HUMOR - Coulrophobic protection!

MY LIFE (and ENTERTAINMENT): My Daughter And “Her Nerds”

Since time immemorial, as far back as anyone can remember, from the dawn of the cave dwellers, a particular group has been picked on and mistreated by the mighty and the popular.

This group has been known by many names - “geeks”, “dorks”, “spazzes”, “losers”... and most notably “nerds”.

But in ONE school, this arrangement is changing! In one school, ONE girl is standing up and saying “No more!”

This is THE story of that girl!


Okay, my daughter isn't heroic as all that... although his friends might disagree. But has seemed to change the way that at least her friends at school are treated.

And what got me started thinking so much about my daughter and “her nerds” was the song below...



I, myself, could relate to this song quite well. I'd been on both sides of the equation, picked on and ignored, as well as ignoring others who were picked on. I'm not proud of that, but I'd be a liar if I told you otherwise.

But my daughter... now there's a completely different story. Although she picked up my compassion, she fortunately also picked up her mother's feistiness and confidence.

And one time when I was listening to this song, I imagined what it would be like if my daughter was the main character of this tale.


Things would be different from the start, I can tell you that!

That first day after the bicycle race, which my daughter would do her damnedest to win, she would go up to that James and say, “Hi, I'm J---. You're going to be my new best friend. What's your name?” It seems like she does this to almost every new nerd that joins her school. Like she's the school's nerd-welcoming committee.

And if the guy wondered what was going on and who the heck she was, she'd just say, “I told you! I'm J---, and you're going to be my new best friend.”

And if the guy should protest and say he doesn't need a new friend or something, she would inform him that's “Too bad!”


Come lunch the first day, James would find himself suddenly surrounded by my daughter and her friends, who she refers to as “my nerds”. My daughter would play master of ceremonies introducing the new nerd to the rest of the group.

Do they know that she calls them “my nerds”? Apparently so. Have they complained about being called that? My daughter told me they did. Her response? “Too bad!”


If James and my daughter went for a walk like they did in the song, she would probably talk with him about being from a divorced home.

But if he tried to tell her that her music was junk, she would most definitely put him in his place.

And soon as he brought up The Sex Pistols... oh boy!

She'd rip into him about how he listens to that old awful crap her dad does! And probably ask him with a sneer if he listens to Violent Femmes and Devo too. And then she'd tell him about how there is new music out there! And that teenagers should be listening to their own music, not their parents'!

Have to admit my daughter has a point on teenagers who listen to their parents' music and nothing from their generation. That's just wrong and kind of sad!


Now, if three guys started picking on James, this would definitely turn out differently!

As my daughter explained: “One guy would find himself himself pushed to the ground. Another would find his face slammed into a locker. And the third would find himself with his arm twisted very far behind him.” Then after a pause, and with a bit pride, “All things I have done to people who have picked on my nerds!”

I should say here that my daughter is not a big girl. She gets some of her stature from her petite, five foot tall mother. But then her mother doesn't take crap from anyone either!

My daughter is apparently known as “the psycho girl who hangs out with the nerds”. And most bullies, it seems, have learned not to mess with her friends.


I will freely admit that I am quite proud of my daughter, The Great Protector Of Nerds. She has the confidence and looks to be part of the popular crowd, but is unwilling to make the compromises. “They're boring! All they talk about are boys, clothes and their hair! Ugh!” Instead she hangs out with the group that willingly accepts all her quirks and eccentricities. And they get a good return investment for letting her in there! Not that she'd give them a choice!

HUMOR: How NOT to Test a Taser

I got this as an email from The Formerly Wild Now Christian Co-Worker. I don't know if this story is true or not - and, in fact, neither does Snopes! But it's humorous - true or not, so I'm passing it along. - OlderMusicGeek

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.

I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the
prongs.

AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?! !??

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong???

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of
water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5' long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best... I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it master,' reasoning that a one- second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided
to give myself a one-second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button... and??

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!!??

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs.

The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, 'Do it again, stupid, do it again!'

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself!

You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.

A three-second burst would be considered conservative??

SON-OF-A-... That hurt like **% !!! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get
up there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I'm still looking for my testicles! I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!! Still in shock!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

'If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid.'

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