Thursday, February 03, 2005

Kiss me gently...

You gotta love faith-based rituals. We all have ‘em. It could be Christenings/Baptisms, Marriage, Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, Penance, Last Rites, even Mardi-Gras or a somber belt at the 19th hole. But when you get into some of these self-mutilation deals like FGM and Ashoura – you tread on some pretty thin ice.
I awoke the other day to the clock/radio shouting about some wonderful local news to one of those rituals gone bad. A centuries old tradition, the Briss is not something I think I would want to celebrate. I figure – it doesn’t matter at what age you get this done, the results are the same – you cry like hell and you probably don’t walk right for a year or so. At least those of the Jewish faith end up getting some gifts out of it. And you would think a nice savings bond or some cashish would suffice as an offering to the little bugger that just got sliced, but when as the presiding Man with the beanie and blade goes all Old Skool on the kid and gives the Gift That Keeps On Giving, we have ourselves a big problem.
Being a proud dad of a boy, especially after having a couple of daughters, I want this little man to have nothing but the best care for his very first tool. And when it comes down to his first oral application, I’ll be mortgaging my house to fund Michael Moore’s next project before I hire some old religious guy to do the job. I’d be on the line with the cousins Eric and Vin for recommendations to the best that particular industry has to offer and then take bids.
Bottom line : /me shudders

Wednesday, February 02, 2005


Wisdom that I have gained from my endless hours in front of the American God (TV) is correct date placement. How you ask? From the veritable sherpa of soldiers Col. Sherman Potter from the later years of M*A*S*H. This brilliant cowhand had arranged to get married on a date that was a known holiday and so would be thus reminded of it by the media (and I still curse them – don’t think I’ve let those cretins off so easily). And what holiday would that be? None other than the dearest to my Brotherman’s heart – Groundhog Day. February the second, a day of true American idiocy, and yet one more reason in the Babel Tower of instances of why the world laughs at us.
So chances are you, gentle reader, are reading this pixilated script while in the shadow of Lady Liberty. Enjoy our day of phantasmal weather prediction in pagan ecstasy! Go on out and stock up on MD 20/20 in all your favorite flavors to not only consume yourself but share with your mirth-filled neighbors and friends! Toss a few back for ‘ol Phil, who has to put up with all of Punxsutawney’s slack-jawed yokels and screaming city folk.
If you do it right – you’ll be able to enjoy this all again with the Groundhog Hangover on February the Third.
Today’s my anniversary – buy me something