>Jock Genetics

>Article in today’s NYTimes on genetic tests that might allow families to determine what sports their kids are suited for.

Read about the eagerness of parents to start programing their kids for a jock future. Marvel at statements like: ‘What if my son could be a pro football player and I don’t know it?’ What if indeed, mom? What if he could be like star wide reciever Plaxico Burress who accidentally shot himself in a nightclub over the weekend?

See a coach praise the Chinese system that identifies athletes at an early age and drags them off to special camps for the rest of their childhoods. A lot to admire over there in China, coach.

So disgusting and so sad on so many levels.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/sports/30genetics.html?hp

>The Altamont of Big-Box Store Capitalism

>Temp worker trampled by mob trying to get into a Walmart on Black Friday. Walmart of all places.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/11/28/national/a080140S70.DTL

That kind of thing only used to happen at Who concerts.

Gimme Sales (to the tune of ‘Gimme Shelter’)

Oh, the economy is threatening
My holiday shopping today
If I dont get some credit
Oh yeah, Im gonna fade away

Walmart, shoppers, its just an exit away
Its just an exit away
Walmart, shoppers, its just an exit away
Its just an exit away

Ooh, see the downturn is sweepin
through all the box-stores today
Burns like a variable-rate mortgage
Ikea lost its way

Walmart, shoppers, its just an exit away
Its just an exit away
Walmart, shoppers, its just an exit away
Its just an exit away

Discounts, bargains!
They’re just an aisle away
They’re just an aisle away

Layoffs is threatning
My kids’ Christmas today
Gimme, gimme a discount
Or Im gonna fade away

Discounts, bargains!
They’re just an aisle away
They’re just an aisle away

>
> In a message dated 11/28/2008 2:09:12 P.M. Pacific Standard Time,
> walker.cynthia@gmail.com writes:
>
> what a bunch of fucking pigs:
> http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/11/28/national/a080140S70.DTL

>At the Dermatologist’s

>I went to the dermatologist’s today for my annual exam. It’s the exam you need if you spent your teen years – and beyond – working as a landscaper and are as Irish as a hangover. I have atypical nevus – renegade moles – but am in no immediate danger. Just the annual trek to the clinic.
I have health care now, in a new part of the country, and visited a new office for the first time. It was pure David Lynch. I stepped into an office with a dozen grandmas and grandpas crowding the seats. They were all fixated on the TV screen, which was showing old episodes of the Johnny Carson Show. Johnny wearing a dress, Johnny joking about Ed’s drinking, Johnny holding a kinkajou. At one of Johnny’s excruciating jokes they’d all start cackling like the witches in Macbeth. Now either there’s an Alzheimer Channel or the office was playing DVD’s of Johnny. I don’t know which is worse.
In that office, the only folks not collecting Social Security were me and a tweaker metal chick covered in scabs. She also had a bandage going all the way up one of her arms. She looked at me and smiled. I looked at my shoes. A minute later she turned to the old lady sitting next to her.
‘Hey ma’ she said in a cigarette-scarred voice, ‘You can go if you want. Joey will pick me up.’
Her mom, a little old white-haired lady from Pasadena murmured that no, she would wait. I considered the possibility that Joey might be the last person she wanted picking up her daughter.