Spring has once again arrived here in Minnesota. I know this because my lawn has once again become absolutely alive with dandelions. I’ve written about this before, but since I have no idea what else to write about, I’m going to write about dandelions, whether you like it or not.
To put it mildly, I’m not all that big into lawn care. I don’t care about my lawn. All my neighbors seem to spend all sorts of time caring about their lawns, but I, quite frankly, fail to see the point.
I’m constantly being bombarded by advertisement mailings telling me about the horrors of crabgrass, but my thinking is “hey, at least it’s grass.” In this respect I’m very much different from my father, a man who considers lawn care an art form bordering on religion, bordering on psychosis. If there’s one enemy my father engages in ongoing battle against, it’s crabgrass.
I can’t recount the number of times I’ve stood in my parent’s yard, talking with my mom and dad, only to have my dad eventually, inevitably, slowly fall to knees—as if pulled by a gravitational force only he feels—and start pawing around the lawn, tweezering rogue crabgrass with his thumb and forefinger. The act always struck me as sort of mysterious, as if he was channeling his former life as a truffle-snuffling pig.
I suffer from no such past-life flashbacks. In my yard, crabgrass grows unchecked, outgrown only by dandelions, which haven’t taken root in my dad’s lawn since somewhere back in ’79, which dad refers to only as “that incident.”
To underscore just how bad my lawn apparently is, my girlfriend recently had a conversation with a woman who lives up the street from us. The woman asked which house we lived in and, upon realizing the house in which we reside, the woman, quite unabashedly, stated “oh, I know that house; that used to be the nicest lawn on the street, now it’s the worst.” We won’t be having her over for dinner any time soon, unless we’re serving dandelion soup.
Taken by itself, that conversation might have persuaded me to take a more proactive approach with my lawn. I might have even finally called the number on all those TruGreen ChemLawn fliers that fill up my mailbox. I may have actually taken the first step down the path of becoming a crabgrass snuffler, like my father before me.
Thankfully, I was saved from that horrible fate by another neighborly encounter, this time with a woman pushing a carrier packed with three young children. Again, it was my girlfriend who actually had the encounter, as I was probably inside the house at the time doing something productive, like taking a nap.
Anyway, according to my girlfriend, the three children were a gleefully energetic bunch, clearly pleased to be out and about in the spring air. One of the children, with an adoring lilt in his voice, remarked “look at all the dandelions! They’re so pretty!”
And so they are.
When you really think about it, when was the last time you heard a child remark about how pretty grass is? Or how horrible crabgrass looks? But, they understand dandelions. They appreciate dandelions.
What all this comes down to is that I still don’t care all that much about my lawn, but if I have to really think about who I want to impress more: my neighbors, or their children, I tend to think I’d want to impress those who appreciate the dandelions.
If for no other reason, at least that would allow me to continue to be lazy.
Some people. . .
I am saddened that most people say there were 32 victims of the Virginia Tech slayings on April 16. I do agree that Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 people before taking his own life; however, Cho was a victim as well.
Yeah, the guy who sealed off the exit to a building and went about on a premeditated, indiscriminate killing spree was a "victim." A guy who sent a self-glorifying, rambling, hateful video of himself to NBC just prior to said killing spree was a "victim."
One of Cho's professors requested that he be removed from her class. She also claims that her students stopped showing up for class because they were intimidated by him. She says, "there was something mean about this boy," stating he would come to class wearing sunglasses and a hat. He was eventually forced to take his class one-on-one with a different professor.
Gee, it's almost as if Cho was TRYING to be intimidating. Left out of this clown's bleeding heart "letter of the day" was Cho's fantastic writings, which would have made Freddy Krueger a tad uncomfortable.
I don't know about anyone else, but I see plenty of students coming to class wearing hats and sunglasses who aren't immediately labeled as "mean" or "scary." It seems he was continuously singled out from the crowd, which would make anyone feel hurt or resentment toward those in "the crowd."
You know, it's been about 10 years since I was in college, but as I recall it was a place where "interesting" self-expression was the norm rather than the exception. There were goths, and there were stoners, and there was even a self-proclaimed "vampire" in one of my newspaper practicum classes who consistently wore the same black outfit and, according to rumor, slept in a coffin. But, crazy creepy as even he was, he was able to engage with other people, and was actually quite funny, in a "stay-away-from-my-neck" sort of way. In other words, college students, typically, can handle quite a fair share of weirdness in their fellow students. So, if students found Cho a bit unsettling, I'm betting there was a bit more to it than a hat and sunglasses.
Cho gave out many warning signs, all of which seem to have been overlooked by society.
Ummm, no, as you mentioned earlier, those warning signs weren't overlooked. Cho's fellow students, or "the crowd," apparently made it painfully clear Cho scared the living hell out of them.
He threatened to kill himself, there was a temporary detention order issued, and he was placed in a mental health facility.
All signs of a textbook "victim."
With enough time in an inpatient facility, a professional should have been able to see there was something else going on.
And how much time would that be? A week? A month? A year? How long would it take for this imaginary "professional" to emerge who would say "You see that young man with the two guns and the empty gaze? He could be trouble, that one."
Was Cho a crazed lunatic who thought of death every minute of the day and finally just snapped in a fit of rage and decided to kill 32 people before killing himself?
Okay, normal people, please answer: YES! Now, stupid letter writer, what's your answer?
No, Cho was a victim of an undereducated, underfunded society that lacks the resources and will to give him, and others like him, the help they need.
ABBY ESCOBAR-HASKINS, ST. PAUL
He was a victim of an undereducated society? What's considered adequate education for singling out a psychotic? Because, it sounds like the VT students pretty much had Cho nailed for the nutball that he was. And underfunded? What the hell does that even mean? He was placed in a mental health facility, for crying out loud. Cho was a crazy man. An insane man. A killer. If he was a victim of anyone, he was a victim of himself.
Letter of the day?
Try, dumbass of the day.
This is the kind of thing that just makes me want to punch dirt.
MINNEAPOLIS -- A half-dozen cities across Minnesota have banned or restricted ultimate fighting as the growing sport that mixes martial arts and street brawling gains popularity.
Got that? It's mixing martial arits and street brawling, eh? Street brawling? What would it take for a reporter filing something like this to actually, you know, research the topic they're reporting? Because, if they did, they might then accurately report that ultimate fighting mixes martial arts--primarily Muay Thai and boxing--with grappling andr jiu-jitsu, fighting disciplines that take some seriously intense and dedicated training to master, whereas street brawling is. . . well, if I have to explain the difference, you're pretty much brain dead.
The sport is likely to draw more restrictions by public officials concerned about safety, unruly crowds and the sport's reputation for lack of regulation.
Public officials who wouldn't know mixed martial arts from a watermelon, who instead react with knee-jerk "restrictions" because Old Grandma Gertie raised "concerns" about safety during a city council meeting consisting of an audience of three people a month ago.
"It's very, very violent," said Tim Sletten, the police chief in Red Wing, which recently prohibited the sport. "It's street fighting in a ring. Until it's regulated and done as safely as possible, I don't want it in Red Wing."
The day I see a street fight that ends in an armbar or a triangle, with one guy tapping out, and the other guy releasing him amiably, Tim Sletten and I can have a nice conversation. Until then, Tim Sletten can go leap off a cliff, in a nice, regulated and safe way.
A ban is also approaching in Willmar, where a resident had hoped to hold an event next month.
"I think that the image people have is that it's street fighting, no-holds-barred, kicking, punching and wrestling," Willmar Mayor Les Heitke said. "People say, 'It's not really a discipline.' Well, it probably is ... but it doesn't come off that way."
What? You're banning something because "it doesn't come off as a discipline?" Well, in that case, why not ban, say, chocolate, because it doesn't come off as a fruit? Jesus Mary Kay.
Willmar Police Chief Jim Kulset said the crowds for ultimate fighting can easily get out of hand. "You get very aggressive entertainment like that, just add alcohol, and it's instant problems," he said.
Add alcohol to knitting and it's instant problems, you gonad. Add alcohol to St. Patrick's Day, and it's instant problems. Add alcohol to football, and you have a typical Sunday in October, as well as instant problems. I wonder if Police Chief Jim Kulset would be okay with ultimate fighting if the venues were alcohol free. Likely not.
While rules vary among venues, ultimate (fighters generally compete in a caged ring in timed rounds. They punch, kick and use submission holds and martial arts moves that take years to perfect.
Wait a minute, wait a minute: I thought it was street fighting and brawling. Now I'm so confused. Which is it? A highly trained discipline, or aimless fist throwing?
Proponents say criticism is overstated and stems largely from ignorance about a competition that has evolved from its anything-goes beginnings into a skilled athletic contest. Done right, it's safer than boxing, they say. What's more, they welcome state oversight.
Proponents sound like a downright rational, logical bunch of people, don't they?
"There's a difference between a sanctioned show, with trained referees and security, and a 'sign-up-and-fight' type of show," said Mike Reilly, who trains fighters in his Bloomington garage.
Seems like a pretty cut and dried difference to me.
Still, an attempt to bring mixed martial arts under supervision of the state Boxing Commission failed, in large part because Reilly and others weren't convinced that commissioners knew enough to regulate the sport.
And since the boxing commission very likely knows jack-shit about ground fighting, I wouldn't want them regulating it, either.
"I think they'll regret it," said state Sen. Dick Day, R-Owatonna, who is on the commission. "Something is going to happen ... and somebody is going to get hurt."
Look, Dick. You listening, Dick? It's called "Ultimate Fighting," so yes, somebody is going to get hurt. In fact, probably during every fight. How many people have gotten hurt during boxing? Oh, A LOT, despite the existence of a boxing commission? Okay then. Boxing averages somewhere along the lines of 11 deaths a year. Ultimate fighting has, I believe, one death chalked up since its inception. So go suck it, Dick.
Only a decade ago, mixed martial arts bouts were taboo in most states, where they were commonly referred to as toughman competitions. U.S. Sen. John McCain called the sport "human cockfighting" and urged states to ban it.
Oh, for fuck's sake. While ultimate fighting may have it's roots in Toughman, ultimate fighting and toughman competitions are completely separate entities. There's no groundfighting in toughman competitions. There's no Butterbean in ultimate fighting.
But the excitement of the competition, with its well-sculpted athletes and trash-talking personalities, combined with increased regulation and the popularity of the reality TV show "The Ultimate Fighter" has pushed it toward the American mainstream.
Well-sculpted athletes? As opposed to those beer-swilling, armchair-sitting athletes we've come to know and love, I guess. As for "trash-talking," I must be watching the wrong UFC fights. Or maybe I've just been de-sensitized to the trash talk, what with Mike Tyson saying he was going to eat his opponent's babies and chomping on ears.
"Ever since that show started, our phone has been ringing a lot more," said Andy Grahn, program director for the Minnesota martial Arts Academy in Brooklyn Center, which trains about 250 martial arts students and a few fighters.
Ringing a lot more, why? Because of complaints? Because of people interested in training? Why the increased ringing? Are people dialing the wrong number? Are we readers just supposed to come to our own conclusions? What a great, inconclusive quote.
Today, 22 states regulate it with help from athletic commissions, said Marc Ratner, vice president of regulatory affairs for the Ultimate Fighting Championship, the world's largest mixed martial arts promoter.
Good on them.
In Minnesota, responsibility for hosting events and providing medical attention and security is placed on individual clubs, promoters and, often, communities.
Good on them, as well.
Several years ago, West St. Paul, Fridley and Spring Lake Park banned or restricted competitions. Fridley's decision came after a fan was severely beaten in a parking lot during an event at a bar. Police believed that the victim and his assailants had been drinking.
So, let's see if I have this right. A FAN was beaten, IN A PARKING LOT, OUTSIDE of an event. Quick question: how often do drunken parking lot fights happen outside of bars that DON'T host ultimate fighting events? Count me as unsurprised if the answer comes back "Oh, about every night."
"They got on top of him like they do in ultimate fighting and just kept pounding his head," Fridley police Capt. Brian Weierke said. "That's what put him in a coma."
They? As in multiple assailants? Or they, as in gender-neutral singular? And even then, SO WHAT? It was a drunken fight outside of a bar that happened to be hosting an ultimate fighting event. What if it had been a drunken fight outside of a bar that was hosting a Super Bowl gathering? Should the Super Bowl be banned? Or, hey, let's just ban restaurants.
