I'm a Slave 4U

Sorry about the weak Brittney Spears title kids. I'm at a loss for any music with Master in it. And I didn't think the I Dream of Jeannie theme counted.

That's what you get for picking a topic like the St. Xavier's online Master of Arts in Curriculum and Instruction to write about.

I know. I should know better. But that's why I'm up to the challenge. I'm able to make any subject into an inappropriate joke. And not just about breasticles. Yes, it's both a gift and a curse.

Now I'm not Catholic. But I do like drinking and Bingo. A great game that combines the all the excitement of the lottery with smoking and frustration.

But the MS Curriculum is legit. Not like Bagpipe Hero. As far as you know.

The online Master of Arts in Curriculum and Instruction gets you ready for continued development as a master teacher in schools or other instructional institutions. No word on whether they also give you a whip. Personally, I always thought the most important part of being a teacher was excellent peripheral vision. Key components of this program include focus on literacy, diversity, integration of technology and an interdisciplinary perspective in education.

Luckily, I don't have to worry about people ever leaving their children with me for education about the way the world really works. Because I'll do things like wander the toy aisle and look at the guns and loudly declare:

I'll bet with a gun like that I could shoot my Sister right in the eye. And if anybody tried to tell me I couldn't have a gun, I'd yell as loud and as long as I could until they finally bought it for me.

Yeah, I'm helpful like that.

Also not making a single bit of that up.

But if you don't want your urchins educated about how to win ambulance rides and influence parents, you probably shouldn't let them wander around Target alone.

And you can also thank me for when he draws a moustache on Daddy whilst he's napping.

I really thought the best part of having a kid was getting to take him or her to a baseball game and fill them to the brim with warm orange soda and cotton candy. Then when they fall asleep in the car on the way home, you get to carry them into the house while their head wobbles all over the place.

That and training them to bring you beer without shaking the bottle up. Because once they learn what shaking a beer up does to you, it's pretty much over.

Thank Heaven For Little Girls

If you haven't heard, Mattel is coming out with a special set of golf clubs aimed at girls from 4 to 6 years old. It's the Barbie Golf Set. Wow, 4 years old and being pushed into sports. Just in time for the holidays, you can get your progeny crushing, unrealistic expectations!

I'm sure this isn't because a lot of athletically frustrated parents want their kid to grow up to be Michelle Wie is it? Can you even tell if you daughter is a lesbian at that age? Trust me, I went to the Dinah Shore Classic in Palm Springs and it was lesbian Beetlemania.

I think Mattel should also come out with a Ken golf set aimed at young boys. It won't have any balls, no bag and definitely no woods.

Hiyo.... I'm here all week kids. Tip your waitstaff and bartenders. Enjoy the next act.

Hoop Dreams

As the last, final, we-give-up-already kid in my family, there's not many photographic recollections of my existence. Oh sure, there's lots of stuff from the oldest daughter who predates me by 18 years. Mom and Pop have stacks of scrap books with her baby teeth and pictures of her first steps and popsicle art from Camp Y Noah (where we would be packed off to every summer so the parents could have "some peace and quiet goddamit.")

There is a gradual decline in the intervening flotsam and jetsam of the two older brothers until finally there's just a battered shoe box from the Johnson administration that contains the momentous events (such as they were) of my kiddom.

So it's with great pride that I present the following swell snapshot from my past. Yup, that's the old man coaching/yelling and apparently posing for a JC Penney's catalog with my basketball team. Fifth Graders to the one of us with the meanest illegal zone defense that league ever saw. We had double screens, out of bounds plays and every other pick up, street ball way to cheat the old man had ever learned the hard way.

Yes, that's me with the bad bowl cut, untucked t-shirt and red Chuck Taylors. Yup, a rebel even back then. I don't roll to no league dress code. Thank goodness the socks aren't pulled up any higher. And those sideburns show that we're locked in the depths of the 70's.

Yup, a "Coaches kid." Just like having your own little field general on the floor: calling out defensive switches, knowing when to take time out, hitting all the free throw shots, setting illegal screens, passing the ball out of bounds frequently from watching too many Magic Johnson highlights. Although back then it was probably Jerry West.

Of course I'm not paying attention. Why? I'm going to shoot as soon as I get the rock. That's "the ball" for you kids who aren't hep to the street lingo of the basketball scene.

No idea who that hanger on in the Mickey Mouse tee is by the way. Probably someone's little bother.

It would be about six more years before reality set in that I was going to be too slow and too small and too bad to do this professionally.