At times lately it has seemed that we have begun living in an alternate universe. A third-rate shyster businessman most famous for reality television is going to be president, polling doesn’t work, and the Chicago Cubs won the World Series.None of these things make sense in the universe we’re used to. So, perhaps, we’ve discovered the multiverse. We’re just here for a little while, and soon we’ll return to our home universe and things will go back to normal.But imagine a slightly different universe in which Donald Trump tweets the following: “Nobody should be allowed to carry a handgun—if they do, there must be consequences—perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail!”Those loud booms you hear are the sounds of heads exploding. No, not as a result of a gun doing its job, but rather because of the fury gun fetishists would direct toward Trumpkin.The criticism of Trump and the defense of carrying a handgun would go something like this:“The Supreme Court already ruled that carrying a handgun is protected by the Second Amendment!”“Throwing people in jail or stripping them of their citizenship for exercising their rights is tyranny!”“Just because Trump doesn’t like guns doesn’t mean he can throw us in jail for owning a handgun!”And perhaps the more astute critic would proclaim, “The Constitution prevents the government from stripping anyone’s citizenship from them!”(My exclamation point key is tired.)A more general criticism is bound to crop up, “If Trump doesn’t understand why that idea is so un-American then maybe he shouldn’t be president.”That’s crazy, isn’t it? Can you imagine such a thing happening? How many universes would we have to travel through before we reached one in which such a thing could happen?But since we’re in this universe, let’s switch it up a bit. Replace “carrying a handgun” with “burning the flag” and “Second Amendment” with “First Amendment” and you’ve got something that has actually happened in our universe.Yes, my fellow Americans, in just fifty-two days Donald Trump will place his hand upon a bible (presumably), and swear to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, at which point he’ll become the chief executive of the United States. His signature will transform a bill into a law. He’ll be the most powerful man in the world.But he won’t understand that what he’s proposing violates the Constitution.The Supreme Court already decided—twenty-seven years ago—that burning the American flag is speech, and thus protected by the First Amendment. And before you start mouthing off about “activist judges” who are trying to impose their “liberal ideas” upon the nation, let me point out that Antonin Scalia, one of the most conservative Supreme Court justices this side of Dred Scott, sided with the majority.But even if flag burning weren’t protected by the First Amendment, Trump couldn’t strip a flag burner of his or her citizenship. In fact, the government can’t strip anyone of his or her citizenship. In 1967, the Supreme Court (that damn court again!) ruled that citizens can only lose their citizenship if they voluntarily give it up. The government can’t take it from them, no matter what.Just to repeat, the person who is going to be president of the United States doesn’t understand that expressing dissent is protected by the First Amendment, and that neither he, nor anyone else in the government, has the power to strip a person of U.S. citizenship.This is basic stuff. I mean, the First Amendment! The first one. It’s not like it’s buried deep in the Constitution and he just didn’t get to read that far. It’s right up front, after the all the original stuff. It was so important that it’s the first thing the Founders wanted to add on.And Donnie doesn’t know it.Many of Trump’s supporters would revolt if he suggested arresting or stripping the citizenship of people who simply wanted to exercise their Second Amendment rights. I would love to hear from any of those supporters why the First Amendment doesn’t provide the same protection for flag burning as the Second Amendment does for guns.Perhaps their new president can lead such a discussion. Right after he brushes up on his knowledge of the Constitution.Luckily for him, a former constitutional law professor currently occupies the White House. Maybe Trump can ask him for help.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Some Questions for President TrumpPREVIOUS POST: The Year That I Played Santa Claus at Kmart
The Year That I Played Santa Claus at Kmart
Now that Thanksgiving is over, the nation’s attention turns toward Christmas. After having devoured countless big, fat birds this past weekend, we start thinking about what the big, fat man is going to bring us.Thinking about wish lists and buying gifts reminded me of my own pitiful time spent playing Santa Claus.It was 1995. I was a high school senior. My last class of the day was either an acting class or a drama class. I took one the first semester and the other the second semester and I can’t remember which was which. Both were taught by the fantastic Bill Bodnar, who ran the theater department at my high school.One afternoon in mid-November he told our class that the local Kmart had contacted him in search of a student to play Santa in the store. Two things should have steered me away from the gig. First, the store must have been the pits if the real Santa didn’t want to go spend some time there. He’ll go anywhere. And second, idiots must be in charge of the store if they think a high school student is a good choice for a Santa stand-in.But neither cautionary tidbit caught my attention, so I volunteered, along with another kid. Bodnar told the other kid that I was more responsible and a better actor. For the final exam in one of the classes I performed a fifteen-minute scene from a classic American play (it’s driving me crazy that I can’t remember which one! Let me know if you can help!) with a girl in the class and we killed it. And it felt great that Bodnar had confidence in me.So I went to Kmart, met with a manager, and got the job minutes later. I’d work three or four consecutive Saturdays, 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. Seemed easy enough.I showed up bright and early the first Saturday, went to the back to put on the suit, and immediately regretted my decision.The suit was awful. I was stoked to wear the traditional Santa suit. No such luck. Instead, Santa’s clothes consisted of a red hat, white shirt, and red pants, which were fine. But instead of the red coat I had to wear a ridiculous, multi-colored smock, and instead of black boots, I had to wear knee-high white socks (the pants only came to just below the knee) and slippers.Who the hell thinks Santa wears slippers at the North Pole? Don’t they know it’s cold there? Santa only wears slippers when he’s shirtless on the beach in January, sipping an ice cold Coca-Cola.I thought about asking if maybe they had last year’s costume somewhere, or maybe they had one on the shelf that I could buy, but I didn’t want to be labeled as difficult to work with on my first acting job, so I kept my mouth shut and decided to be a good little Santa.I got ready in the back of the store, and had to walk to the front of the store to sit on the bench just inside the entrance. As soon as I emerged from the back and walked into the aisle, a little kid saw me. He was so excited, which I thought was cool at first, but then he came up to me, and I realized he wanted me to talk to him.Oh shit! I hadn’t practiced a Santa voice. I hadn’t tried out different Ho Ho Hos. I had no clue what the hell to do. So I ended up talking to the boy in my normal Brett voice. No disguise at all. I had to hope that this little kid wouldn’t realize that fat, old Santa sounded just like a seventeen-year-old high schooler.Fifteen or twenty hours playing Santa and I didn’t utter a single Ho Ho Ho. What the hell kind of Santa doesn’t say Ho Ho Ho? I feel sorry for the parents who had to explain why the Kmart Santa seemed like such an idiot and didn’t act like Santa from other places. I hoped they’d blame the Santa shortcomings on the “suit” or on the fact that it was Kmart, and not on the pitiful jerk too cool to say Ho Ho Ho.A couple parents mentioned how young Santa looked. Apparently a faux fat stomach, and an ill-fitting white beard and wig didn’t add the requisite years to make me look old. One dad said, “Looks like Santa’s eyebrows haven’t turned white yet.”I chuckled, but inside I hoped Santa brought that asshole a lump of coal for Christmas (and shoved it down his throat).I’m the youngest in my family, and I hadn’t spent any time around little kids, which meant, although I’ve always loved little kids, I had no damn idea what kind of toys they played with.How was I supposed to know that a two-year-old is too young for Barbie? Nice of her mother to point that out to me though. “She’s a little too young for that yet,” she said, as she threw a “Can you believe this Santa?” glance at her friend standing next to her.And no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t understand what some of the kids were saying. Did that kid just say he wanted, “More fun Legos,” or did he tell me, “Go f$% yourself?” I don’t know. I just nodded and smiled.
Luckily, kids didn’t have to wait long to see me. I think we took pictures—I can’t really remember, but I'd kill to find a picture of me in that Santa getup—but I just sat on a bench and the kids just sat on my lap. There wasn’t a big Santa’s village setup like at some stores. A line rarely formed, and I think that some parents, after seeing how cluelessly I interacted with other kids, steered their own children clear.And I don’t blame them one bit. If my own kids wanted to see an incapable Santa like me, I’d offer to take them to the back of the store to see the fish and tell them they could pick out a candy bar at the cash register.Perhaps the worst moment came when my eleventh grade English teacher walked in with her young son. He came and sat on my lap, and I had no idea what he was saying, and after a few Ho-ho-ho-less uncomfortable minutes, she said something like, “Okay, let’s leave Santa alone,” and put him in the cart and they walked away.“Let’s leave Santa alone!” Great. There’s nothing a kid wants to hear more than “Santa can’t be bothered with you.” I was glad that I wasn’t in her class that year. I didn’t want to have to face her everyday after ruining her son’s childhood.Mercifully, Christmas came and I didn’t have to play Santa again. Ever since then I’ve gained a new appreciation for how difficult Santa’s job is. I’d like to think that having spent the past seventeen years raising my own kids that I’d be a better fill-in Santa now, but I’ll never know because I’ll never accept the job again.Still, maybe I’ll start practicing my Ho Ho Hos just in case.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Silly Adults, Disney Princess Costumes are for KidsPREVIOUS POST: Trump's Recount Objection is Consistent with his Disdain for Facts
Trump's Recount Objection is Consistent with his Disdain for Facts
I’m glad that Twitter was invented before Donald Trump became president. Otherwise we’d have a much more difficult time figuring out that he’s a lunatic. Conservatives who don’t trust the “mainstream media” frequently mention how their candidates’ views and opinions are distorted by organizations with a liberal bias.But Twitter—and Donald Trump’s seemingly complete lack of self-control—permit us to get this nonsense straight from the horse’s mouth.Such is the case with Trump’s Twitter tantrum on Sunday regarding the recount in Wisconsin. Trump won Wisconsin by less than 1%. Although it’s unlikely that a recount of votes will change the outcome, the margin is so close that a recount makes sense. In fact, there are three states—Nebraska, South Carolina and Wyoming—along with the District of Columbia, in which state law provides for an automatic recount if the margin of victory is 1% or less.But instead of acknowledging that the Wisconsin recount request is within the bounds of reason, Trump decided to login to that bastion of unreason, Twitter, to spew nonsensical lies.To avoid being lumped into the irresponsible liberal mainstream media, I won’t edit Trump’s tweet: “The Democrats, when they thought they were going to win, asked that the election night tabulation be accepted. Not so anymore!”Is Trump insinuating that a recount of votes in a state won by less than 1% is the same as his statement prior to the election that he would refuse to accept the results if he thought the election were rigged?In fact, if we go back to Trump’s Twitter account, we’ll find the following on October 16: “The election is absolutely being rigged by the dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked Hillary—but also at many polling places—SAD.”So Trump can take to Twitter and peddle outrageously idiotic theories, and object to events that haven’t even happened yet, but Democrats can’t ask for a second look at ballots that have already been cast, just to be sure no mistakes were made?That fact that Trump doesn’t understand the nuance between those two positions only provides yet another reason we should worry that he’s the person in charge of U.S. diplomacy and the U.S. military.But an even greater danger for the country and the world is his complete inability to tell fact from fiction.Later in his Tweetstorm, the president-elect unleashed this idiocy: “In addition to winning the Electoral College in a landslide, I won the popular vote if you deduct the millions of people who voted illegally.”Now, setting aside the fact that he appears to not understand the meaning of the word landslide (in the past 10 presidential elections, only twice—Bush in 2000 and 2004—has the winning candidate received fewer electoral votes than his 306) it’s unbelievably scary that he actually believes millions of people voted illegally.I suspect his claim comes from Infowars.com—a website that believes that the Sandy Hook shootings didn’t actually happen, and that the government has planes that spray chemicals in the atmosphere to control our thinking. These are the people our president-elect listens to. (Another example: Trump’s Senior Counselor, Steve Bannon, once claimed that Tim Kaine had ties to the Muslim Brotherhood.)Facts appear not to matter in Trump’s world.But in the real world, facts do matter. So Trump should know that there’s no basis for the claim that millions of people voted illegally. If Trump wants to be an idiot in his own world, that’s fine. But he’s going to be president of the United States, and when you’re president, being an idiot is dangerous.I would think that conservatives would embrace the Wisconsin recount. After all, for the past fifteen years they’ve been telling us that we shouldn’t worry about government wiretaps, or stop-and-frisk policies, or wrongful convictions because if we’re not doing anything wrong we don’t have anything to worry about.Does that not apply to voting recounts? Shouldn’t they welcome a closer examination of the votes? If Trump has already won, which they believe happened because so many voters came out to support him, then shouldn’t they embrace a recount of the votes to further vindicate his election?Trump won't embrace the recount, because the recount will bring us closer to the true voting tallies. And as he has shown time after time, Donald Trump doesn't give a shit about the truth.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Melania Trump Plagiarism Fits With the Rest of Donald Trump's LiesPREVIOUS POST: Fidel Castro, Like Steven Seagal, Was Hard to Kill
Fidel Castro, Like Steven Seagal, Was Hard to Kill
Fidel Castro finally died. He turned ninety-years-old in August, and stepped down as Cuba’s leader eight years ago. News reports use these two pieces of information—his advanced age and his absence of power—to conclude that he died a natural death.And they’re probably right. Photos from his 90th birthday celebration show an old guy who looks more like a retired insurance salesmen whose best shuffleboard days are behind him, than a hardcore communist who spent most of his life wearing military fatigues.However, that doesn’t prove anything to me. I believe that Castro died a natural death for one reason, and one reason only: that dude wasn’t going to die before he was ready to die.I’ve long joked about Castro employing a food taster since there had been so many attempts on his life, but I had no idea the extent to which this guy avoided pushing up daisies.Castro’s old counterintelligence expert, whose main job was protecting Castro, estimated that the CIA devised 638 assassination schemes and attempts. 638! That works out to one attempt to kill him every 28 days for the entire 49 years of his time in power. And yet he survived!The CIA tried to kill him by poisoning his cigars, his milkshakes, and his food. They planned to somehow infect his wet suit, give him an exploding cigar, and blow him up while he visited Hemingway’s museum in Cuba.I don’t care what Steven Seagal thinks, Fidel Castro should have been the star of Hard to Kill.I’m not sure what it says about the competence of the CIA that they had so many opportunities and couldn’t pull it off, but it ascribes an air of invincibility to Castro that only helped to fuel his legend. The imperialistic Americans tried to bring him down, but they couldn’t.Quite coincidental that just before I read of Castro’s death I read that Steven Seagal had become a citizen of Russia. Vladimir Putin signed Seagal’s passport and handed it to him.Seagal no longer looks like the pony-tailed badass (wait, that’s an oxymoron) he was in those early nineties films. Instead, he’s sort of a caricature of an action hero.But it makes sense that he’d be buddy-buddy with Putin, who’s sort of a caricature of a president. Seagal is the type of guy who looks at that picture of Putin riding a horse shirtless, and thinks, “Wow, that guy’s awesome.” Putin and Seagal both represent the type of super-macho men who struggle with mental health, as reported by the American Psychological Association.Putin’s remarks after signing Seagal’s passport makes me wonder if delusion is one of the effects of this phenomenon. Putin said that he wanted to “express hope that this (granting Seagal’s Russian citizenship) is another small gesture of gradual normalization of the relations between” Russia and the United States.What?Putin thinks that granting some former B-list Hollywood star Russian citizenship is going to ingratiate his country with the U.S.? Does he think our president is some celebrity-obsessed, entertainment-focused, trigger happy, intellectual lightweight cowboy? Oh, wait, that’s exactly who it's going to be, isn’t it?Maybe Putin’s on to something.But still, I hope Putin doesn’t think that Hollywood Hard to Kill is the same as Havana Hard to Kill. Castro’s close relations with the Soviet Union angered the United States and caused all sorts of problems. Seagal’s close relations with Russia will probably be embraced all around the U.S. Take him, please. And if you can find Jean-Claude Van Damme, you can have him, too!Come to think of it, the U.S. should have employed Seagal to assassinate Castro. I found no fewer than 38 films in which Seagal is carrying a gun in the film’s poster. That seems like a lot of firepower for someone who’s supposedly a martial arts expert, but maybe he picked up some sniper skills to employ on Fidel.Whatever. It’s all a moot point now. Castro’s dead, and Seagal’s a Russian citizen. One of them starred in a film called Hard to Kill. One of them lived it.But perhaps more of Seagal’s film titles will become relevant in the coming years. We have a president who thinks he’s Above the Law. He’s appointing a cabinet that makes us feel like we’re Under Siege. And the concept of a progressive America seems Marked for Death.But at least we don’t have to worry about exploding cigars.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Fear Can Be Useful When ParentingPREVIOUS POST: Observations from a Black Friday Shopping Trip
Observations from a Black Friday Shopping Trip
I’m not a fan of retail hysteria in general. Although there are a couple of items that I’ll be hunting for this holiday season, you won’t find me standing in line, waiting for a store to open. I’m just not that good of a parent. Sure, my kids deserve that gift, but I deserve to sleep in, stay warm and avoid crowds.So Black Friday isn’t really my thing. Although last year I did score a couple of gaming chairs on Black Friday, and when my oldest daughter was still in diapers we scored a bunch of packages of diapers for fifty cents a piece because they rang up the wrong price and the cashier told us the computer must be right.I guess Black Friday’s not all bad.Still, I have no Black Friday shopping tradition, and more likely than not you’ll find me at home eating leftovers and watching Food Network instead of battling thousands of well-intentioned maniacs.But this year my youngest son wanted to go shopping. And even after I explained to him that he couldn’t spend any money, he still wanted to “check it out.”We missed most of the madness since we didn’t go out until 7:30 in the evening. Everything seemed pretty well picked through, and since we weren’t looking for anything in particular I didn’t have throw any elbows or push down any old ladies. (Sorry Grandma, I’ve never seen a fifty-five inch that cheap.)We had a more leisurely experience, which allowed me to make a few observations that don’t involve the jerkiness of my fellow shopper, or the lengths some people will go to in order to get their hands on the latest electronic.The first piece of Black Friday ridiculousness that we saw involved Darth Vader. Target had a special on a three-foot-tall Darth Vader Battle Buddy. This looks like it’d be a pretty awesome gift for a kid who’s into Star Wars and wants to go mano a mano with the Masked One.But I have to say, seeing 48 Darth Vaders lined up in a main aisle in Target gave off a sort of zombie apocalypse feeling. It wouldn’t have surprised me one bit if those things came to life and took over the story. Sort of the sci-fi version of Chuckie from Child’s Play. If those four-dozen Darth Vaders came to life and went made we’d sure regret giving them all light sabers.One of the stores had a couple of massage chairs setup, and also had handheld massagers open and plugged in for customers to try. I turned on one of the Homedics brand of massagers and rubbed it on my son’s back. He voice vibrated as he spoke, which sounded cool, but I felt the vibrations from holding the massager all the way up arm. Should I feel like I’ve just operated a jackhammer after holding one of those things?And then my son rubbed it on my back, and after about thirty seconds I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. A minute or two later, as we walked away, I felt phantom vibrations in my back, and then a sudden queasiness in my stomach. My son felt the same thing at almost the exact time. I know the whole point of the massager is to relax muscles, but I doubt the intention is to relax muscles so it’s easier when you vomit. I had to stop walking for a minute and let the feeling pass.Don’t buy the Homedics massager, unless you like the feeling of almost puking.America’s great, and our economy’s great, and whatever, but, for the love of God, sometimes we just have too many choices. This occurs to me all the time, but usually in the cereal aisle, or the toilet paper aisle, or when I’m trying to decide which candy bar to buy.But tonight, as we walked through the housewares section, I couldn’t help but wonder, does the world really need a dozen different types of Keurig coffee makers? Is there enough of a difference between a 70-ounce reservoir and an 80-ounce reservoir to warrant an entirely different model? Surely the presence of a nightlight on the 80-ounce model isn’t enough of a justification, is it?I don’t drink coffee, but if I did I’d send a nasty letter to Keurig and tell them to stop providing so many choices. How the hell is someone supposed to choose which one to get, especially before they’ve had their coffee!Vacuums, too. There are two kinds of vacuums: handheld and upright. The rest is just smoke and mirrors. And sorry to break the news, but your house is no cleaner after using a $500 vacuum than it would be with a good $70 vacuum. The only things cleaner are your pockets since they have less of that dirty money in them!These Elf on the Shelf people are getting out of hand. I’ll buy into the Elf on the Shelf “tradition” as claimed on the box, even though it hasn’t even been around for a decade. But now there’s a new product, which is a stuffed Saint Bernard and on the box it says, “A Saint Bernard Tradition.”Screw you, Elf on the Shelf! You can’t just invent a pet for our elf, Buddy, out of the blue. We bought a damn dog last year, and we’ll pretend like it’s Buddy’s dog, too. We’re not buying the Saint Bernard. Even if “These pups have assembled to rescue the soul of the holiday season and save the North Pole,” as the piece of Christmas propaganda on the box claims.Look, if my kids’ Christmas is ruined because I refused to buy a Saint Bernard for their elf, then I’ll accept the blame. I don’t think it’s going to be an issue though.One last thing. I’m not a big believer in advertising persuading people to buy things they weren’t going to buy anyway. But when I saw these Opposuits on sale in one of the stores, my initial thought was, “That’s exactly what I need!”If the lines weren’t so long, I totally would have purchased one of these ridiculous things. Never in my life have I thought, “You know what I need, a red suit with snowmen and Christmas trees on it,” but when I saw the Opposuits box I wondered how I’d lived so long without one.So another Black Friday is in the books. I hope you bought everything you wanted to buy, and escaped relatively free of black eyes and bruises.And if you didn’t shop on Black Friday, then let me remind you, only twenty-nine shopping days until Christmas.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: iPhone Release Day EnthusiasmPREVIOUS POST: It's Time for the Elf on the Shelf to Return
It's Time for the Elf on the Shelf to Return
Now that Thanksgiving is over, we’re expecting the return of a houseguest for the next few weeks. For the past four or five years a little elf has made his way into our house and he won’t leave until Christmas.The Elf on the Shelf. Ours is named Buddy.This is the first year that I thought about Buddy before he showed up, which means he won’t scare the hell out of me when I see him swinging from a chandelier, or rappelling down the vertical blinds, or worst of all, staring at me from inside a box of graham crackers when I open the pantry in the morning.Buddy’s lucky he hasn’t met a horrible end with as many times as he’s startled me. Between his penchant for finding the perfect hiding place, and that shifty-eyed look he always has on his face, he probably has the greatest scare per ounce ratio of any object in the universe. He weighs nothing, but I guarantee one of those things has been responsible for the death of a human sometime in the past five years.I’m actually happy to see him though. The kids have a great time looking for him every morning, and his presence means it’s the holiday season, so that’s an added bonus. We take the good with the bad, but I suppose I don’t mind getting scared every now and then in exchange for the joy he brings my kids.But there’s a limit to this nonsense. I’ve seen pictures that people have posted of their own Elfs (Elves?) on the Shelf, and some of those things are absolute assholes.They’ve spilled bags of flour, dumped chocolate syrup, and sat in makeshift hot tubs with Barbie and her elf-loving friends. And some of them are just disgusting. I saw one perched on the edge of a toilet seat and using a string to fish for Cheerios from the toilet. What the hell’s wrong with these things? Don’t elves use toilets in the North Pole? Why hasn’t Santa taught them anything about basic sanitation?Luckily, Buddy hasn’t crossed any line like that, yet. But if he does I’ll be sure to lay down the law. I refuse to sit idly by and watch some elf sit on the edge of the toilet one day and then hide in an open bag of Chips Ahoy the next. I don’t care if he’s Santa’s helper or not, gross is gross.Although I suspect teaching those things a lesson is easier said that done. I’ve talked to Buddy quite a bit (“Good hiding place today, Buddy!” “Do you think that’s safe, Buddy? It looks to me that your arms are going to get tired by the end of the day and you’re going to plunge into the dog’s food bowl.”), and he never acknowledges anything I say. He just keeps that same look, obviously assuming that his charming smile and the identity of his boss is going to provide some sort of immunity from punishment.Actually, there is one issue I want to discuss with Buddy. In case you don’t know, the Elf on the Shelf is supposed to hide in a new place each night, and the kids find him. He can move around the house at night, but Santa imposes a strict No Movement policy on them during the day. This is fine because the kids have a blast looking for him each morning.But sometimes, when the kids start looking for him they discover that he hasn’t moved since the previous night. Then they start asking me why he hasn’t moved, and I don’t have the first damn clue. I’m not an elf and I’m not Santa (I’m somewhere in between, in so many ways), so I don’t have that kind of information.Hopefully this year Buddy will either move every night or not move at all. Each time I see that he hasn’t moved I worry that he died and I imagine having to break that news to the kids. No thanks.There’s now about a month until Christmas, so Buddy’s going to be around for a while. And as long as he doesn’t scare me to death or die unexpectedly, then I’m happy he’s back.Especially if he puts in a good word with Santa for me.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Enjoy the Holiday Season Before it's Too LatePREVIOUS POST: Why Won't Anyone in China Read my Blog?
Why Won't Anyone in China Read my Blog?
Google does many things well, but perhaps the thing they do best is store information. Even though you don’t realize it, Google collects little tidbits of information about every site you go to, including this blog.And thanks to its Analytics tool, I can see a bunch of information about my readers. Don’t worry, there’s nothing here that can identify you specifically. Although I guess if you were the only person in a particular town with a Mac, I could see that someone using a Mac in your town went to my blog and I’d know it was you.But really, what are the chances of that? So if you read my post about the correct way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and you just can’t remember the instructions, then feel free to return to it every single day. I won’t know it’s you.(Although if I did know it was you, I would make fun of you. I mean, how hard is it to make a PB&J?)Anyway, I was messing around with some of the data and came across the list of countries from which people have accessed my blog over the past month. Much to my surprise, 94 different countries were represented. That’s almost half of the countries in the world.The United States sent the most visitors, which, of course, is no surprise. And more than two-dozen countries had only one person who visited. Many thanks to that one person in Slovenia, Senegal, Suriname, El Salvadaor, Yemen, and many others.But China surprised me the most. It has a population of 1.3 billion people, which means that almost one out of every six people on Earth is Chinese. 1.3 billion. That’s almost as many as attended the Cubs World Series parade and rally!Yet, guess how many people from China read my blog last month. Zero. Not one. I’m 0-for-1.3 billion in China.So what gives, China? Why do you hate Dry it in the Water?It’s a cultural disconnect, isn’t it? You think I’m an idiot because I think I can dry something in the water, don’t you? I don’t blame you. It’s a weird name. But read the story of the name and you won’t think I’m an idiot. It’ll take reading some of the other 200-plus posts before you conclude that I’m an idiot.Or was it my interview with North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong Un? Listen, I know that China and North Korea have been close in the past, and maybe you’re mad that I made fun of one of your country’s friends, but don’t use that as an excuse to avoid my blog. I just asked the guy questions everyone else wanted to know. I can see how calling him Jonny Gun might seem disrespectful, but, honestly, how can anyone with that haircut expect respect?Good lord, I hope it’s not because I wasted all that food when I was a kid. I mean, I knew there were starving people in your country, but I was only eight-years-old. What the hell was I supposed to do? Believe me, if I could have put my broccoli in a FedEx envelope and sent it to you, I totally would have.If only my mom would have said, “Don’t throw that away, there are starving people in China, and they won’t read your blog if you waste food.” At least then I would have known!Or did you hear about my trip to Chinatown over the summer? Yes, my sons and I spent an evening walking around Chinatown, hunting for Pokemon, but I swear we were respectful. We obeyed the No Pictures Please signs that hung in one of the shops, and my sons enjoyed seeing your culture even more than catching rare Pokemon. Chinatown is more than just an important Pokestop to them, honest.So come on, China. Read what I have to say. And please, tell your neighbors. Word-of-mouth works much quicker when there are 1.3 billion mouths.For the record, I’m well aware that the great people of China can’t read this blog due to the ridiculous censorship they’re subject to at the hands of their government. But there’s no way I could have written an entire blog post about that.Plus, the thought of 1.3 billion people from the other side of the Earth hating me so much they won’t even click on my blog just makes me laugh. So let me have my illusion, okay?Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Childhood: It's Just a Phase So Don't Miss ItPREVIOUS POST: Where Did All This Stuff Come From?
Where Did All This Stuff Come From?
Thanksgiving is in a couple of days, so I spent the evening preparing the basement for guests. I organized, picked up Halloween candy wrappers stuffed behind the couch, vacuumed corners that haven’t been vacuumed since this time last year, and generally made the basement look the way that I wished it always looked.Unfortunately, people live here, and people are messy—especially when they’re six, ten, twelve and nineteen—so I’ve only got a few days to enjoy the cleanliness before life gets in the way, as it always does.While cleaning I came across some Legos. And then some more Legos. And then some more Legos. They were on the floor, in sandwich bags, stuffed into portable stacks of plastic drawers, and a few were still in the original box. I shoved them all into a corner, and before guests arrive I’ll organize them so they’re not such a mess. But I had writing to do, so that has to wait.I also found stacks of important papers, books my kids have read, half-a-dozen socks, and a few parts that seem to have fallen off the rabbit’s cage. At one point, as I was on my hands-and-knees, trying to pickup Perler beads from the floor, a question suddenly occurred to me: Where did all this stuff come from, and when did we get it?We’ve got little Nintendo figures, and Polly Pocket-sized bathtubs, and disposable diaper Velcro repair kits, and a purple candle shaped like a skull that weighs at least five pounds, and countless other things that I never remember buying, winning, inheriting, or digging up.How do we have so many things?I found an orange plastic ball that we bought for my oldest son when he was a year old, and he played with that thing for years. I remember that. I know where it came from, I know its history, so when I came across it in the basement, I looked at it with fond memories instead of befuddlement.But where the hell did we get this plain black belt, the kind with two metal loops at the end, through which you have to route the belt a certain way to keep it tight, or else it comes loose and is completely worthless. I can’t buckle those things for shit, so I know I didn’t buy the damn thing. It looks like the sort of belt I wore in third grade in 1986, but there’s no way I would have kept a belt like that for so long.If you’re looking for it now it’s in the white garbage bag on the basement floor. It’s right next to an extra couch cushion cover for a couch I’m not sure we ever owned, and two little plastic containers that come out of gumball machines, which someone—my money’s on the six-year-old—decided to shove under one of the couches.How much of our stuff do we keep just because we’ve always kept it? How many of those things would we actually miss if they disappeared?I’ve got a stack of New Yorker magazines under the table. I read parts of some of them. When, exactly, do I think I’m going to have time to read the rest of them? If I came home and the magazines were gone, would I even notice? Probably not. Yet I haven’t thrown them away, and if I see someone trying to throw them away, I’ll stop them.The only thing better than getting stuff is getting rid of stuff. I’m somewhat messy, but I like orderliness. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it just means that I don’t like clutter, yet I’m too lazy or sentimental to get rid of clutter most of the time. But when I do get rid of it, I appreciate the neatness of the uncluttered space.Jerry Seinfeld once had a bit in which he talked about the idea of buying something and immediately throwing it in the garbage. So you get the satisfaction of getting a new thing, but you also get the satisfaction of getting rid of it. I’m sorry to say that I identify with that.What really blows my mind is when I think about these things coming into the house. We’ve got to have tens of thousands of individual items (think about all those Legos, or forks, or shirts, or pens, pencils, markers, etc.) in the house. And each one of those things had to be brought in by someone. It didn’t happen at all once. When we brought in some of that stuff we had no idea it’d be around as long as it has been.Stuff. There’s just so much of it.Click here to receive an e-mail each time I write a new post! Guaranteed spam-free, unsubscribe any time IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Childhood: It's Just a Phase So Don't Miss ItPREVIOUS POST: How I Avoid Despair After Tragic Headlines