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.

Why I Love The Super Bowl!

I’m not the biggest football fan. Those who know me pretty well can verify that on any given Sunday, I’m lucky to be able to name twenty active NFL players (including Brett Favre – even my 90-year old grandma knows who he is). I do catch about five or six games a year and understand the game well, I just prefer baseball. However, I caught maybe 1 ½ games of the World Series (literally – I watched the infamous rain game) but I never miss the Super Bowl. Admittedly, I can’t even name any of the players involved except the quarterbacks (David Lee Roth and Werner Herzog, if memory serves). But as many of you know, the Super Bowl is more than just a game: it’s America’s Christmas.

The Super Bowl is better than Christmas in so many ways. You don’t have to bust your butt in the kitchen for days on end baking cookies, decorating a tree and fixing a gigantic turkey or pig. Super Bowl parties tend to be filled with burgers, brats and beer. Bags of chips, veggies and baked beans surround the buffet table, ready for mass consumption. Nobody dresses up for the Super Bowl. In fact, people tend to dress in clothes that can easily absorb the myriad of ketchup, beer and bean spillage. No one cares if you make a mess – it’s the Super Bowl! Making a mess of yourself, mentally and physically is a time-honored tradition (possibly invented by Joe Namath in 1969). The Super Bowl party tends to be better than the game itself. If the Pittsburgh Steelers are up by 24 points or more in the second quarter tomorrow, who’s actually going to watch the rest? Super Bowl parties are like the family Christmases we want to have. You don’t have to invite your snotty in-laws or your backwards cousins, just those who you really want to spend this magic time with that only comes once a year. The Super Bowl is Christmas without all the b.s. At least no one is depressed before the game

I think it’s great so many people watch the Super Bowl who don’t understand football. Half the fun is listening to haphazard commentary resembling John Madden attempting to describe a dance recital. Take it easy on those people; it’s all in good fun. If their inept interjections become too much to bear, offer them another brewski, maybe two or three. Who knows? You might be treated to an extra half-time show. It’s hard to tell who possesses an "inner Janet Jackson". Superbowl Sunday is a great time to find out.

The Super Bowl half-time show is a time honored tradition of spectacle and this year will prove no exception. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band are performing. The Boss has never turned in a sub-par performance in his 35-plus years as a musician. There is intense speculation surrounding his potential song selection, so much in fact, sports pundits have given odds on several songs. As a die-hard Springsteen fan, I’ll offer my picks and odds of the particular songs being played. “Born In the U.S.A”: 5-1. An 80’s anthem grossly misinterpreted by Ronald Reagan, the song is guaranteed to make a certain Alaskan governor pump her fist. “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and “Atlantic City”: 15-1. Springsteen wrote many songs over his career describing the evaporation of the middle class, eliminated jobs and the downtrodden. It would not surprise me to hear one of these songs, but still a longshot. “Glory Days”: 8-1. It would be pretty cheesy to play it, but the Boss does know his audience. “Brilliant Disguise”: 50-1. Nobody wants to be reminded their relationship is failing, especially on Super Bowl Sunday. “Candy’s Room”: 500-1. It’s my favorite Springsteen song and I’d love to hear it. My “inner Linus” has faith. “My Lucky Day”: 3-1. It’s his new song and Bruce always has faith in his new material. Justifiably so, the song is a joyful pop masterpiece from an artist who has earned the right to proclaim his happiness to the world. “Born to Run”: 1-1. As a great mentor of mine would say: “Well, duh!” Contact your bookies, true believers. My predictions are known far and wide to be accurate. Incidentally, for those looking for the inside edge on the actual game, my prediction: Steelers over Cardinals, 35-17.

The ads during the Super Bowl are also a highly anticipated part of our American Christmas. What’s more American than gluing yourself to the T.V. to watch a commercial? This year’s batch of ads are especially intriguing, given our current economic climate. I’m very curious to see if we’ve paid for any of these commercials. Trust me, if Citigroup is stupid enough to attempt to purchase a corporate jet with our tax dollars, they’ll probably be dumb enough to advertise tomorrow. I’m pleased to note General Motors has announced they will not be buying ad time, which puts me in the ironic position of giving them kudos for not doing anything. That said, I’ll offer my predictions of celebrity appearances in tomorrow’s commercials, which is all that anyone cares about anyway. Justin Timberlake: 4-1. Joe “The Plumber”: 25-1. William Shatner: 6-1. Barack Obama: 3-1. Joan Rivers: 1,000,000 -1.

The Super Bowl is the one holiday that is truly American. We should relish the time we have to party with our friends and family, even if it is just once a year. As the game progresses, make sure you give a “high five” to those who’ve spent the time providing the gorgeous feast, washing all the dishes and throwing all those empty beers in the garbage. They make the party happen so the rest of you can enjoy the big game. Let them know you appreciate it. Make sure you provide an extra bed or a safe ride for those who began the party at 10 A.M. Good teammates have each others’ back. Show good sportsmanship and shake hands or give a hug to those who lost the game, an argument or their senses. In a time of uncertainty, we should cherish those around us; remember their smiles and pumping fists. Friendship itself is a trophy, a victory over despondence. Hold it high and celebrate! Let’s show the world what America is really made of.

What a Princess Wants...

Christmas has once again come and gone. Presents exchanged, gifts opened and love received. Santa didn’t bring me the Millennium Falcon this year, but was generous enough to fill my Doctor Who and Muppet Show requests. I know it’s all “PC” and stuff to be grateful for what you have but it’s in our nature to always want a little bit more. Wishes can sometimes be extravagant, like a gold bedspread or a Star Wars toy, or they can be simple, like requests for world peace, universal harmony and an unclogged toilet drain. For many of us, wishes are dreams that help get us through the day, filling our thoughts with flights of fantasy and hope. For others, wishes are just wants of something to have. A desire to simply possess what has yet to be acquired. Like a princess in her castle, looking for another prince that’s a little better than the current model or just desiring a extra diamond on her ring.

Caroline Kennedy grew up in the public eye as the Princess of Camelot. A slideshow posted on Huffington Post shows Caroline evolving from a little girl playing with her puppy to a bubblegum-blowing graduate to an urban socialite. In every image, Ms. Kennedy is very much a princess, echoing back to a time which was never as innocent as the country thought. Like ancient fairy tales, we believe in princesses because we always have. They exist in all mythologies and into the present day. Princesses exist because we want them to.


The interesting thing about princesses is they tend to be perceived better as an image. Beauty, perpetual style, grace and composure makes for a great magazine cover. Glossy photos, a perfect smile and elegance which could steal the desire of any man. However, pictures are just pictures and interviews are just calculated PR. There is only imagination, no reality. Thoughts are enough for many people, which is why those moronic magazines continue to fly off shelves week after week. If a copy of US Weekly or OK! is in your bathroom – THIS IS YOU.

Every man at some time in their life wants to marry a princess. If they say they don’t/didn't, they’re either full of it or gay. Come on, nobody fantasizes about marrying a dirtbag, despite continual occurrences of this relationship. As a confessed dater of both and the potential father of another, my “inner Linus” definitely prefers the princess. For those of you who are not familiar with real, live princesses, I’ll share what knowledge I have of this curious species and hope it provides insight into the intentions of Ms. Kennedy.

Princesses are smart, so smart in fact that many tend to hide their full intelligence, preferring to utilize it when it is most applicable. The can fix a broken toilet, they just don’t want to. Trust me, if they have a Master’s Degree, they understand the basics of household plumbing. Princesses are graceful, dancing not only with movement but also with words. Kind phrases go a long way with a great smile and flashing eyelashes. They understand the subtleness and warmth of a delicate kiss. Relishing being the center of attention with an attitude of a playful kitten, once they have your eye it’s on to the next prize. It is important to note even kittens have claws.

Princesses are an ambitious bunch. Whether the goal is love, a promotion or finding assistance with the plumbing, they always seem to be planning ahead. Princesses are rarely, if ever, hermits. To hang with a princess one has to endure social engagements with the fortitude of a marathon runner. There’s always more and there will be even more after that. A princess rarely retires to a place of contemplation other than their room, which tends to have a mystery to it like a locked jewelry box. If you’re looking to spend your later years in the Shire or in a cave like Obi-Wan, they will never come. There is always a new challenge, a new prize to place in the jewelry box. Once they have their prize, a princess always finds another to attain. They just can't quite get satisfaction.


By announcing her intention to seek the New York Senate appointment, Ms. Kennedy has forced to public to reexamine the idealized image it has had of her for four decades. Is she really the daughter of Camelot, wanting only to continue the legacy of her family? Or is she just an opportunist who desires the Senate appointment merely because it is something she does not have? Maybe, like many princesses, she’s become bored with being a socialite. Kennedy’s blundering PR tour across New York certainly suggests one of the latter reasons. Her interviews are evasive and vague at best, implying an inner surprise that a princess such as herself would be subjected to such menial vetting. The New York Times reported Kennedy cut off an interviewer on Saturday. Not quite the stuff of political savvy but perfect behavior for a princess who thinks she is entitled to what is hers by right and not merit.

I didn’t receive my Senate appointment for Christmas. I didn’t expect to but thought Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich might consider it if he woke up one day in a giggly mood. I guess I just wasn’t rich enough, influential enough, manipulative enough or cute enough for the job. I didn’t fit the Caroline Kennedy type, although my record collection is way cooler than hers. Other than the aforementioned qualities, I think our resumes with respect to a U.S. Senate seat are pretty much the same.

Caroline Kennedy’s ambition is taking its toll on her long-crafted image. She no longer looks graceful, but cautious. Her smile is weathered and composure cracked. If this is the fate of Camelot’s Princess, it is a sad one indeed. No one wants to watch a princess fall. Although I’ve been critical of princesses in this piece, I never stated I did not love them. To have the affections of a princess, even for a short time, is like watching a blooming flower rising from the morning sun or holding a Grecian urn and pondering its true meaning. The experience stays with you, becomes the stuff of dreams, cursing you with joy. It would be a shame to have those thoughts shattered like priceless porcelain on a concrete floor.

All I Want For Christmas Is...(Part Four)

I’ve never sent a Christmas card. Not a single one. They always seemed too superficial to me. My “inner Linus” always just said no. I could never send out something generic nor did I have the time to personalize a card to every person I cared about. I’ve tried a handful of times, but there was never time enough to express how I felt. About six years ago, I was living in a town I didn’t like and in a relationship that was disintegrating into dust. I was out of work and with little to no prospects of finding any. During this time, I wrote a Christmas card. It wasn’t Hallmark material but it expressed more emotion than I saw in a sentimental shoebox greeting. The following is the unedited contents of this piece. If you never get a Christmas card from me, this is the best I can do to suffice:

So it is Christmas – the birth of catharsis.
I have nothing in my house that reeks of holiday cheer
Except a Wal-Mart ad, the cold Minnesota air
And isolated Christmas cards scattered upon the living room floor.

Everything I see on TV tells me Christmas is here
Yet there’s so little cheer
For the hungry, homeless and lonely
The oppressed, suppressed and depressed.
Everybody needs more candy.
I still want a hula-hoop.

A million and a half people live on the streets in America.
I want to meet all of them.
Tell them “Happy Christmas”
Let them laugh and play
Use their imagination
Feel the sensation of a world filled with love.
God knows I want to be there.

To those who are sad,
I wish you laughter.
To those who are drunk
Raise a toast to the ones you cherish.
Or if you don’t have any, raise your glass with me
For I will drink with you.

Those whom I’ve had a mere acquaintance
A handshake or a passing, pleasant stare
Forgotten thoughts or letters
Friendships forsaken or a shattered romance
Know that my dreams are often filled with you.

To the leaders whose hands
Hold the weight of the world
Remember the children beneath the Christmas tree.
Hold your uneven hands from pressing the button
Embrace your enemy for they are your brother.

My hair grows gray – strays away
Floating into the haze of the past.
No-one was dead and I had yet to fall in love.
As a child – holiday’s baby
It is a special time.
Christmas is everything.
Grandpa sitting in his chair, smoking a pipe
Grandma in the kitchen, baking the turkey just right.
Dad’s dancing with history and Granddad’s theory.
Mom sits on the couch with a glowing smile and
Aspirations of basking beneath the light
Of a shiny Christmas star.

Santa came down the chimney
Fresh cookies lying on the dinner table
Presents surrounding the Christmas tree
Underneath an angel’s light.
Pea salad, oyster stew and green bean casserole
Clichés now but then it was new.

After you tuck your children in their beds
Before you step inside the sheets
Hang your stockings and your heads high.
Make your fireplaces shine bright
Be in love with life
For it’s Christmas time!

All I Want For Christmas Is...(Part Three)

“We are spirits in the material world” – The Police
“Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz” – Janis Joplin
“All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” – Spike Jones
“Gimme Gimme Gimme” – ABBA

Everybody wants something – it’s just human nature. Even Gandhi wanted a robe. With the economy at the mercy of the Incredible Hulk in an extra-poopy mood and Mr. Burns taking over the body of a real, live old guy (Bernard Madoff), it’s hard to ask for that one special present when so many may go without. However, most of us will be getting something and I don’t think it’s too out of line for those of us who are going to get gifts to have the gumption to request something we really want. Not any of that “world peace”, “universal harmony” or “stop polluting mother earth” jargon – I’m talking about stuff. Tangible, yummy, feel good about yourself stuff. As we get older, we tend to ask for less and get that indispensable gift which looks perfect next to the Chia-Pet at next summer’s garage sale. It isn’t the gift-giver’s fault that they gave you a George Foreman Grill, a Ginsu Knife set or a DVD of the worst movie of the year (“The Love Guru” – it’s what I always wanted!). The fault lies solely with our humility. If we do not ask, we are doomed to receive what our family and friends think we want. Geez, have we forgotten what it’s like to be a kid at Christmas?

It’s time to channel that “inner Linus” again and remember what Christmas was all about. Who doesn’t remember the arrival of the J.C. Penny Christmas Catalog and the Sears Wishbook in the mailbox? These sacred documents contained everything you could possibly desire, accompanied by full color pictures showcasing material enlightenment. I would peruse these catalogs endlessly, folding pages and marking toys that would make my Christmas day. Obviously, many expectations were unrealistic. Nobody really expects to get a Lionel train, a track-racing set, TOPPS baseball cards and a Nintendo. But it was a wonderful feeling to dream of the possibility. Santa would usually make some of our dreams come true – with a little help from Mom and Dad.

Somewhere in the process of growing up, many of us lost this fantasy, preferring to receive monetary gifts to spend as we please. For two decades, I subscribed to this philosophy. I liked money (who doesn’t) and enjoyed getting the opportunity to buy things myself. However, as time went by, I realized I had lost something. I no longer had the feeling that my family knew me well enough to give me anything besides the cash I’d been requesting since I was 12. I forgot how great the feeling was of someone knowing you well enough that they could get you a cool gift without incessant prodding. Instead, I began an annual holiday purchase known as “the Christmas gift to myself.” After all, at least I knew what I wanted. Last year, my gift was “the Von Erich Family Board Game”, which combined the excitement of pro-wrestling with a cribbage board. Sound fun? Hey, at least it looks good on display. Don’t get all “distorting the vision of Linus” on me, I know many of you do this too. I decided to suspend my “Christmas gift to myself” this year with hope someone will actually find it in their hearts to tell dear old Santa what good little Adam wants for Christmas. That said, I’ve made my list and checked it twice. I know I’m a little bit naughty, but I hope I’ve been a little bit nice. Family, the choice is yours.

Muppet memorabilia made before Jim Henson’s death. I’m a huge fan of the “Muppet Show.” One of my fondest childhood memories was being taken to an exhibit of the Muppets by my aunt. I must have been five or so at the time but I still remember being in awe of the world Jim Henson created. I’d like anything from glasses to actual muppets. I have a copy of the “Muppet Show” board game. Other than that, my collection is pretty empty. I had a colorform set once, but it’s long since gone. There was plenty of Muppet product in the 1970’s and any relic of this magic time would be a joy. Beware, the EBay listings are longer than this year’s housing foreclosures.

Literary plates/etchings. When I was going to college in St. Cloud, a bookstore in town had an 80-year old book of Dante’s Inferno with illustrated plates. I didn’t have the money to buy it then (20 bucks!) and regret it still. I also would like a nice, old copy of William Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience” with full depictions of Blake’s plates that accompanied the poems. The older, the better.

A stuffed “Bill the Cat”. Made about twenty years ago with a disclaimer that Bill would fall apart if touched. I’ve always been a big “Bloom County” fan and a stuffed “Bill” would complete my collection. If I get it, I’ll put Bill on top of the Christmas tree instead of the star. Seriously, I promise.

A U.S. Senate Seat. I know this is reaching, but a guy’s gotta dream. An action figure of “The Stay-Puft Marshmellow Man” would be a good substitute.

The Millennium Falcon. This is the one item I would have bought for myself, but I refuse to purchase it. I’ve wanted a Millennium Falcon for 28 years now but Santa passes me by. Everyone has that one present they never received. Be it an Easy Bake Oven, a Malibu Barbie or an Exorcist Elmo, there is one gift for everyone that has yet to be received. Without doubt or exception, this is mine. My parents tried very hard to get me a Falcon when I was young. In 1980, it was all I asked for, but it was the hottest toy in the world. In a time before Amazon and EBay, parents had to find a toy at a store in order to buy it for their children. My parents assumed they didn’t need to order from a catalog, which was usually used for specialty items like the aforementioned baseball cards and train sets. As Christmas came closer, they couldn’t find a Millennium Falcon at any local store. The fastest ship in the galaxy was a hot item and the most desirable toy in the “Star Wars” universe. Money wasn’t an issue, but locating the Falcon was. My parents left one night in pursuit of it, only to come home from several suburban toy stores tired and discouraged. Being good parents, they broke the news to me that Han Solo’s ship was nowhere to be found. But they had every intention of making their little boy happy on Christmas. Under the tree, there was a gigantic, rectangular box. When it came time, I unwrapped it with anticipation. It had to be something from “Star Wars.” They were they only toys I wanted. What could it be? An AT-AT? An X-Wing Fighter? A Wompa? I tore apart the wrapping paper like a carnivore, my heart beating and mind flashing maybe – just maybe – there was a Millennium Falcon. As the paper was torn apart, I saw a gigantic “Star Wars” logo. As the wrapping was removed, I held in my hands the coveted “Rebel Transport” ship.

What? What is this? It’s big but it looks like a giant torpedo. The obviously expensive toy in my hands made me cold. This wasn’t what I wanted and I was pretty sure I didn’t ask for it. The “Rebel Transport?” The ship the rebel alliance used to flee Darth Vader on the planet Hoth, it didn’t exactly inspire imaginative play. Let’s create one of the saddest scenes in “Empire!” You, too can flee the evil empire with your rag-tag group of action figures that don’t figure into the plot. Luke and R2? They took off to Dagobah to find Yoda. Han, Leia, Chewie and C3PO? They were on the Millennium Falcon. Not much left to play with. Just an over-expensive case for action figures. I knew my parents had the best of loving intentions with their gift and I played with it the best I could. One day later, my sole enjoyment from the Rebel Transport was miraculously being able to put the front and back panels back together. Fly, white turd, fly! If only it was that enjoyable.

Decades later, Hasbro has released several commemorative “Star Wars” toys. Last year, I bought my son, Shane a TIE-Fighter with detachable wings. Similar to the classic 80’s toy down to the inability to open the cockpit without breaking it, Shane and I had hours of fun staging battles. Surprisingly, it’s still intact and ready for another fight. In 2008, Hasbro released their most ambitious “retro” toy: you guessed it – a Millennium Falcon! Not just a replica of the classic toy nor a copy of the Falcon released just three years ago, this Millennium Falcon has everything! It talks, it lights up and even includes Han and Chewie! What more could a boy ask for?

A comparison: the Millennium Falcon in action:

The Rebel Transport on its final voyage:

I realize the Millennium Falcon is expensive, selling for as much as $160 at Toys R’ Us and as low as $100 on Amazon. Unlike the 1980’s, however, this time it is readily available. A casualty of our shaky economy, many stores such as Wal-Mart and Target ordered many of these toys in anticipation of another blockbuster-shopping season. Sadly, many Falcons remain in stores, indicative of the lack of the “Generation X” market willing to spend on itself. It’s possible the toy will reach as low as $80 before year’s end, reminiscent of the endless SUV’s discounted at car dealerships. Maybe someone will find it in their heart to rescue the Falcon from its department store prison and deliver it safely to the rebel base at the Adam Koeppe household. I promise that it will be removed from its protective box and played with by loving, enthusiastic children young and old. Help me, Santa. You’re my only hope.

Santa?

Santa, can you hear me?

Bailout III - Revenge of the Myth

“I don’t care about losing all the money. It’s losing all the stuff”
-Bernadette Peters (as Marie) in “The Jerk.”

Once upon a time, I went for a happy hour with a co-worker, Mike, and a friend of his whose name escapes me. His friend was from Finland (probably why I can’t remember the name) and made his living as a flower sales rep, pimping his wares to greenhouses and garden stores throughout Minnesota. He seemed to enjoy his job and definitely loved living in America. Mike had to leave early, leaving the two of us to engage in further libatious conversation. I was amazed by the Finlander’s frankness regarding American consumerism, listening to him count off all the expensive items he wanted to own. I politely asked him why he needed all these things. Giving me a confused and slightly offended look, he stated, “There are all these things out there and I just have to buy them.” Sometimes those who learned English as a second language are the ones who best utilize it.

Our government’s latest bailout, credit bank giant Citigroup, should come as no shock to those who have credit cards and enjoy the second Great American Pastime, shopping. Most of us have one credit card, perhaps several, maybe even a dozen. Full disclosure: I have three: Target, Sears and a Citicard. Check your wallets and purses, kiddies. Bet you have at least one of these, too. With the holiday spending frenzy quickly approaching, the cards will be processed more often and faster than an Alaskan turkey.

The never-ending quest for more stuff has ballooned into a true main street crisis. Many consumers possess more credit card debt than they could ever hope to pay back. Quick Adam Koeppe Simple Math: If your credit card balance is over $10,000 with an interest rate of 20 percent or more – THIS IS YOU. Some bank, such as Citigroup, is responsible for this lending and also for absorbing the outstanding balance. Even with their finances in disarray, Citi will still lend us more money so we can purchase Holiday necessities like ginormous Plasma TV’s, fake plastic rock n’ roll games and the all-new Antichrist Elmo (Elmo turns into the son of Satan with just one button – it’s so cute!). How can Citi, or any other credit bank, manage to do this even with the knowledge that some cardholders cannot pay them back? I talked to one of my trusted economic advisors, Mr. Wizard the Lizard, who transported me to the place with all the answers.

Imaginationland! Where everything is possible but nothing is real! A magical place where you can go to the mall and have it all! Lions, tigers and even man-bear-pigs, perch on the shelves, ready to fly – oh my! Your biggest wishes can come true, if you have a plastic, golden ticket ready to use. There’s no limit to what you can get: a purse, a socket set, a diamond – even your own personal jet. Trinkets, chocolates, booze or a cruise; if you sign that receipt, it’s yours to use. Don’t worry, it’s all covered under the plastic sun. Decorate your room anyway you please. Stock your refrigerator with imported Blue Cheese. The only limit is your personal desire. Roast marshmallows on a digital fire. It’s easy to keep up with the Joneses. Get a new car, a boat or even a goat. Fall asleep and dream in a bed filled with roses.

Drizzle drazzle, druzzle drome,
Time for reality to come home.

Imaginary money runs out. There is a limit to the amount of cash the banker can lend you in Monopoly. If you mortgage all your properties, you are done if you don’t make it past “Go!” Citigroup and potentially other credit lenders were unlikely to survive if they landed on “Boardwalk” or “Park Place.” Like many Americans, they became overextended. If the wizard behind the curtain has no money, he can grant no wishes. So we (taxpayers), are giving money to a credit bank so we (taxpayers), can buy more stuff we can’t afford. Welcome to Ironyland.

It’s time for us to channel our “inner Linus” and realize what life is all about. It isn’t about big trucks (even though they rock), videogames (I own hundreds), or the hottest trinket of the day (I pre-ordered it on Amazon). Life is about the things we cannot buy. Love, friendship and happiness cannot be rented. Either you have it or you don’t. Whether you have all the money in the world or not a dime to your name, if you have these things, they can never be taken away. It is a myth that we need all this extra stuff to survive. Sure, a personal plane would be awesome but nobody really needs it. If you can afford it – great. If you can’t – don’t pretend. If you can pay for sushi – eat up. If you can’t – chow at McDonalds. If that’s out of reach, there’s always cooking. People used to do it back in the Stone Age. Look around your home. What do you see that you really need? Personally, I can count four things: my kids, my wife, my friends and my memories. For a little while, let’s discard the myth of more stuff and focus on what’s real. Let’s be thankful. Let’s be brilliant. Let us all be loved.

Why is Halloween So Damn Lame?

I humbly request the reader play the accomanying videos while they are reading the text.






A long time ago, All Hallows Eve was a scary night. It was the time of impending darkness, a time when your deepest fears were closer to reality. Children, out at night in costumes, unrecognizable could fall victim to an unknown terror. The Boogeyman. The Darkness. The doubt inside of what’s real and unreal. That was before Wal-Mart and Target. Before the bad time. Stripped of its inherent creepiness, Halloween now stands as a deranged version of Christmas. Just as saccharine and simplified to the lowest of humanoids.

In Charlie Brown terms, Halloween has gone too commercial. Horror films are being shown on the Family Channel, dammit! Cut-up, sliced and diced and robbed of their creators’ vision. It’s a product sold as good, clean, family fun. Nothing evil about that. Just a fun time to be had at your local church. People who could only be described as imbeciles are buying Beanie Baby versions of vampires, zombies and ghosts. If you think Jesus would be upset about our interpretation of Christmas, imagine what the Great Pumpkin is thinking! No wonder he never shows up. I’m going to channel my inner Linus and explain to those lame idiots who put up inflatable, cute vampires in their lawn what Halloween is all about.

Vampires are not cute. They are blood-sucking, pale, undead creatures of the night who feast on the weary and kidnap helpless virgins. Real vampires tend to be sexy, diabolical and difficult to kill. Possessing super-human strength and the curse of immortality, they have simultaneous desire to kill and love.



Zombies are not cuddly. They are rotting corpses come to life to eat the living, preferably their brains. Smarter than you think, funnier than Dane Cook. They should eat Dane Cook.



To me, Halloween has always been the darkest of nights. A time where you would visit old cemeteries with a group of friends, put an Ouija Board on a grave and try to contact the dead. Playing tricks and not just eating treats. Visiting abandoned houses in the middle of a cornfield and wonder if you hear just the wind…or something else? Samhain. The feast of the dead. The end of summer and the beginning of the wilting. A coldness inside, one you can’t shake off.

As a child, I watched “The Shining”, “Carrie” and “Halloween.” The stuff nightmares are made of. Wes Craven, John Carpenter, Stephen King, Clive Barker, David Cronenberg and Sam Raimi could find their way into your psyche. Find the fear passed through generations. Fear you had before you were born. Fear that exists when you’re still in the womb. Fear which exists because it’s always been there. Fear, like love is unexplainable. These emotions embrace much closer than that of hate. One can be full of love and possessed with fear. One can be full of hate and controlled by fear. This is in contrast to coloring books sold by Wal-Mart. Or is it…Could cute Halloween books be used to control our children?

Halloween III – The Night No-One Comes Home:



That’s what Halloween is all about, Charlie Brown.
Why So Serious?
Happy Halloween!