Home Editor's Essays Little A.J., the Faux Baseball Umpire, cries ‘Strike. Yer Out.’

Little A.J., the Faux Baseball Umpire, cries ‘Strike. Yer Out.’

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[img]1|left|||no_popup[/img]Try to convince me that teachers are not the most over-rated element in contemporary society.

Look at what these vacuums of virtue are pulling next:

In the zoo that is LAUSD, these swaggering doctors of deceitfulness are planning to tell the hungry children in their classrooms to go  pound sand for a day next week while they dip their slippery hands into the pockets of unsuspecting taxpayers.

Teachers going on strike to protest layoffs,” sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it?

I mean, this is what the lesser-educated classes do.

Coal miners walk out. So do garbage truck drivers, steel workers, taxi drivers and other fine gentlemen who don’t require more than a first-grade education to ply their honorable trades.

But teachers?

Ladies of the night have more honor.

Dip to one knee in reverence, please, when I say the word “teacher.” They are sacred. They are the only holy people in the United States who do not have to prove their claim.

No Thinking Permitted Here

Performing like Charlie McCarthy and Kermit the Frog, you can awaken a teacher from a deep sleep at  2:30 a.m., and  her first words — even if she has not eaten for a month — will be, “I am underpaid and overworked.”

I have heard you won’t be accepted as a member of any teachers union unless you swear a blood oath that you will greet everyone you meet with that frequently disproven mantra.

Dear Strike-Intentioned Teacher:

Are you educating my children or conducting a labor action?

No, you cannot do both.

Unless the walkout planned by LAUSD teachers for a week from today is restricted to the hours between midnight and 5 a.m., thousands of children are going to blow a day of learning.

Dingbat A.J. (Bad Breath) Duffy, the rat-sized runt who is president of the Teachers Union, swaggers through the streets of Los Angeles talking like a drunken sailor who just bloated his body with a week’s worth of drugs.

This is the heart of the A.P. testing season, and Mr. Duffy, sounding as if he just escaped from the Bunny Ranch, lifted his drooling chin the other day and haughtily barked:

“There are always makeup days.”

Ladies and gentlemen, in the greasy hands of such saintly souls lie the immediate  future of your children.

For a Comparison

Meanwhile in Culver City, Dr. Jessica Beagles-Roos and her fellow School Board members anguished, almost perspiring blood, for half of the winter and all spring over the two dozen teachers they would have to hustle out the door because they don’t have enough state funding in the School District’s coffers to pay them.  

The dumb-sheep LAUSD teachers who have pledged to follow The Clown down Rose Avenue into the ocean, flash electric smiles and shout, “Go, A.J.”

Mr. Duffy says that of the 26,000 LAUSD  teachers, three out of every four voted for the one-day strike. Gotta be Democrats. Not a Mensa grad among them, you can be sure.

As Mr. Duffy’s voice  echoes across  the skies of Los Angeles, the antique Supt. Ramon C. Cortines meekly replies, “Oh, please,  Mr.  So-Strong Man, don’t strike, darn it. That would not be nice.”

What a powerhouse leader, eh?

How many years of formal schooling did Mr. Duffy need to dredge up his walkout tactic?

But, we are told, this is how labor actions work in America.

If you believe you are being cheated, spit in the face of your employer, and Mr. Duffy is  the sultan of saliva. By golly Ned, you will show these snotty-nosed kids in your classrooms how teachers react when they think their heels have been stepped on.

About 20,000 of 26,000 teachers think that if enough of them play Hide ‘n Seek next Friday, the intimidated bright lights on the LAUSD School Board will pull a few million bucks out from behind their rabbit ears, and the walkout will be rewarded.

Thank you, Mr. Duffy, for showing serious people what fools they are to believe that tradition and honor should prevail over labor  muscle.