Frontier Former Editor

September 13, 2007

Please and thank you, you little whippersnappers . . . .

Filed under: Goofus and Gallant, manners, politeness — Frontier Former Editor @ 9:06 pm

As irreverent and anti-social as most of my acquaintances and me are on this blog, I like to think that we all share a basic politeness and courtesy toward each other (except for Karl Rove, Dubya and not-so-big Al “Himmler” Gonzales, you worthless bastards).

I think this little discourse from Paul sums up things nicely: 

Sidewalk Classroom

The Fall semester has begun. I haven’t heard the exact count but there are over 4000 new freshmen. NAU has a total enrollment of about 20,000. My sidewalk classroom is open. I don’t teach academic classes. I teach common courtesy.

Julie works on south campus about a mile from my office. We park south of her office and walk to my office. She then walks back to her office and, at the end of the day, I walk south and we meet. This gives both of us about two and a half miles of exercise each day.

I was raised to respect elders, give up my seat to a woman, say “Yes, Ma’am” and “No, Sir” and to know my place in a community. It wasn’t oppressive. It made things work smoothly and I knew that one day I’d be an elder and younger people would give way to me. It was a belief and expectation that will never be realized. But, that’s OK. The world isn’t static. Young people should not treat me with respect because I’m older. They should treat me with respect because we live in community. They should learn to respect all people and learn courtesy that benefits everyone.

(more here . . . . .)

And for those visitors with more ‘situational’ manners, here’s something to make you feel a little better about your wretched selves:


More at Jesus’ General    (via Bradblog)

Hand these out to the boys in lieu of pay . . . . .

Filed under: beaver, Blazing Saddles, paddleball — Frontier Former Editor @ 10:02 am


Rain should never leave beaver shots unattended . . . . .

I didn’t hear a harummmph from that guy.


You watch your ass . . . .

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