Posted on 05/05/2005 9:44:51 AM PDT by bigLusr
Nobody goes to jail in Texas for drunk driving until they actually kill somebody.
Its a reflex glance. We can't help it. We look away when we realize the target is off limits.
I never could see the big deal about cheerleaders. Standing out there in short skirts, yelling stupid chants and jumping around and clapping.
In any large city, you can find someplace where whores are displaying what they sell. Seems to me that drive-thru tours, sightseeing and discussion of advertising would be of great benefit to teenage girls.
Your "eat your own" routine is older than old. Cry me a river.
Nope, I'm here and I'm 100% in agreement with you. It's just truly pathetic that someone feels the need to have LAWS about this. Can't we just classify this type of cheerleading as porn and arrest the cheerleading coach ?
One part of the routine involved various movements with the mast. I was not at all pleased to see young men in the stands holding out dollar bills.
Thanks to that new coach, a good portion of my daughter's senior year was miserable for her. I'm proud of her and her teammates, though, for sticking it out. Fortunately, the coach resigned for "personal reasons" before the end of the fall semester.
However, this is not something our elected officials need to spend their time on. It should be handled by the parents and principal/superintendent. Of course, everybody thought the sponsor was a nasty Republican.
As the saying goes, if you have a son you only have to worry about one pen!$ (can we say "that word" on this forum ?) but if you have a daughter you have to worry about them all !
Altho in this day of militant gays, maybe that's not true anymore either !
Not to mention the drooling teenage boys.
What happened to learning CHEERS? I guess it was the advent of the 'cheerleaders' for the professional sports teams, who were nothing but 'modern dance' troupes, that eventually filtered down to the high schools. I can't stand the new types of routines the cheerleaders are doing, but that's what they're taught when they go to cheerleading camp. Schools all over this country could put a stop to it by telling the camps that they won't send their cheerleaders to that camp if they're teaching them the raunchy dance steps.
Money talks.
Ridiculous. One would think that we would be more concerned about poor test scores all while we've increased per pupil spending.
I'm thinking chastity belt.
How freaking silly.
The eyes of Texas are upon a bunch of petticoated cheerleaders now.
Some seriously repressed folk in Texas these days.
Spirit Fingers!!
I know what you're talking about. I can tell the difference between an appreciative glance & an inappropriate leer. What I saw was more than a reflex glance.
Personally, I hate seeing young girls encouraged to emulate the sleaziest aspects of our culture. It is neither cute nor is it 'entertaining' ~ it is, simply put, degrading.
The young lady on stage at the time certainly did her state proud.
; )
Little Texas Shaker
The boys were rock 'n' rollin' down in old San Antone
About two thousand miles far away from their home
A little brown eyed beauty was shakin' her thing
The band was hot ya know the mood was right
Gotta shake it up tonight
Got to shake it Little Texas Shaker
Got to shake your money maker
Got to shake it Little Texas Shaker
Ya, there were pretty ladies standin' all in a row
Waitin' for the boys right after the show
But she was like diamond among other girls
The band was hot ya know the mood was right
Gotta shake it up tonight
Got to shake it Little Texas Shaker
Got to shake your money maker
Got to shake it Little Texas Shaker
Hey pretty baby forget all you fears
Rock to the music ringin' in my ears
Well I'm a see-saw lover and I think you know
If you don't want to make it then you got to go
Tonight we'll have a party yes I think we might
The band was hot ya know the mood was right
Gotta shake it up tonight
~~Triumph
When I was in high school 3 decades ago, the drill team did one number that the school board branded "obscene and disgusting". I believe it was performed to the music of "The Stripper", or whatever that song was called.
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure as hell not picking anything up.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them from your body.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around your waist.
Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five: In order for us to get to know each other, I am told, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for a movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful... like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: * Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. * Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. * Places where there is darkness. * Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness of any kind. * Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her Adam’s Apple. * Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay, too.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight, speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these ten simple rules from memory. Hey, if I were him, I'd be embarrassed, too-- there are only ten of them, for crying out loud! And, for the record, I did NOT suggest to one of these cretins that I'd have these rules tattooed on his arm if he couldn't remember them. (I checked into it. The cost is prohibitive.) I merely told him that I thought writing the rules on his arm with a ball-point pen might be inadequate (ink washes off) and that my wood burning set was probably a better alternative.
One time, when my wife caught me having one of my daughter's would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, get out of the car, and go up to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times) she asked me why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember being that age?" she challenged.
Of course I remember. Why do you think I came up with the ten simple rules?
Jerry Taylor Technology Integration Teacher Greece, NY School District
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