They Don't Make em Like They Used To

As the Baby Boomers take their turn at being our ruling class, it has become obvious that they are driving our country full speed ahead directly toward the cliff. Everyday they come up with new solutions to non problems and non solutions to real problems.

They never rest.

Meanwhile, the run of the mill Lefties, Busybodies, DoGooders, the Deranged,
and the Nincompoops have nothing better to do than to demand that the Washington Redskins change their name.  They contend it is insulting to Indians.

Trying to make sense of all the ridiculous machinations of our "leaders" is  like trying to empty the ocean with a spoon.

I've given up. From now on, if I can help it, what brain cells I have left will concentrate only on my family, old friends and old memories.

But having said that, maybe we can win at least one battle; Redskins owner Dan
Snyder says he will never change the name of his team!  I hope he's not forced to give in!

But if he does, I'll only know about it from news reports, because I've stopped watching my much loved Redskins as well as all the other football games.

The reason, in a way, is similar to what happened to me and the Democratic Party. It began shortly after JFK was killed, when the party slowly, but surely turned left;  leaving me and anyone else who happened to love this country, and was paying attention, behind.

It's not so much the game, that has left me, but the players.  They're not to blame of course, but they've gotten SO big, SO fast and SO mean, that it's no longer a game of men;

it's a game of Freaks!

Freaks of Nature.

Back in the 1920s, when the NFL was just getting started, the average lineman weighed 190 pounds. Now they average 300 pounds.
That means Hall of Fame-er Morris "Red" Badgro, who played for the New York Giants in 1930, would lay down quarterbacks with about 970 pounds of force.

Now, Baltimore Ravens starting lineman Haloti Ngata  weighs 335 pounds and runs the 40-yard dash in just under five seconds. When he sacks a quarterback, he unleashes about 1,700 pounds of force.

Getting stopped by Ngata is literally like having a ton of bricks fall on you.

I was in the audience of a boxing match down in Charlotte in the late 1940's when one of the fighters died in the ring.

I'm not going to risk seeing a repeat of that on the football field.

And, sooner or later, common sense tells me that it's going to happen.

God forbid that it does.

-Lee