Where Did They Inherit That From?

Most things about what your kids inherit is rather obvious. They have grandpa's eyes, or Aunt Millie's smile, or some such. (Unless you are talking about my Little Girl, who doesn't look much like anyone in the family. Sweetie keeps saying she looks like the postman, but, while I like our postman, the child is obviously not biracial, so ....)

There are some cases where it is obvious the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Then there is the love of wrestling.

I have never liked professional wrestling. Yes, I knew who Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant were, but I had never watched the "sport" and considered it the purview of mostly those who grew up in the country. After all, no one I knew watched, except my farm cousins.

My #2 Son and Little Girl have developed an intense liking for this stuff. Summer Slam, Raw, Hell in a Cell -- they can't wait for the next weeks matches, or the next Pay-per-View they can save up for. They invite friends over to watch with them, all of whom think it is equally fascinating.

I have seen snippets, and heard the blow by blow accounts from my children, and I have decided what professional tv wrestling really is. It is violent soap opera.

This person is enemy to that, but next week he will team up with that to fight the other. The ongoing sagas of marriages, betrayals, divorces, etc., interspersed with beating each other up, is just one long, drawn out soap, with blood.

I have no idea where they inherited this love of watching people hurt each other. It amazes and appalls me. That their father has learned to tolerate it, occasionally even sitting with them and watching, is odd.

I guess it goes to show, if you watch something often enough, even something horrible, you become inured to it, it no longer affects you. That must be why some people can commit crimes, or torture, and it doesn't turn their stomachs to do it.

Heaven help us, as we become more tolerant to this stuff, we may get to where we don't care.

Today is:

Fried Chicken Day (Maybe I should have kept those Popeye's Fried Chicken coupons after all....)

Nothing Day (Clear your calendar, so you can say you did nothing. Don't even cook go out for fried chicken!)

Old Albums Are Frisbees Day (Get those old, worn out relics out and go have a ball!)

Peter Rabbit Day (Beatrix Potter's birthday -- a day to eat salad, but don't steal it ;) )

Take Your Webmaster To Lunch Day (Get him/her a salad and fried chicken.)

National Pickle Festival (Make sure the place also has fried pickles.)

Remembrance Day, Luxembourg

St. Maria Goretti's Day

National Air Traffic Control Day

Today is also the anniversary of the first professional All-Star Baseball game. It was played on July 6, 1933 in Comiskey Park in Chicago, and the AL won, 4 to 2.