Richard Simmons slapping charge dismissed
I've been a Richard Simmons fan for about 20 years, not because I love aerobics, but because his persona is hysterical. I love his sense of style, untouched by the passage of time, the extra-short and shiny gym shorts, his sparkly tank-tops, and his afro. He motivates people who really need to exercise to do it, and he shows all different shapes and sizes of exercisers in his videos.
The idea of him getting into a slapping brawl with a wrestler twice his size strikes me as laughable. I'm glad the charges were dropped - hopefully just the threat of being "slapped" with a misdemeanor is enough to teach Richard to keep his hands to himself in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to grab my tennis shoes and pop in his 50th birthday party video, Groovin' in the House. (Richard's aerobic antics during the song "Hot Stuff" are well-worth the $14.99 price of the tape!) Toodle-ooo!
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
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When I think of Richard Simmons, I think of a certain bitter time in my life. When I was in middle school, early in the '90s in Northfield, disciplining students was rising to a whole new level. It seemed unjust at the time, but looking back it seems beyond that. We were forced to carry around red "discipline" folders, inside of which resided a spreadsheet for your infractions, and a small area for "proof" that you were allowed to the media center or the bathroom. Failure to carry this around resulted in an immediate 3-day course of in-school suspension. Our Vice Principal was simply off his rocker. I called him "Der Fuhrer." Gym class, sadly, was not an exception to this rule. One of the teachers got the "great" idea that Richard Simmons' fitness regimes could do us wonders. Mind you, we're 12-13 year old kids, who are conscious of our every move. We made sure that we didn't wear the same outfit twice in a two-week period in fear that somebody might notice. In gym class, we were forced to do the Simmons dance in front of a selection of screens. Failure to comply enthusiastically resulted in "points," which were infractions. 10 points meant a zero for the day. Further complicating this fact was a sad injustice -- the "jocks" were exempt from this treatment, and were somehow allowed to laugh at us non-jocks while we danced, while still skating by with As. I still recall the day when I was (apparently) not sweating hard enough to the oldies. The gym teacher came up to me, yelled at me and wrote something circular on his clipboard while a certain jock SAT on the floor in front of me loudly calling Simmons a "faggy-ass queer." The gym teacher didn't seem to notice him.
ReplyDeleteHow's that for injustice?
This is really a sad story - a commentary on the state of American Physical Education programs.
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