A Festivus For The Rest Of Us

Connor,

I’m sure since your mom has no doubt been blasting Christmas music for about two months now you are aware that something has changed. On the radio, on TV, in and all around your house, Christmas has taken over. If it were legal, and I’m pretty sure it’s not, your mom would listen to Christmas music all year round. Growing up all I ever remember coming out of your mom's room was Mariah Carey and Christmas music—and if I was really lucky, Mariah Carey’s Christmas music. You see, Christmas is more than just a holiday, it's A Season.

The purpose of these letters (usually) are to give you a glimpse of the pop-culture world as it is during your formative years—a portion of history that probably won’t be covered in school or on the History Channel—partly because they lack historical significance, but mostly because they’re presented by someone with a skewed and unreliable world view. These subjects we cover are, like most things, a part of time. They begin and end. This is what makes Christmas so special. Once something wedges its way into the Christmas lexicon, it stays there, forever. For good or ill, we are stuck with these songs, movies, and television specials for the rest of our lives. Christmas would not be Christmas without them.

So I made a list of movies you must watch every year and songs you have no choice but to listen to because, well, you live with your mom. We'll start with the movies...

How The Grinch Stole Christmas (Cartoon Version 1966)

The live action movie adaptations of Dr. Suess' work are usually a step down from the books, Cat In The Hat was unbearable, The Grinch was okay but pales in comparison to the cartoon, and the movie they made about Green Eggs and Ham, I Am Sam, had almost nothing to do with the book--however it is a great example of why you should never go full-retard. My favorite part of the cartoon was always the Roast Beast. I love roast beast, especially roast beast sandwiches with cole slaw. Mmmmmm...

A Christmas Story (1983)

Did you know we used to live in a world without the 24-hour "A Christmas Story" marathon? It's true. Many refer to it as, "The Dark Times"--I know I do. If the fine people at TBS ever try to stop running the marathon there will be a public outcry like nothing we've ever seen. I'm a firm believer that the best way to keep away annoying people is to say, "Don't talk to me... I'm thinking." Christmas movie or not, this movie is nearly perfect. Every scene is quotable and I couldn't imagine anyone else playing Ralphie. Even his name, Ralphie, is perfect. I dare you to watch this and not want a Red Ryder BB Gun...I dare you.

Christmas Vacation (1989)

Hey Griswold, where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?

Elf (2003)

This is an underrated movie and the most recent addition to the Pantheon of Christmas movies. I mean, Will Ferrell playing a giant Elf, how did it take so long for this to happen? I'm not sure if this movie is really good or it's just that I'm in love with Zooey Deschanel. Either way, Elf has nudged its way into the Pantheon of Christmas movies because it makes me smile--and smiling is my favorite.

It’s A Wonderful Life (1946)

Of all the movies made in 1946, this one is my favorite. When George Bailey finally gets his life back in the end and he's running through the town saying hello to buildings, he passes what I believe is a "Movie House", but for years I thought--prolly cause your other uncles told me so--that he said "Boobie House" which made the movie worth watching every year. I just thought George loved boobies--made sense to me.

Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

Who can forget the story of Rudolph? The story that teaches us that Santa was basically a bigot before a blizzard came and he needed Rudolph to save Christmas. Then Santa learned that reindeers with glowing red noses shouldn't be banished to live on the island of misfit toys. And by the way, some of those misfit toys weren't really misfits at all. The squirt gun filled with jelly could have just filled itself with water--they lived on a floating piece of ice, there was literally water all around them. And Charlie In The Box? Change your name to Jack. Problem solved. They should have called it the Island of Easily Fixable Problems.

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

I'm not a huge fan of Charlie Brown, bit of a complainer, ya know? But if I had to pick one Peanuts adventure to watch, it would be this one. But they should have called it A Linus Christmas because he really steals the show with his monologue at the end. (I won't mention how he plagiarized the whole thing from the Bible.)

Miracle On 34th Street (1994 version)

I can't believe they got the old guy who owns Jurassic Park to be Santa Claus. They spared no expense.

One of the five thousand versions of A Christmas Carol

My personal recommendation is Scrooged with Bill Murray. It might not be the most traditional version --that award goes to Ghosts of Girlfriends Past with Matthew McConaughey--but I liked it because Bill Murray is the coolest and I'm also in love with Karen Allen.

And Lastly, But Certainly Not Least: Home Alone (1990)

I don't know what it is, but there is something about the story of a blonde Irish kid named Kevin whose large family thinks he's an incompetent little jerk when really he's a brave genius who fights off criminals that just seems so true to life. Not to mention, Kevin McCallister is played by the single greatest child actor of all time--the one, the only, McCauley Culkin. This movie made MacCauley and now he dates this girl--so yeah, he wins again.

(It should be noted that two of these Christmas movies were written by John Hughes: Home Alone and Christmas Vacation. From 1980-1990 John Hughes wrote 17 movies, 12 of which I consider must see films. These movies include: Mr. Mom, Vacation, Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes Trains and Automobiles, The Great Outdoors, Uncle Buck, Christmas Vacation, and Home Alone. That is an unprecedented run. He died this past August and I don't think we'll ever see someone own a decade like John Hughes owned the 80's. Respect.)

Now for the music. Some of these Christmas jingles are memorable because they represent Christmas like only music can, and others are memorable because they are so horrible that it almost seems sacrilegious to play them on the day Jesus was born. Here is a short list of the ones that stand out in my mind...

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town by Bruce Springsteen and The East Street Band

When The Boss says you better watch out and you better not cry, you open your eyes and you don't shed a tear. I never understood why Santa was so threatening in this song until Bruce belted it out. This is definitely the song Santa blasts in the sleigh on Christmas Eve to get him pumped. "That's right, I'm comin' to town, and all you punk kids better watch out!! And you better not cry or I'll give you somethin to cry about!! Santa slap!!" (side note: Santa prolly never said that.)

Christmas Shoes by Some Horrible, Horrible Band

I'm convinced this song was made by terrorists. They made it to lower the overall morale of Americans and force us into a defenseless depression, so they can just come over here and take over without a fight. I also like Patton Oswalt's take on this travesty of a song. Warning: This link is PG-13. Just horrible.

O Holy Night by Josh Groban

Say what you want about this guy's haircut, you cannot deny his golden pipes were made to sing O Holy Night. I think even Muslims bought his Christmas Album. I think it sold more copies than there are people on the planet.

Happy Christmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon

Many people like to argue over who was the best Beatle. John or Paul? (Anyone who tries to argue George is just trying to be difficult. And no one has ever argued Ringo) For me it will always be John and Christmas helped me come to that decision. John made a great Christmas song that starts, "So this is Christmas and what have you done? Another year older and a new one just begun." Even on Christmas, Lennon was taking us to task. Paul, on the other hand, wrote "A Wonderful Christmas Time" with a synthesizer-filled chorus that goes, "The mood is right. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough. Simply having a wonderful Christmas time." Is it enough, Paul? Is it really? Both made the mistake of letting their wives sing on the song, but at least John tried to drown Yoko out with a kids choir. Listen to both songs and decide for yourself, I'm just sayin, Lennon challenged us to be better, McCartney sounds drunk and there is no excuse for the synthesizer. None at all.

Last Christmas - Wham!

This song and "Christmas Shoes" song should be blasted at rioters as punishment for their social upheaval. Somehow it's been heavily thrust into the Christmas radio rotation and plays every 10 minutes on Christmas day. No one likes this song. Not even the members of Wham like this song. The programming directors at radio stations have no control over this, and it has led to many of them leaving the country to live in caves. But that's the thing about Christmas songs, once they hit the radio, they stay there forever. We will never be rid of this song. And that, Connor, is a depressing thought. I'm sorry I brought it up.

All I Want For Christmas - Mariah Carey

That morally flexible lady is one talented SOB. Damn you, Casey.

Do They Know It's Christmas - Band Aid

Just when I thought I couldn't hate George Michael any more than I already did, he goes along and participates in something like this--AND TOTALLY REDEEMS HIMSELF. Back in 1984 the only way to battle hunger in Etheopia was to gather up a bunch of musicians with hilarious haircuts and sing a song. You really need to watch the video to fully appreciate just how hilarious the haircuts were back then. So here you go...Do They Know It's Christmas. A year later Lionel Richie and Michael Jackson wrote We Are The World and called the group USA for Africa to also raise money for Ethiopia. (Ironically, Lionel Richie could not feed his own daughter.) Since the end of the 80's people stopped making songs for the hungry and started sending food. I guess that makes more sense. The 80's were a magical time, Connor, don't let anyone tell you different.

Jingle Bells (The Batman Smells Version)

In about 5 years, you are gonna think this is the funniest song ever made. And you're absolutely right.

Have Yourself A Merry Christmas by Mel Torme' aka The Velvet Fog

This song, Rocking Around The Christmas Tree and Run Run Rudolf will forever be linked to Home Alone and are therefore awesome.

That's it. That's my list. Every year these movies will be on TV and these songs will be on the radio. Whether you like it or not these things will always be a part of Christmas--just like your family. Now I gotta catch a plane--third time's a charm.

See ya soon and Merry First Christmas,

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Halloween Rules of Engagement

Connor,

I saw the picture of you as a pumpkin, and I'm sorry. You looked miserable. But don't worry, this will only last a few years. Right now Halloween is a just an opportunity for your mom to dress you up in the most embarrassing costume possible so people can come over and laugh at you. (And in this day and age these photos will be posted on the interweb so the whole world can laugh at you. I do not envy your generation.)
You'll have to wait it out because in four or five years Halloween will become one of the best (if not THE best) days of the year. And it will remain awesome for as long as you're awesome enough to embrace it. To help you enjoy this wonderful day to the fullest, I've created certain rules you must abide by. A Halloween guide if you will...

Rule #1- Be Something With a Weapon

This is very important. I personally like any costume that comes with a sword: a pirate, a ninja, a musketeer, a teenage mutant turtle who also happens to be a ninja (Leonardo to be specific), or just a crazy guy with a sword. The sword will come in handy throughout the night, I assure you (more on this later).


Rule #2- Beware Gorilla Suits and Scarecrows

They may seem like just another porch decoration, but every so often they come alive in a clever attempt to make you poop your pants. This is when your sword comes into play (not too much later). As soon as you see a gorilla or scarecrow, be ready to unsheathe your sword. If you play this right you'll be able to unleash a devastating blow to the knees. Usually I wouldn't condone violence, but he did try to make you poop your pants, so I say it's fair game. While your fellow trick-or-treaters will cower in fear, you'll stand alone defending the honor of the group--plus you get to wack some dude with your sword. It's a win/win.

Rule #3a- Plan Your Route; Double Back

This is very crucial to maximizing your candy intake. I have not yet seen your new home, but you are in the suburbs of Philadelphia, so I assume you live in a heavily populated neighborhood with rows of houses on both sides of the street (or you live on a farm house in the middle of nowhere). You want no more than 30 feet between each residence. If you don't live in a neighborhood like this yet, don't worry, either there is one very close or there will be one built around you soon.

Once you find your ideal area of attack, map out your route so you hit every house in the neighborhood once. If you've selected a good neighborhood this should take several hours. Now you can go back to the first house and start again. Most people will dish out the candy again because they've seen so many costumed kids at this point they won't remember you've already hit them up once--unless you go as something particularly memorable like a half-Swayze/half-horse type creature.

And just in case you decide to be something unforgettable like a Swayze Centaur, which I'm totally supportive of, be sure to...

Rule #3b- Have a Backup Mask

Obviously a Swayze Centaur costume will stand out so be sure to have a random mask you can wear for the double back through the neighborhood. When I was kid we had a Freddy Krueger mask that seemed to make it through a thousand Halloweens. He would not die--much like the NOES movies.

(Note: Kelly Leak, the best little league baseball player ever, is playing the new Freddy. And before that he played Rorschach in Watchmen; a guy who is ashamed of his face. I mean why don't they just write him a note that says, "You Ugly" and just leave it at that. Would this have happened if coach Buttermaker was still around? Something to think about. )

Rule #4- Respect The "Please Take One" Basket

Obviously your first instinct is to take the entire basket, but you must resist this urge. The person that left that basket is either home watching you, and testing your honor (and if you're a ninja this a very important test), or they're at a Halloween party and respected you and the holiday enough to leave some candy. In either case, you should not take advantage of the PTO basket. It is okay to take two or three pieces if they left particularly good candy (i.e. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Snickers, Skittles, etc.)--I mean, you are only human.
I know what you're thinking, 'How come it's okay to wear an extra mask to go back for round two, but it's not okay to take all the candy from the PTO basket?" Valid concern, but the difference is in the ruse. The 2nd mask technique is a clever trick. Taking all the basket candy isn't clever. It isn't even a trick. It's just being a jerk. Remember, you presented these people with the possibility that you might trick them. They should be prepared.


Rule #5- Eat Way Too Much Candy

"They" say eating too much candy will give you nightmares. I don't think that's true, but I've never put any stock into what "they" say. If it is true, I say bring on the nightmares; it's Halloween.
I've always preferred nightmares to dreams anyway. Think about it. Wouldn't you rather wake up and be relieved that wolves aren't chasing you than wake up and be disappointed you can't fly. (And when you start having dreams about girls you like, you'll know exactly what I mean.) It's Halloween, if ever you embrace your nightmares, this should be the night. Plus, you get to eat an obscene amount of candy. Again, it's a win/win.

Rule #6- Avoid the Lure of Mischief Night

I love mischief and endorse it and shenanigans whenever possible...except on mischief night. Mischief loses its essence if it's preordained. If you toilet paper someone's house on mischief night, they don't wake up confused and annoyed wondering what they could have possibly done to deserve such an inconvenience. Instead, they just shrug their shoulders, shake their heads, and say, "mischief night." Where's the thrill in that? Where's the mystique? I mean where would the Japanese be if they had bombed Pearl Harbor on "Surprise Attack Night". Nowhere, that's where. (What? Too soon? If Michael Bay can make a terrible movie about it, I should be able to make a joke. Come on.)

Rule #7- Have a Scary Movie Ready to End the Night

I'm not sure what number Saw movie they'll be at when you're old enough to trick-or-treat or how more romantic and less threatening the vampires will be, but I can tell you what scared me as a kid, the Stephen King movie It. It was a movie about a clown named Pennywise who would come to this town every 30 years and eat children. It sounds kinda dumb, but I assure you this clown will haunt your dreams forever...so be sure to check that out.

(Note: If you happen to go to the movies with your baby friends and they play the new Twilight trailer. After it's over and the theater gets all quiet, lean over to your friends and loudly whisper, "How big is your boner right now?" You will get laughs, I promise you. )

Rule #8- Take Notes: Apples, Toothbrushes, Good-N-Plenty

You will run into some bad people throughout your life, Connor. But no more soulless, no more hate-filled, no more evil than the people who give you any of those three things on Halloween. Whenever they're not giving out stuff no one in this world could possibly want, they're most likely boiling kittens or leaving comments on Youtube videos. Take note of where these people live, and never, ever return there. No good can come of it.
On the other hand, whenever you find those generous souls who give out King-sized candy or bags with multiple pieces of quality candy, be sure to hold them in the highest regard.

(Note: If you do get some Good-N-Plenty, be sure to give them to your grandmother. It's just tradition.)

Rule #9- Always Use a Pillow Case

The pillowcase is the best candy-holder known to man. It's big enough and sturdy enough to carry more candy than you could possibly collect and sometimes months later you'll find a Jolly Rancher under pillow. Once again, win/win. What you don't want to do is get stuck with one of those plastic pumpkins that holds maybe three bite-sized Snickers and has a crappy plastic handle guaranteed to break if you're lucky enough to get a King-sized Butterfinger. You never want an excuse to go home, because once you're in, it's almost impossible to get back out. (Unless of course you're one of six, then you can very easily get lost in the shuffle...here's hoping that happens!!)

Rule #10- Enjoy It While It Lasts

One day you'll wake up, put on your costume, go to the neighbor's house, say trick-or-treat and they will ask you to leave and give you no candy. Why? Because you're 25-years-old and apparently Ageism is an accepted practice on Halloween. And people aren't even nice about it. They don't say, "Hey that's an awesome Swayze costume, but the candy is only for children." They just say, "Get off my porch, ya psycho." It's like I have to have a kid so I can participate in trick-or-treating, which seems like a huge responsibility for one night of candy fun. I mean, how many people have had kids just for the Halloween candy? I'm guessing a lot.
I don't think it's fair to me, the kid, or America to have a kid whom I only really want for one day a year. It's just irresponsible and I'm not gonna fall in line just cause everyone else is doing it. I mean, just cause my parents did it and your parents did it, doesn't mean we have to do it. We could stop the vicious cycle of Kids for Candy. Vote Yes on Prop 143!!
(Prop 143 would allow people to trick-or-treat well into their 50's, thereby eliminating the pressure to have children just for the Halloween candy)
Anyway, post-trick-or-treat Halloween isn't all bad. You get to go to Halloween parties, which are great because people are more likely to make stupid mistakes when they're dressed up in silly costumes. Also, many women finally get to dress like themselves. Oh!!(That's a back-handed insult. More more difficult than the back-handed compliment and much more fun to do.)

(Phinal Note: How bout them Phillies? Did you watch Always Sunny last night? It was great. Greenman fought the Phillie Phernatic (not a spelling error). They drank riot juice. Mac wrote Chase Utley a love letter. It was awesome. The debate over who's the best looking Phillie is a complicated issue, one me and your uncle Callahan have had many times before. It's just so competitive, I mean, who has a better looking team than the Phils? No one, that's who. I mean, sure, we lost some serious handsomeness this off-season when we replaced Pat "The Bat" Burrell with Raul "My Preciouses" Ibanez, but sometimes--not often, but sometimes--you have to place performance above good looks. I think this may have been one of those rare occasions. Anyway, I got the Phils in five games. Derek Jeter's good looks win one game for the Yanks--otherwise this an easy sweep.)

Now that I've successfully scared your grandfather...Happy Halloween!!!

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

A Rude Awakening...

Connor,

Before you start, you're right, I have no excuse. It's been months since our last correspondence--I could sit here and tell you that July and August are notoriously slow news months OR that I was too busy going to your less cool uncles' weddings OR that I've spent the last few months reading more than writing as a quest to improve the quality of your letters--I could say these things, but I won't because I have no excuses.

The important thing is I'm back, and you no longer have to wonder what's happening in the world outside The Mickey Mouse Show (Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog... Now That I Have Your Attention) and Poo and Friends--I don't know who that British elephant is hanging out with Poo, but I don't trust her--and Eeyore's right, she's a terrible singer.

ANYWAY, let's get down to it, what's been been happening since Jacko died? Well, Swayze--you know what, I'm not gonna go there just yet. You don't deserve back-to-back obituary updates. We'll give it a few weeks then pay tribute to the man, the myth, the legend...The Swayz.

For now let's talk about RESPECT--and how no one has it for anyone else anymore.

It seems the popular thing to do when you're popular is to act like a jerk for no apparent reason. In recent weeks, a nameless congressman was a jerk to the President, a producer/rapper/crazy person was a jerk to a country singer, the world's strongest tennis player was a jerk to the world's tiniest line judge, and a boxing analyst was a jerk to a world champion boxer. If America had a Jerk Store, it would be sold out...or fully stocked--I'm really not sure how that works and I don't think George Costanza understood it either, which was the actual joke on the show.

ANYWAY, are we're being overrun by jerks? Is this a national pandemic? Of course we could make an argument that all these incidents are coincidental and not representative of America's decline in decor. Let's try...

The nameless congressman from South Carolina who decided to yell, "You Lie!" at the president during his address to congress, well, he's from South Carolina--they have crazy everything in SC; a crazy Governor, crazy Senators, one crazy Congressman (that we know of), crazy straws, crazy bread, and a crazy beauty queen who seems remarkably uneducated--even for a beauty queen. I'm sure all South Carolinians (?) aren't as stereotypical as their public figures, but I don't have any evidence of the contrary. So what am I to think? Sounds like a terrific place to open up a Jerk Store--or a terrible place because the supply would overwhelm the demand--let's just steer clear of this joke from now on.

Moving on, the producer/rapper/crazy guy/"voice of this generation of this decade" who interrupted the poor country singer during her acceptance speech for winning the "Best Female Video Award" at the Video Music Awards--actually, let's not even bother with this story. I'm not even sure how people win Video Music Awards anymore, since I haven't seen a music video in close to ten years. By the time your old enough to watch this awards show, I have to imagine, it won't exist. So a meaningless award ceremony was ruined by a guy who is well-known for ruining things that don't matter and carving crop circles into his head. I think it's safe to say this is an isolated incident that could only happen to a crazy narcissist or a gay fish.

As for the world's largest tennis player, well, Connor, all I can say is, be careful if you become a scientist and you decide to build a super woman for the sole purpose of dominating women's tennis. Eventually, the monster you've created will go rogue and very tiny, innocent people may be hurt. That's all I can say.

Finally, the boxing analyst who for some reason felt the need to disrespect a champion boxer during the post-fight interview by placing his own ego above the domination that happened in the ring just moments prior. The jerk in question is Max Kellerman; a boxing expert known for his boy-band-esque facial hair and for being kind of a Doosh. This recent indiscretion isn't the worst thing he's ever done. Many like to forget this, but Max Kellerman was the original host of the worst sports show ever made: Around the Horn. This show is a round table discussion with America's most annoying sports journalists. It's basically a group of old men with abrasive personalities arguing about sports--personalities which are horribly magnified with the presence of a video camera. Terrible, just terrible. (With the exception of PTI, putting a camera in the face of a sports journalist is ALWAYS a bad idea. All that time behind the camera interviewing jerk athletes has made these people crazy and attention starved.) Almost everything Kellerman touches turns into a journalistic abomination--he clearly has some kind of crappy journalism Midas Touch. Once again we're dealing with an ego-maniac whose time in the spotlight is minimal, so he did all he could to shift the focus on himself for that short time. This could be another fluke situation. Sure it could.

Maybe we're not all jerks ready to go on sale at the Jerk Store (sorry), maybe it's just a select group of people placed in highly visible situations who happened to lose their minds within days of eachother.

Do you believe in coincidence? Either do I. I prefer the "Gladwellian" approach with trends and tipping points: Is there a "rude behavior trend" that has spread from person to person and this recent spike in uncivil behavior represents a tipping point in that trend? Possibly, Connor, possibly. (It's also possible I completely butchered the interpretation of Gladwell's arguments, but it kinda makes sense, right?)

If we've learned anything from the Ghostbusters movies, and I've learned everything from them, it's that behavior is contagious and if we put enough snot on a toaster we can make it dance. Even the slightest encounter causes an effect that reverberate throughout society: You stub your toe in the morning, which puts you in a bad mood, so you're rude to the coffee guy. The coffee guy is now rude to the rest of the customers that day and yada yada yada Serena Williams threatens to shove a tennis ball down the throat of a small Asian woman. You see what I'm saying? It's the butterfly effect. Ashton Kutcher explains it all in his movie, which I can not remember the name of...

ANYWAY, the lesson here today is no matter who you are, big or small, rich or poor, famous or anonymous; how you act has an impact on the world around you, even if no one notices. Be conscious of this fact. You can spread hope and joy or you can spread fear and anger. If you can brighten one person's day there's no telling how far it will spread. It might even make it to Las Vegas...I've seen you do it before.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

P.S.- Tell your mom I said Happy Birthday...the card is in the mail.

One Smooth Criminal...

Connor,

Last week, on June 25th 2009, a man named Michael Jackson passed away, he was 50 years old. Since that day, the public reaction and media coverage of this event have been staggering. I think I need to explain to you who this guy was because he may have been the most interesting man alive... that is until he died. And how can we talk about popular culture and not mention the King of Pop?

When I heard the news I wasn't shocked, I wasn't upset, I wasn't sad or angry. It was like I just finished a long an interesting non-fiction novel with a tragic ending. But there was no other way for it to end.

So you may be asking yourself, "Who is Michael Jackson?" It's a tough question, one that right now doesn't have a clear answer. At least not to anyone that didn't know Michael personally, and I'm guessing it's tough even for those that did. All I can do is tell you what he was to me, which I've only given real thought toward in recent days and I promise not to romanticize his memory, something extremely popular at this time.

Before we get into that I want to preface it with a theory (surprise) that I've done no scientific research for, but the jury is still out on science so I'll go ahead with it anyway.

I believe the music that is popular (pop music) during a person's prenatal period to their first conscious memory of life (5ish?) is embedded into their DNA somehow, becoming a part of them whether they like it or not.

When we are young, like as young as you are now, we are unknowingly exposed to whatever music is topping the charts at that time. It's everywhere you go; the car radio, MTV, VH1, or whatever channel they actually play music videos on... and well, that's about it, you're a baby, you don't go many places. And knowing your mother like I do, you've probably already been exposed to Christmas music--I think she starts busting that out in late June.

The point is it's in you and there's nothing you can do about it.

I had the privilege of having music of the 1980's burned into my psyche. No matter how hard I resist I can't turn the station when A-Ha's "Take On Me" comes on the radio nor can I sit idly by when Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" takes over a party.

For the ladies of my generation it's a bit rougher; anytime Madonna's "Like A Prayer" is played they're forced to release a blood curdling scream followed by an instinctively formed tight circle on the dance floor, where they proceed to jump up and down and belt out the lyrics. There's nothing they can do; it's nature's law.

It's a commonly known fact that I love a good dance party. A slightly lesser known fact is that the best dance party is an 80's dance party. And you can't have an 80's dance party without a heavy dose of Michael.

The 80's were a special time where hair-spray and leg warmers replaced analytical or obscure thoughts. The deepest question asked during the entire decade was, "Where's the beef?" A time when guys wore short shorts and ladies wore shoulder pads; where the answer was no longer blowin' in the wind because people were too busy being rocked like a hurricane to even ask the question.

(It sounds like a non-stop party and I'm sure it was, but for every action there is a reaction. So after 10 years of no questions asked partying came the 90's, grunge, Kurt Cobain, and women wearing flanel--nothing's worse than depressed people in their 20's. I do not envy this era.)

No artist was more essential, more iconic during the 80's than Michael Jackson. Because he started making hits at age 11, by the 80's Michael's fan base spread over two generations and touched people from all over the world. In a time where pop-music was king, he was most definitely the King of Pop.

Michael's 1982 album Thriller is, to this day, the highest selling album of all-time. And with the way the music industry is run today, it won't be topped anytime soon... unless of course Hannah Montana really hits the studio--but other than her, no one can touch Mike.

My earliest memory of Michael was his 1988 movie "Moonwalker" which had me believe he had special powers and could dance his way out of almost any situation (which is kind of true)--and if that didn't work he could just wish on a shooting star and turn into a giant robot that saves the day. Also, Joe Pesci killed people with tarantulas--you know I really couldn't tell you what that movie was about, but it scared the hell out of me. I most likely saw it on VHS around 1990.

In 91' Michael sealed my allegiance by showing up on my favorite TV show, The Simpsons. They should teach you The Simpsons in school; at least the first ten seasons--there's no better way to learn satirical writing, there just isn't. (This will prolly be a whole 'nother post)

Mike's episode, entitled "Stark Raving Dad", involved Homer being committed to a mental institution for wearing a pink shirt to work. While inside, Homer meets a large, bald, white man, whom sounds a lot like and calls himself Michael Jackson. I won't go into great detail on why this is a genius premise, but just know that it is and that this would be the last time Michael seemed at all human to me--and of course this came while he was a cartoon.

In 1993 it started to fall apart--16 years ago, I was 9-years-old. I feel it is important to note how long ago this started and how young I was to understand my reaction and indifference to his death. That was the year he was first accused of doing something terrible--something he would be repeatedly accused of with overwhelming evidence toward his guilt over the next 11 years--the last of which was covered in great detail in the media only five years ago, but has somehow been completely forgotten in recent days. (When you're old enough, click on this. You won't even believe this guy was real.)

For the first couple years there was still some deniability to all of the terrible and bizarre accusations thrown at Michael. As we talked about in the Fanhood post, anything we are fans of gets the benefit of the doubt to the point where we will deny all logical thoughts to defend it's credibility. And no one has tested this resolve more than Michael Jackson.

I couldn't even begin to describe how crazy Michael Jackson went without this post being of novel length. Just know that he was craziest celebrity of all-time. We may have seen our share of Lohans and Britneys and Whinehouses, but no one could ever go near Micheal's level of crazy. He was the strangest person in American history. Before him maybe Howard Hughes or J. Edgar Hoover held the title, but Mike, like with his music, took crazy to whole new level.

Now the thing with crazy is--if you're as rich and famous you don't get called crazy, you get called "eccentric." And this is only true when you are for real crazy and are super, super rich. This is where the tale becomes tragic. Because of Micheal's success, he was able to keep himself in a bubble that allowed him to act outside the rules of regular society. He never atoned for the terrible things he did and he never got help with all the issues he had. No scientist or doctor has every been able to definitively diagnose Michael because he could afford to be crazy--or eccentric. He could also afford to die $400 million in debt--most countries don't have that kind of credit.

I find less tragedy in his death than the fact that it didn't happen while he was in a hospital being treated and studied by a team of doctors. It seems that he died before ever confronting or dealing with what he had become... Frankenstein. With encore lighters serving as modern day torches and autograph pens the pitchforks, Michael Jackson was our first real American Frankenstein monster. We may not have built him or given him Abbey Normal's brain, but we sure didn't help things by letting him hang out in trees and literally live above the law. Because he's in a tree, so he's above the law, cause, um, the law is at eye leve--alright so maybe not literally... anyway, you understand.

It's hard to say what the lesson is in all this. Maybe it's about the price of fame. The most popular responses from young children to the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" are "rich" or "famous." They don't care how or why, just that they become one of those two things. But with great ambition comes... um, you know what, I can't warn you of the fate of Michael Jackson because there will never be another person like him. He was just the weirdest guy ever. So I thought I'd tell ya how I remember him cause who knows how it'll be written in the history books.

Despite his craziness, he was an all-time great artist and I'll continue to dance my heart out to his music because he was once a positive influence on this world--before he lost his marbles that is. Plus, it's embedded in my DNA.


To quote the great Forest Gump, "That's all I got to say about that."

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Boys in the Fanhood...

Connor,

First off, it was nice to finally meet you this past holiday weekend. And even though everyone was begging for it, thanks for not pooing on me.

Not pooing on me is something I look for in a nephew and you pulled it off with flying colors.

Moving on to today’s subject—today I want to talk to you about Fanhood. Fanhood (which my dictionary tells me isn’t an actual word) is a big part of any young man’s life. Before you start asking yourself deep questions like, “Who am I?” and “Who DID frame Roger Rabbit?” you will most likely be defined by what you’re a fan of. (Some of us have yet to grow out of this phase) And what you’re a fan of, at least for the first 10 to 12 years, won’t really be up to you.

Your favorite sports teams, for example, are predetermined by where you grow up and whom your father likes. Your father, who should be reading this and nodding his head right now, has one major responsibility: to make sure you cheer for his favorite teams. The rest of fatherhood, and I say this from no experience, is just happenstance. You know, like that song Ned Flanders sings when he thinks he’s about to get hit by a meteorite. Que Sera Sera somethin’ somethin’, you remember.

Um anyway, making you a Phillies fan should be no problem given your location and the unwavering support of everyone you come in contact with over the next decade or so.

A little more challenging, but ultimately doable, will be your dad’s attempt to make you a Redskins fan. I will personally go against my natural instinct to interfere with this process, but your classmates, your grand pop (pop, gramps—don’t know if that’s been decided yet), and your slightly less awesome uncles may give you a hard time over the years.

Though I may disagree with your allegiance to such an abysmal organization (sorry, instinct, won’t happen again), I do think it’s an opportunity to teach you an important lesson in dissention. Learning at an early age to go against the grain and stand strong against the masses can only help cultivate your will to survive.

In other words, the beatings you’ll take at recess will prepare you for the beatings we all take in life.

Your Fanhood won’t stop there. You’ll be a fan of many things over the years: music, movies, cartoons, books (if they still exist), toys, food, et cetera, et cetera. Unlike your sports Fanhood, these interests
will evolve and change over time. With anything that grows over time, your Fanhood can grow out of control, which brings me to the real lesson...

There are certain rules you must follow to ensure that you always remain in control of your Fanhood—Not letting your Fanhood control you.

The 1st rule to controlling your Fanhood is to create a top 5 on facebook—not really. The first rule is to Be Informed—know what you like and why you like it.

Do a little research before you go around the playground professing your love for G.I. Joe. If you watch it closely you’ll realize nothing really happens on that show. They shoot thousands of lasers, but no one
ever gets hit. At the end of each episode they’re in the same situation they were in at the beginning. Cobra never gets caught. They don’t make any real progress. What kind of lesson does that teach? Why bother? Knowing may be half the battle, but the other half is defeating the enemy. At least take a captive, somethin’. Geeze.

On the other hand, if you hear a classmate talkin’ about how awesome G.I. Joe is and you drop that knowledge about no one ever getting hit with the lasers, it’ll blow his mind. Always know more.

The 2^nd rule of Fanhood is to Diversify Your Fanhood Portfolio. You like something. You decide it’s your favorite. Great. But you need to have a 2^nd favorite, and a 3^rd, and a 50^th. Having 50 favorites only makes that top spot more distinguished.

In other words, like a whole buncha stuff.

You might be the biggest Alf fan of all-time; as far as you’re concerned Alf is the greatest puppet/live actor mixed show ever made. You can’t go around talkin’ about Alf all the time, how often does Alf come up in conversation? Rarely, if ever. If you do talk about Alf all the time people will start to avoid you—oh no here comes the Alf guy again; he’s the worst—that’s what they’ll say. And one day you’ll overhear someone say that very thing and it’s gonna hurt so much you’ll run away to Las Vegas just hide from all the ridicule. I would hate to see that happen to you too—I mean to you for the first time—hypothetically.

Lets take the Star Trek super fans for a realistic example. Commonly known as “Trekkies"—apparently they refer to themselves as “Trekkers”—I suppose Trekkies is derogatory to them, I dunno—anyway, these people dress up like their favorite Star Trek character and argue over star dates or episode numbers while speaking an imaginary language… it’s a disturbing truth.

Trekkies’ affinity for a television show has taken over their lives to become their only defining characteristic. That, and not being able to get a date.

Now I’m not saying it’s wrong to be a fan of Star Trek. In fact, I saw the latest Star Trek film and I loved it—almost enough to watch one of the original episodes…almost. I’m saying it’s wrong to obsess over something so much that you isolate yourself from the rest of society. I’m also saying it’s wrong to wear Spock ears on a day that's not Halloween.

To give you a proper scope on how incredibly huge Star Trek is in the pantheon of popular culture, know this: I have never actually seen an episode or film of any Star Trek, yet I knew every character’s name and recognized every catch phrase. How is this possible? Am I psychic?

Unfortunately no, I am not psychic. I am, however, a student of popular culture--which means I watched entirely too much TV growing up and know things only a baby would find interesting--hence the blog.

I knew those things because Star Trek is the most quoted, referenced, and mocked show of all-time. Any show I did watch made at least one Star Trek joke in its duration—the Simpsons alone have probably gone to it a hundred times.

Because I’m a fan of “Cable Guy” (The movie, not the Larry) I know that in one episode Kirk had to fight Spock—“Besth frienz forthced to do battle”. And the music went like this: Detteh deh deh deh deh… burrrraahh, burrrahhh—that prolly only works if I’m reading it. Just click here. Or here for The Simpsons version. Or here for the sad real version from 1967. (Gotta love YouTube.)

The point is, Star Trek is huge and all over the pop-culture landscape. Something with such popularity and longevity is bound to draw obsessed fans… these are the people who ruin everything for everyone.

They’re the same people who think Elvis is still alive, wear shoulder pads to football games, say the words “Leave Britney Alone” (I won’t link to it), or shoot a Beatle in the back. They’re the worst. They, I guarantee you, did not diversify their Fanhood portfolio.

You know what that guy in the shoulder pads does after games? He cries. He cries because he has no friends. Even fellow Eagles fans won’t hang out with him because he takes things too far and ruins a good time for everyone. He also goes to the draft and boos #1 picks, which we’ll never hear the end of. (Sorry McNabb)

I’m surprised that wasn’t something Spock taught the Trekkies, seeing as how he’s so logical. If I had grown up on Star Trek and it was my favorite show, I would be upset with the Trekkies because they’re obsession would make other rational people less likely to become fans—which would make it harder for me to relate to other normal fans. I feel like all this fanaticism could have been avoided by one conversation between Spock and Kirk:

Kirk

You know Spock, I like you, I like what you’re all about.

Spock

Thanks, Kirk. That means a lot coming from you.

Kirk

I think I’m going to start acting like you, dressing like you, and wearing pointy ears just like you.

Spock

Well that seems like you’re taking it a little too far don’t ya think? I mean, you’re Captain Kirk, a good guy in your own right, don’t you think being yourself would be, well, logical?

Kirk

I guess you’re right, just because I respect you and enjoy what you do doesn’t mean I should change who I am. To do so would mean I have no self-respect and I would become what many humans would call, “A Tool”.

Spock

Indeed.

(Spock and Kirk slowly turn toward the camera and stare at the audience until it sinks in.)

The 3^rd and final rule for proper Fanhood is to always Use Your Fanhood to Bring You Closer to Others—not tear you apart.

In other words, use your Fanhood for good, not evil.

There are a million different ways to make a connection with someone, but the easiest way will always be liking the same junk.

Did you see the game last night? Wasn't it amazing?

What did you think of the Lost finale? I totally understood
it.

You like crunchy peanut butter? Let’s hang out.

That’s how Fanhood is meant to work. You saw it last fall when the Phillies won the World Series—well you heard it, you were still a zygote at that point. But that parade was Fanhood at it’s finest.

Let your Fanhood be like crunchy peanut butter… a reason to hang out.

Too many people use what they like to hate people who like something different. That sounds vague, I know. Let me give you an anecdotal explanation.

About a year ago I interviewed a hip-hop artist who I’m a big fan of—the highlight of my short journalism career thus far. He’s one of my favorite artists, not because he’s the sickest on the mic
or because the ladies love him—although, chicks do dig him—I like him because I can relate to his songs, he was introverted and analytical—a thinkin’ man’s rapper if you will. That style alone made it an uphill
battle for him as a hip-hop artist.

When the subject of Fanhood came up, he told me how he would get into arguments with his own fans because they would constantly go up to him and say, “I love what you do it’s so much better than what 50 Cent does or the Black Eyed Peas” or some other mainstream artist. This would upset him because—well,
I’ll let him tell you:

(I edited out all the bad words for ya.)

“People need a sense of identity, so they use music and film and art to give themselves that identity—and the problem is people forgot to bond with each other over what they love, so they started to do it over what they hate. So a bunch of people can go, “Hey you know what? I hate this commercial hip-hop that’s out here, so therefore, I’m gonna dig into the underground.” It’s like you know what, just use the fact that you love the underground for your identity don’t use the fact that you hate the mainstream for your identity. In fact, what’s the point of that?”-Slug

What indeed, Sir, what indeed.

You see Connor, your Fanhood is meant to bring you closer to people with common interests, not tear you from people with different ones. That’s the most important rule to remember.

And though you may be destined to be a Redskins fan and I a lifelong Eagles fan—we can still come together as fans of football or sports or the NFC East or our hatred for the Cowboys—wait that last one
kinda goes against what I’ve been trying to say… Ah, whatever—The Cowboys suck.

Well, I guess we’ve learned nothing, again. Someday I’ll get the hang of this.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Oh My How You've Grown!

Dear Connor,

I mean, I'm assuming you've grown. I really don't have a frame of reference, but I mean it's been about a month since we last spoke, you have to be what...3 ft. tall? I'm not good with time or height or babies or directions or colors. It's hard to say what I'm worse at, directions or colors... I mean I almost never know where I am or what direction I'm facing, but I'm also color-blind, so I mean, you tell me...

But enough about my many handicaps, I want to talk about you, like how excited are you to meet me? I know I'm excited for you to meet me. In a way I feel bad because you're gonna hit your peak for meeting Awesome people at such a young age. I mean, unless you happen to meet Burt Reynolds or something later in life, but let's face it, the chances of that happening are very slim, so basically it's all down-hill in the Awesome category after this weekend.

Hey at least you don't have my burden of desperately seeking Burt Reynolds just to find an Awesome superior... yet.

Let's get serious for a second, Connor. Enough of your silliness. You know life isn't just about being silly, some things are very serious and not to be taken lightly. I'm speaking of course about movies. (All forms of entertainment really, but right now I want to focus on movies.)

If I can pass on anything I believe in on to you it's this: "I decided long ago that what really matters is WHAT you like, not what you ARE like." That's true, and it's actually a quote from a Jon Cusack movie, making it even more appropriate. I can overlook just about any personal defect if I respect their taste in movies, music, television, or literature. (The latter hardly comes up in conversation, but if it does I make a note of it. If a full grown adult talks incessantly about the Harry Potter books, I may lose a little respect for him/her.)

Basically, if Hitler was a a big fan of the movie "True Romance" I would have no problem putting all transgressions aside to discuss how the Christopher Walken/Dennis Hopper scene is one of the all-time great scenes in cinema or how it's basically the best love story since "Princess Bride". Or a million other things that I love about that movie. I'm not saying I agree with Hitler's outlook on life or his aspirations for world domination, but no one should be denied the basic human right to discuss movies... no one.

Given that, I want to use my unalienable right at this time to tell you about my latest trip to the theater to watch the highly anticipated "Angels & Demons" starring Tommy Hanks.

Before we get into the film, I've got a bone to pick with the world.

Since it was opening weekend, two friends and I got there 20 minutes early to ensure we would get decent seats. It turned out the theater was ginormous, so it really wouldn't have mattered, but c'est la vie, right? I don't mind getting to theaters early. I'm a preview junkie. Sometimes the previews are the best part of the whole experience. That wasn't the case this time.

So when you get to a movie that earl you are forced to watch advertising for some terrible cable network's new line-up. Namely, TNT.

Now I'm an NBA fan; I really enjoy watching playoff games--most of which are on TNT. So if I want to watch Lebron rip through the playoffs like a runaway train I have to endure TNT's commercials. I haven't done the numbers, but I estimate that about 90% of the commercials during an NBA game on TNT are for one of TNT's drama shows, because...

TNT: We Know Drama, And We'll Force It On You Until It's True!

I've already had my fill this year of TNT commercials, so when I get in the theater and find out I get to sit through 30 minutes of extended commercials for TNT dramas... well, let's just say I was less than thrilled.

This is what I took from those commercials.

Kyra Sedgwick is "The Closer". Her annoying voice drives suspects crazy until they admit just about anything.

Holly Hunter is "Something Something" and her terrible accent gives Asian children seizures. She carries a gun and has a badge, but she's more than a cop... she's "Something Something".

Zach Morris is "Some Lawyer" who has long hair sometimes, but other times it's short-it's not dyed bleach-blond, so it's distracting no matter what. Slater wins.

Will Smith's wife is "A Registered Nurse" because there aren't enough hospital shows on television. Little Known Fact: There are more people playing nurse on TV than there are actual nurses on the Earth today. Something to think about.

That's four shows you couldn't pay me to watch. Connor, if you like drama there's only one show you should be watching and it's called "The Wire". I won't get expansive on it, but by the time you're old enough to appreciate it, "The Wire" will be akin to the works of Charles Dickens, and be one of the rare pieces of theater that accurately portrays the decay of western society... but I'll do you a favor and move on to avoid further verbosity.

So after the traumatizing dramatizing of TNT, the movie previews started. Usually the rule of thumb for previews is "Good previews, Good Movie." They also tend to stick to genre, like if you're seeing a comedy, you'll get comedy previews. Since "Angels and Demons" is a suspense-thriller, I expected suspense-thriller previews... I was wrong.

Apparently A&D was geared toward 14-year-old girls because the previews were one excruciating romantic-comedy after another. Let me give you a rundown.

First preview...

Katherin Heigl and Leonidas from "300" work together, but don't get along. Leonidas is a womanizer with all the right moves. Katherin Heigl is a good girl trying to land this other guy, so she turns to Leonidas to help her "think like a man" to land her dream man. And hilarity ensues. But you'll never guess what happens... Leonidas falls for Heig-dog and somehow has to profess his love for her before she falls for the other guy. How will this love triangle end? That's for us to find out.

Next preview...

Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds work together, but hate each other. Because of some crazy mix-up they have to pretend to be engaged and hilarity ensues. So their friends, co-workers, and family are constantly asking them to express their love publicly, which causes even more hilarity to ensue. But guess what happens along the way... they realize they actually do love each other. It's crazy how things work out like that, isn't it?

Next preview...

Remember the woman from My Big Fat Greek Wedding... well she's back in a totally unrelated film where she goes to Greece to find her true love. A decrepit looking Richard Dreyfuss plays her well-meaning, but intrusive father... and hilarity ensues.

Next preview...

Some super sad movie about a little girl with cancer that would probably make the Tin Man cry. (I'll prolly avoid this one too)

That's my best recollection of the previews, I may have blacked out before they could show another romantic-comedy.

Now I understand that basically none of the advertising I was during the half hour of mediocrity is actually geared toward me in any way, but still. I mean, aren't women insulted by these films the same way I'm insulted by the 9th Fast & Furious movie? I don't know, Connor, I just don't know.

As for Angels & Demons, it was entertaining. I won't spoil it for you, cause you'll prolly want to rent it, but that final "twist" was kind of a cop-out and it came 15-minutes later than it should have. Also, I was hoping for a more detailed look at the history of the Illuminati. I liked how they did the flashbacks in "The Da Vinci Code" to the Knights Templar to show the history of it all, A&D kind of lacked that. The film still had a lot of intrigue based solely on the Catholic church as subject matter and Vatican City as the location. So much history, mystery, and art in one spot, it's hard not to be somewhat intrigued.

Also, Tommy Hanks's hair isn't long and distracting, so that was nice. I might be more impressed with it on a 2nd viewing minus the half hour of atrocious previews beforehand to put me in an extremely critical mood.

I don't know why I decided to tell you all this other than it was probably the most interesting part of my weekend, but there's prolly a lesson here somewhere. Ummm, TNT dramas are for dumb people?... ummm, don't go too early to a movie because the previews might ruin it for you? Your uncle Kevin is easily upset over crappy entertainment? We'll figure out a lesson later.

But hey, I'll see ya this weekend, we'll party hard and talk about politics. It'll be a super awesome terrific time.

See ya then,

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Don't Judge A Book By Its Slobber

Connor,

I trust you've heard that Vin Diesel is back and his new Faster and more Furious movie had a record breaking opening. First of all, it's not your fault. It's not your fault, Connor... it's not your fault. Have we done this before?

Anyway, I don't want to talk about Vin Diesel, I'm here to talk about roommates. I figure since I know your roommates, so you should get to know mine. I have quite a few roommates, so I'll try to introduce you to the most important ones.
This is Roscoe. Roscoe is the elder statesman, old and wise like a fury Buddah. He likes it when you yell "Roscoe" when he enters the room and then whisper " 's Chicken and Waffles" in his ear. I personally think it's juvenile, but he thinks it's hilarious so I do it.

Roscoe is a pitbull-mastiff mix and he's all black except for his chest, nose, and paws--it's like he's wearing a tuxedo at all times. As you can see in the photo, he has the biggest tongue in the world. His favorite thing to do is to catch you sleeping and lick you in the face. In fact, he licks everything he sees. There is no space too small for him to burrow his way into. He loves people, but isn't impressed by dogs. He thinks he's people.
Here's Roscoe with his little brother Endo. Endo is a blue-nosed pitbull. Though Endo looks like a cute puppy you don't want to see him when he gets angry...

Endo has grown a bit since then and is widely considered the Arnold Schwarzenegger of dogs--a freakshow; a specimen. This is him pretending to be Superman...

Though he's passed Roscoe in shear size, he still looks up to his older brother. Endo follows Roscoe's lead and is never too far behind. Where Roscoe needs to be around people, Endo needs to be around Roscoe.


When Endo isn't following Roscoe's every move, he likes "nomming" on blankets and pillows. He's also a big hip-hop fan; it's prolly his favorite form of expression... he likes when you rhyme his name like, "Yo Endo, You're My Friendo" or "Yo Endo, Let's Play Nintendo". And then we'll freestyle from there. Admittedly, I do most of the freestyling, but he lays down most of the beats.

Connor, I wanted to tell you a little bit about these two guys because pitbulls get a bad rep. They're actually one of the most loyal breed of dogs. In England they're known as the "nanny breed" because of how protective they are with children. I learned that little nugget in a really good Sports Illustated article on the Michael Vick dogs--I highly recommend giving it a once over.

It's really a case of dog racism, which is my 2nd most hated kind of racism, right behind people racism, and just ahead of sock racism... black socks are always appropriate, don't let anyone tell you different.

And if we give into dog racism, what will we give into next? The Nazis? It's a slippery slope, Connor. And I don't want to see you get caught up in the media's smear campaign against pitbulls. That Sports Illustrated article is the exception for media coverage on pitbulls and it took something as horrific as the Vick story to get it written.

I've seen first hand the negative reaction Roscoe and Endo get at dog parks. We were once verbally accosted by a man who claimed he had been bitten by a pitbull and became a rich man as a result. He went on to say that we shouldn't be allowed to bring Roscoe or Endo to the park and that all pitbulls should be put to sleep.

He was fat and loud and his words were ugly and ignorant--meanwhile, Roscoe dreamed of licking his face and Endo was too excited to meet the other dogs to even notice it.


It's sad but true that people like this will always exist--and morbidly obese people yelling uneducated nonsense toward total strangers at a dog park is just something we all have to deal with. But with dogs, people, or socks; it's always better to keep an open mind with new ones because you never know when you'll make a new friend or discover a new favorite pair of socks.




And you can take that to the bank.





Roscoe and Endo just made a new friend with the house's newest addition, General Norman Schwarzkopf III...




He likes to go by General, The General, or Norm. Norm and Endo became friends fast and Roscoe is starting to warm up to him, but like I said before, unless you have opposable thumbs Roscoe wants nothing to do with you... he thinks he's people.


Here's Endo looking at his kingdom after I informed him that "Everything the Light Touches is Yours." (Back-to-Back Lion King references... this blog is just gonna take off.)

And here's Roscoe and Endo standing strong with their dad Jon, one of my people roommates and one heck of a dog owner. Those are my fingers in the frame, not my finest moment of photo-journalism.


One last piece of advice before I let you get back to doing your baby thing: Don't ever be roommates with a cat. Cat people always try telling you how their cats have "personalities" or how they "think they're people". That stuff just weirds me out. Besides, cats only have one personality and it's a selfish one.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

And So It Begins...

Here We Go Connor,

Your first Phillies game as a living human. You are in a very similar situation as I was during my first year as a person. Before this past year the previous Philadelphia championship was the 1983 76ers--I was born in 1984. I had to wait 24 years to see the Phillies win the World Series, and by that time I was already here in Las Vegas. You missed the World Series by only a few months, so right now you can say, as I did for years, that Philly hasn't won a championship since you've been alive. I don't think there has been a better example of the circle of life since Rafiki held up Simba over the cliff.

Anyway, enjoy your first game on Sunday, and don't worry if you fall asleep in the 2nd inning, watching baseball is pretty boring until you're old enough to drink beer. Also, if your grandfather starts yelling and swearing at the TV, don't worry, he hasn't gone crazy, it's probably Pat Burrell's fault. Oh wait, he's gone, I wonder whose fault it will be this year... my guess is Carlos Ruiz, but only time will tell.

The important thing to remember is to enjoy this season because we are the defending champions, and I've never been able to say that... In the words of the great Chase Utley, "World F--Wait I forgot, this is a G-rated blog-- you'll find out soon enough how awesome Chase Utley is.

Have fun on Sunday, Go Phils, talk to you soon.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin