Who Decade?

I was never a fan of the decade sandwich. The previous two I existed in, the eighties and nineties, were more conglomerates of toys, music, movies and the highs and lows of growing up. There were more instances in a year that any type of trend. For example, my entire memory of 1980 consists of “The Empire Strikes Back,” nothing more. I was six years old, what can you expect? My memories of 1990 revolve around the Minnesota Twins losing a ton of baseball games, video games like “Maniac Mansion” and the general disappointments that come during adolescence. Before the age of the internet (at least as we know it now), we had to rely on significant events, handwritten notes and pictures to document our existence in that period. By the time 2000 rolled around and gave us an election few cared about, (I remember this because I chose not to vote) there was the beginning of email, internet research and a general desire to put things into a larger perspective. Perhaps this was because of age, me being the big two five at the time. Or was the 2000’s the beginning of something else that many of us felt coming. Although hindsight generally gives one the vision of Burgess Meredith at the finale of the classic Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough,” many events occurred suggesting that we as a society are indeed running out of time.

Before the 2000 election, I had always voted and was proud to be a part of the political process. Anyone who has known me for a fair amount of time can vouch for my incessant desire to pour over newspapers and do my best to disseminate facts from fiction. There are many reasons I didn’t vote in 2000, the foremost being I thought Al Gore and George W. Bush were idiots. Turns out, I was right on both calls, no matter which side of the political spectrum you reside. As the debacle of the election recount unfolded, I seriously wondered who was in charge of this mess we live in. The second reason I didn’t vote in 2000 was I just didn’t think I had the time - meaning I came home from work at 6PM and just did not care. Like many Gen-Xers, I was becoming dissatisfied with my job and opportunities were shining on the horizon everywhere I looked. Even though I was disgusted with the actual rules of the electoral process, my thoughts still focused on job-hopping. I had a good job at the time, probably one of the best I’ll ever have, but there was so much to criticize when everyone else is offering you something supposedly rosier than what you have now.

2001, the crash of the dot com odyssey. Remember all those ads on every station known to God? This dot com, that dot com, my Grandma sells you time-shares dot com? When all those plastic companies exploded in their own hubris so did the yellow brick road of employment. Unfortunately, I did make a change in employment, not expecting bigger will not mean better. By the time I left the new job it was August 2001. The dot com recession was in full force and there were few opportunities available besides becoming a human tool. I chose to do what any red-blooded American would do in that situation: move back in with Mom and Dad and pick apples. Getting back to nature and forgoing corporate culture was just what the doctor ordered. When 9-11 happened, we stopped working and watched. The people I was around were shocked, as we all were. But there was some semblance of inevitability in the air. It was unspoken in many places in the world, but silence speaks volumes. Rocky Balboa loses. Luke Skywalker gets his hand hacked off by his father. Kurt Cobain commits suicide. The fallacy that we live in a fortress of solitude was broken. People can blame whomever they want for the attack, but anyone with a good grasp of mathematics could theorize something would happen, sooner or later.

After the season apple-picking gig ended, I worked with a friend roofing houses, a far cry from running a music store in Edina, Minnesota a year earlier. Honestly, I don’t think I was great at it but I learned to bust my ass and got to know people in a way I never would have before. Taus taught me more than I can ever repay him for. While we were roofing a house in St. Michael, MN, I noticed half of the houses in the cul-de-sac were unoccupied. They were built but unsold. I thought it peculiar. These gigantic houses without a tenant. So perfect I wanted to buy one except they looked like every other house on the block. I wondered if I lived there, would my neighbors know where my stuff is? I spent the next year drifting, dissatisfied with my life and occupations (or lack thereof) until I chose to make a complete break with everything that was making my life suck. I bounced back into the parents’ house after barely being gone and a good friend was kind enough to offer me a job and with it, stability.

Over the spring of 2003, I decided to “get back” to whatever it is I liked about my life when I thought it likable. I went to baseball games, began reading extensively and started going to concerts on a regular basis. I did not have a lot of money – even as I sponged off Mom and Dad, but I was happy. I started realizing happiness is a far better trait than anything monetary. No matter if it was a good or a bad day, when I went to sleep, I did so with a leap and a smile (I was way into Donnie Darko at the time). On Sunday, July 13th, I went to see Blur at First Avenue with my concert-going friend. I remember about the first five songs, through maybe “Boys and Girls.” After ordering a beer at the bar, I was tapped on the shoulder. “Where did you get that shirt?” asked a tall woman with a big smile. “Suns,” I replied. “Hunky Dory is my favorite David Bowie album,” she said. We began a long talk about music and the greatness of the Blur show became quickly distant. She changed subjects: “Do you like “Doctor Who?” My nerves and doubts quivered at the question, which had been the geek kiss of death on more than one occasion in my life. I overruled myself, telling apprehension to go screw itself. “Yeah,” I smiled. She smiled (although I think both of us were smiling nonstop at this point): “It’s my favorite show. Who’s your favorite Doctor?” Again, shoving conventional wisdom in the subconscious garbage, I replied “Patrick Troughton.” “Mine too! I dressed as Patrick Troughton for a convention once.”

We talked for the rest of the evening. It wouldn’t have mattered if the Beatles or Nirvana with a zombie Kurt Cobain was playing. The only sounds were heard were each other. Eight month later, we were married at the Mall of America, featured music by Kate Bush and Guns and Roses. As I think about the last decade, I have little, if anything to complain about. I watched two wonderful babies born into this world and saw a precocious four-year old become a world-ready pre-teen with enough smarts and sense to skip a math grade. What’s to complain about? I read all these self-centered tirades by media types thanking their stars the decade is over. To them, I ask one basic question: What in your life sucks so bad that you want to forget an entire decade?

According to the almighty media pundits and pontificators, we should all hate the era of 2000-2009 because of terrorists, war, natural disasters, the economy, job security and “Gigli.” Anyone who wants to travel in Mr. Peabody’s Wayback Machine or the TARDIS can find similar problems in any decade in modern history. Take your pick. The nineties had Iraq Part One, Columbine, a recession brought on by the S & L scandal, a lying head of state and at four movies starring Pauly Shore. Similar results are evident if one studies the previous decades as well. It’s all a matter of perception. If your life is better than it was ten years ago, then the “aughts” aught not to be taken with such sadness and despair. If your idea of a successful life revolves putting your investments and lifestyle in front of your family and kids, stop reading right now. Please step away from the computer. Find the nearest toilet. Insert head. Flush. Repeat.

Through the magic of Facebook and older means of communication such as talking, I have seen my friends go through good times and bad. They may have lost a job but I don’t know a single soul who chose to give up on their family or themselves. Their attitude in the face of adversity is stronger than bad guys on Wall Street or terrorists fastening bombs in their underpants. Pictures do not lie. Most of us have gotten married to someone they truly care about. Many have had children and are experiencing the joy, wonder, frustration, exhaustion and love they bring. The greatest of these, of course, is love. I see it every day. In pictures, videos and status updates. I see it in those who are taking their layoff time as an opportunity to spend with their kids. I see it in those who celebrate a party like they were teenagers but put their family first every day. I see us growing up, growing older but still being themselves. Despite the despair shoved down our throats by the media, I see nothing but positivity and hope. When I asked a good friend how he felt about having another child in the face of job loss, he answered: “I’m just lucky.” We should all feel that way. Every day, every decade.

Before we kiss off 2000-2009 into the wind, let us all think about how lucky we are. For one, we’re still here! We have friends and family we care for and care about us. That’s a stronger bond than any job, recession, war or Megan Fox movie could sever. Sure, there’s always things to complain about – it’s just our nature. However, what is good should outweigh the bad. If that equation doesn’t add up, it’s not too late to change the math. There’s a line from an old Jesus and Mary Chain song, “Head On” which states: “The way I feel tonight, I could die and I wouldn’t mind.” It’s the song that went through my head after I met my wife. If you are truly happy, you can feel yourself touch the cusp of heaven. Maybe these moments are memories or something you’ve just experienced. Like it or not, we’ve all had great moments in the last ten years and we are capable of so much more. Forget about the people and things bringing you down. We are so much bigger than all of it and - dammit! – we are better than our adversities. If our history has taught us anything, it is that human desire, ingenuity, passion and love will triumph if we are true to ourselves. The new decade has begun. Let’s blow the stars from the sky.

Silly Kids Games

“Too many people grow up. That’s the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up.” - Walt Disney.

“Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” – John Lennon.

Wake up! Wake up! The sun’s out! Wake up! Play with me! The sun’s out! Play with me! Most parents have heard these phrases or variations thereof; so many times, it would be impossible to tally them. They are the signal of the midget alarm clocks who welcome you back from dreamland. Despite what clichéd claptrap the gumball soup for the soul people will tell you, these wake up calls wear on the cheeriest of parents. “One more minute,” we tell them from under the covers. “Just five more minutes,” we lie to them for parents will take as much sleepytime as entertained toddlers will allow, which needless to say, is rarely more than the aforementioned five minutes. Such innocent requests they have: your presence and participation in games of imagination, the kind that came so easy when you were four and not thirty-four. Now it’s difficult to imagine reading the newspaper or getting ready for work without at least two cups of coffee, much less telling a story about crab robots with laser beaks.

Where did that childhood highway go to? Why is it so hard for some people (yours truly, included) to get back on that rocking horse and dream little dreams in reality? Maybe some of us are waiting for that advancement which takes the knight defending the castle into the realm of Monopoly, Rummy, baseball and games adults enjoy. Whatever the reason, there’s an obvious correlation to children’s knowledge of Dora the Explorer and Spongebob Squarepants compared to the adventures of a pirate on the high seas, fighting off the cousin of the great, white whale. Most of us do partake in these feats of high drama, pretending to be the giant, orange dragon snapping up the king’s men only to meet our demise with a direct hit from the castle cannon – and it is fun. “Again! Again!” they shout. “This time the dragon has five army bad guys.” The endless variations and enthusiasm can be more exhausting than a giant spreadsheet from the depths of hell but they succeed in taking you away from that desk and deadline – even for an hour – and put you back into a world where everything was possible in the confines of your living room.

But the phone rings and as a supposedly responsible adult, it requires answering. “It’ll be just a minute,” you say (because that’s what everyone tends to say) and saving the kingdom becomes a lesser priority than working out weekend plans. As you’re jabbering away, the adventure continuing without you, you notice the calendar citing bills to pay, a kitchen with dirty dishes and a certain instinct telling you there’s e-mails that need answering. One task glides into the next; time slips by until “Mommy! Daddy! Play with me!” “Just a few minutes”, you say (even though the time will significantly longer). As you notice piles of laundry which need washing, the path to that magical castle where the bad guys have just turned into zombies is as far away as that extra five minutes of slumber which never seems to happen. All these little things add up to what tends to be called responsibility and responsibility isn’t always the trait of a knight needed to save the kingdom.

“Daddy! Mommy! Look! I make a pretty picture.” The work of art isn’t on the Sesame Street coloring book but all over a little girl’s face. Resembling a two-year old William Wallace, red and white streaks cover a tiny smiling face looking for approval. As artistic as it may be, thoughts come into the mind of a grocery store trip and a little girl looking like a human color palate. Bathroom time. Facial artwork has no place in a coffee shop or in the produce aisle – or so we’ve been accustomed to believe. Most parents want to encourage the little artist latent in all our brains, but not when it defaces a Pink Floyd tour poster. They can be so funny, these little ones. But why can’t they understand they are other things needed to be done every day besides coloring dinosaurs? Unless a meteor makes a mortgage extinct, there’s always a different priority. “Look!” I took my pretty dress off!” Unless you want your daughter to star in a local production of “Showgirls”, certain mores and customs need to be taught and explained.

I began to notice my little ones picking up on the importance of being a grown up. “Can I talk to Mommy on the phone?” used to be such an innocuous request but has now turned into a mental debate of a kid holding an uber-expensive device, without which our lives might surely implode. I noticed myself holding my phone to my kids’ ears and pulling it away at the second inclination of a grab. I thought about all the times way back in the seventies how fun it was to dial a phone number and talk to Grandma or Grandpa. Now it seems we encourage children to the cell phone market by the sad means of denying them access to it so young. Maybe those retro rotary dial-ups aren’t so kitschy after all.

As kids get older, they start seeing the big, big world beyond the living room castle. They ask those deep questions which require equally deep thought responses. “How long until I’m 5’10’’, how long till I’m as big as you.” “A long time,” I’d reply, “maybe ten years.” They think further down the path: “When I’m you’re age, I’ll be tall like you – and I’ll never die.” Whoa! Since when did mortality come into this? Ignorance time, move on:

“When I’m your age, I’ll push you on the swing.”
“Will you still rock me to sleep like when I was a baby?”
“Will you still catch me?”
“When I’m your age, I’ll catch you.”
“When I’m your age, will the baby birds still play with me?”

As I thought about the last question, it occurred to me I don’t play enough. The castle is still there with dragons, robots and gorillas transported through time. They’re waiting for another adventure, all they need is a narrator. The kitchen table is still stacked with coloring books, crayons, markers and play-doh, designed to make the next great work of art, all they need is a curator. The bed is still full of pillow, blankets and animal friends, waiting for the next campout under the tent before the monsters attack. Eventually, many of these lifelong friends will come no more. They’ll sit beside the bed or inside a toybox, their stories told and function forgotten. Like in the song “Puff the Magic Dragon,” they cease their fearless roar.

The line from that classic song which always gets me philosophical is “A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys.” The song, depending on the interpretation, is usually about imagination or hallucinogenics. It was one of the songs my mom played to me (she was a big Peter, Paul and Mary fan) and sang to me as I went to sleep. As I became older, I thought of the dragon differently than most folk scholars have. The dragon, “Puff,” is not about childhood or dope; it’s about being a parent. Bringing these amazing worlds to life takes more than a little boy or girl: making things such as strings and ceiling wax takes more than one individual. It is a game parents play with their children. The tiniest, most insignificant object can be a key to the biggest adventure. A string can be anything: a rope, a bow or a lure to catch a hiding cat. Ceiling wax is sticky, can be rolled out or rolled up into a little ball. To a child, these things can be anything providing someone is there to help the scenario along.

But these stories and adventures do end. Kids hang out at the playground and play Jedi, princess and other things with their little friends. Eventually, Jackie Paper no longer wants to come play with the dragon but sits waiting for their own little rascals to come over and dig for treasure in the sandbox. So it the way of things; the way of growing from little people to big. For many of us, that moment hasn’t happened just yet. There is still the choice of laundry or an adventure. We can choose the computer or the news over another fight for the castle. Reality check: the news doesn’t change as much in a day as children do. Where have you gone, Captain Kangaroo? Our nation turns it’s forgotten childhood to you.


I’ve decided to set sail while I can for the castle. There is nothing the paper people in Washington do that is more important than eagle robots threatening to destroy the city of Townsville, nothing Joe Mauer can’t accomplish which isn’t more phenomenal than a rock supper of brain food. I’ve got my play-doh armed with purple sword robots. There’s a pillow waiting for a response filled with shock and awe. Crayons and markers at the ready, willing to fire smiley-faces. A cat needs to be captured by a blanket, a puzzle to be solved. There’s juice for a sippy-cup that needs pouring, a friend to be rescued and a blanket needing cuddling. I don’t need bills if the Care Bears are in charge. Let’s follow their lead in stride. Let’s care-a lot, love-a lot and be the best parents we can possibly be.

What's So Funny About Peace, Love and Valentine's Day?

“If you were a pill, I’d take a handful at my will
And I’d knock you back with something sweet and strong”
– Paul Westerberg (The Replacements) “Valentine”

Valentine’s Day is probably the only dualistic holiday where our society permits us to love it or loathe it. There are hundreds of lists counting the top love songs and just as many lists of anti-love longs. We can go out to dinner and a movie with that special someone or stay at home and watch slasher movies instead. Valentine’s Day is the only holiday you can protest without criticism. As much fun as preempting Thanksgiving Afternoon Bowl games for a Jason Voorhees slaughterthon might be, this may cause a slight protest from the rest of the guests. Christmas also requires a certain stereotypical behavior: go to relative’s house, eat, be nice to some people you don’t like, eat more, open up gifts, go home and pass out. Little variation is permitted these aforementioned holidays. Valentine’s Day you can pretty much do what you darn well please.

Earlier this week, I was discussing with an esteemed colleague about bring the old “inner Linus” out of retirement to combat the commercial forces driving many of us on Valentine’s Day. Although a romantic at heart, my friend despises the concept that we are supposed to spend a day’s wages to prove to our significant other we care about them. Dozen roses: check. Decent bottle of wine (no Boone’s Farm!): check. Box of chocolates with multi-colored mystery fillings: check. Overpriced dinner at a restaurant where the special is more than likely something you can cook yourself: check. Obligatory Hallmark card: check. Expensive gift given because you will be in the doghouse if you don’t buy one: check. Checkbook with no money to write checks: check. It’s easy to see why anyone’s “inner Linus” is clinging to their security blanket for protection. Valentine’s Day can definitely have a smackdown with Halloween as our most commercial holiday.

I decided to leave the “inner Linus” alone after seeing a handful of people going home today with Valentine’s cards and flowers. I realized many people use Valentine’s Day as one of the few occasions to express overt affection for their loved ones. It was heartwarming in a Capra-esque way to see an older gentleman waiting in line to purchase a card. Many relationships don’t last a year, let alone a decade or five. Although somewhat ritualistic, those who give a Valentine gift someone after being with them for so long is a celebration of affection, commitment, and one that is sadly diminishing. It’s great imagining a box in this older couple’s house containing all the Valentine’s cards they’ve given over the years, which is a great reminder to their children and grandchildren of a couple’s eternal love for each other.

A few years ago, I was going through a box of my Grandma’s pictures. I’d pull one out and she would conjure a memory vivid enough to have happened yesterday. I eventually came across a letter my late grandfather wrote to her before they were married. Written during the Great Depression when jobs were scarce, he had moved away from her in hopes of earning enough money to come back, marry her and start a family. Needless to say, he did. I’d like to think this type of devotion exists within many of us today. A willingness to sacrifice short-term fulfillment to build the foundation for a lifetime of memories. The concept of buying a manufactured home in a cookie-cutter development with a quaint front yard and children playing in the street may seem a little silly to us, but for a generation that lost nearly everything, it represented hope of a better life. If flowers, a card or a steak dinner helps anyone remember what’s really important in life, by all means, do it.

That said, if you are stressing yourself worrying about Valentine’s Day, hoping the florist will still have fresh roses at noon, the restaurant won’t be too crowded or if your new dress won’t impress, take a step back. This ain’t what love is about at all, Carrie Bradshaw. It’s about enjoying the moment when you realize a feeling is more than emotion but rather an infection. It’s about looking each other in the eye of a new morning and just saying “hi.” It’s about silence that is intimate, rather than uncomfortable. It’s about listening, understanding and cuddling. If you’re fretting about going out, stay home. Send the kids to Grandma’s house. Get to know each other better. Instead of dancing to a band, enjoy the movement of your eyes when they gaze into your lover. Make some popcorn, have a food fight and remind yourselves that you’re still two goofy kids on a first date.

Like Christmas, Valentine’s Day can also be a day of sadness, a reminder of those we’ve lost or wish to be closer to our hearts. It’s hard to be alone or feeling lost when so many are celebrating the enigmatic concept of love. This is probably why slasher flicks are so popular this time of year. I’d like to think most of us aren’t out in the woods, waiting for a rescue that will never come, but sitting in the still place inside ourselves where the candle never burns out. For all those wishing to be closer to someone somewhere, please find happiness in the dreams and fantasies that sometimes do become reality if your faith is strong and belief is true. Sometimes love is closer than you think. Be it dharma or karma, the world has a way of working things out. Love is indeed a many splendored thing. It is the tender trap and also a bitch. It is also what keeps us going and keeps us believing that there is someone out there beneath the shining stars that feels the same as you do. Make a wish and keep your light burning. Sometimes reality is just a dream away. May it come true, as each and every one of us have a place and a time. A time to dance with the stars and sleep with angels, for tomorrow is making Valentines.

How To Spend Your Involuntary Vacation

As anyone who isn’t living in a pineapple under the sea knows, the economy stinks and it’s going to get worse before it gets better (or so I’ve been told). More “layoffs” are announced every day but rarely is anyone told they are “fired”. I wasn’t informed the word was deleted from our lexicon. What’s next? Is “laid off” going to become an “involuntary vacation?” Whatever term is used, there’s been enough people sent home this year to occupy a small country. If this applies to you or anyone you know or care about, you have my sympathies. It’s is hard enough to lose income relied on to pay bills and support families, but it can be downright maddening to sit at home after spending so many hours away from it. I mentioned last time that I hoped everyone in this circumstance uses this time to its fullest and spends more time with their family. Time with the ‘fam can be a two-way street, however, as many experiencing an involuntary vacation have found out. People who have worked their adult lives now have quite a lot of time on their hands and may have difficulty finding things to occupy this period of employment exile. After consulting with my trusted economic advisor, Mr. Whoopee (the man with all the answers), I’ve provided below several suggestions to fill the void and hopefully keep your sanity intact.

Go fishing. Possibly one of the oldest hobbies in existence, fishing provides many benefits. You can feed yourself and your family, if you wish, although this involves gutting, slicing and dicing real, sometimes still-alive, fish. For those who think they can’t stomach this step, you can always throw the fish back into the water, hoping the metal hook you removed did not damage their entrails (bad for the environment – and for the fish). Blood and guts notwithstanding, sitting in a boat or on a dock for hours on end provides a Zen-like feeling. Those of us living in the northern part of the country have the added experience of ice fishing. For approximately two months, people can haul a small, rectangular cubicle onto their favorite lake and fish. It’s not clear how much fishing is done, but I’m pretty sure those who ice fish have a good time doing it. Ice fishing also provides experience living in a small box, which may have to be utilized permanently if things don’t change.

Become someone else. The late Timothy Leary once said, “You can be anyone, this time around.” Too bad Tim didn’t live to see the full impact of the internet. Websites and programs such as “Second Life”, “The Sims” and “Worlds of Warcraft” can provide escapes into realities Dr. Leary only dreamed of. You can reinvent yourself entirely in alternate versions of the real world in “Second Life” or “The Sims”. A fry cook can become a model, a model can become a businessman and a businessman be a janitor. The choice is yours. Date, have a family or just putz around. You can do anything you want with your fake identity, just don’t let it collide with reality. There’s enough dimensional instability already. “Worlds of Warcraft” provides a more intense online experience, letting users become powerful warriors and magicians embarking on quests and battles. Intensely engaging and possibly life-threatening, “WOW” provides endless hours of entertainment if you can afford high speed internet. However, it should be noted that many people use these programs, people you wouldn’t expect to find online but are hiding their true identity. Bernard Madoff is online, true believers, and he’s out to steal your fake assets! Look out, Ozzy! Bernie’s coming for you!

Kill your friends and complete strangers on the internet. First-person shooters have become the new national past time. Games such as “Halo” and “Gears of War” have millions of users, what could possibly be wrong with that? Run around with gigantic guns and bazookas and blow the heads off your opponents. Verbally taunt them! I hear it’s pretty therapeutic and fun for the whole family.

Catch up on TV shows. The advent of DVD box sets and online streaming makes viewing your favorite shows in chunks a snap. Up for a “Facts of Life” marathon? I am.

Play board games. This used to be a big teenage time-waster until Mario threw a fireball at Parker Brothers and Milton Bradley. Ironically, many of the classic board games have not fared well in computer transitions. “Clue” and “Yahtzee”, are best played in their original forms, without digital enhancement. Buy the “The Mad Magazine Game” on EBay. It’s cheap! If you lose, you win! It’s the best board game ever. Sink someone’s “Battleship”. Play the game of “Life.” Build a “Mousetrap”. Take over the world in “Risk.” Mess with your opponents mind in “Chess”. Outwit an army in “Stratego.” Screw your neighbors by taking their property and forcing them into bankruptcy in “Monopoly.” On second thought, it’s probably best to avoid playing “Monopoly.”

Learn a new skill. There’s no better way to spend free time than to find new ways to make yourself employable. Harness an activity that can get you noticed amid piles of job applications. The ability to “Yo-Yo” is vastly underrated and could provide an inside edge to that new job. Duncan Yo-Yo’s are as low as $2.99. A little practice and you might become an indispensable cog in the company. After all, who wants to fire the “Yo-Yo” guy?

Practice a musical instrument. Too many people are playing fake instruments on “Guitar Hero” and “Rock Band.” Get a real instrument and practice, another great way to impress potential employers but also your friends. Pick an instrument like the Moog. There’s not enough Moog musicians out there. Become a proficient plucker at the tooth harp or maybe start your own jug band.

Apply for a job with Barack Obama or the FBI. Think you’re not qualified? Don’t be so sure. The advent of 24-hour news and Web 2.0 has shown over 90 percent of all government employees are mindless twatburgers. Go for it! Maybe you could be the person restraining William Shatner on the plane or scoring Obama his pack of smokes.

Be like most people, follow brain-sucking reality shows, watch 24-hour political analysis describing exactly how screwed we are and babble incessantly on the web. Wait..I’ll be back in a second. Got a message on Facebook…