So yesterday I was walking under a ladder when I tripped over a black cat and hit my head on a VW Buggy (punch-buggy). I was knocked out cold.
During this time I had one of those Gilligan’s Island type dreams, loaded with moments of clarity and empathy. When I say empathy I mean empathy for everyone. BMGers, RMGers, and REMgers. You name it. Even Bad Karma Larry Lucchino, Half-Man George Regan, and Search and Avoid Dan Conley. Then the clarity took over and told me I’m right about those guys and to stay on them.
But it went on from there. Confirmed what I knew. Like if the average white person were black he would hate, and I mean hate, white people in general.
If physically abled people were in wheelchairs or lived with a major handicap most would be militant types advocating for better access.
And if you or I were manager of the Red Sox the odds are high we would not last the season. The average person would be arrested for assault and battery with a dangerous weapon for whacking a reporter over the head with a bat after being interrogated one too many times in the post-game interview.
Okay, you all get my point.
Which brings me to transgender issues. I know. I know. But it was in the dream. What can I say?
Before last night I had no problem with the transgender bill as long as the person was seeking medical/psychological guidance. The note-from-the-doctor school of thought.
Well now I’m all in. Why not? It’s obviously not a choice and the effects can be devastating. Here I was afraid of those crazy guys at Delta House vamping out and taking over the women’s locker room. That shit will settle itself out.
What’s important are the too many people living dark and tortured lives. They know what they have. No doctor should be needed to present oneself as the opposite sex.
But a shrink would help. I’m sure it’s highly recommended. Christ, the issues one would have to deal with. Shrinks. Doctors. Being a transgender can get expensive.
Anyway the dream was spelling it all out for me. It was about to tell me the meaning of life when the flying monkees started taken me away. I didn’t want to go. I was fighting them off when the next thing I know the Skipper was shaking me telling me to wake-up and calm down, I was having a bad dream.
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Hey Howie Carr, if you call that piece of junk in the Herald today a column then I bet you call your bathroom the library. Really dude. In it you regurgitated the same ole lame lawyer/judge jokes. Judges are lawyers who couldn’t make it in the private sector and blah blah blah. Not to mention your over the top accusations of wide spread court corruption.
Then you vaguely refer to some lawyers and judges as about to be put on the hot seat for too many not guilty findings in jury waived trials. You ended with this gem,
“Just remember, you read it here first, in the Herald.”
Little background folks. Howie is talking about the investigation the Globe is doing on OUI’s and the success rate of certain drunk driving lawyers have with particular judges. They’ve been looking into this for awhile and the story(ies) is/are expected soon.
It is common knowledge. So much so that that Lawyers Weekly mentioned it last week. In fairness to Howie he noted it in his column.
The gist of Howie’s rant is he’s been saying this for years. What was his angle again when the Globe beat the Herald on Whitey’s tipster?
Whatever Howie.
What we got from you today Howie were recycled lines ending with a lame punch-line.
Where did that fast-ball go Howie? Hell, where did the curve go? If you don’t get this knuckle ball working you may be toast.
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What’s this about Martha Coakley and Suzanne Bump wanting mandatory state reporting of bully incidents? Awesome. Lets label these kids (mostly boys) while they’re young. We can start tracking them now.
These two want names and they want names now. Who was talking when the teacher was out of the room? Martha needs the names.
Then she will put them on THE LIST. Ut oh. The bully list. Try explaining that on job interviews.
Hey Martha, you know what? As long as you’re our attorney general you scare the living shit out of me.
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