The Minneapolis Public Schools have a Kindergarten early-admission policy for kids who turn five on September 2nd or later. That policy is “you are at the very bottom of the list and will therefore be lucky to attend even one of our crummiest schools next fall.” According to people in a position to know, Johanna is ready for school in 2011. But since her birthday’s 19 days after the cut, she has to wait until she’s nearly six or hope for a slot at random school X. Sarah is investigating work-arounds and it looks like the rules can be broken. But only if you whine, weasel, argue and act like the self-obsessed, overbearing parent you never wanted to be. We’re annoyed with the system. And we’re only just getting acquainted.
I am mired in harmful dependency with a popular social network. I check it every 15 minutes or so, which means I willfully disappoint myself 50 times a day. If you told me last year that my most-visited site would be a hotbed of Vikings/Packers/Twins chatter and mobile tech talk, I would have laughed, then disabled my click finger. I recently found myself in a mean, long-winded argument with a stranger about a news item that I didn’t care about. I can’t even remember my position now. Most days, it’s a nightmare of Groucho Marxian self-loathing: this club I created is not worthy of me (but why didn’t you jerks like my link?) Whatever satisfactions I sought are over, or more likely never existed. Friends are bailing. Flame out is imminent.
Saying Obama’s “failed” policies are responsible for the sorry state of the U.S. economy is like blaming your cancer on what you just had for breakfast … something something Wall Street excesses … mass amnesia by GOP cable mind rays … oh forget it. Third rant has been preempted by this glass of bourbon. Processing by other means.