The Miseducation of Uncle Kevin

Dear Connor,

It’s your first day of school tomorrow. Well, your first day of preschool. I never went to preschool. I decided to spend that year finding myself and attend kindergarten the following year. It’s a decision I still think about to this day. Did I make the right choice? Would I be more socially adept if I hadn’t skipped out on a year finger painting and naps with my peers? But without that year of watching Fred Penner’s Place and The Elephant Show  I would have missed all that hippie nonsense they taught me like sing-a-longs and empathy.  I may never know the true affects of that decision, but according to TV, "education is paramount" so let's assume you're making the right decision by attending preschool.

Over the next two decades or so school will be a big part of your life and I don't want you to be as unprepared for everything as I was/am, so I'll be here to to give you unwarranted advice through out this unimaginable hellscape we call .

Let's begin with the most important class:

Lunch

After breakfast, I think lunch is definitely the 2^nd meal of the day. Unless you’re going to brunch, but let’s be honest, that’s just a late breakfast. Lunch for you right now is pretty simple; you place an order with your waitress* and a few minutes later you have your cut up chunks of hotdogs. But in school, things get complicated. Not only will you have your lunch, but other kids will have lunches as well, and sometimes...you covet thy neighbor's lunch.

(*Mom, Dad, Pop-pop, Mom-mom, Aunt Lauren, etc.)

I mean sure, you have Teddy Grahams, which are great, but that kid has Dunkaroos. Dunkaroos are like Teddy Grahams, but with delicious frosting to dip it in. You may have a banana, which you like, but that kid has a Snack Pack, which is objectively better than a banana. Welcome to the free market, Connor. Everything is negotiable. It’s not what you start with, but what you finish with. Maybe you, like Billy Madison, cannot trade a banana for a Snack Pack, but you can trade that banana for something. Then you take that something and trade it for something else, with each trade coming closer and closer to your milk-chocolatey brass ring.

Here’s a clip from David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross to help you with your salesmanship: Learn Your ABC’s. (NSFPS)

Naptime

Enjoy it while it lasts. One day--out of nowhere--you’ll be reprimanded for sleeping in class. Like it's your fault Latin is boring. It's also not your fault that school starts at like 4AM. Some of us are night owls who like to stay up to watch Letterman's Top 10 and reruns of Cheers and Night Court, but does that matter to your 1st period teacher? No. Wait, what were we talking about? Oh right, naps.

Naps can be dangerous at your age. Sometimes you dream about swimming around in a swimming pool and you wake up with less than dry pants. Don't panic. That's what they want. Act like you meant to do it. It’s the only move you can make. What’s done is done. Own it. Some girl will probably yell, “Eww! Connor peed!” Don’t sweat her. Look her right in the eye and say, “What of it?” She’ll respect you for it.

Recess

First thing’s first, find the toughest kid in class, punch him right in the face. No one will mess with you after that. Notice the kid who laughed like a weasel when you punched that dude (important: make sure it's a dude), he’ll be your lackey or toady, whichever you prefer. Take him under your wing, make him do stuff for you, let him laugh at your jokes but if he laughs too hard shoot him a threatening look. You have to keep him in check, make sure he knows his role. The bully/toadie dynamic has succeeded for centuries: Zach and Screech, , Scott Farkus and Grover Dill, Jaba the Hut and that little laughing dude, Dick Chaney and George Bush, the list is endless.

Bullies are getting a bad rap right now, but don't be swayed by the lame stream media*. Without bullies there would be no nerds and without nerds there would be no Internets and without Internets I would have to send this letter to you on horseback and that may take months. Simply put, without bullies there would be no Internet. Bullies make the world go round. Don't let anyone make you feel bad for being who you are...that's your job.

(*You see it's actually the "main stream media" but I replaced "main" with "lame" because I find that complicated level of wordplay clever. I didn't do well in school, Connor.)

Actual Classes

 Though classes aren't as important as lunch or recess, they still have value. As I mentioned earlier, I didn't go to preschool and I don't really remember my first day of kindergarten, but  I do remember my first day of 1st grade. If my memory serves me correctly, it lasted for 467 hours, which I thought was a tad lengthy.

I was excited for 1st grade, I thought I'd finally get some respect now that I was 1st. Kindergarten wasn't even even a grade and now I was 1st. All that pride and excitement came to a crashing end quickly when I found out my teacher's purpose in life was to embarrass me at all costs.

On the first day of 1^st grade my teacher wrote something on the board and asked, “Who here can read?” And I just graduated with hovering colors from kindergarten and I knew the alphabet front to back. I even stopped saying “elimenopee”. So, I thought, knowing the alphabet was reading. You see, Connor, I thought I could read, but I couldn’t. Turns out, reading is a whole different thing. So I shot my hand up and of course she called my unknowing bluff. “What does this say?” she asked. So I start saying the letters and she stops me. What are you talking about, lady? I am reading. And if you’d stop interrupting me I’d finish, geeze. Before I knew it people were laughing, the teacher was shaking her head, and I eventually realized I didn't know how to read. Not a great start. Pretty much the rest of my life has gone like that first day of 1st grade. I speak, embarrass myself, and people laugh at me.

I learned a valuable lesson that day, Connor: Reading is dumb. And teachers are jerks who shouldn't set you up like that. And I hate everyone and I'M NEVER GOING BACK!

No, that's not right. Reading isn't dumb and that was only 60% my teacher's fault. I know that now. Sometimes the lessons won't hit you until you're a super mature grown up like I am. And though we both know the most important lessons are learned outside the classroom, without the lessons in the classroom, you will find yourself shouting letters like an idiot in the classroom of life. What? I dunno.

Good luck on your first day, buddy. I think if you do the opposite of everything I told you to do here today, you'll be just fine.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

P.S.- Hi, Jack. This letter was for Connor, but while it is Connor's time at school, it's your time at home. Your time at home. Enjoy it. I know you will. Goonies never say die.

Uncle Kevin Presents: Independence Day: The Real Story: Colon: Yup

Dear Connor & Jack,

Happy Independence Day! 

I love the 4th, boys. It's a great day for many reasons. Not only are we celebrating the birth of this great nation of ours, but we also get to eat hamburgers and blow stuff up. What’s better than hamburgers and explosions? Nothing, probably. Throw in some macaroni salad and maybe an ice-cold lemonade (read: beer) and your Uncle Kevin is about as happy as a pig in the city who can talk and is named Babe. I didn’t actually see that movie, but I assume everything works out in the end and Babe really enjoys the city.

It's important to spend the 4th enjoying all the awesome freedom we have, but it’s also important to take a moment every 4^th of July between all the ‘burgs and explosions to remember what happened on that great day in 1776 to form this great nation. Oh, you guys haven’t heard this story? Whaaaaat? That’s crazy talk. What are they teaching you in school? What do you mean you don’t go to school? What do you mean you’re only 3 and 1 years old? What’s happened to this country’s education system? More like Obamadoesnotcare, amiright? What were we talking about? Oh right, July 4^th 1776.

Awesome Dudes with Ponytails: Founding Fathers & Uncle Kevin

Let me drop some forefather knowledge on your dome pieces...

The story of the US of A begins with a handful of rebels named Thomas “Jeff” Jefferson, Benjamin “All About the Me's” Franklin, John “Don’t Call Me Quincy” Adams, Sam "I'm Not Drunk" Adams, John “I Don’t Do Autographs” Hancock, and a handful of dudes (51 dudes actually. How big is your hand?) meeting up in the greatest city in the world, Philadelphia, to discuss King George who was being a total knob.

(side note: If this were Star Wars, King George would be the Emperor, Jefferson would be Luke, and B. Frank would be Han. I guess Jefferson’s dad would be Vader, I dunno. Forget it. Jon Adams would be Chewy.)

  You see, the British Empire, headed up by King George thought it was cool to ask us for money even though we didn't have a say in how or why that money was spent. They were basically the mafia asking us to pay them for "protection" and we were all,“Nah Homie, we don't need your protection. We got this. ” And King George was all, "Whatevs. I'm the king, and I rule. You do what I say." So our smartest dudes (Sans the black guys and women. Whole other terrible letter I'll write to you when you're older.) met at Independence Hall, which was called Anthony Michael Hall before this meeting, to figure out how to deal with this jabroni and squash this beef once and for all.

America!

They knew that King George would be a real jerk about them forming their own country, so they decided to be adults about it and write him a letter. And since Thomas Jefferson had the best handwriting he was made head writer. Tom Jeff brought in B. Frank and John "Don't Call Me Paul Giamatti" Adams as his top aids because they had brains on top of brains. The one thing they knew for sure: They weren't asking King George for Independence; they were gonna straight up Declare it.

To make sure the King knew this was for real everyone signed the letter—kind of like a birthday card that gets sent around the office. You may not have bought the card or written it or know who it's for or what's wrong with them, but you sign it because everyone else is and it's the right thing to do. Of course, John Hancock had to show off and write his name all huge, even though he was just the president of congress and Tom Jeff totes wrote the thing. Typical Hancock.(Years later Will Smith would play John Hancock in a movie, I didn't see it, but I'm told it's historically accurate.) 

Legend has it when Hancock was signing this Declaration of Independence he told everyone that congress must hang together. Then B. Frank was all,  “Yeah, we better hang together, or we shall all hang separately, fo sho.” B. Frank was dropping knowledge like that all the time—it’s no wonder he was such a ladies’ man (see: cause of death).

Then they sent the letter. King George was pretty miffed. There was a war. The rebels won. Boom, America!

Happy Birthday, America!

And that, gentlemen, is the story of our Independence Day. There’s a sequel and Will Smith is in that too. President Bill Pullman (Not Paxton) kills aliens with a speech and Will welcomes the aliens to "Erf" in that movie. It’s pretty good. Not as good as the original.

Anyway, enjoy the 4^th, see some stuff explode, eat some hamburgers, remember how cool B. Frank and the other rebels were, and lastly, at the top of your lungs (Connor, you’ll love this) yell out, “Happy Birthday, America!!!”

She turns 236 years old today. Doesn’t look a day over 200.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

My Apologies...

Dear Connor & Jack,

Remember this?

Let me just put it out there now because the tension between the three of us is palpable and I would like to just put it behind us. Yes, I do realize I haven’t written to you in six months. I am sorry. I have no excuses and you’re right to be mad. I’ve been a terrible uncle. And I know a giant box of candy (Connor) and a couple of books with naughty words in them (Jack) don’t make up for my lack of correspondence. And I’m also sorry for bringing those presents up while I apologized. It was self-serving just like the remainder of this letter probably will be, this whole blog probably has been, and my existence as a whole almost certainly is.

You have a selfish Uncle, but in time I hope you will forgive me for this and we can continue to be friends. In the meantime I thought I’d catch you up on the last six months of popular culture with, as always, my very skewed and egocentric point of view.

Judge these books by their covers.

Then I thought, ‘I can barely remember anything from the past six weeks’. So I’ll do my best to remember stuff, but it’s more likely that you’re going to just get a heavy does from the past eight days or so. Most of these stories are ones that upset me because that’s all I remember.

Anyway, let’s try to recap:

Hamels Pays For Being Honest

As you get older you will find honesty to be a more and more complicated concept. You can’t always be honest and some times it’s just better to keep your mouth shut. Honesty is often most difficult when it’s needed the most, which is totally lame of honesty to be like that. In this case, Hamels admitting he threw at Nationals 19-year-old rookie Bryce Harper on purpose to “welcome him to the big leagues”, he probably should have kept that to himself. It’s kind of one of those unspoken parts of the game and Hamels was punished for speaking about it. He only missed one start and now the Phillies-Nationals rivalry is a little more interesting, Hamels is a little more of a villain in the eyes of baseball fans—which I think he wanted, and the rookie learns a lesson. What is that lesson? I don’t know, duck, I guess. As for Major League Baseball, well, let’s just say they aren’t huge fans of honesty. Especially when one of their giant headed players is smashing 500 ft. home runs. But I’m not here to talk about the past. (Though that’s literally all I’m doing)

We Lose a Beastie

I don’t know what kind of music you boys will be into. For the next 12-15 years it’s most likely going to be horrible, whatever it is. Then one magical day you will find an artist, a band, a group, and it will be like you’re hearing music for the first time. And in many ways you are. And that music will open you up to more music and that’s how your music taste will grow. And since you’ve decided to be a couple of white boys from the suburbs of Philly there’s a good chance you will be into hip-hop. I mean you have to rebel against your Dad’s love of Pantera, right? Well, if you do get into hip-hop, The Beastie Boys’ “License to Ill” is a great place to start. The Beastie Boys won’t steer you wrong. And MCA has more rhymes than Abe Vigoda. I know, I know, you didn’t think anyone had more rhymes than Abe Vigoda, well someone did, and he was awesome. RIP MCA.

Community Loses Its Leader

Last Friday Dan Harmon, the creator and driving creative force behind the TV show Community, was unceremoniously fired.

As you guys know, I love TV.  More than just love, I respect TV. And there are more reasons to love TV now, in 2012, than any point in history. There are also more reasons to hate TV than in anytime in history—so many reasons to hate TV. There are some of the most detestable people in society on TV; in fact, being detestable is what makes them so appealing. I guess, I don’t know, I can’t watch that stuff. I meet enough horrible people in real life; I don’t need to watch them on television. I watch TV because I enjoy watching talented people do what they do best. It brings me joy.

 At first Community was just a funny show about seven students at a community college, one of which had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of TV and movies and quite possibly suffered from some form of Asperger’s. I related to this character for obvious reasons. Also, the show made me laugh, so I continued to watch.

Then their Goodfellas show where Abed became the Godfather of cafeteria chicken fingers happened and I thought maybe the is more to this show than just another sitcom.

Then the paintball episode “Modern Warfare” and the and the clip show that wasn’t a clip show and the bottle episode that was a bottle episode and the insanely weird “My Dinner with Andre” episode and the masterpiece that was “Remedial Chaos Theory” where they explored seven different timelines in just 22 minutes and well…you get the idea. Community challenged with the idea of what a situational comedy could be. I admired it for this.

And even though they were renewed for 13 more episodes, without Harmon the show probably won’t be the ambitious, mind-bendingly weird show I’ve grown to love.

And my problem isn’t that Harmon was fired from his own creation*, that’s the business of TV. If you want to create a TV show, you have to sell it to someone who has no interest in the show’s artistic merit. It’s show business, boys, not show me something I’ve never seen before that’s creatively challenging to me.

(*Though I can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to walk away from what will probably be his career defining work. Something he put so much of himself in and obviously cared enough about not to let anyone convince him to change it. Now he has to watch a bastardized version of it exist for 13 more episodes. I can’t imagine he’ll be able to watch it. That’s got to be tough.)

My real problem is that Harmon never would have been fired if people watched the show. But no one did. It got terrible ratings. And the weirder and more ambitious it got the less people watched.

This was a show for people who don’t just love TV, but respect it. And Community’s ratings and Harmon’s firing only proved what I already knew…people are the worst.

-----------------------------------------------------------

All three of those stories happened in the last three weeks. If I try to go back any further we’d be here all day, and I know you boys have a long drive ahead of you.  I don’t know what the overall lesson is with these three stories. I guess the lesson is don’t let “The Man” keep you down, people are the worst, and The Beastie Boys are dope.

(I’m rusty. Gimme a break.)

I have to finish packing and hop on this plane.

See you tomorrow.

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

The Story of The First Thanksgiving (I Think)

Dear Connor and Jack,

How you livin'? What's going down? What's the haps? Uh, I never know how to begin. I'm not very good at starting things. Not terrific at finishing things either. I'm more of a middle man. I'm the guy who knows the guy who can write a decent letter to his nephews. To get to the letter you gotta go through me.

ANYWAY, I'll probably go back and delete that last paragraph. Well, I should, but I won't because then this sentence won't make sense. It's a vicious circle of mediocrity, boys. A vicious cycle.

But enough about my own insecurities. It's Thanksgiving! We should be talking about all we are thankful for. But I feel like we did that last year (though I refuse to go back and check). And besides, Jack, it's your first Thanksgiving. You probably don't understand what this day is all about. For all you know it's just another Sunday dinner at Mom-Mom's. All the guys watch football and the ladies cook. But it's more than that, Jack. It's so much more than that.

It's been a while since I've read the story of the first Thanksgiving, but I think I remember enough of it to be able to tell it to you guys now and fill in the blanks with some uneducated guesses.

So without Freddie Ado, The Story of the First Thanksgiving...

Once upon a time about 400 years ago, there were these British people who called themselves Pilgrims. The Pilgrims were such dorks even other British people made fun of them. One day the Pilgrims decided they'd had enough swirlies and wedgies for one lifetime, so they got all their stuff and set sail for India to start their own community based on shoe buckles and capri pants. Why India? No one knows for sure, but many suspect that because there are so many IT guys there, the Pilgrims thought dorks would be especially welcomed.

In an ironic twist, their GPS malfunctioned on the way to India--something those dorks in India could have helped them with--and they ended up going the complete opposite direction. Where did they end up? You guessed it, the United States of the USA.

And this is why we call Native Americans "Indians"--because the Pilgrims were terrible with directions. And eventually everyone realized this wasn't India, but we continued to call Native Americans "Indians"* for another 400 years because you can't choose your nickname--nicknames are thrust upon you by hordes of dumb people.

(*I'm calling the Native Americans 'Indians' from this point forward because Native Americans is just too long and awkward sounding. Sorry Native American Indians.)

ANYWAY, the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts. I guess they didn't really land, since they were on a boat. What do boats do? Dock? They docked at Plymouth Rock and thought to themselves, "We did it! We made it to India! Look, I see some Indians! Wow, you know what, it doesn't smell all that bad here. This place gets a bad rep." There was no video evidence of the first encounter between the Pilgrims and Indians so we don't know exactly what was said, but here's an uneducated guess:

Billy Pilgrim: Hey, what's up Indians? We are the Pilgrims.

Stephen the Indian: Who you callin' Indians?

Billy Pilgrim: We have come from very far away to start a shoe buckle and capri pants based society. I notice your shoes don't have buckles. Also, I notice you don't have shoes.

Stephen the Indian: Welcome to America! Please, share with us this bountiful Earth!

Billy Pilgrim: Um, yeeeeah, sharing. Okay. We'll "share" the Earth with you. But later I have some paper I'm gonna need you to sign. It's no big deal, it just says who shares what and when and for how long sharing will last, blah, blah, blah...Like I said, it's no big deal, you won't even have to read it.

Stephen the Indian: Um, alright. You seem like trustworthy dudes. But first I want us to break bread. We must have a grand feast to celebrate a new friendship that will no doubt last many, many, moons. Have you ever tried maze?

Billy Pilgrim: Maze?

Stephen the Indian: You may know it as "corn".

Billy Pilgrim: Ah, yes, corn, no we have never had corn. I don't know why I acted like I recognized the word "corn", I've never even seen it.

Stephen the Indian: And I don't know why I assumed you would know corn, but not maze. I'm starting to think our narrator is getting confused.

Billy Pilgrim: He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, that's for sure. He spends a lot of his time making fart jokes.

Stephen the Indian: Please come sit and eat with us. We do not see how anything could go wrong once we have shared food.

Billy Pilgrim: Sounds great. We will bring disease--I mean bread. We will bring bread.

Stephen the Indian: And we will bring everything: a turkey, cranberry sauce, corn/maze, a corn maze, stuffing (stove top of course), a giant horn and we will fill it with inedible gourds for some reason, all the good stuff.

Billy Pilgrim: Ooh, I know what we can bring, alcohol. We have all this alcohol. You are gonna love it. It's not dangerous at all.

Stephen the Indian: That sounds great. I know this alcohol you speak of will go perfect with dinner. And then maybe it will be great to have right when we wake up and in no way will it lead to terrible things for me and my people.

Billy Pilgrim: This is gonna be awesome. We are gonna be BFF!

Stephen the Indian: Totes.

And so they ate together. They ate and sang and filled a giant horn with a bunch of inedible gordes for some reason and they gave thanks. They gave thanks for new friends. And they were best friends forever, just like they said they would be. Isn't that awesome?

Love you guys.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

There’s Nothing to Fear, But A Whole Bunch of Scary Stuff

Dear Connor and Jack,

Today I want to talk to you boys about FEAR. No, not the movie where Marky Mark punches himself in the chest, though we will talk about that one day--very disturbing. I'm talking about the feeling of fear.

Some people will tell you fear isn’t real. Don’t listen to them; fear is very real. We all have things we are afraid of. Some people will tell you there is nothing to fear, but fear itself, which may be true, but that still leaves us with fear, which is pretty scary. Also, unless you heard that from Franklin D. Roosevelt, that person is totally ripping him off. Remember, boys, proper citation is paramount.*

*Uncle Kevin’s letter 2011

Right now your fear level is extremely low. Jack, you are literally fearless, your brain has yet to develop the capacity for fear. But it will, so you should fear that.

Connor, you are almost fearless, though I heard about you and the ocean. You picked a great thing to be fearful of; the ocean is a very powerful and dangerous entity filled with lurking predators and wicked undertows. If you must fear something, and you must, the ocean is a solid choice. Well done, Connor, well done.

Fears will develop over time and they are often irrational and arbitrary. One of you guys may grow up to be terrified of spiders because you watched Spider-Man when you were two and Toby Maguire's face made you pee your pants. Fears are often that ridiculous. There's no telling what will manifest into a fear one day.

I'm not great with heights. If I remember it right, and it's completely possible that I'm not, the human mind can be a tricky, but this is how I remember it. I remember pretending to be scared of heights when I was very young, just to get attention. As it turned out, no one really cared. But I pretended to be scared of heights for so long, I forgot how not to be scared anymore. So now I'm not so awesome with heights. Weird, right?

One day when I was 10 or 11 years old, I went down what at the time was a pretty intimidating hill on Carriage Way (I think erosion or something has really affected it over the years because now it looks like a pretty laughable hill, barely a hill even, closer to a speed bump) with my bike. And back then I went as fast as my bike would take me. I was fearless.

I used to do tricks on my bike. Nothing that would make the X-Games, but I had no hands, side-saddle, feet on the handlebars, riding with my eyes closed, all of these movies were in my repertoire. But on this particular day, something happened.

I don't remember exactly what made me slam my breaks at top speed, I think I was trying to avoid a stray baby holding a puppy, there's no official record, but slam the brakes I did. And over the handlebars I went. Landed face first. This was the first time I broke my nose and the first time I chipped my front tooth. Chipped is actually not accurate, I broke my front tooth in half. Gravel was embedded in my knees, hand elbows, and face. I was a bloody mess. Thankfully, our neighbor Mr. Kosmaceski saw the whole debacle go down and picked me up off the street.

Ever since that day, I didn't ride so fast, my trick were a thing of the past. I was too scared. I let the fear win. Fear kept me from being the next Cru Jones.

You may be asking yourselves, “Why would uncle Kevin start talking to us about fear? We’re very young. This seems like a terrible idea. Also, those last couple of stories are pretty embarrassing. We're kinda losing respect for you.” Well, I’ve been thinking about fear a lot lately, you see. Let me give you guys a little insight into my current world. (Just a little. Anymore than that would not please your parents. )

Today, as a sort of company retreat, I’ll be participating in an exercise that involves a 15 minute training session followed by strapping on a parachute, hopping into a two person plane with a pilot, ascending into the sky where I will use what I learned in the previously mentioned training session (All 15 minutes!) to take control of this plane and attempt to mock-dogfight my co-workers.

That’s right, Jack, just like in Top Gun. Very astute observation.

Now, I know what your thinking, and yes, Las Vegas is a strange place, and yes, your uncle has a

strange job, and yes, it does sound awesome.

Not only are we pretending to shoot each other down, but we’ll also be doing loop-de-loops, barrel rolls, and stalls—a stall is when you fly the plane straight up in the air until the engine stalls and you free fall toward the Earth.

This is what I’m doing today. Probably right now as you’re reading this. And though I imagine I will be once I strap on that parachute, I’m not scared right now. But I will be…I will be.

I’m generally a good flyer, but being a good flyer and being good at flying are two entirely different

skill sets. In fact, being a good flyer isn’t a skill at all, it’s just the ability to keep your mind on something other than falling from the sky and keeping the food you’ve eaten inside of you. I’m pretty good at both of those aspects of flying, with the one exception being the time I flew with the flu and puked on a man’s seat as he was forced to catch me while I lost my equilibrium—the whole plane looked at me like I gave them bird flu, but more likely I just ruined their trip to Vegas.

Being good at flying, well, that I have to assume is more difficult than being a good flyer. Though my concentrations will be similar:

1. Not falling out of the sky and

2. Not puking all over myself

If I can make it through this dogfight without having done those two things, I will have won the war. Also, I would like to win the dogfight. If I win, don’t puke, and don’t have to use my parachute…call me Leo DiCaprio, cause I’ll be king of the world.

I will accomplish my goals today because it is important for me to remain a good role model for you guys. That would be difficult if I were covered in my own puke.

Whenever I find myself facing a particular fear I like to quote the scriptures:

“Fear causes hesitation and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true.”-Letter from Saint Patrick of Swayze to Sir Johnny of Utah

Whether you’re robbing banks with your surfer buddies, mock-dogfighting your coworkers, or talking to a pretty girl at daycare, Swayze’s words hold true.

There are certain times in your life where fear is your friend. Fear reminds you you’re alive when life makes it hard to tell. Fear reminds you there are things in this world that must be vanquished and you are the only vanquisher (totally a word) around. Fear reminds us that noises in the dark aren’t always just noise, sometimes it’s a monster, and it’s probably under your bed or in your closet ready to eat your toes. Monsters love toes.

The point is, in your lives, fear will rear it’s good looking head around every corner and you will have plenty of chances to take it on. It’s never too late to start beating the poop out of your fears.

(Speaking of poop, I’m really hoping I don’t do it in the plane.)

Listen, if something happens up there--and statistically speaking this adventure is like the 9th most dangerous thing I've done this month, but fear laughs in the face of statistics--I want you guys to know…your Uncle Kevin loves you, and, well, he's an idiot.

That’s actually what I want my epitaph to be: “Here lies a man who died the way he lived: Like an idiot.”

Don't worry, I'll be fine.

Fear not, for I have watched Top Gun a crapload of times.

Oh, and tell your Mom happy birthday for me!

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Sports, Sports, Sports, Sports!

Dear Connor and Jack,

This is a very exciting time for us, boys. A very, very exciting time. I equate this time to that part in Jurassic Park when the old guy pops the champagne and tells Dr. Adler and Dr. Whatever that he'll fund their dig for another 3 years. I know that might be the most contrived movie reference of all-time and that scene led to a bunch of people being eaten by dinosaurs, but the point is I love that movie and it's was on TV a lot recently. Anyway, it's a very exciting time for us.

I wanted to write to you today to make my 2011 NFL season predictions, and I'll get to that, but I can't get there until I talk a little bit about our 1st place Phillies and our beloved Eagles turning this free-agency into Mikey's wishing well speech. In this case, The Eagles are the Goonies, Andie is Nnamdi Asomugha, and the Cowboys are Troy.(What do you mean that's more confusing than the Jurassic Park reference? Watch Goonies again, it totally makes sense.)

I can feel the hate flowing from other sports fans. I grow stronger, feeding from that hate like a Sithe Lord (Darth Uncle Kevin). Now all the Phillies and Eagles have to do is win the World Series and Super Bowl a few months apart. Easy enough.

When this duel-Championship happens a gelatin-like dome of negative emotions will cover all other sports towns ala Ghost Busters II.(What do you mean this is getting ridiculous? It's a completely valid reference and it accurately describes what would happen if two Philly teams won championships. You know what, Connor, I don't care that Dora the Explorer is never this contrived. I don't see Jack complaining. He's so intrigued he's literally drooling with anticipation.)

Anyway, it's a a very exciting time, boys, a very exciting time.

Now, you know your Uncle Kevin is the prognosticator or prognosticators--I make Punxsutawney Phil look like some poor, confused, little animal that is paraded out like a mascot for a tiny Pennsylvanian town, which may or may not have had a genius movie made about it. (See, I'm not even bringing the movie up this time.) So basically, these aren't so much predictions as they are facts that just haven't happened yet.

Let's take a look at some of my predictions from last year, in case you forgot (Connor) or you hadn't come into existence yet (Jack):

'The Packers will win the Super Bowl.' - Not bad, think I nailed it, but maybe I just got lucky.

'Mike Vick will take over the starting job in Philly and will come one play short of beating the soon-to-be champion Packers.' - Now even I'm a little impressed with that prediction. You have to admit that was nice.

'Randy Moss will play for three teams. Seattle will have a losing record, but somehow upset the Saints in the first round with a stunning 41-36 victory despite Drew Brees throwing for 397 yards.' - Wow. I mean, wow. Bold? Yeah, I'd say that was a pretty bold prediction. I just went with my gut.

As you can see, I am amazing at predictions. It's just a shame I edited those predictions out of my letter last year due to time constrictions. You guys will just have to trust that I would never lie to you. Especially not about something as serious as NFL predictions or Santa Clause.

Without Freddy Ado, here are my 2011 NFL predictions...

Chris Berman Will Have a Stroke On-Air

Shocking, I know. The worst part is it will leave him to only be able to say nonsensical phrases like "rumblin bumblin" and "Circle the waaagons" and "Come on, Maaaan!". It will be hard to watch.

Jerry Rice Will Remind Us Every Sunday How Good He Was

There's never been a person widely considered--scratch that, unanimously consider the best ever at his or her particular job who feels as under appreciated as Jerry Rice. I'm not sure what this guy wants people to say or do in addition to consistently calling him the greatest wide receiver ever. People respect him so much they never bring up his balding cornrows look he sported late in his career. It's the same respect Joe Montana and Wayne Gretzkey get when no one mentions how they are the spokesmen for sneakers designed for old women pretending to exercise. Yet, it's still not enough for Jerry Rice. Hopefully he'll satiate that need when the other five guys on the pre-game show pretend to laugh at all his jokes and preface their analysis with, "He's no Jerry Rice, but..." We can only hope things start to turn around for Jerry Rice.

Brett Favre Will STILL Be Just Like A Kid Out There

Brett won't actually step on the field, but somehow, some way, he will manage to act just like a kid out there. And Jon Gruden will notice this demeanor and be sure to remind us that Brett might look and act like a creepy old man in real life, but when he's out on that feild, he's just a little, ity, bity, kid out there. He's so cute he makes me want to take a picture with my cell phone.

No Cincinnati Bengal Will Be Arrested

Just kidding. Seven Bengals will be arrested and they will all be named Pacman Jones. (Note: I wrote this before Cedric Benson went to jail. Can't even joke about this team anymore without them one upping you.)

Andy Reid Will Gain Weight

He will gain the weight of one Super Bowl ring. And a whole bunch of other weight probably. He's really unhealthy, but he makes up for it with his dynamic personality.

When You Talk About Guys Who Talk About Guys You're Talking About Saying A Bunch of Unnecessary Words Before Actually Saying Nothing About the Guy's You're Talking About.

What?

A Raiders Fan Will Shoot a 49ers Fan

What do you mean that has already happened in the preseason? I was just joking. That really happened? And it was after a preseason game? Not even a playoff game that has relative consequence inasmuch as a football game can have consequence? Well, that's just messed up. People are messed up. Stay away from people.

Eli Manning Will Continue to Be Funny Looking

And it will be funny.

Your Uncle Kevin Will Lose Money

Between fantasy football, suicide pools, handicapping contests, being surrounded by sportsbooks, and my living with a bookie, the odds I lose money during this football season are -1000. I like those odds. Think I'm gonna bet big on me losing.

Everyone Will Freak Out When the Eagles Go 0-3

I think any realistic Eagles fan (Do they exist?) is worried about the start of the season. @St.Loius, @Atlanta, Home vs. Giants...that's a rough start. I wouldn't be surprised if the Eagles start 1-2. 0-3 would surprise me, but isn't out of the question. Especially with the short offseason, teams with a lot of new acquisitions are at a disadvantage early in the season. And no one had more significant acquisitions than the Eagles. And I don't think anyone, including Andy Reid, knows how this offensive line will look on Sunday. Lots of question marks, boys, lots of question marks. Having said that, I think the Eagles will go 16-0. (They don't exist).

We Will Once Again Bore Everyone with Tales of Fantasy Football

This has become the most reliable tradition in sports: We love football. We love to play fantasy football. We want to people to know of our love and all the trials and tribulations that come with that love. And so we tell them. And they hate us for it.

It's a tragically beautiful story.

Every Kiss Will Begin with Kay and Also Beer

If we learn anything from the barrage of advertisements during an NFL game (and we certainly do not) it's that we should drink light beer and buy our wife some freaking diamonds!

Little do they know that I'm already drinking light beer and I don't even have a wife. What a bunch uh idiots! (I bought the diamonds just in case I get married by accident)

That's it. Those are my predictions/future facts. I think I nailed it. I know I nailed it. What's that? You want a Super Bowl pick? Alright, alright.

Eagles 65 Patriots 4

Halftime Show: Atrocious

Your Favorite Uncle,

Kevin

Remembering Your Aunt Emily

Dear Connor and Jack,

Today we celebrate the life of your Aunt Emily. I know you loved her like we all did. I want you guys to have this letter from all of us to your Aunt Emily. I hope it reminds you of her and on difficult days I hope your mother will read it to you.

Dear Emily,

Where do we begin? I guess we have to begin with the image every one has when they think of you…your smile.

Your smile will undoubtedly be described many times today. Beautiful, warm, bright…all these words describe your smile, but more than anything your smile was infectious. Your smile made it impossible not to smile. Impossible.

You were genuine. You had a genuine interest in the people and the world around you. Anytime we needed someone to talk to we knew you’d be there to listen, to really listen. You would do the Emily nod to let us know you were listening, you would smile, you would engage us you would do the Emily hand-over-heart laugh whenever we'd say something you thought was funny. You were already a great psychologist in your own right—especially with Lauren.

Your enthusiastic approach to life is a template of how each of us should live. You knew what you wanted, you worked hard to get it, and you never stopped pushing yourself. You were so personally driven, yet you never stopped caring about others, especially our family.

We'll never forget one of the first times you held Connor. How you squeezed him as he slid down the front of you. Then you stood up with him in your arms thinking you had adjusted properly. It was hard to tell who was more uncomfortable, you or Connor. You eventually figured it out and by the time Jack was lucky enough to be held in your arms, you were a pro.

One of our fondest memories as a family was the trip to New York to celebrate Mom’s 50th birthday and you decided to take a family picture of us. Before you took the picture you screamed “Everyone say Shawn and I are moving to Philly!” Finding out that you both were going to live so close to us was some of the best news we had ever received.

Being able to be in the presence of you and Shawn may have been the greatest of the many gifts you gave us. For those of us still searching for love, you gave us hope. You gave us hope that there is someone out there that’s perfect for us. There’s someone out there as weird, or as awkward, or as unapologetically nerdy as two people with a science themed wedding. You had already won us over before that wonderful day. You became our daughter and our sister long before august 16th 2009.

You filled a space in this family we didn't know was there, and you left us all with a whole in our hearts. We will miss you ever day and we will never forget you. But more than that we will REMEMBER:

We will remember how genuine you were. And we will remember to be true to ourselves.

We will remember how kind you always were. And we will remember to always be kind.

We will remember how ambitious you were. How hard you worked. And we will work harder.

We will remember your smile, and be forced to smile ourselves.

We will remember how much you loved Shawn, how your love inspired us and gave us hope. And we will remember that love exists, that love is real.

We will remember you, Emily, for the person you were and the person you tried to be. We will always remember you because we will carry you with us always.

We love you.

-The O’Connor Family