One, part two

And while we're on the topic of assholes, indulge me my annual New Year's rant: Let's face it, folks. A calendar year is merely a device to help us measure time. (My actuarial slip is showing.) When the calendar changes from December 31 to January 1, it's not as if you have a whole new lease on life -- unless your calendar-year term in prison ends then, I suppose -- nor is the changing of the date a cause for great celebration. I've always felt New Year's Eve was The Most Ridiculous Excuse For A Holiday Ever, drawing amateur drunks everywhere out of the woodwork. (Perhaps I would feel differently if I had ever had sex at midnight with a stranger just-met at a NYE party, but I digress.) Party if you want to, but when you wake up, the fact that the calendar says 2006 doesn't mean it's a whole new wealth of opportunities, or that you'll be smarter/thinner/richer/less co-dependent/whatever. To sum it up: if you go to bed on December 31 an asshole, you WILL wake up on January 1 an asshole. No way around it.

Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Solstice are upon us, and I don't feel the need to add to the millions of voices commenting, save to say (previous paragraph notwithstanding) that I wish for peace, love, and understanding, and God's blessings on everyone. No exceptions.

T. O(ne).

Philadelphia is, if you don't know, a big football town, one of its many faults. (Clearly, any city that has its sports priorities in perspective will worship baseball first. See: St. Louis, Boston.) Last year, when they were in the Super Bowl and nearly everyone was on the bandwagon, there was a slogan on all kinds of merchandise: "One," shown over a graphic of the city skyline with the Eagles logo, with the words "One Team. One City. One Dream." Last evening, coming out of a hockey game, I saw a vendor with a variation on the shirt, with an image of Terrell Owens superimposed over the city skyline, and the words "One Team. One City. One Asshole." I believe that I was still laughing a half-hour later...

I was considering buying one, save for the fact that T.O. would probably seek me out next year and ask for more money for the privilege of wearing his image.

Dealing with the Holidays

I once again have to thank Ces, for this time unknowingly publishing a spot-on profile of me:

The Five Steps to a Happy and Mentally Healthy Holiday Family Reunion

1. Poor yourself a nice, tall glass of vodka.

2. Come on now, you can find a taller glass than that.

3. Aww, hell. Just insert a crazy straw in a Ketel One bottle.

4. Find yourself a cozy corner of the sofa, next to sleeping elderly relatives.

5. Spend rest of evening cradling bottle and repeatedly muttering to it in a drunken slur, "Next time it’s just gonna be you and me, baby. I promise."

Who said anything about needing a family reunion?

Pants on Fire!

As a parent, I can imagine fewer things that give me greater satisfaction than knowing that my 17-year-old daughter apparently does not have the prerequisites to becoming a member of the Bush administration (or its future, eminently-indictable spawn), as evidenced by her complete inability to come up with a remotely-plausible lie to cover the fact that she wanted to stay out a little later with her friends on Friday evening.

The call comes in at 10:45: "We left the mall and decided to go to the movies, and saw "Pride and Prejudice", which just got out, so I'll be home in a half-hour."

Now, for many, this would sound logical, except:

1. My daughter thinks reruns of "Dukes of Hazzard" are high drama.
2. I believe her career aspiration is to be a Redneck Woman. (Yes, I'm hoping that she'll grow out of this, also.)
3. In about ten seconds, using analog means (namely, the Friday newspaper), it was easily determined that "Pride and Prejudice" was not playing anywhere in the county at a time where it would have ended remotely near 10:45.

The Parenting Moral here, of course, is that "it's better to ask us if you can stay out later, though the possibility exists that we might say no, than to try and get around it with an embarrassingly lame lie."

And now for something completely different:

• News Item: Bulgaria and Ukraine to Withdraw Troops from Iraq." This will certainly make the job easier for Bush's travel planning team, as the list of countries that (a) support us militarily and/or (b) won't erupt in violent demonstration upon arrival now appears to include...well, Mongolia, and...well, guess that's about it. He'll Always Have Mongolia.
• A home news flash: I admitted last evening that there is an issue on which I agree with conservatives...the Christmas Tree. Apparently a posse of knuckle-draggers is seeking out businesses, communities, etc. that have gone out of their way to remove the word "Christmas" from the season. I would argue that this is wrong because there are indeed many who celebrate other holidays or no religious-based holiday. (I'll ignore those who feel that Christmas is a secular Festival of Consumerism, laden with glowing embers, forced gaiety, and the desire for a new Lexus in the three-car garage...as they simply Don't Get It.) However, I will agree with the Cons on this issue: there is no such thing as a "Holiday Tree." It's a Christmas Tree. Granted, the link between a cut evergreen in the living room and the birth of Jesus Christ is tenuous, but if you accept the premise that the tree-and-Santa shtick is an outgrowth of the Christian holiday, the evergreen is not a Holiday Tree. It's a symbol of the popularly-celebrated Christmas. What's next, the Holiday Menorah in the town square? Come on, people, there's political correctness and then there's just stupidity.
• And finally, while stopping by the Cheltenham Township Police Department to pick up a copy of an accident report (reference 17-year-old above), I looked inside the dispatch area and saw several TV screens: two showing views from security cameras and one showing "Regis and Kelly." Watch out, Reege: Cheltenham's finest are on to you.