My right to be Joe Namath

I was a disabled kid in high school, not quite big enough to play tackle, not quite quick enough to pull out of line from guard position.   Coach Eyefergit didn't exactly cut me, but he made it plain that I'd be spending a season on the cold, hard bench. So I became a debater. Nerdsville. My psyche still hasn't recovered.

Little did I know Coach was violating my rights. Washington was slow on this one, but now they've fixed it.

"... the new directive from the Education Department's civil rights division explicitly tells schools and colleges that access to interscholastic, intramural and intercollegiate athletics is a right."

Anyone who doesn't try to make life better for disabled people is a despicable human. Any bureaucrat who assigns a special category of varsity victimhood to kids who already have enough troubles is a fool.

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If you RTWT you'll probably get a vision of thousands of local schools scratching their heads and wondering how the Hell you implement something like this, and at what cost.

Maybe I'll be back later today, but right now I need to read the Constitution again. I must have missed the part that says the U.S. Department of Education has the authority to decree rights.

If it does, why doesn't it decree that that young folks have the right to be taught to read?

The TMR as TV Guide

Reluctant to go do real work, I return to the teevee, still on C-Span 3. The scene shifts to Dr. Rhona Mahony in Dublin. She's a big cog in the Irish medical machine. She is talking to Irish lawmakers about abortion laws.

Relax, I'm done commenting on complicated political issues for the morning. I simply wish to illustrate that there are exceptions to P.J. O'Rourke's dicta on women of the Emerald Isle: "You don't want to see an Irish girl in a bikini."

Besides, there's a certain comfort in knowing that frustration with legiscritters is not exclusive to my country. Across the world, apparently, such people require that information be presented to them slowly, in short words, brief sentences, and, preferably, accompanied by stick-figure pictures.

Ayn Rand on gun control

"Emotions are not tools of cognition."

If she ever wrote a more important sentence,  I missed it.

Time-sensitive material enclosed!

If you aren't  doing something more important or pleasurable --like cleaning and lubing your weapons -- go immediately to your electric teevee room and tune the telescreen to C-Span 3. The caring aristocrats of the public tit are there,  telling you why you're such a terrorist thug, because Newtown among other things.

So far, the performances are noteworthy for emotional grave dancing. And error.

Representative McCarthy, as you'll recall, lost a child  husband to a gun shot and re-informs us of the fact each time the red light goes on. While we empathize with her grief and continuing sorrow, we might question them as the bases for making high public policy. She of course has no evidence to demonstrate that the Feinstein bill will do much to prevent violence, so takes refuge in the rhetorical device of assumed ethos. Because she is a victim of personal tragedy, she is an expert on tragedy prevention. To wit: "Some on the other side say it can't be done... I know with all my heart and soul it can be done." QED.

Senator Schumer again demonstrates his dependable lack of information. His voice achieved tremolo as he railed against the AR-15 and its "hundred-round magazine." You know, the one held in place by a thingie that goes up, or sideways, or some way, anyway.