Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!  What a wonderful time to reflect on past achievements and think about new goals for 2016.

  • Use shave butter, not shave cream.
  • Offer to show your neighbors what you’ve done with the shed.
  • Call the zoning board and ask what the guidelines are for building a medium-sized runway in the backyard.
  • Offer to host a Tupperware party. Serve food and then ask what the hell you’re supposed to do with all the leftovers.
  • Don’t take any shit from the lieutenant down at internal affairs.
  • Wear socks that don’t match. Point this out to every human being you come across the rest of that day.
  • Sign up to give skiing lessons then ask for directions to the lake.
  • Make time for nonsense.
  • Demand that Netflix produce a new series based on the film Stroker Ace.
  • Post photos of every meal onto social media. Use the caption “Sumptuous” for every photo.
  • Visit Robert Loggia’s hometown. Ask people if they knew him.
  • Use jury duty as an excuse to get out of company dinner parties.
  • Visit Pennsylvania Dutch country and ask if there is an Apple Store in town.
  • Find out what Shelley Hack has been doing since 1981.
  • Sign up for a cooking class and show up with a huge bag of Fritos.
  • Tell the family you are all going Disney World then drive them to Delaware instead.
  • Offer to manage local minor league baseball team. Explain to team officials that current manager is “fucking up the bullpen.”
  • Invite vegan friends over for dinner. Serve braised short ribs. If guests complain, throw down napkin and burst into tears.
  • Throw a baby shower for a woman in her late 60’s.
  • Buy a grand piano. When the deliverymen arrive, tell them to “just put it out of the way somewhere.”
  • More late night poker games with McConaughy.
  • Shoot dice in an alley.
  • Make lots of “to-do” lists.

We want what we can’t have, even when it’s crap.

Like many rational adults, much of my life has been shaped around the movie Smokey
and the Bandit. The general plot of this film was that Burt Reynolds and Jerry Reed had
to transport a truckload of Coors beer from Texas to Georgia in 28 hours. This all took place in 1977 at a time when
Coors beer was not available east of the Mississippi.
People in the east apparently lost their rabid taste for Coors. It seemed to be more about the fact that they could not
get Coors, not that Coors tasted great.
I like Coors, it’s a fine product. I’m just not sure I would hire someone to get it to me in 28 hours if it was not available in my general area.
We want what we cannot have.
A more recent example of this was the collective cry of joy that was heard when Yuengling Beer returned to Connecticut after a prolonged absence.
People got all hot and bothered. Stores ran deals. Bars put up signs. Christ, this stuff is slightly better than Pabst Blue Ribbon and PBR sucks.
Why do why flock to stuff that is not in our general regional area?

Here’s To New Moms

I have newfound respect for women of newborns. Some of you may be saying, “Wait, Brian…are you saying until your wife had a baby you did not have a healthy respect for the struggles of new moms throughout this great nation and the world?” Yes, that is what I am saying. Until my wife and I had our daughter, I really had no time to think about all the work that new moms go through. Nor did I care. I had other major issues to deal with. My iTunes account was out of whack and Betty White’s career resurgence was driving me (expletive) batty. Who had time to worry about new moms, chafed nipples and infrequent bathroom breaks? No matter how much you think you are prepared for the day-to-day activities of having a newborn, you are not. And this is just from a Dad’s perspective. I have it easy next to my wife. I just try to follow orders, make my wife comfortable, try not to spill anything and stay out of the way. Actually, that’s very similar to the night our daughter was conceived.
     As a new mom who is feeding, my wife never seems to get a break. Little sleep, little time to do anything other than feed our daughter, burp her and feed her again. I try to help out with burping, bottles and diapers but I know I can’t do enough or match her workload until the kid goes on the bottle full-time. So, kudos to the new moms. From now on, when I see a mom breastfeeding at the mall or in a bar, instead of looking away, I will offer a hearty thumbs-up.

Make Me Laugh

Whatever happened to laughter? Hollywood seems to be coming up short when it comes to big comedies.
Let’s turn back the clock to a simpler time…the 80’s.
Caddyshack, Airplane, Stripes, Spinal Tap, Fast Times At Ridgemon High, Vacation. Three of the first four Eddie Murphy movies. These were films for adults. Juvenille adults, but adults nonetheless.
Now? The Hangover is praised because there are so few films like it that get made anymore. Instead, it’s mostly PG-13 crap designed to be Netflix-ready in a couple weeks.  Ben Stiller is a big star. Tyler Perry keeps getting the greenlight to make movies.
I understand the need from safe, family-friendly fair.  I just would like a little more R-Rated juvenille nonsense in my life,  something I could Netflix three months after it bombs at the box office.

Still Rolling?

Justin Bieber is on the cover of the newest Rolling Stone. I mention this because I THINK there was a time when Rolling Stone was kind of a cool magazine. Kinda like when Ron Burgandy was “kind of a big deal.” Nevertheless, those days seem long gone now. RS seems to be turning into a less-tacky version of Entertainment Weekly. First, the Black Eyed Peas, then Glee and now Bieber.
Maybe I am the one who is out of touch. I still kinda enjoy magazines. Maybe I should channel my magazine-enjoyment energy to other outlets, like building a shed or learning how to play the banjo.

A Giant Mess

It was bad news for most New York Giants fans on Monday…even before the Giants-Vikings game kicked off Monday night. The game was set for Sunday afternoon, but that was before the Minneapolis area was belted with a weekend blizzard that caved in the Metrodome roof. That forced the NFL to move the game to Monday night in Detroit.
That’s when things got sticky for many Giants fans in Connecticut. The game was set to only be broadcast to fans in the New York City and Albany markets. The game was not being broadcast by Connecticut’s Fox affiliate.
I am not sure who is the villain here. There is probably more than one. Once again though, it’s the fans that get screwed. This is an extreme circumstance. A stadium roof collapsed. There was no way the game could be played on Sunday. This should be a time when common sense and cooperation between the networks could have allowed the markets that were set to televise the game on Sunday to be able to televise it on Monday.
Instead, fans will head out to sports bars to see the game or just stay at home and wait to see updates on TV or online.

I want my Christmas, not my Holiday

So with the holiday season fast approaching, I thought it would be a good time to reflect on the fact that the term “Christmas Tree” is apparently offensive to some people. I am not going to write or use the term “Holiday Tree.”  It’s a Christmas Tree.  Let’s get a grip on the P.C. nonsense that is taking over this country like a plague of locusts upon our fertile intellectual crops.
There is enough peripheral crap coming our way over the next several weeks. Turkey, relatives, Black Friday shopping crap.
Let’s restore some sanity.  Let’s keep the Christmas in our tree.