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The Shabbat Goy Task I’m Not Performing

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Department Of You Can’t Make Up This Shit
(Therefore, This Shit Must Have Come From A Deity?)

Regular readers of this blog are likely aware of my disdain for religious thought and supernaturalism but may also notice that I don’t often avail moiself  of the opportunity to pick on religious minorities.  This is partly because it’s the American Way ® to pick on one’s own “kind;” thus, I usually stick to trashing the absurdities of the dominant religion (Christianity) and culture from whence I hail.  But thanks to the alertness of MH, who recently entertained me at the breakfast table by reading this, No – really…what?!?!?  story,  [1]    moiself  gets to diss some Jews.

Q: I live in a co-op in New York City that doesn’t have a doorman. The front door to the building locks automatically every evening at 9 p.m., and there is an electronic keypad outside that requires a code to open the door. I observe the Sabbath, and cannot use this keypad from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown. There is a side door to the building with a keyed lock that leads to the basement, which has a staircase to the lobby. I requested a key to this door but was told it is not for use by any tenants. What responsibility does the co-op have to accommodate residents’ religious practices?

A: Your request for a key to enter a side door in order to adhere to your sincerely held religious belief of Sabbath observance should be honored by your co-op, unless there is a credible reason why tenants’ use of that entrance is dangerous….
“If the co-op flatly rejected your request, you can sue for discrimination because they are effectively making the building unavailable to observant Jews,” said Andrew Lieb, who practices discrimination law in New York….

( excerpts, “I Can’t Use My Co-op’s Keypad Entry on the Sabbath. Am I Entitled to a Side Door Key?  Because of your religious beliefs, your co-op could face legal liability if it fails to accommodate your request.”  NY Times, Real Estate, 6-29-24  )

Pressing a keypad, that’s forbidden “work.”  But the work of inserting a key and turning the doorknob, hey, that’s kosher.

Adherents of conservative/observant Judaism have for centuries dumbfounded the world with their interpretation of their god’s demand for slavish observations of absurd personal and social restrictions  – what a surprise!  Y’all never would have guessed that unless moiself  pointed it out, right?

 

 

After reading the above-mentioned article MH was curious as to where the restrictions come from and how they are interpreted.  The World o’ Google provided several  ludicrous helpful explanations, including the fact that the door keypad uses electricity, and “…the spark which causes electricity is, technically, the kindling of a flame,” and sure enough there is a flame-prohibition in the Torah (Exodus 35:3, ” Ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations upon the sabbath day.”).

Hmmm…yeah…okay.  That thing about the flames?  I wonder how the ultraconservative Jews, who are the driving force behind Israel’s current military policies, feel about kindling the most lethal kind of flame – bombing Palestinians – on the sabbath? 

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of It Gets Even Better

I am familiar with one of the more ingenious ways ever invented re getting around religious restrictions :  that of the Shabbat Goy.  The  SG is a non-Jew hired by Jews to perform services (such as turning lights on and off) which are forbidden to orthodox Jews on the Sabbath.  Thinking of this made me, once again, miss my dear/sweet “best bud” from high school (whose initials were  [2]   conveniently SG), with whom I would trade observations and giggles about the tenets of our respective religions.  SG was Jewish (his family was not strictly observant ), and one lazy school afternoon he tried to get me to you’ve-got-to-be-kidding stage by telling me stories about outlandish Jewish Sabbath requirements and restrictions, after which I offered to be his Shabbat Goy, no charge.  But he missed the mark by keeping this one from me:

“It is forbidden to rip toilet paper on Shabbat, and doing so may be a violation of several melachot.    [3]  This is true whether one cuts the toilet paper along the perforated lines or in between them. Most authorities classify tearing toilet paper (or attached tissues) under the melachot of koraya (tearing), mechatech (measured cutting), and/or makeh b’patish (finishing touches).[   As such, one must be sure to cut toilet paper before Shabbat or use tissues that are dispensed one-by-one. Indeed, a roll of toilet paper is muktza   [4] on Shabbat and may not be used or moved unless one is faced with no alternative….
In the event that one did not prepare toilet paper or tissues before Shabbat, one may hint, or if need be, directly ask a non-Jew to cut some toilet paper….”
( excerpts, my emphases, from Tearing Toilet Paper on Shabbat, by Rabbi Ari Enkin )

Restrictions on tearing toilet paper.  Toilet paper.  A hygienic invention which didn’t even exist when those Iron age desert sheepherders decided to codify their ignorance.  And considering the friction-producing urgency with which some people are known to…uh…employ…toilet paper, might its usage also put you in danger for violating the rule against kindling a flame?

 

 

No; seriously.  And how much would you have to pay a Shabbat Goy to kindle wipe …uh, perform that task for you?

And as for the Attorney who counseled the tenet to sue on the grounds of discrimination against his religion?  Oy, oh, for a forthright lawyer, who would get to the point:

“Dude, the only discrimination here is that your religion is
discriminating against your brain.”

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Here Come The Games

I don’t watch many sports on TV, but moiself  looooovvvvveeeeessssss watching the Olympic Games.  Both the winter and summer versions turn me into a Happy Sloth couch potato. I have withdrawals when they are over, when, after the summer Olympics for example, I realize I no longer have the opportunity to watch highlights from a volleyball game   [5]   every night.

 

And I love watching as the teams playing for country of my ancestors, Norway, win more medals per capita in the winter games (and no awaads for fashion sense).

 

However, the nationalism (read: obnoxious chants of USA! USA!) of the fans and the media coverage gets to me.  I couldn’t put it better than travel guru Rick Steves, in his recent monthly newsletter:

“Even as I root for Team USA, as a traveler, I also find myself getting caught up cheering on athletes from distant lands. Whether it’s Hungarians at water polo, the French at team handball, a Norwegian rower, or a Bulgarian weightlifter, it’s fun to venture beyond the Simone Biles du jour — and pick a few non-American athletes to get behind, too.

And then there’s the medal count. Each evening, the news ranks the countries of the world based on the total number of medals they’ve collected…which Team USA always seems to dominate. (In the 2021 Tokyo Games, we snagged 112 medals, besting China with 84, Russian athletes with 71, and Great Britain with 62.)

Every time I see that list, I’m reminded of years ago, when a Dutch friend pointed out that while the United States usually wins the most medals, we also have a huge population and the biggest GDP — which means more athletes to choose from, and more money for training and equipment. If the playing field were leveled, the results would look quite different.

Consider this back-of-the-napkin math: At the Tokyo Games, the USA grabbed the most gold medals with 39, followed by China, Japan, and Great Britain. But if we look at the ‘medal count’ on a per capita basis — golds won per citizen — Team USA is wayyy down the list (between Ecuador and South Korea). We won one gold medal per 8.6 million citizens. And who’s at the top of the per capita list? Bermuda (a gold for every 72,000 people), followed by the Bahamas (a gold for each 176,000) and Slovenia (a gold per 700,000 Slovenes).

Of course, I don’t mean to take anything away from the remarkable accomplishments of our American athletes. But when you approach the Olympics — or, really, anything — with a global perspective, it’s more honest…and more insightful. That’s why, as good travelers and thoughtful global citizens, with each Olympic Games we can imagine how smaller countries cheer on their teams — and have some extra fun by seeing things from their point of view.”

( excerpts, Rick Steves Travel News July 2024,
Hi from Rick: Go Team USA…Go Team World!” )

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of The Next Book On My Reading List    [6]

That would be The Science Of Weird Shit.  Can’t imagine why moiself  would be attracted to a book with that title, can you?

 

 

Subtitled, Why Our Minds Conjure The Paranormal, TSOWS is the latest book by British professor, psychologist and researcher Chris French, a recent guest on Alan Alda’s Clear + Vivid podcast .  French is a leader in the field of anomalistic psychology;   [7]   his research centers on the psychology of paranormal beliefs and anomalous experiences (including, e.g., the claims of psychic abilities, ghosts, UFO abductions, and astrology).  French, at once both entertaining and serious, emphasized to Alda the importance of understanding why people believe in the paranormal, and why he thus supports taking these claims seriously to explore the underlying psychological factors involved.

French studies the science of the paranormal not because he believes paranormal phenomenon are true – he doesn’t; he identifies as a skeptic who used to believe in such things when he was in his 20s.  No matter how such studies turn out, French holds that studying the paranormal may help to further explain how the human brain works – as in (my interpretation)  may answer the question about how and why so many of us fall for this crap despite decades and even centuries of scientists debunking psychic readers, seers, spoon-bending illusionists, astrologists and the lot.

 

 

Alda:
“…what about being skeptical – why is it important?  Some people get support from beliefs like this: Why is it important to be skeptical, and to spread that skepticism?”

French:
“My own personal position is I’m happy for people to believe whatever they want to, as long as it doesn’t have negative repercussions for other people.  And as you say, a lot of people do get great comfort – particularly from religious beliefs…maybe believing in life after death – then, I wouldn’t want to take that away from them.  But….science is all about how the world really works, and I’m afraid that is not a question then of just thinking, ‘Well, how would we *like* it to be?’  It’s a matter of  trying to figure out, as best we can, what the truth is, about the universe, and it may be that the truth is something that we wouldn’t feel all that comfortable with… “

Alda and French go on to discuss famous/historical cases of the paranormal wherein the practitioners either admitted, years later, of their deceit (including that of Kate and Margaretta Fox, the two sisters responsible for the birth of “spiritualism” and the séance craze of the 1800s, admitted their fraud after 40 years, and said that they started out just wanting to prank their mother) or had their methods and results disproven either by scientists or fraud exposers…. And yet, some true believers, even after their palm reader or seer (or pastor) has been proven to be a charlatan, continue to hold to their particular paranormal beliefs.  What purpose(s) does it serve the believers, that they want to continue to believe that, say, their beloved, long dead uncle Roy was communicating to them in the séance, answering yes or no questions via making rapping sounds, when the Fox sisters admitted that the rapping was them cracking their joints under the table?

 

 

When it comes to those who take paranormal seriously moiself  vacillates between the attitudes of  whatever floats your boat (just as long as you’re not teaching my kids or trying to influence public policy) and  No way, reality matters, and those willing to accept fuzzy thinking in one matter are likely to fall prey to it in other areas.  I want to be compassionate for those who take comfort in illusions, even as I question how that compassion can be condescending, because illusion is the ultimate example of short term thinking:  your illusions are likely, sooner or later, to break down under the weight of reality, and thus illusions do not benefit either the individual or the culture and society.  Being willing to set aside reality for what you have been told are the comforts of illusion and supernaturalism can be devastating, as evidenced by what happens when a growing number of individuals believe, or accept – and elect – frauds and charlatans.

 

 

*   *   *

Freethinkers’ Thought Of The Week     [8]

“Superstition sets the whole world in flames, but philosophy douses them.”
  ( French Enlightenment writer, philosopher Voltaire, 1765 )

 

“But wait – this means that observant, non-flame-kindling Jews can’t be superstitious on the sabbath?”

*   *   *

Parting Shot:  I love it when/I hate it when…

I love it when I think about the Olympic games in Paris, and wishing they would have a special event – the fastest and most stereotypically Parisian waiter’s disregarding of an Ugly American ® tourist who is asking for the check.

 

The first one to overlook the request for l ‘addition wins.

 

*   *   *

 

May you enjoy watching at least one obscure (to you) sport
during the Summer Olympics;
May you never put money into a paranormal practitioner’s pocket
(even for “entertainment” purposes);
May you never believe that there are divine restrictions on tearing toilet tissue;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

 

[1] As contrasted with those who suffer from constipation.

[2] SG died way too young, when he was in his 30s.

[3] Melachot are 39 classes of activities which Jewish law prohibits on the Sabbath.

[4] Muktzeh (“separated” or “set aside”) refers to items that are forbidden or whose uses are restricted on the Sabbath (Shabbat) or other Jewish holidays.

[5] I prefer the indoor, six person per team version, but beach Vball will do – the men’s teams, that is. Having played volleyball on the beach moiself, I cannot abide the women’s vball team’s “uniforms” of bungee cords up the butt.  Why can’t they wear shorts, like the men’s teams?  That sand gets everywhere….

[6] The list which has about 100 books already ahead of it… Unless I put it to the front of a line which I often do with the new shiny thing, and so the poor other books get, once again, pushed down the line…

[7] Anomalistic psychology is the study of human experiences and behaviors that are often called paranormal, without making many assumptions about the validity of the reported phenomena. It aims to explain these experiences and beliefs using known psychological and physical factors.  (Goldsmiths University, “What is Anomalistic Psychology?”)

[8] “free-think-er n. A person who forms opinions about religion on the basis of reason, independently of tradition, authority, or established belief. Freethinkers include atheists, agnostics and rationalists.   No one can be a freethinker who demands conformity to a bible, creed, or messiah. To the freethinker, revelation and faith are invalid, and orthodoxy is no guarantee of truth.”  Definition courtesy of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, ffrf.org

The Relationship Advice Book I’m Not Buying

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Department Of Inquiring Minds Want To Know   [1]

Commercial heard between podcast segments:

“At ____ (regional grocery store chain), we go out of our way to ensure
that all of our produce is fresher than fresh.”

The word fresh is repeated several times during the commercial; apparently, that is the produce standard for which the store strives – a standard which, if you believe the commercial, the store exceeds.

So: what exactly, is *fresher than fresh,* and how would I recognize it if moiself  saw it?

How can a thing be more than it claims to be?  If I am “happier than happy,” then maybe I’m something else…like, ecstatic, or elated. It seems like there should be a word above fresh, and that the advertisers should use it, instead of going for for the “-er” option.

Or, how’s about lowering expectations and going for humility instead:

“At ____ we guarantee our produce was delivered some time earlier this week, and none of it is slimy.”

If you, like moiself , find yourself thinking about such things, perhaps you have the proverbial Too Much Time on Your Hands ®…which gets me to wondering.  Why, when one is said to have Too Much Time, it accumulates on your hands, instead of on your feet, or your shoulders?

 

 

*   *   *

Department Of Graceful Segue

 

 

The podcast I was listening to, wherein I heard the “fresher-than-fresh” commercial, was the July 26 episode of Curiosity Daily, which began with the following teaser:

“Learn about the ‘Dog Days of Summer;’ why scientists did magic tricks for birds; and the smallest conceivable length of time.”

“…magic tricks for birds.” That phrase inspired such wonderful scenarios in moiself’s   mind, it almost seemed unnecessary to actually listen to the segment.

 

“Forget the top hat and the stupid wand! I’m telling ya, watch his sleeve, watch his hands!”

*   *   *

Best Definition Of A Construct, Ever   [2]

Culture is trying to please other people.

There’s a lot to unpack in a mere seven letters.

 

 

But, I can’t remember where I heard that…

Sotto voce:  Later that same day….

Oh, now I remember.  “Culture is trying to please other people.” I heard it on the most recent episode of Don’t Ask Tig.   [3]  It came from Tig’s guest, sociologist, author, and “Life Coach”   [4]   Martha Beck.  Beck likely knows more than your average bear about unpacking cultural expectations and people-pleasing: she was born into an influential Mormon family; she left the LDS church as an adult and accused her father (one of Mormonism’s most well-known  “apologists“) of sexual molestation; she chose to give birth to a handicapped child; she divorced her husband and came out as a lesbian.

Later in the podcast Beck made another interesting observation. It was a jest about her next book, inspired by the please-give-me-advice letter Tig read, sent in by a Quaker minister. The minister was dreading what we all (say we) have been hoping for: the return to “normal.”  Things had been well for the minister’s congregation during the COVID-mandated, Zoom-only gatherings; the minister was anxious about going back to in-person meetings. This was due to a dynamic the minister had realized about the congregation, a dynamic made even more clear during the year-plus of physical isolation:

“We really don’t like each other.”

On the subject of resuming “normal” post-pandemic social relationships, Beck noted that she and her partner joked that Beck’s next book should be titled,

How To Keep Your Loved Ones At Bay
Now That Covid Won’t Do It For You Anymore.

 

“I love Jesus, but y’all are flaming a-holes!”

 

*   *   *

Department Of Yet Another Smoooooooth Segue

Now that we have some of Life’s Most Profound Questions ®  out of the way (can produce be *too* fresh; what is culture; where on your body does Too Much Time rest),  we turn to mindless pursuit of intellectually void diversions the simple joys of watching an interesting sporting event. And when The Olympic Games are held, we’ve seemingly hundreds to choose from.   [5]

Depending on what floats your boat (and there are several boat-related events to choose from  [6] ), many of the sports might not be in your category of things you find “interesting” to watch.  Say you’ve don’t know (or even care) much about cycling.  Why not take this opportunity to expose yourself to something new?

 

 

Many sports can be fun to play, but are not inherently exciting enough to capture your attention if you are merely observing them. A good sports color commentator can give you enough background information (without making you feel like you’re in a lecture hall) to get you to appreciate facets of a sport you previously felt was fundamentally tedious.

(Except for golf.  There’s just no hope there, for moiself ).

 

“It even bores me, when I’m playing it.”

 

*   *   *

Department Of This Is Why I Watch The Olympics

To paraphrase (read: plagiarize) Lindsay Crouse’s recent article in the NY Times, I’m tired of being cynical about everything. I read every day about how the ship I’m on is sinking…and, certainly in both this blog and out of it, I’m one of the ones pointing out the gaping holes in the ship’s hull.  But, right now, I want to rearrange the lawn chairs in the Titanic’s deck and listen to the band.

Read Crouse’s This NY Times op-ed for a more nuanced explanation.

Or, consider this:

 

 

Dateline Monday, 7:30 PM-ish. Sport: swimming. Event: the women’s 100m breaststroke final.  In an upset that stunned everyone, including and especially the winner, the gold medal was won by 17-year-old Lydia Jacoby, from Alaska.  Yep, Alaska, a state with only one fifty meter pool in the entire state and, prior to this event, no Olympic gold medalists.  She beat out the two favorites, including a fellow American.

 

 

Just as glorious as the look of disbelieving delight on Jacoby’s face was when the telecast cut to an event “watch party” in Seward, Alaska, where the crowd went apeshit.   [7]

As per the Washington Post:

“Seventeen-year-old Lydia Jacoby won gold for a tiny town in Alaska, a state that has one Olympic-sized pool, while overwhelming favorite Lilly King claimed bronze. Please watch the intoxicating video of Alaska celebrating:”

*   *   *

Department Of A New Sport To Appreciate

Well, it’s not a new sport, particularly to me, who played it competitively in high school.  But I haven’t played it…well, since high school, and have never watched it played in the Olympics or in any other professional settings, by Serious Athletes ®.  Both MH and I are surprised at how much we enjoy watching the matches.

We’re talking badminton.

 

 

Really.  Mixed doubles, in particular.

We’re not talking the backyard piffle fest played with the $39.99 plastic racquets-birdies-net set you got on sale at Walmart.  Badminton, played by people who know what they’re doing, is incredibly fast-paced.  And I enjoyed watching the games, once I got past feeling flummoxed (and a wee bit humiliated) to realize that I couldn’t remember the rules.

Moiself was both laughing and marveling when I watched the service – for doubles teams, that is.  The singles players serve as I remember having served, way back when.  But in the doubles games we observed, the servers did this awkward backhand, almost inversion placement of their racquet, while grasping just the very edge of the shuttlecock, as if it were something icky they’d picked up off the carpet but they didn’t have gloves and there was no tissue to protect their fingers but they wanted the icky thing off the carpet RIGHT NOW – something like picking up an errant cat turd from the litter box.

 

“Ew, I touched it!”

 

All the doubles teams we saw served that way; I didn’t know if it was a rule or just a tradition/or strategy (and moiself  decided *not* to Google it, to preserve the “errant turd” imagery in my mind). The team receiving the serve were also entertaining in their own right, stretching out their racquets and/or hands in a warding-off-demons manner, or as if they were casting a spell.

Moiself  mentioned earlier having played badminton competitively in high school.  I must qualify that statement.  It’s hard to even think of the word “competitively” applied to my high school’s badminton teams, after watching the Olympic players.  Their skill level is so high, their reflexes so lightening-fast – my high school doubles partner and I would not be worthy to merely stand on the sidelines during the Olympians’ games, gazing at them in awe, and picking up loose feathers from their shuttlecocks…or birdies, as some people call the cone-shaped projectile used in the game of badminton.  Either term is fine; it’s fun to have an excuse to say (or write), “shuttlecocks.”

 

 

DLF was my high school doubles partner.  Senior year we were the #1 doubles team of our school, which meant that we played the #1 badminton doubles teams of other schools in our league, which was composed of three beach-city high schools (read: spoiled rich kids), a few other “normal” Orange County high schools, and Santa Ana High School, which was considered (by the other schools) to be inner city and gang-infested.  This was not (exactly) true. However, the reputation helped us during matches with other schools; thus, we did little to dispel it. It especially worked to our advantage in contact sports, such as field hockey.  But even in a non-contact sport like badminton we had the intimidation factor…until, a few minutes after meeting and observing us, the wealthier schools figured out they had nothing to fear (i.e., we did *not* have switchblades taped to our racquet handles) and their anxiety transformed into patronizing distain.

Watching Olympics badminton games has caused me to take a stroll down Memory Lane.  [8]   My badminton doubles partner, DLF, went on to have a career as a science writer.  She was and is a woman of many abilities, but during our senior year badminton partnership she exhibited a heretofore unknown (to moiself ) talent for mimicry.

On the afternoon we played the most obnoxious beach city team (for privacy’s sake I will call them Newport Harbor High, because, oh yeah, that’s who they were), DLF entertained me (read: tried to distract me from my evident disgust with The NHH rich brat antics) during breaks and timeouts – and all through the rest of the season, when we were playing other schools – by imitating the NHH doubles team we played.

DLF (fluttering her fingers over her mouth, while smiling obsequiously
and giggling, in a high-pitched voice):

“Oh my goodness golly gee, was that out?”

There we were, the SAHS low lifes [9]  in our white and red striped shirt and red shorts – the same “uniform” we had for every sport.  Our NHH rivals wore matching outfits: white shirts, bright skirts designed with patterns featuring their school’s colors, matching hair ribbons and barrettes (also in the school colors) festooning their (same length, same shade) blonde hair, and – for some reason, this is the accessory that drove me nuts – bandannas tied around their necks, the material of which matched their skirts. 

Thus, losing to those Barbie twins was humiliating enough on sartorial grounds, but also, and mostly, for *how* they played – particularly, the patronizing way they made their baseline and sideline calls.   [10]

Badminton Barbies:
“Oh, Gee – do you think that was out?”
(Exchange giggles; smile; giggle again and tug at hair ribbons)
“I don’t know, I think it was out…what do you think?”
(more giggles and racquet-twirling)

Moiself: (thinking, but not – usually [11]  – saying aloud):
“Of course it was out, you twit.
You were at the baseline, and I was aiming for your tits and you stepped aside.
FFS, use your big girl voice, call it out, and take the serve.

 

*   *   *

Punz For The Day
Olympic Sports Edition

The Olympic volleyball teams’ website is down.
I think they are having problems with their server.

Why was the fencing champion born in France, but raised in the U.S.,
able to play for both countries in the Olympics?
Because she has duel citizenship.

Is plate-throwing worthy of being an Olympic sport?
Discuss.

Did you hear about the naked toddler competing in the Olympics’ 100m dash?
He was running a little behind.

How does the Olympic torch, which is lit near Athens, manage to stay lit all the way to the opening ceremony?
Because it’s hard to put out a Greece fire.

The divorce rate is high among Olympics tennis players – love means nothing to them.

 

Enough! Even an Olympian has limits!

 

*   *   *

May you occasionally enjoy listening to the band while the boat sinks;
May you appreciate playing or watching a sport that uses shuttlecocks;
May all of your produce be fresher than slimy;
…and may the hijinks ensue.

Thanks for stopping by.  Au Vendredi!

*   *   *

[1] It’s too early for a footnote.

[2] Or at least, in a long, long time.

[3] With perhaps the best description an “advice” podcast can have:  “Comedian Tig Notaro doesn’t have all the answers, but that won’t stop her from giving advice on your questions about life’s many challenges in this podcast.”

[4] Yeah, I know.

[5] Actually, the 2021 Summer Olympics have 33.

[6] Canoe/kayak flatwater and slalom; rowing; sailing)

[7] Or, the Alaskan equivalent.  Whaleshit?

[8] Which, is an actual street in Santa Ana.

[9] Actually, the SAHS school mascot/sports name was, so inappropriately, “The Saints.”

[10] The teams made their line calls, on the honor system.  Girls’ competitive athletic programs were minimally funded and there was no money (or staff) staff for referees.

[11] There were a few exceptions.