Hell is other parents

In just a few hours, I will be driving the Sunchaser to SF.

I will do a labor law presentation for some dairymen, and then attend an SF Giants game at one of the nicest ballparks in the country. (No hot dogs/no beer for the cardiac patient) I might have to break down for some garlic fries, tho....


Tomorrow, I leave at dawn for Laguna Seca, just a couple of miles from my old house. I will be meeting CaptDale, his partner, and a Opp friend from LA who I now think of by real name instead of Oppo handle hence this awkward and poorly written sentence.

My old mentor is also going to be there, an old time ag labor warrior who handled the UFW lettuce strikes back in the Cesar Chavez days. He has been attending the historic races for over 20 years. He is a fun and boisterous enthusiast, and the owner of a gorgeous Kirkham Cobra. I don’t think he drives it much, and he has told me that he is thinking about selling it to get a vintage luxury car - more comfort.



His looks almost exactly like this one. It is the loudest car I have ever heard that is streerlt legal.

Last night, I went to a marching band backers informational meeting for my 14 year old, who is playing tenors on the drumline. This marching band has 300 kids and a trailer that needs a commercial truck to haul it. It is a lot of logistics and very expensive to move them around. So every school has a parent support organization, usually a nonprofit corp, with parents who volunteer to organize fundraising and volunteers to wrangle the kids. It is a thankless job that is a lot of work. This is my second high school and band with my kids (my older son goes to a different public school), so I have seen how this works (disastrously at my older son’s school).


A meeting that should have taken 20 minutes to find out how to sign up and how to get more information took almost 2 hours. At the end, some mom in the crowd started demanding answers as to why her precious baby had to audition and why some kids got cut from the field show and parade. I so badly wanted to tell her that her kid got cut because some other kid was better, which is a valuable lesson for a child to learn. These poor parent volunteer were broadsided with shit that should have been taken up with the band director. I told the lady that and walked out. I really don’t care what part my kids have in the band. The coolest part about marching band is that they are only as good as their weakest link, and it really treaches kids to work together.

Before you have kids, you get to choose who you associate with. When you have kids, you are forced to associate with assholes and their shitty kids. You will find that it is a gift when your kids’ friends have tolerable parents.

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