If it mattered what was said in locker rooms, then I would be offended, but it does not matter. This craziness needs to stop and honorable reporting of the real news, at this most important time in America’s possibly diminishing lifespan, needs to become the order of the day.
Believe me, if anyone has cause to complain about bad language, that person is I. I taught for over forty years and during those decades, I had words of every length, meaning, reference, and suggestion, spit directly into my face, an inch from my nose, with threats that a fist would follow them. Those words were shouted by innumerable frustrated teen boys who were unforgivably failed by our public school system. Those boys had trusted that their teachers would teach them to read but instead, the boys had arrived in my classroom as illiterate, volatile, failing 10th graders. If I could choose to be semi-deaf when that undeserved abuse was dumped on me, you all can choose to be semi-deaf when words, spoken eleven years ago and never meant to be heard by you, are now made known because a spy with a tape recorder chose to betray his fellow males.
My first step toward taming mouthy boys was–sending them to the locker room! That is right. Our males need a safe place, not only to blow off steam, but to brag, bluster, and display bravado, as males of all species on
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Earth do. Our males need locker rooms where they can speak freely without fear of recriminations, so I taught my boys to go there instead of speaking offensively in my classroom, the hallways, or around society. I taught them how to differentiate between various levels of English: Standard English; Queen’s English; Home English; Schoolyard English; Locker Room English; Dialect English. I taught that dialects are appropriate—at proper times; in proper places; but use at school while learning how to read, write, and the spell is neither the place nor the timing for speaking with dialects. We discussed Family English and I explained that my deaf brother could never say “whipped cream.” My family has continued to use Reed’s pronunciation since his death in 1973, but that we never ask for “creama whippa” when shopping. Most importantly, my students were told that I was never to hear Locker Room English spoken outside of the Locker Room. I am proud to report that those boys, now grown men, continue to show great respect, never using locker room language within my hearing.
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No, it has been the supposedly educated reporters, journalists, and talk show hosts of FoxNews, CNN, MSNBC, CBS, The Daily Mail, and other media sources who decided to again assault my senses and defile my world.
Plus decades of Bill Clinton. I will never forget the morning that our local CBS affiliate broadcast decadence to hundreds of preschool and school-age children across Cadillac and northwest Lower Michigan. I have often wondered if those reporters even considered what might happen after they publically described Bill Clinton’s trashy lifestyle during the breakfast hour. My four year old turned to me and asked, “Mom, what is oral sex, anyway?” Yes, Willy spoke and acted outside the walls of the locker room, just like the animals on Animal Planet and NatGeo do, thus exposing previously guarded areas of life to sheltered, innocent children. Still, there were enough stupid and/or trained-seal Democrats to vote him a second term. The thought that there may be enough non-thinking and trained voters to elect his nasty, dishonest wife, as well, thoroughly chills the blood.
We need locker rooms and private spaces where people can speak freely and occasionally even talk too much. Women do, as well, and should admit it instead of pretending to be oh, so shocked by that tape recording. We do not meet in locker rooms. We have events where we discuss men and the shadier sides of life: bridal showers; home decorating parties; Tupperware parties. In Chile, such gatherings are referred to as “LuLu Parties,” named after the old cartoon character, Little LuLu. One evening, just as our party was starting, a man knocked. The women rushed the door and for a moment I feared the ladies would tear the fellow apart for daring to show up at a LuLu Party! He had merely stopped to ask his wife a question! Here in America, women rent male strippers, bow ties and all, for some events (but not much else comes with the “all”, don’t cha know). Yes, we must not act holier than the men.
We all must stop this silly finger pointing and theatrical, insincere gasps of false offense. We have a wonderful country to save and the days we have left in which to save it are quickly becoming fewer. The villain here is not Donald Trump. The villains are 1) Sneaky Sleeze, the male who took a tape player into a locker room to betray fellow males, and 2) Hilary Clinton, with her evil plans for America, her possible hiding of dangerous health issues, her probable acceptance of foreign monies for State Department favors, her destruction of public property, her refusal to comply with subpoenas, her willingness to protect her sexual predator husband, and the list continues. It is those two who should be publically humiliated and drummed out of the system, not a hard working, committed presidential candidate who loves America.
Donald Trump had every reason to believe that he was in a time-honored environment protected by a time-honored Code of Ethics. He had every reason to believe that he could safely relax and stretch some tales, rambling on as males have done in locker rooms and men’s club all across this land for centuries. Donald’s ramblings were eleven, meaningless, long ago years ago. They would not even have been noticed; they would have been completely forgotten except for that treacherous, evil spy who plotted to damage a fellow male. Despicable.
What is it that males and educated journalists do not “get” about the Locker Room Code of Conduct with its purpose of protecting each other as well as the culture? Are your characters only lightly spray painted on with water soluble ink?
We all realize that male animals publically strut their stuff without a thought for whom or what is observing or close at hand. Such is Nature’s way. Elephant seals viciously tear at each other with huge tusks, squashing baby seals as they shove each other around the beach. Bull elephants flap their huge ears as they charge any interloper after tearing up a tree or two. Big horn sheep but heads and rudely kick each other in the privates. Dogs kick dirt and piddle on tires, fence posts, and tree trunks. Deer shake big racks before poking each other in attempts to draw blood. It is a male thing, across every land, around the entire world.
Luckily for women, human males, other than for the occasional street brawl and declared war, usually carry out their bravado in the privacy of forests, barns, and locker rooms, away from the sight and hearing of women and children. That was, of course, until civic-minded (not!) reporters like Geraldo felt that they just owed it to the culture to trash it by broadcasting eleven year ago locker room exaggerations so that women could hear what men say in private. (Shall we show our appreciation by turning off our televisions for a week or more?) One British news agency could not wait to report what Trump had said about his daughter, to which my reaction was, “Good for you, Donald! It is nice to know a man who allows his daughters to become women.” Too many a daughter stays trapped as “Daddy’s Little Girl”.
Thank you, Geraldo. Thank you, talk show hosts. Thank you, devious RINOs.
I am being facetious, of course, because no female wants to hear locker room language and have her children exposed to it. Everyone working in media is aware of that. Why else did they try so hard to explain and justify why they just had to break that Code of Conduct and betray another male? They knew they would hurt people in the process but could not resist working the story for effect while pretending to be so High and Mighty. Truthfully, you betrayers look so much shorter, and sound so much dumber, now that we have seen you wearing your true colors, displaying your actual characters.
By the way, what are you planning for your follow-up low? Dirt kicking, antler rattling, or will you stoop to piddle on tires?
