I’m at that age when I should be having a midlife crisis. It’s not a specific age, like the one you reach to be eligible for Social Security. It’s a span of years somewhere between “my jeans seem a little tight” and “does this adult diaper make my ass look big?”
I’m not sure if this is the last post of this year, or the first post of next year. I do know that for the next three months I’ll still be writing 2009 on all my checks. Thank God for online bill paying.
Everyone makes New Year’s resolutions. This year I decided to make up a list of resolutions other people should follow, since I can’t seem to keep any of my own. Maybe I should set my sights lower, though I still have hopes I can become king of a small island nation populated with young, beautiful female swimsuit models. Here are a few I’d like to see. Only one each, and fulfilling them would certainly make the world a better place in my book:
Charlie Sheen – Realize that “Beyond the Law” was just the title of a movie you were in.
Sarah Palin – Stop writing books and try reading one for a change.
Joe Lieberman – Find a party you like and stick with it.
Barak Obama – Give up on those cancerous, white, death merchants. You know: Republicans.
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad – Look for a job in which the last thing you see won’t be a mob of 10 million Iranians calling for your head.
Angelina Jolie – Adopt an American kid, for Christ’s sake.
Madonna – Ditto.
Rush Limbaugh – Ask yourself whether the money you make is worth ruining everything America stands for.
Dick Cheney – More shooting lawyers, less shooting your mouth off.
Tiger Woods – No matter how difficult it may be, try to find happiness and satisfaction with only fame, a billion dollars, and your Swedish model wife.
Hugh Hefner – Lose the pajamas. Unless you have Alzheimer’s, you shouldn’t show up for interviews looking like grandpa trying to find his teeth in the morning.
Did I miss anyone? Suggestions are welcome.
• Things you heard at Christmas when you were a kid sound perverted when you’re an adult. Santa sees you when you’re sleeping. He’ll be coming down your chimney. Don we now our gay apparel. O come all ye faithful. Were you a naughty little girl? Sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas. Ho. Ho. Ho.
• Now that both my kids are over 21, they ask for fewer presents. Unfortunately the gifts they ask for are usually much more expensive. Like a down payment on a house.
• My wife and I no longer have to worry about getting woken at 5:30 Christmas morning by the happy squealing of kids who want to open presents. We’re old enough now that when we go to bed we worry we won’t wake up. Ever.
• We think we’re so smart because we don’t believe in Santa Claus. Then we put our faith for retirement in Social Security.
• The only reason Black Friday is the biggest and busiest shopping day of the year is because we’re all too stupid to think, “Maybe I should avoid the crowds and go shopping on Saturday or Sunday.”
• More and more, people walking around the malls at Christmastime remind me of the zombies walking Monroeville Mall in Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead.”
• Every new Christmas music CD that comes out has the same dozen or so songs. Can’t we write some new ones? Anyone? Put your hand down, McCartney.
• If Louis Farrakhan did a Christmas CD, I doubt he’d include “White Christmas.”
• I’ve been married more than 30 years. Twice I got presents for my wife she actually liked. This year I’ll get her a gift card and that big, flat screen TV I’ve always wanted. I mean she’s always wanted. Yeah. That’s it. She.
• I don’t want to offend anyone by saying Merry Christmas. So if you pass me on the street, and I shout, “Fuck you, asshole!” you’ll know why.
“Oil Can What?” Said the Scarecrow
By Paul Giles
Since when did getting your car’s oil changed become as complicated as launching an interplanetary probe? I’m not talking about the do-it-yourself type. Remember those? A socket wrench, a filter strap, a can spout, and a rag were all the tools needed, and I looked pretty damned manly doing it. Oh, I might have worn an apron so I wouldn’t get my clothes too greasy, but once I got started, the black sludge covered up the butterflies and flowers and filled the holes in the lace. Read more…
I’m like most guys. If the car won’t start, I look under the hood. There’s no reason to. I wouldn’t know what was wrong unless I saw a family of woodchucks in the engine compartment gnawing through the wiring. But guys being a guy, I like to pretend that I know what I’m doing when it comes to fixing things. The same goes for home repairs. Read more…
 |
 |
 |
 |
