Today’s news included a piece about Ultimate Fighting – for children.

On one hand there are parents and teachers, claiming ‘mixed martial arts’ is no different than any other martial arts or boxing sport, and that training children builds discipline and respect.

On the other hand there are critics who believe that in spite of body protections, the activity can injure children – their joints are still growing and some of the blows are still dangerous. Youth fighting is prohibited by law in some states.

The article, which tries to put a positive slant on the activity, mentions multiple times that the sport ‘teaches kids to defend themselves’. It also states, though, that ultimate fighting capabilities are not for use outside the ring. (Martial arts dojos have the same rule.)

So which is it? And why do our kids need such highly-trained defense capabilities? I understand that bullying remains a problem. Kids do fight in schools, playgrounds and back alleys. It doesn’t seem to make the slightest sense to me to raise the stakes by training these particular kids to brawl dangerously and effectively. Some kids choose the activity – but should we let our kids participate in everything they choose to? Preteen sex, illegal drugs, computer hacking, body modifications? I think parents have a responsibility to draw the line, firmly and sanely.

Ultimate fighting is sometimes referred to by its critics as “human dogfighting”. The thought that some proud redneck parent can train up his kid and send him (or her) into the ring is terrifying.

The Romans, in their corrupt sunset years, built arenas, trained professional gladiators and viewed human fighting to the death as high entertainment. We don’t seem to be too far away from that.

Don’t eat chunky tuna salad over your computer keyboard. Mayo and tuna are really hard to get out from between the keys.

I, of course, would never do something so silly.

Son, spotting odd U-shaped wire in the trash can: “Mom, what’s this for?”

Me: “You don’t want to know.”

Son picks up wire, fiddles with it, and looks at me skeptically.

Me: “Truly, you are better off not knowing.”

Son rolls his eyes: “Of course I want to know, mom!”

Me, removing wire from son’s hands and replacing in trash can: “OK. But you asked for it…” Pause. “It’s an underwire from a bra.”

Son, making faces, choking and wiping his fingers frantically on his jeans: “Ewww, yuck!”

Me: “Yeah, sometimes they tear through the fabric on a bra and start poking in sensitive places.”

Son, turning beet red, throwing up hands, and standing up: “I think I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The Seattle PI today played around with a concept featured in the book Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure, by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser.

Since I am always game for a writing challenge, I thought I’d try it.

         Dreamed wildly, cherished family, chose conformity.

What would yours be?

Ok, this just struck me funny. These are the top viewed stories on abcnews.com today:

The Underground World of Commercial Sex
Topless at 50: Curtis Breaks the Mold
Angry Goat Kills Pastor
Inside the Moonlight Bunny Ranch
Prostitution in America
Spencer Tunick’s Art: Nude and In Public

Other than the (cue Sesame Street tune) “one of these things is not like the others” of the angry goat story, are we a little obsessed with something here? Note that the “Curtis” is Jamie Lee Curtis, appearing “topless” (shot actually cut at the armpits in a pool) on the cover of AARP magazine.