Hockey moms are pit bulls with lipstick. Soccer moms are cat burglars . . .

Roller hockey season is starting up again . . .

I don’t know why but I was thinking about one of the moms from last year’s team — she brought bottles of water to the tournaments, some filled with actual water for her kid, and some filled with vodka for herself.

To the untrained eye, they looked identical. I think she may have filled the vodka bottles to a little less than capacity so she could tell them apart. More than once I heard her saying, “Not that one, honey. That’s Mommy’s water.”

As Warner Baxter said to Ruby Keeler in 42nd Street:

You’re going out there a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star!

Finally, a breath of fresh Alaskan air!

Not yet another Ivy League lawyer, yet another warmed-over political hack, yet another condescending, posturing, preening, pandering, pontificating blowhard who’s lost sight of the fact that politicians are employees. We hire them, we pay them, we give them trillions of dollars to spend any way they want to . . . if we didn’t hold them to such ridiculously low standards of accountability, it might be easier to remember who works for whom.

And hockey moms are hot! Why? Because hockey’s an expensive sport, so hockey dads have to knock down a pretty good income, which in our materialistic society allows them to be more selective in the spouse department.

My wife is sort of a hockey mom, in that she has a kid who plays hockey, even though she hardly ever goes to the games or the practices.

But she supports McCain-Palin! And she’s looking forward to seeing Mrs. Palin kick Joe Biden’s ass in the vice-presidential debate.

“Argue with a woman?!” she shouts, shaking both fists in the air. “HA HA HA! You are just going to lose and lose!”

I’m explaining to my 8th-grade kid that his mom is pretty attractive for a mom, but he’s not seeing it.

I list off several of his friends’ unattractive moms by way of example, and then ask him, “Which of your friends has a better-looking mom than Mom?”

“Lopez,” he says, naming one of the kids on his hockey team.

OK, I’d forgotten about her . . .

I was listening to some hockey moms topping one another with stories of horrible punishments handed out by their husbands to their misbehaving kids . . .

I wasn’t able to participate because I’ve never really punished my son in the way of grounding him or taking away privilieges.

Continue reading Crime and Punishment