On March 29, 1975, Gerald Ford signed an executive order ending draft registration. I turned 18 in October of 1975, so I didn't even have to register. While I felt relieved, I also felt some version of "survivor's guilt" - not talking so much about people who actually got killed in Viet Nam (neither I nor my family knew anyone who had died there), but for all the people who had to go through the process, and particularly those who ended up being sent to Viet Nam. My brother-in-law was sent there, so I had some idea what the experience was like, both for the soldiers and for their families. (I still remember my sister crying softly after she finished a phone call from John.)
"It didn't take long for Republicans to start calling the election fraudulent once it was obvious McSally was going to lose the Senate race."
Except for Martha McSally, who stayed quiet as the votes were counted, and who then gave a concession speech that was both dignified and gracious. I know, I know, she may have been gracious because Ducey may be appointing her as our other Senator if John Kyl resigns in the near future. Nevertheless, McSally behaved in the manner most losing candidates did during the latter half of the 20th Century (regardless of party), and she presents a good example for both young people who follow politics today, and for other candidates of both parties.
About 40 years ago, while on mushrooms, I managed to find my way into the stadium. My mission was simple - look at the view from the top of the nosebleed section.
It was dumb then, and it's still dumb now. I was lucky that I didn't fall and die or get seriously injured, and that I didn't get caught. This guy was just lucky that he didn't fall and die or get seriously injured. Let's face it - of the two possible negative outcomes, getting caught is by far the most benign.
When I was in junior high in 1970 ("middle school," for those much younger than I am), letting girls wear pants to school was against the dress code. (No, really.) During the winter, a couple of girls wore jeans to school because they lived 50 miles from the school (in the area north of Phoenix, a sprawling school district that, in those days, started at Phoenix's northern border). The area where they lived was higher in elevation than our northern Phoenix school, and during the short winter days, they both boarded the bus and returned home on the bus when it was dark. In short, it was COLD. Nevertheless, they were sent home. This happened on a Monday.
The next day, a few of these girls' friends wore pants to school as well, and they were sent home as well. On Wednesday and Thursday, as more girls and their parents learned of the story, more and more girls wore pants, and they were sent home.
On Friday, nearly 150 girls - almost all of the female population of the school - were lined up to go to see the principal because they were wearing pants. Part way through all the principal's office visits, the district superintendent called and said he was rescinding the "no pants" rule.
This is a little advice to any kids going to school in modern times, and who see individuals being unfairly singled out due to fashion choices that do not disrupt the classroom in any way. Non-violent civil disobedience WORKS.