I have to tell you a story from probably 15 years ago (actually, I don't have to, but I want to). I was walking through my hallway at school (actually the hallway wasn't really mine. It was where my classroom was [actually, the classroom wasn't ... never mind]) and came across a girl standing motionless at her locker looking pensive. I stopped and asked her if everything was okay. She said yes, that she was just worried about her SAT scores. I asked how she did, and she replied that she had gotten a 575 and a 625. Given the overall decline in scores, I didn't think that was so bad and told her so. I asked why she was worried. She said, "You don't understand. I took them twice; those are my total scores from each time added together." Oops.

Fast forward to the present. From Yahoo News comes some news today that isn't so good - for a second straight year, SAT scores for the most recent high school graduating class stayed at the lowest level in nearly a decade, a trend attributed to a record number of students now taking the test. The piece goes on to compare the results to past years and says, "You only had the best of the best taking the test. (Today) the SAT has become far more inclusive."

So, why is this such a big deal? Think about it. I am sure there are still students racking up perfect scores or near-perfect scores. Just because some other "competitors" may rack up the lowest possible scores that may be bringing down the average (may?), does their skewing results take away at all from those attaining perfection or near-perfection? Of course not! Great scores are still great. So why the shock and awe about increasingly lousy overall SAT scores?

To make this clearer, let's look at the Olympics. Supposedly the best of the best athletes in the world take part; perhaps we need to admit that approach is, uh, elitist and exclusionary. We need to allow more athletes of all abilities to participate; everyone should be able to join in. The world-record shatterers will still ultimately continue to shatter records, won't they? And maybe those who aren't as good or just don't care but were pressured to participate will be inspired to rise to a higher level of performance (or not). And the crème de la crème will still perform as well and break records, Unfortunately the news will say average times and scores are falling, but does that really matter? After all, the Olympics would be becoming far more inclusive, and as a result, average scores will fall, but so what.

One final thought. Maybe we can modify the events to give everyone a level playing field. You know, like in the marathon, instead of making everyone run the 26 miles and 385 yards (42.195 kilometers), maybe some could run a mile or two and be given full credit for that accomplishment if that's all they can do. Maybe others could use motorized vehicles over the distance or be carried on the backs of strong runners. Whatever it takes to accommodate those less able to perform the event should be considered. That way, everyone will be equal, scores and times won't look so bad, and isn't that what today is all about?

Later.

A Racist by Any Other Name...

We are very soon to hear who Barack Obama has picked as his running mate. As I am currently not at all impressed with mainstream politics-as-usual, the only hope I see is his selecting Bill Richardson; then I might take a closer look at Obama.

Otherwise, I will probably head back to supporting the Libertarian party as that's where my heart and mind reside; if I vote for what I believe in, I do not feel I am wasting my vote in that case.

Anyhow, to the purpose of this entry: I have no shortage of emails arriving from some hard-core Republican acquaintances out there eagerly forwarding anything that is anti-Obama, whether it makes sense or not. One person went so far as to send along a couple of "jokes" that loudly answered the question I had about whether he is anti-Obama because he's a Democrat or because Obama's black. In this person's case, it's the latter. The "joke" went beyond even my threshold for humor! I am no prude when it comes to jokes - I will tell (to a select group) jokes about almost anything if they are funny and obviously a joke. There is no dark agenda when I tell a joke even though to some people the joke may reinforce a "truth" or stereotype in their minds; in fact, those people will never hear my jokes.

After 31 years in the classroom, my sense of humor was driven deep underground. People with no sense of humor were in charge and made it clear to watch where we tread. Probably twice a year, I'd make a comment in class before I thought about what I was saying and while still smiling think to myself, "OMG, I'm going to get a phone call or be called into the principal's office. I'm doomed!" But it virtually never happened (except three times, which isn't bad for 31 years). The second time, it was recommended that I attend a course in sensitivity training, which, if you really know me at all, is like saying the same thing about Mother Teresa. A lot of people came to my defense, and for reasons only known to the Almighty, the whole thing just suddenly disappeared (as did the third time, which shouldn't have happened at all).

Anyhow, if you don't like the politics of Obama or McCain, fine; that's what it's all about. If you have another agenda, sometimes, it's easy to spot (see the picture, which I used without permission as I didn't know who to ask). In that case, your opinion isn't valid in my book. Sorry.
__________________________

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." M. L. King, Jr.

Later.

I Brought You to this Blog to Tell You a Secret...

I don't really think it will ever happen, but I have a deep-rooted fear that someday someone will call and tell me I have been invited to be a guest on the Maury show where someone has a secret they want to share with me. Can you imagine? That's the stuff nightmares are made of.

Well, keeping with the theme, I do have a secret to share, but I won't invite you onto national TV to share it (why do people do that). Weekday mornings at 9 am, if circumstances permit, I plop myself down and, gulp, actually watch Maury. I don't know why I do it - I am ashamed of myself, but I can't help it. I have read books, gone to meetings, and even tried a TV patch on my arm, but I can't stop. Yes, I am powerless. Watching Maury is like passing by a terrible car accident - I put my hand over my eyes but slowly spread my fingers apart and peek (or more).

All of that said, I ran across a column on www.FSUnews.com, the online edition of the Florida State University student newspaper. The column captured the excitement of the show I go through when I watch. So, I did what any responsible blogger would do and copied the column to post here. Then my conscience got the better of me, and I emailed for permission to repost the column, which was promptly granted (thank you Chris Lewis, General Manager). Share with me now the excitement of the Maury show - just about any Maury show as most are variations on a theme.

Television for the downtrodden
by Rachel Hoiles

Issue date: 1/13/05

At some point in life, most people must come to terms with the fact that they will never be Hollywood celebrities or powerful, national dictators. While sane people generally embrace this notion by joining unions and taking out life insurance policies, others seek their fortune on "The Maury Povich Show."

What makes the guests of the "Maury Show" special is that unlike guests on "Oprah" and "The View," they don't pollute valuable TV time with book promotions, Olympic accomplishments, or any sort of recognized talent (other than a mean right hook and the ability to procreate at ungodly high rates). But how could they have time for books and such when there are so many ways to tell your spouse that you were born a 'Wayne' rather than a 'Wanda'?

I appreciate that many of Maury's guests lack the most basic math skills, which, oddly enough, seems to be a fairly common problem that never gets its own episode. You'll never see, "Numerically Challenged ... I Have the Math Skills of a Household Rodent." In fact, arithmetic seems to be at the root of most problems for guests of "The Maury Povich Show," as many are simply unable to figure out how many people they had sex with in any given month. Take for example the guests on "Outrageous Paternity Test Results and Updates." These episodes feature distraught women desperate to prove that Candidate X is the father of their child. Maury really shines in these episodes because he gets to show his sensitive side.

MAURY: Carlita is here today because she believes that Arnold is the father of her eight-month old boy, Jake.

AUDIENCE: (Sees picture of Jake on projector screen) Awwww (Heads nod approvingly -- the baby is a hit.)

CARLITA: (Wipes away tears) That's right, Maury, I know that Arnold is the daddy of my baby, even though I sleep with many, many men.

MAURY: Come on out, Arnold!

ARNOLD: (walks onto stage, audience boos) Lying b----!

CARLITA: (hurls shoes at Arnold's head) Lying motherf---er!" (My note: this writer is good! All I hear are bleeps and more bleeps; I never was much good at lipreading.)

After the paternity test results are read aloud for dramatic effect, the feelings onstage go from rage to grief/gloating.

MAURY: (opening test results) Arnold, when it comes to eight-month old Jake, you are NOT the father.

ARNOLD: (jumps up and down in glee) Boo-ya!

CARLITA: Whaaat??! (bursts into tears)

MAURY: (Pats Carlita's back) There, there.

You could also watch any of this episode's ten thousand duplicates, such as "I'm Afraid to Tell You ... Our Baby Might Not Be Yours," "I Know He's the Father of My Baby...Take a Paternity Test to Prove It," and the classic, "My Mom is 100 Percent Sure I Am Not the Father of Your Baby." Many of these shows also feature sequels and/or trilogies.

Every once in a while Maury will give his program a change of pace by featuring makeover specials, such as "Turn My Wife Back Into the Super-Sexy Woman I Married," and the twist on that, "Turn That Gorgeous Gal Back Into My Handsome Son." Both are equally stimulating episodes, and require little or no conscience to enjoy. Guests are generally humiliated, but can take comfort in the fact that no matter how bad they look, at least they're not on "I'm Terrified of Chalk, Hair and Circus Clowns" (air date Oct. 24, 2002) or "Baby, I Didn't Mean to Scar You" (air date May 5, 1999).

It's a good thing Maury never runs out of ideas, and is never afraid to track down 230 pound 8-year-olds.

And it's hard to believe this guy is married to Connie Chung.

-30-

So, there you have it - a vicarious visit with the Maury show. Now, do you understand why I can't help watching? I don't either. Sigh.

Later.

(The Following is a Shameless Unpaid Advertisement)

I want to buy a house for $200 (using other people's money), turn it around, and resell it for a 10 million dollars! I want to sit in my bathrobe (I don't wear pajamas) and make millions sitting at my computer with just a few, simple clicks! I want to buy and sell stocks online and watch the millions roll in while I laugh at bills! I want a sparkling clean colon... oops! Forget that last one. Anyhow, I am out of work at the moment and need to generate a steady stream of income (in short, I need a financial version of Flomax). Unfortunately, in reality, it's not that easy.

Although I currently have many, many job applications out there (one actually [and a letter requesting appointment as a Bail Commissioner]), I am not really working.... or, until recently, I wasn't. Yes, I am still a Justice of the Peace, I casually sell personalized advertising specialties, and I collect a pitiful retirement check, but the three together don't go terribly far. All together, I probably am bringing in enough to pick up a Homer Simpson Chia Pet each month ($19.95 from www.thesimpsonshop.com).

Anyhow, when I knew "retirement" was becoming a reality, I began spending many, many hours online looking at "Make Money from Home" and "Become a Millionaire" offerings. I knew I could pick any one of the offerings and become an instant millionaire, but there was that nagging little voice questioning why more people weren't doing this. There are thousands and thousands of such "opportunities"; why aren't more people taking advantage of them? Are they for real?

(READER ALERT - a nasty four-letter word follows in the next sentence): Being brought up with an old-fashioned set of values, I always believed that to earn money, one needed to work for it, which brings to mind an old saying: "Why is it people born on third base walk around like they hit a triple?" Yes, I would love to be handed a check for a million dollars, but it isn't going to happen, so I fell back on the concept of making money the old-fashioned way - by working for it.

Sooo, I found an opportunity that appears to have NO downside, and with your help, I can make enough money to feed my family and animals (sometimes they seem like one and the same), put gas in the car (not that way - through the filler), keep the landlord happy (me), keep the family warm through our long New Hampshire winters, and maybe, just maybe, sock some funds away so that someday I really can retire!

After much research, I made a decision, and am now a Fuller Brush Man (technically an Independent Fuller Brush Distributor). The job offers everything I want - it keeps me busy and off the streets at night. There are other benefits as well, but I will save those for another entry. As I shortly need to close here, I will leave you with two thoughts: (1) Check out my website and buy my products. Think of Miss Jessica eating pasta most of the time (true [but actually her choice]). The site is www.fullerdirect.com. You need to accurately enter all of the following seven numbers - 0841110 and then browse to your little heart's content and order many mostly American-made products (that's gotta count for something). Postage and handling remains constant, so order away! Just think of the gas you will be saving. (2) If you would like to emulate me and follow in my footsteps, get out and meet lots of people, and make some extra money and have fun doing it, sign up as an Independent Distributor through me. You get the same great products at a nice discount, meet great people, and can ultimately quit your boring 9 -to-5 job. I will help you and take good care of you! Send an email to fbdaveb@gmail.com. Think about it. Thanks.

Later.

[Actor Portrayal. Your Results Will Vary. Unique Experience. Results Not Typical. Not Intended to Prevent or Treat any Disease or Condition. Dramatization. Professional Driver on Closed Course. I'm Dave Berman, and I approved this Ad. Seek the Advice of your Physician Before Starting any Treatment.]

One Person, One Vote....

I have been thinking a lot about this upcoming election, and I am still not impressed with my two choices (as far as the mainstream press goes, there are only two parties and two candidates). I keep thinking I should vote my conscience (Libertarian), but I also am thinking that may be a wasted vote. In the last election, Kerry received my vote, but it wasn't so much for him as it was against Bush. I thought my one vote just might make a difference - it didn't.

So, how much does one vote really matter? I am one person (one vote), and does my one vote really count toward anything? If we look at popular vote, my vote doesn't really matter at all. We are talking about one vote here, not bunches of one votes like bunches of one raindrops creating a flood. As a matter of fact, when it comes to popular vote, nobody's vote matters. In 2004, Bush (the victor) received some 50,455,156 votes, while Gore (the vanquished) received 50,992,335. Thinkers might wonder, "What's wrong with this picture," but they don't matter either, but that's not the point here.

Back in 1974, we in New Hampshire experienced the closest election ever in Senate history; it was between John Durkin (D) and Louis Wyman (R), and among its various recounts, at its closest, it was two votes apart, so my one vote still wouldn't have mattered. As it turned out, a special election was ultimately held, and Wyman emerged some 27,000 votes ahead.

So, I am left with a question: what's a voter to do? I think I really already answered it above. My only other question now is what if in some Putney Swope (quite an esoteric allusion) quirk of fate a Libertarian even got elected? How would the Libertariam platform ever be put into actual practice? The philosophy of freedom with responsibility sounds great, but my view of humanity is that pretty much everyone wants freedom, but few will accept the connected responsibility. If you have an answer, let me know.

Later.

I Can't Stop Monking Around

Okay, I admit it - there's a little bit of Monk in me... well, maybe more than a little. There are times I just can't help myself.

When I am in a store or someone's home and see an even slightly askew picture frame on the wall, I straighten it. When I see award plaques that are atilt on a wall, the same thing. In restaurants, chalkboard specials and menus provide particularly fertile grounds for me; I always point out errors I find; sometimes the chalkboard is changed; sometimes not. I can't help myself - I have to say something. Even standing at a checkout counter where a small pile of impulse items rests, I find myself aligning them to even them out. I once even wrote to Dean Koontz to tell him of an error in one of his books. He graciously thanked me and said he had done his research and must have been given faulty information (he had).

I was reminded of the above last night when I was reading a Lisa Gardner novel The Other Daughter (I follow authors when I find one I like - she is the latest. I have a pile of eight of her novels I am working through). A reader and writer have to work together - the writer's work has to ring true as the reader suspends his or her disbelief as the journey unfolds. A long time ago, for example, one book I read was set in Boston. The writer describe an area I was intimately familiar with; the problem is he described it wrong. That ruined the rest of the book for me - I disbelieved!

Back to Lisa Gardner (I would have written directly to her, but I couldn't find contact information. Maybe someone will forward what follows to her). As a character, an FBI agent, is handed a pistol, he says, "My God, this sucker has radioactive sites! I've only ever heard of them." My first thought was it's a typo, but it happened again... and again a third time on the next page. That was no typo: "Radioactive sites!" I did a quick Google search and found out a lot about radioactive sites. Whooda thunk the government was hiding the stuff right in plain sight on gun sights? Whooda thunk it? Arrrgh!

Later.