Speaking of this town’s highest-rated tourist attraction, this is what it looked like before the house itself was condemned and demolished. The signs, and many more of them, are still there, but it’s now a bare lot. A bare lot covered with big slabs of drywall. Big slabs of drywall covered with nastiness and libel. Why doesn’t someone crack down on it? Nobody knows. Maybe the people mentioned are like many of the kids in our schools: Negative attention is better than none at all. It is also very, very true that many people occasionally agree with what this man has to say. Most of the time, though, he’s just nasty. People with young-yet-literate children try not to drive up that way; it would be hard to know how to answer some of their innocent questions.

I guess that in this town, a person has a right to do whatever they want with their own land. I agree with that premise, up to a point.

Of course, if somebody’s grass gets too high for too long, the town is all over it. But libel? Come on over and say whatever you want.

Be somewhat careful, though; remember, this is the town wherein resides the bank that foreclosed on our only homeless shelter. Foreclosed, and auctioned off the furnishings. Which bank would that be? Good question, and many people have asked. The answer is, of course, that nobody will tell you. But then, homeless people don’t generally have bank accounts, so why would the bank care? And quite obviously, it didn’t. They swept down on that shelter like piranha on a cow’s hind leg and POOF, it was gone.

This is not a good town in which to be homeless, or driven out of your home by abuse. If you’re a woman, that is. The men’s shelter is still intact.

Whatta you bet that bank is run by men?

Mysteriously, nothing about the bank was ‘posted’ in the North End Drywall Blog. Mysteriously.

Notice, though, that the grass around the drywall is lookin’ good.

For all my big talk about being strict, I’m really kind of a softy when there’s a good reason for a student’s absence. For example, I have one student who has to miss occasionally because she’s undergoing chemo; I consider that a viable excuse. She’s very good about her make-up work, and conscientious about everything. Another student’s husband is quite ill and has undergone two serious operations in the past month; she, too, is very conscientious about making up everything she must miss. Vomit? Stay home. Migraine? Ditto. Extremely sick child? Good heavens, a child is more important than a gerund. Take care of your child.

Sniffles? Get to class. Hangover? Life is full of choices, isn’t it. Get to class. Oversleeping more than once in a semester? Forget it. “MUST take a nap NOW?” Nope. Got a chance to go to King’s Island for a long weekend? Have fun, but you aren’t making up the work. Mommy and Daddy are leaving for the Bahamas the week before or after Spring Break and you want to go, too? Toodles, Muffy, but you’re not taking the test late, and your project that’s due BEFORE break will still be due before break. Bring it in afterwards if you want, but you won’t get any credit for it.

And if you’ve missed three weeks of class, including the day your class took Midterms, and try to talk me into allowing you to take that missed MidTerm Exam, and I fall for your excuses, and tell you to come to my room at 9:00 this morning because I’ve made a special effort to bring your exam to class and make a place for you in the classroom where other students in another class are taking their exam, you’d better by golly show up, because if you don’t, you’ve failed the class.

I waited for you until noon, absentee student, and you never showed. No email or phone call from you, either.

So tomorrow, when I’ll get yet another whiny email full of excuses and pleadings from you, forget it. I’m not going to fall for your act again.

The majority of my students are wonderful, hardworking, trustworthy people, and they all show up every week and they all showed up this week for the big exam, and if there are privileges to be handed out, they’re going to get them, not you.

Let me say that again: not you.

My advice? Go to the registrar and withdraw. Try again next semester. Maybe by then you’ll have grown up a little more.

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly

This town has a lot of interesting places, but only a few of them are on the internet as an official interesting place.

One official interesting place, however, is the yard of a local gentleman who, because of his rather outspoken viewpoints on every issue under the sun, mostly the ones that are none of his business various issues, has been banned from almost every church, public meeting, and school function. Therefore, to present his side, he props up big slabs of drywall in his yard and spray-paints his opinions on them for the world to see.

This man doesn’t care who he offends, either. He posts people’s names in his yard, along with terrible slurs and what many people would call ‘libel.’ Many people and a book of law, in fact.

Sometimes, he puts a big sign or two in the bed of his pickup truck, and drives around town to bring his opinions to the people. He likes to park in a big busy parking lot so he can share his POV with others.

Not everyone approves of his opinions, of course. That has never prevented this gentleman from posting them. I guess his yard is his blog. And if you think some of these signs are offensive, you ain’t seen NOTHING yet. He used to live in a a house that belonged to the yard, but the house was condemned and torn down. He lives somewhere else now, but he drives over to the yard and updates the signs every few days. You know, as if the signs were a. . . blog.

I would arrange these pictures artistically, but I have no idea how to place them; I just know how to click on the Blogger picture icon to post a pic. Where it appears is pot luck. Well, if you’re me. YOU probaby know how to do it right. And even though you’re snickering and wondering how a community could allow a mess like this right in the middle of town. . . . . well, many people have wondered that for many years. But it’s still there. And when you come to visit me, you’ll ask to see this yard, too. Everybody does.

I’ll post about the haunted pyramid some day.

(One of my students had to explain what “3825-U” meant.)

See? Pyramid.