Last week, DC Comics announced that Jon Kent, the son of Clark Kent and Lois Lane, will be coming out as a bisexual in the November 9 issue of the Superman comic book. The announcement was accompanied by a picture of the young Superman kissing his boyfriend. The decision to change the sexual preference of Superman killed the iconic American superhero that was created more than 83 years ago. As further proof of the business-killing instincts of the DC Comics executives, in August, the company announced that after 81 years, Batman’s sidekick, Robin, was coming out as a bisexual.
During my seventh and eighth grade years at St. Mark’s Grade School, one of the games that the boys played during recess was “Kill the man with the ball.” The object of the game was to steal the ball from the person who had it, and then hold on to it as long as possible. The boy who had the ball was chased around the playground until someone was able to wrestle the ball from him. Sometimes there was a pileup of boys that occurred while they tried to push their way through to the ball. Whoever got the ball was then chased until someone else pried it out of his hands.
About 10 years ago, my children purchased tickets for a Broadway musical show in Chicago and gave the tickets to me and my wife Georgette as a gift. They also reserved a hotel room for us to stay in while we were in Chicago. It was the perfect gift because it forced us to get away, spend time together, and see a popular musical production that we would not have otherwise seen. Everything was perfect the night of the show, except for an odd encounter Georgette had with a woman.
There’s an old movie that came out in 1966, when I was nine years old. I didn’t see it until a few years later, when it was shown on TV for the first time. The name of the movie was The Bible: In the beginning. . . One scene from the movie popped into my mind recently when I was thinking about how children and students in our public schools are now being taught that homosexual behavior is “normal” and that the students have a right to change their gender any time they want to, as long as they have a desire to do so. This teaching is supported by our mainstream media, evil politicians, corrupt executives that run our global corporations, prominent celebrities, and “influencers” on social media.
One of the pictures that I have in my office was taken in 1966, at the wedding of my mom’s younger sister, Mary Ann. There are four people in the picture — me, my two cousins, Harry and Tommy LaHood, and our grandmother, Cecilia (Ceil) LaHood. My cousins and I are standing together with our arms around each other’s shoulders. I’m in the middle, my cousin Harry is to my right, and Tommy is to my left. Grandma Ceil is standing behind us with a smile on her face. She looks like she could have been our Guardian Angel.
Her name is Victory Boyd. She’s 27 years old and she grew up in an African American, Christian family of nine children. She started singing with her family when she was four years old. I had never heard of her until I read an article that reported that she had been scheduled to sing the national anthem on September 9th at the National Football League’s (NFL’s) opening season game. The day before the game, the NFL cancelled her performance because she had not received the COVID-19 vaccination.
Last month, while a few of our grandsons were at our house for the day, Georgette read a children’s book to them about Tarzan. Later in the day when I came home from work, one of the boys followed me around the house and asked me several questions about Tarzan. He wanted to know what I knew about him, if I had ever read any books about him, and what TV shows and movies about Tarzan that I watched when I was his age.
I recently filed a lawsuit against the owners of a business that was responsible for my client’s injuries. After a copy of the lawsuit was delivered to the owners of the business, the owner’s insurance company hired an experienced defense attorney — I’ll call him Joseph — who has been a trial lawyer for more than 45 years.
I’ve written before about my sister, Anna Maria. She was the 11th child in my parent’s family of 17 children. One of my earliest memories of her is when she was two years old. Every time I saw her, she was clutching her security blanket. It didn’t matter whether she was sitting, standing, walking, running, or laying down, it was as though her security blanket was attached to her body. She was always happy, and out of all my sisters, she had the sweetest disposition.