rollin'. I'm one side off the boat.
Looking out, throwing up, a lifesaver down my throat

Who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous of who? (x3)

She's got stickers on her locker
And the boy's number's there in magic marker
I'm hungry and the hunger will linger
I eat sixteen saltine crackers then I lick my fingers

Well every morning I deliver the news
Black hat white shoes and I'm red allover
She's got a big mailbox, that she puts up front
Garbage in garbage out, she's getting what she wants

Who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous of who?
If I get busy then I couldn't care less what you do
But when I'm by myself I think of nothing else
Than if a boy just might be getting through and touching you

Spike heels make a hole in a lifeboat
Jumpin' and waving, I'm talking and laughing as we float
I hear a whistle, that's how I know she's home
Lipstick, eyelash, broke mirror, broken home

Force fed, force mixed 'till I drop dead
You can't defeat her, when you meet her you'll be what I said
And Lord knows there's a method to her madness
Bustin' those jokes as I float in a sea of sadness

She doesn't know but when she's gonna sit and drink up a few
I'm sure she's drinkin two, but wondering what for and who
And I'm solo rollin'. I'm one side off the boat.
Looking out, throwing up, a lifesaver down my throat

Who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous who's jealous of who? (x3)

Comment hidden because you are ignoring dag. (show it anyway)

But there's no "fix" for the problem if you believe the whole institution itself is wrong. Just because we've had a system of lockers and sports and proms and bells and *thousands* of kids crammed into a single building - doesn't mean this is something that needs tweaking. It needs teraring down and reinventing. >> ^xxovercastxx:

>> ^dag:
Massive institutional schooling systems. It's like prison. That's where bullying breeds. modern schools are just awful, awful places. Keep your kids home or put them in an alternative school if you can afford it.

I can't help but feel like this is hiding from the problem rather than addressing it. Also, the potential cost in social skills seems like it could be severe.

http://lyrics.wikia.com/Sage_Francis:The_Best_Of_Times

It's been a long and lonely trip but I'm glad that I took it because it was well worth it.
I got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict.
Never thought that I was perfect. Always thought that I had a purpose.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see my first kiss.

The most difficult thing I ever did was recite my own words at a service
Realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn't looking down from heaven.
Or cooking up something in hell's kitchen, trying to listen in or eaves drop from some another dimension.
It was self serving just like this is.

Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance,
'til we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.

I don't remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed.
Or I just spent too much time wondering if I'd live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn't have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade I wrote her the note but I slipped it in someone else's locker.

Considered killing myself 'cause of that.
It was a big deal. It was a blown cover.
It was over for me. My goose was cooked.
Stick a fork in me. The jig is up.
I blew my chances, the rest is history, our future was torn asunder.
It became abundantly clear that I was only brought here to suffer.

At least I didn't include my name.
Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code
And it had 10 layers of scotch tape safety seal making it impossible to open.
Plus, it was set to self destruct.
Whoever read it probably died…laughing.
I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened.

A year later, I came to understand that wasn't love that I was feeling for her.
I had someone else to obsess over.
I was older. I was very mature.
I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph 'cause I was failing math.
Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.

I checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road.
Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular you're guaranteed to find it.
For better or worse that's how I learned that it's best to just keep some things private.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.
I was always on deck, I was next in line.
An only child with a pen and pad writing a list of things that I could never have.
The walls in my house were paper thin.
Every squabble seemed to get deafening.
If my memory serves me correctly I made it a point to void and forget some things.
Probably to keep from being embarrassed.
Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents.
Kept my secrets…hid my talents…
In my head, never under the mattress.

Therapy couldn't break me.
Never learned a word that would insure safety.
So I spoke softly and I tip toed often.
The door to my room was like a big old coffin.
The way that it creeked when I closed it shut.
Anxieties peaked when it opened up.
As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed.
I still sleep fully clothed.

It was the best of times.

It was beautiful.
It was brutal.
It was cruel.
It was business as usual.

Heaven. It was hell.
Used to wonder if I'd live to see 12.

When I did I figured that I was immortal.
Loved to dance but couldn't make it to the formal.
Couldn't bear watching my imaginary girlfriend
Bust a move with any other dudes.

Tone Loc was talking bout a "Wild Thang"
But I was still caught up in some child thangs.
Scared of a God who couldn't spare the rod.
It was clearly a brimstone and fire thang.

Pyromaniac. Kleptomaniac.
Couldn't explain my desire to steal that fire.
Now I add it to my rider.
Like "Please oh please don't throw me in that patch of brier!"

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

The school counselor was clueless 'cause I never skipped classes.
Perfect attendance. Imperfect accent.
Speech impediment they could never really fix
And I faked bad eyesight so I could wear glasses.

Considered doing something that would cripple me.
I wanted a wheelchair. I wanted the sympathy.
I wanted straight teeth so then came braces.
4 years of head gear helped me change faces.

It was the best of times. It was the end of times.

Now I wonder if I'll live to see marriage.
Wonder if I'll live long enough to have kids.
Wonder if I'll live to see my kids have kids.
If I do I'm gonna tell 'em how it is.

"Don't listen when they tell you that these are your best years.
Don't let anybody protect your ears.
It's best that you hear what they don't want you to hear.
It's better to have pressure from peers than not have peers.
Beer won't give you chest hair. Spicy food won't make it curl.
When you think you've got it all figured out and then everything collapses…
Trust me, kid…it's not the end of the world."

Him on the floor in the locker room made me sad. I remember that live.