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Tuesday, April 13, 2010



I have finally finished my Easter candy. At least I think I have; my wife hid all of my chocolate eggs so that I could hunt for them. Which I found mean and vindictive. Can you imagine if the Red Cross went into a relief area and hid the food JUST FOR FUN? I took my Winchester 94 with me. That way, if I failed to find any eggs I could just shoot at the ground and hope to find oil, like Jed Clampett. Wife sat there smugly as I struggled to find food. I said hey I don’t see you going down to the reservoir and hiding the swan’s eggs. Try that on for size.

I am still finding a chocolate egg here and there- there were several in my car which I did not discover until the weather returned from its high of 91 degrees.

As a kid we used to color our hard-boiled eggs the night before Easter with Paas Easter Egg Dye. You dissolve the different color dyes in bowls of water. After holding the egg patiently in the mixture for about an hour-and-a-half, the white egg would magically re-appear the vibrant color of ecru. You could hardly recognize it. They were hardly Faberge masterpieces, but they kept us out of trouble for however long an hour-and-a-half times one dozen is.

My mother used to hide the eggs that night so we could find them the next day. Unfortunately, we all well knew that the hours between Easter Eve and Easter Morning were more than adequate for her to completely forget where she hid them. I fantasize that the people who eventually bought our house every once in awhile scratch their head and go, “There it is again- what the hell is that smell?” Sometimes someone in North Dakota will find what they insist is a petrified dinosaur egg, but us six kids know better.

Then we would get hauled off to the Country Club (I love saying that, but I’m sure you know that if you call yourself a “Country Club,” it only means that you are hoping with desperation that you could be that which you are not), where they had a lovely Easter day planned, with an Easter egg hunt and a magician. I remember hating it, which proves I was cool even back then. The other kids were way faster and smarter at finding the plastic eggs with the prizes in them. Which proves I was unathletic, even back then. The magician did the same lame tricks every time, including the old “milk-in-the-newspaper-cone” trick.

Which I just had to try at home. Not only would there be a huge puddle of milk on the floor, but Dad would have no idea what happened in the world that day. Prior to getting yelled at and possibly misdemeanor assaulted, I would say, “Well, there’s no use crying over THAT is there?” and run like hell.

Easter is the most cannibalistic-seeming holiday. The torturous glee with which you slowly devour a whole animal, without skinning it or cooking it, starting with its ears. With no ability to hear, and sometimes with its tail suddenly consumed, hence its balance compromised, it still wears an fatuous and gruesome smile. I finally get to the flesh-eater’s prize, the beautiful blue eyes. I chew them slowly and savor them. Should the chocolate bunny lay chocolate eggs, I will swallow their unborn children whole.

I start to see things from Hannibal Lechter’s side. Which reminds me: every time I see a baby with one of those sucker things in its mouth I think of Hannibal Lechter. Is that baby a dangerous criminal? A psychotic killer? It is laughing at inappropriate times, a clear sign. It has a dazed, drooly look. Could it jump across that high chair, club me, remove my skin and eat me? It does not look particularly agile, but neither do NFL offensive linemen. Then the sucker thing falls out of its mouth and I feel stupid for even thinking it. But I steer well clear of it anyway.

I never pay much attention to the religious side of it; that people believe in such things seems vaguely embarrassing to me. But I would NEVER say so out loud. If there really is a Judgement Day I picture everyone sitting around a big table holding up signs with “7.5” or “6.0” on them. It will be a lot like the Easter Egg hunt, where I never made such a great showing.

Incidentally, the name “Easter” is possibly derived from “Eostre,” a month of the Germanic calendar akin to April, in which feasts were held. The holiday corresponds with the Jewish holiday of Passover, and the gambling holiday of Passover/under. The New Testament of the Bible teaches that Easter follows the Last Supper and the Crucifixion. And if you look closely at da Vinci’s The Last Supper, you can plainly see that Judas is reaching for a chocolate Easter bunny.

Provided by website-hit-counters.com site.

Friday, April 2, 2010



Have you sent your Census Form back yet? I have not. But Person Number 1 has. After 30 some odd years (some would argue most odd) of signing on the dotted line below my dotted line, my wife has taken it upon herself to become “Person Number 1,” as directed by our Census form. I found this amazing! Of all the people in America to receive the survey, she was the FIRST!

So Person Number 1 was just about to start answering the questions, but then Person Number 1 had to clean up a cat number 2.

The questions seem fairly simple. They ask your name, which she got right. But that is not until question #5. There are other more important matters. First it asks, “How many people are living or staying at this house, apartment or mobile home?” Which implies that some of the people staying at your house might not necessarily be alive. This is potentially a trick question which you should answer carefully, and if need be, consult a deceased lawyer.

Question 2: “Are there any additional people staying here that you did not include in Question 1?” If you recently put an addition on your home, this is where they probably are living, so check that out. Or it might mean people who are good at math.

Then it asks: Are You Hot? If so, what is your telephone number???

It asks your sex, Male or Female. It instructs you to “Mark ONE box,” so it won’t do to hedge your bets.

You have to list your age. The form says it is okay to report a baby as age 0, but a baby age 0 seems like it may have been ill-conceived.

In addition to asking your race (I put the 5K), it separately asks whether you are of Hispanic, Latino or Spanish origin. If so, what is your batting average? I think they may be starting a softball team at the census bureau.

Question number 10: “Does Person 1 sometimes live or stay somewhere else?” By the way if you live in a trailer, you may be at home and also somewhere else, depending on where you are parked. The choices are: 1.) In college housing; 2.) In the military; 3.) At a second residence; 4.) For child custody; 5). In jail or prison; 6.) In a nursing home; 7.) For another reason, which I take to mean: Who-knows-where with Tiger Woods.

Speaking of Tiger, I was recently in the office of a noted sexual psychiatrist, who evaluated him. The doctor sat him down and said, “Mr. Woods, I will first ask you two important questions to make an analysis of your condition and determine whether you are a sex addict. First, are you a guy?” Tiger answered yes. The doctor said, “Okay, so you are a sex addict. Now the next question: do you know how to play whist? We have another 50 minutes to kill till ten minutes of two.”

The doctor then proceeded to win 17 hands of whist in a row, but then Tiger challenged him to arm wrestle, whereupon he won and bruised a bone in the doctor’s hand.

Tiger then showed me a text message he recently sent to a “links minx:”
“I C U from 16th T. U R a Q T! I like UR B hind. U have a nice boo T. luv TGRRR”

I can’t really picture Tiger as a ladies man since he seems so polite- the very name “Tiger” should be reserved for football players or boxers, not golfers. These guys are dressing in knickers and visors- you make your own judgement, and please mark only ONE box.

Question number 11 asks: “Didn’t I just see you at the hardware store?”

There are many scam questionnaires going around, so pay attention to the questions if they do not match the ones I have listed above. Does it ask for your Social Security number? Does it ask, “What is your cat’s name?” That plus the current year will get you into just about any account. Does it ask, “Where do you keep your spare key?” All red flags.

So fill out the census and be counted. And long live the NEW Person Number 1. She will enjoy her newfound status, higher self-esteem, and I’m guessing a jury duty notice sometime very soon.

Incidentally, if you do not send back your form, a government Census agent comes to you to harass, cajole and harangue you, not necessarily in that order. And your tax dollars are paying for it. The first thing they ask you is won’t you please come to your census. Then they push right in and check what’s in the fridge. If they don’t leave, you may have to list them in Question number two. Chances are they will eventually go; it’s off to the next field trip, where apparently NO ONE at Sin City Gentlemen’s Club has answered the census.

Provided by website-hit-counters.com site.