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Killer Fetus, News at 11.
Written on 2001-07-07, at 4:48 a.m.
There was a first grader im Michigan who brought a gun to class a few weeks back and started shooting people. A FIRST grader. And, mind you...the shooting was fatal. This is truly getting out of hand. How much younger can these crimes reach? I can see the next sensationalized headline...


I don't know. Do you all remember First grade? I do. Mrs. Baker. She was an Oooold woman. But I was SIX, I was ready to take on the world. Armed with only my wits and my "ThunderCats" lunchbox, I marched into the door of the First grade room at Sebring Christian School knowing full well I was the master of all I surveyed. Introductions..."I'm John" I made eye contact with the girl across the room. I was in. If only I had known that I was just subconsciously eyeing her "Jem and the Holograms" Trapper Keeper, I might have saved a lot of heartache, and a few less, "Do you like me, cause I like you so check YES¨ No¨ or Maybe¨" notes. I always got maybe. Anyway, the first hour behind me, I figured that my degree would come within days...(I'm twenty-one at this time. Could one of you define "irony" for me?). That's when it happened. We had a class assignment, I believe I was outlining my Doctoral thesis on "Thermonuclear Dynamic Particle Interaction an a Semi-Conducive Frictionless Environment". It was either that, or I was tracing my hand with a crayon. So much information, it all fogs together, forgive me. So, as I was chugging along, I hear the sound. You ALL know it. The nasty flatulent-ish sound, which is almost, but not entirely like the few seconds when a BMX bike meets an Amtrak train (Do you know why we still have Amtrak? They lose money consistently, and have all the crashes. It's because law dictates that we must have a federal railway system in the event of a National Emergency. Hmmm...Never say I don't teach you all things here.) It is the sound of the teachers chair abruptly scooting back, as she moves in for the kill. I will never forget this scene. Mrs. Baker strides up to the girl, who had JUST begun to erase something, snatches the pencil and states..."WE DO NOT USE THIS END OF THE PENCIL HERE, I NEVER WANT TO SEE THIS POINTY SIDE UP AGAIN!!" To this day, I cannot look at pink, pressed, rubber without fear of losing control of my bladder. So that was my First grade trauma. Very minor, compared to things these days.

What did WE have to fear in First grade? Not a lot really. Maybe we wouldn't get the Gold Star, the SILVER one??? I'll get you, you fishmonger...I did know Shakespeare at an early age....What about waking up from your nap, with a small pool of saliva gathered about your mouth, and that nasty plastic mat stuck to your cheek. FFFFTTTTTT!!!! We all know the sound of peeling them off. That our pencil lead would break? Didn't really matter. If you were from Florida, you probably had the 27-foot LeadMaster 2000 Jumbo pencil that looked so good in the Walt Disney World, or Busch Garden's merchandise shop. And God knows, if you wanted to sharpen them, you needed either a skilled lumberjack, or at least your Boy Scout Totin' Chip.

There wasn't a whole lot to be concerned about then, was there? Speaking of being concerned, it's nearly 5am, and I must be leaving for my 16 hour day at "Le Gap"

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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