The Boy Who Cried Pretzel...

Dear Connor,

I need to talk you about something very serious. Something I hoped I'd never have to speak to you about. Something that has taken over public discourse and is the subject of several marches on Washington. I'm of course talking about the pretzel addiction epidemic. It might even be a pandemic. I'm not totally sure because no one has successfully explained to me the difference.

At any rate, I'm worried about you. I noticed in my recent visit that you’re growing up, getting a little bigger and a little wiser every day. Wise enough to know what you like. And what you like are pretzel rods. If I didn't know better I’d say you were made up of mostly pretzel rod. But I do know better. I know you are made up of mostly water cause you’re a human baby, but I’m pretty sure the rest is all pretzel rod.

And I’m not judging you. I would never do that. I just want to tell you a story. A story about a boy. A boy who loved pretzels--some say he still does--but those people need to mind their own business and let the boy be. Who are they to say the boy has had too many pretzels? He knows how many pretzels he can handle. He happens to have a high tolerance for pretzels. He can pretz with the best of em.

Alright, I can't keep up this ruse any longer. I can't lie to you, Connor. The little boy was me. I was a addicted to pretzels. I was a Pretz Head. A Pretzophite. And I don't want you to fall into the same habits and behavior as I did. Like hanging outside 7-Eleven waiting for it to open so you can get a fresh pretzel only to realize 7-Eleven never closes so you feel dumb for sitting out there in the cold for hours. Sure, you saw a bunch of people go in and get coffee and yet you still sat out there because you figured maybe they all just worked there. How many people could possibly work at one 7-Eleven?!? The pretzels had warped my mind.

I know what you're thinking. "What do you know about loving pretzels, old man? You don't know what it's like for me and my other baby friends. You don't know about pretzin'. Quit narcin' my buzz. Quit harshin' my gig. Did you really sit outside a 7-Eleven and wait for it to open?" And though I am troubled you've already started disregarding the g's in the suffixes of your words, I am not here to narc buzzes or harsh gigs. I just want you to know pretzel addiction can be a painful condition to grow up with.

You're lucky we live in such a progressive and civilized society that protects you from yourself. Back when I was growing up in the 1990's things were different. It was like the Wild West, but with pretzels. Pretzels were everywhere and ripe for the taking.

Whenever you were stuck in traffic on the way to the Vet to catch a Phils or Birds game or headed down the shore, these magical men would show up selling delicious pretzels. No one knew where they came from and no one cared. "Four delicious pretzels for a dollar", he'd say. (Or something like that. I never actually talked to them. I was entranced by the salty treat I was about to receive.) And just like that you had a pretzel of your very own.

And it didn't matter that you had the middle seat or that for some reason you couldn't stop hitting yourself--which made it increasingly difficult to answer your brother's question as to why you were hitting yourself--because you had a pretzel and everything was right with the world.

We even had pretzels at school. They sold them at recess for the same super low price as the mysterious highway pretzel salesmen. You could lift up one couch cushion and find enough change to keep you in pretzels for weeks. Maybe months.

But it was the 90's, it was all free love and pretzels all the time. President Clinton was in the White House running the country--some say the world--and it was just one big party with that guy. A party...that never ran out of pretzels.

By 1997 I was eating 3 or 4 soft pretzels a day at lunch; washing it down with two cups of cheese dipping sauce and a can of Mug root beer. True story. I would be picked on daily by the other children. They would call me names like "Pretzel Boy" and "Boy Who Loves Pretzels" and "That Kid With The Pretzels" (It was actually just one kid and he wasn't very creative).

Then one day everything changed.

Jim Garner's mustache and his Action News Team did a little investigative reporting. What they found was disturbing (The results of investigative reporting always seem to be disturbing.). Do you remember those awesome men I told you about earlier? The ones who would show up on the highway whenever you were in traffic to sell you pretzels. Well, it turns out those gentlemen weren't the most sanitary Good Samaritans. (Honestly though, where were they supposed to wash their hands? They appeared from thin air onto the highway.)

Soon enough the pretzel guys were gone. And now even WaWa and 7-Eleven cover their pretzels with plastic because of the scandal. I'm pretty sure there's a Surgeon General's Warning on the wrapper too. Frankly, without all the germs and boogers the pretzels just don't taste the same.

Sure, the world is safer for it. People can sleep at night knowing their pretzels are safe, but at what price? Now we have to go out of our way to one of the several thousand convenient stores on every block to get a pretzel. How "convenient" is it if you have to actually leave your car? It's not right, Connor. It's just not right.

You know what, I started this letter thinking I was going to tell you about variety and moderation, but now I'm just angry I can't walk outside right now and get a pretzel. I want a pretzel, Connor. Pretzels are awesome. I miss those pretzel guys. I miss them and I miss their germs. Their germs tasted delicious. How do we even know germs are harmful? Science? According to my friend Gob Bluth, the jury is still out on science.

You've been right about pretzels since the beginning. They're salty delicious treats that you literally can't have enough of. I say enjoy your pretzel freedom while it lasts. There's no telling when the government is going to knock on our door and take our pretzels. Sure, the Pretzel Amendment in The Constitution allows us to keep and bare pretzels, but who knows what the potato chip lobbyists have up their sleeve?

So your lesson today is pretzels are delicious, the government wants to take our pretzels, and...um...um... GO PHILLIES!!!

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Post Script: Although I’m very proud of you for learning how to share, sometimes you can be a little too persistent with the offering of the drooled on pretzel rod. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer soft pretzels to hard pretzels, I do. It’s just I’m not always hungry. And besides, you deserve the whole thing.

Happy Football Day!

Connor,

Oh boy! Oh boy! It's finally here! The day we've been waiting for all year! I'm so happy I may shed a tear! Ummm... I hope Brett Favre gets knocked on his rear? I'll have a bagel with extra shmear??

Okay, so I'm not a poet. Who cares? It's football day! Finally. It seems like a billion years since the Super Bowl--which would make the old keg in my backyard a billion year old keg. But we made it. It's really here. In a matter of minutes the first kick will be kicked and the 2010 NFL season will be underway. In honor of this special day I wanted to write to you and discuss the many great things that will (probably) happen over this season.

Usually I'm not a big fan of predictions or the prognosticators behind those predictions, but that's because the prognosticator isn't me. And you know how I detest opinions that aren't mine. It just doesn't make sense to listen to others when you know in your heart of hearts that you've never been wrong about one thing ever. Not ever.

Anyway, without Freddy Ado, here are my guaranteed, locked up, full-proofed, super awesome predictions for the 2010 NFL season.

#1: Brett Favre Will Die.

Not like really die. Or that an old kicker he used to hold for is plotting revenge on him or anything like that. Just his story will finally die. Sometime during this season Brett Favre's career will finally come to an end. Ten thousand sports writers around the world will shed a tear right after they call their publisher about the Brett Favre book they've been secretly writing entitled, "Having Fun Out There: The Brett Favre Story and Other Drams I've Had About Brett and His Wrangler Jeans". What I would love to happen is for one announcer to just go rogue and decide he's not going to mention how much fun Brett is having out there or how much he just loves playing the game. Instead, he does just the opposite. Not just announce how much he despises Brett Favre, but also just make things up. Get the whole Brett Favre story wrong to piss off everyone who has spent to much time shoving that story down our throats every Sunday for the last 20 years. Something like this:

"And here comes Brett Favre the legendary quarterback. Known for his conservative style and game management Brett Favre has impressed us all ever since he graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design where his father taught him everything he knows about exterior illumination. As many of you already know, Brett Favre hates football. Unfortunately his dream of being a professional animal stylist fell through after a tough addiction to cat nip made him leave the profession forever. After that he had a string of jobs that he quit, but then tried to come back to work the following day as if it never happened. That's when he stumbled upon this NFL quarterback gig that takes a little bit of his soul every day. Because, like I said, he hates this game. He hates it so very very much."

That's all I'm asking.


#2 The Detroit Lions Win the Super Bowl

...in a Madden season that I simulated from the 1995 Sega Genesis edition. This is less of a prediction than a fact.

# 3 Donovan McNabb Misses Multiple Games

Sorry Washington. It's not you, it's him. Okay, it's you too. You just have horrible luck. And a horrible owner. And an ugly uniform. With a racist name. I don't believe in curses, but I have seen Pet Sematary a bunch and I just wouldn't mess with Native Americans. I'm pretty sure they've gotten over being confused with Indians from India, they've accepted that. But Redskins? I can't imagine they're cool with that.

#4 The Super Bowl Will Make Me Angry

I hate the Super Bowl. It's everything about football that a person who like football hates. Everything done before, at half, and during the Super Bowl is meant to keep the people that hate football entertained. Halftime shows are the worst. I don't need Shania Twain and Justin Timberlake prancing around for 3 hours. I just want to watch the game. Pregame shows are bad enough on a regular Sunday--which is why I love the Pacific Time Zone, 10am kickoffs are awesome. On Super Bowl Sunday the pregame is 12 hours long and has 32 versions of Michael Irving yelling some nonsense about "The Peyton Mannings and the Sean Peytons" when there is only one Peyton manning and one Sean Peyton and I just...I just can't take it. It's the worst. I'm already angry. Let's just move on.

#5 Ron "Jaws" Jaworski Will Grow His Mustache Back

What are you doing, Jaws? You look weird without your mustache and you've been mustache free for a while now. No one is getting used to it. We all miss your mustache. It's apart of us as much as it is you. Plus, you're a weird looking dude. The more facial hair the better. And if we can agree on one thing as a country, as human beings, it's that there aren't enough mustaches in...(wait for it)...(wait for it)..."The National Football League". Do it for your country, Jaws.

#6 Your Uncle Kevin Will Win His Fantasy League

This is once again less of a prediction and more of a fact. Naming my team after Swayze for the last five years will finally pay off. Because Swayze is dead now, and like a Jedi, he is more powerful dead than alive.

#7 Tom Brady Will Win People's Sexiest Man Alive

I mean, he's been getting robbed for years. Matt Damon, really? Really?!? Come on. And this year he's going for it. He's got this new haircut modeled after the Justin Beiber. He's clearly going for the younger demographic. He's two years removed from knee surgery, which means his sexiness is basically back to 100%. He's got to win. He's just got to.

#8 A Cincinnati Bengal Will Be Arrested

I know this is one of those safe, boring predictions, but considering 98% of their current roster is on probation wouldn't it be unlikely for them to risk yet another arrest? Wouldn't it? I just hope it's not Pacman. And I hope it's T.O. But unless the president passes some kind of Anti-Douche Law, it's unlikely T.O. will be arrested. (And likely Pacman will be)

#9 No One Cares About My Fantasy Team

I know. I know you don't care. No fantasy football story is every interesting to anyone except the person telling it. It just isn't. It's like an unbreakable law of physics. Gravity exists. The earth goes around the sun. Eli Manning is a dork. And no one cares how you barely lost your fantasy game last week. It's impossible to make your team interesting to another human being even if that person is in your fantasy league. It's the ultimate subject where people just wait for you to stop talking so they can talk. And even though I know this to be true, I will still bore you with the legend of Team Swayze...it's really an epic tale.

#10 Your Grandmother Will Tell You How Much She Hates Football, But She Secretly Loves It

She may complain about spending all day Sunday cooking while your father, your uncles, and your grandfather all sit in front of the TV with their laptops on their laps following their respective fantasy teams and the Eagles, but she loves it. Even more than she loves football though, she loves complaining about it's stranglehold over our family. And we secretly love how she complains about it every Sunday. Why? Because it's tradition. And tradition just gets seared into your being. It feels like home. And even if you don't realize you love it, you will miss it when it's not around. And I do.

Happy Football Day, Connor.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin