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Dingbats, Dodos And Doozies
Rick Reilly
November 27, 2006
OKAY, WHO's ready to play What the Hell Were You Thinking, You Lard-Brained Ferret?
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November 27, 2006

Dingbats, Dodos And Doozies

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OKAY, WHO's ready to play What the Hell Were You Thinking, You Lard-Brained Ferret?

We start with you, Mr. Dan Hinkle of Fairfax County, Virginia.

You're the commissioner of a youth football league who decided to fire your son's coach because the guy switched your precious 12-year-old, Scott, from defense to offense for one game. You got rid of a man, James Owens, whom the kids loved so much, they refused to keep playing without him, even though they were in the playoffs! How Daddy Dearest can you be? We found out in an e-mail you wrote to Owens before the season started:

Scott does not sit out on defense—ever.... He goes in and stays in. That includes all practices, scrimmages and games. This entire league exists so he can play defense....

Well, aren't you a little Donald Chump? Now the boys are devastated and the parents are pissed. In a perfect world you'd find out one day that the kids had fired you.

Now you, Ms. Gaylene Heppe of Attleboro, Massachusetts.

As the principal of Willett Elementary School, you decided to ban tag. You said there were liability and safety issues involved with it. Tag! You also banned touch football and any other "contact" sports. What do you have there, a school full of hemophiliacs?

Don't you know that American kids are getting fatter than legless cats? Don't you know that the Centers for Disease Control predict that one out of three kids born in 2000 will likely develop diabetes, with obesity as a major risk factor? How are kids supposed to get exercise, by stacking cups?

It's worry-wimps like you who are raising the softest, most coddled, most indolent American generation in history. Schools have already taken away dodgeball and jungle gyms and diving boards. What's next, hopscotch? We're raising a generation of kids who'll bruise like bad bananas, sue when they lose at checkers and wonder why somebody isn't handing them a trophy for tying their shoes, which, by the way, they'll see for the last time at 16.

Your turn, Mr. Wayne Derkotch of Philadelphia.

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