With school all started up again, the folks at Beloit College have come out with their annual mindset list. No, it’s got nothing to do with yoga, transcendental meditation or psychics. Basically, it’s a list of stuff designed to make sure their professors don’t go around dropping outdated pop cultural references in class that their [...]]]> by Richard

With school all started up again, the folks at Beloit College have come out with their annual mindset list. No, it’s got nothing to do with yoga, transcendental meditation or psychics. Basically, it’s a list of stuff designed to make sure their professors don’t go around dropping outdated pop cultural references in class that their students wouldn’t understand.

Like, gag me with a spoon, you know?

It’s easy to make fun of out-of-touch professors who can’t keep up with the zeitgeist (German for spirit of the times). In fact, it’s so easy, I’m not even going to get into the silliness of making this list so the professors can pretend to be up to date. Let’s just look at the list itself. That’s easy to make fun of.

This list is made with the class of 2014 in mind. That is, the kids who are entering college this year, which means most of them will have been born in 1992. Whoa. I just realized. That’s the year before Sarcasmo made his first sarcastic comment. (a snarky, sideways look. She Who Must Sometimes Misremember Because She Was Under Anesthetic disagrees, but I’m sure I saw it when I was giving him his first diaper change and he peed on me.)

Anyway. The list.

No. 1 shows us that Few in the class know how to write in cursive. I’m not so sure about this. Even Hyper Lad, who’ll be in the class of 2021, knows how to write in cursive. He doesn’t like it, and all three little dudes confess ignorance about how to read cursive, but they do know how to write it. I’m not even going to comment on the inherent contradiction there. Too silly.

Picking purely at random and not because I can think of a good joke for it: No. 12: Clint Eastwood is better known as a sensitive director than as Dirty Harry. Go ahead, make my loving and tender comment. You know, it just doesn’t have the same resonance, does it?

No. 28. They’ve never recognized that pointing to their wrists was a request for the time of day. Now this one I’ll go with, no question. None of the three little dudes wears a watch. Not only that, but I have to work with them to get them to be able to read my analog watch. They’ve got cell phones with time displays on them. So do I and, I’m sure, most of you. It’s just I feel, well, naked without a watch, I’ve been wearing one so long. Strange to think that in 20 years, the watch will be seen as a trite antique, something only the very old wear. Or maybe as jewelry. I think I’ll be selling my Seiko stock right about now.

Now, this last one really frosts me. No. 74. They’ve always been able to blast off with the Sci-Fi (SYFY) Channel. You young punks don’t know how good you’ve got it. Why I had to search all over to find quality entertainment like Mansquito and all you’ve got to do is flip on the TV. Young punks.

Go ahead and check out the whole thing at http://www.beloit.edu/mindset/2014.php

Related posts

• More Than A Rooster (0)
• Me First And The Gimmie Gimmies* (0)
• Freaky Friday: Online Ostracism (1)
• Trippin’, Fallin’ & Spyin’ (0)
• Flagged For Further Discussion (0)

So, Zippy the Monkey Boy and I roll up into the bustling metropolis of Conway, SC, and the first thing that comes to my mind is to roll down the windows and listen for the sound of dueling banjos. ‘Cause, dude, if I hear the first string pluck, I was so far gone out of [...]]]> by Richard

So, Zippy the Monkey Boy and I roll up into the bustling metropolis of Conway, SC, and the first thing that comes to my mind is to roll down the windows and listen for the sound of dueling banjos. ‘Cause, dude, if I hear the first string pluck, I was so far gone out of there they wouldn’t even know we’d been there.

Fortunately for us, the hard-pounding, deep, throbbing (you know, I might have been away from home and the loving comfort of the arms of She Who Must Be Hugged for a bit too long) bass line coming from the car’s speakers drowned out any unelectric stringed instruments.

The hotel I’d picked on the internet was located off the side of the, and I used this word advisedly, highway all by itself. I mean, it was the Bates Motel done in post-modern Soviet bloc architecture. Still, the room was air conditioned and relatively clean. Good news.

Now here’s where I talk about how dumb I can be. I’d looked up Coastal Carolina University and knew it was relatively near the beach and located in Conway. What I didn’t do was to look about 15 miles east. Turns out, the university is right next to Myrtle Beach. Motto: Just like Daytona, only smaller and with fewer redeeming values. Still, Zippy the Monkey Boy and I did have a good time wandering around and seeing what was what. But more on that later. It’s long past time to talk about the tour.

To start with, the campus is small. Beautiful, but small. Which was not a bad thing. With only 8,000 or so students, it was a good size. Zippy was immediately taken with the scenery, the buildings and the fact that the university actually owned it’s very own barrier island set aside purely for marine science research for the students. Now that got him excited.

I was excited as well, but mostly because I’d just hit the part in the CCU brochure that talked about how much it cost to send an out-of-state little dude there for school. It’s, well, it’s a bit of a shock. Still, I did like that they showed some extensive work on possible scholarships offered there. These merit scholarships are given automatically to kids who are accepted and meet certain marks on the SAT, GPA and other abbreviations and suchlike. Something to shoot for.

What impressed me most, however, was the size of the dorm rooms. Those things had 10-foot ceilings and three beds inside each two-person room. I know. I was depressed at first, as well. I figured they were going to be stuffing three dudes in a two-dude room. Turns out, they offer the extra bed as a (and, no, I’m not making this up) guest bed. Just in case. The students can send them back and get an extra desk if they want.

Our tour guide this time out was fantastic. She was erudite, engaging and did a great job of communicating the enthusiasm she felt for the school.

All in all, it was a great visit and leaves Coastal Carolina University high up on Zippy the Monkey Boy’s list of schools he’d like to attend. We also learned something new. Coastal Carolina University’s mascot is the Chanticleer. The thing looked like a rooster, but Chanticleer? Never heard of it. So we looked it up. Turns out Chanticleer was a rooster, known from certain fables, mostly those surrounding Reynard the Fox (a Germanic and French folkloric trickster).

And now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

Related posts

• Freaky Friday: Verbal Sight (0)
• Hidden Talents: The Stinkening (2)
• A Different Definition (0)
• Freaky Friday: Online Ostracism (1)
• Dude Review: Under The Dome (0)

Well, it’s time to start compiling all the lists, searching the catalogs and finally getting all the stuff we’ve lusted for over the last year. Yep, that’s right. We’re just under a month away from Father’s Day.

It’s believed that the first Father’s Day was celebrated in 1910 in Spokane, Washington. So, I guess something good [...]]]> by Richard

Well, it’s time to start compiling all the lists, searching the catalogs and finally getting all the stuff we’ve lusted for over the last year. Yep, that’s right. We’re just under a month away from Father’s Day.

It’s believed that the first Father’s Day was celebrated in 1910 in Spokane, Washington. So, I guess something good finally did come out of Washington to balance out the weeping pustule that is Starbucks culture. This year, we’ll all be looking forward to June 20.

As I’m sure you all know, Father’s Day is the day when we receive all the cool gadgets and loving thoughts that are often experienced, but not as often expressed.

It’s the day when Father Claus drives up in his big Range Rover pulled by the power of a 1000 horses and unloads all those presents in the old football jersey we hang from the fireplace mantle. Ah, I can’t wait for the exotic gifts sure to be so lovingly given.

Just like last year. The, uh. . . The, ah. . . The small sample bottles of cologne. The ties, even though I don’t actually wear them anymore. Those lovely days when the little dudes were even littler and I used to get ashtrays, even though I never smoked. Although those did come in useful as paperweights and, later, when the little dudes weren’t so little, as flying objects aimed by one little dude at the other.

I, well, you know what. I don’t think any of that stuff I mentioned previously is going to happen. Again. I just keep hoping that if I mention it enough, it might come true. If I only believe hard enough, I’ll get what I want.

Hey. I mean, it worked for Tinkerbell, right?

Related posts

• A Different Definition (0)
• Trippin’, Fallin’ & Spyin’ (0)
• Hidden Talents: The Stinkening (2)
• Freaky Friday: Verbal Sight (0)
• More Than A Rooster (0)