Happy

“I look like a Holocaust survivor”, my Aunt Zoe, who just finished chemotherapy for liver cancer, says upon her arrival at our family reunion yesterday as we all shake our heads in unison and say, “No, you look fine,” (even though she looks like a very old and very feeble person I have never met) and just-in-time you catch an insurgent cry somewhere between your heart and your throat, which was a few minutes after your sister, a cancer survivor in remission, informed you that her marriage has been slowly dissolving before her eyes for the last two years and she feels helpless to do anything about it, a few hours before your father pours himself his fifth or sixth drink of the day (it was, after all, 3 pm) and shakes his head defeatedly and tells you he can’t talk anymore about certain things with regard to your mother, during which time your entire family and extended family does an admirable job of seemingly not even noticing that your soon-to-be-ex-wife is absent from the reunion for the first time in eleven years, like they never met her and our marriage never happened, which you know they think is the proper and respectful way to handle the situation even though it has the opposite effect of making you feel empty, alone, and invisible.

And you wonder: Is anyone ever happy?

And, as you methodically down your fourth beer of the day, you begin to think about the often palpable, depressing din of the world outside of the picnic table around which the inevitable pain of our personal lives is abreacted through cathartic psychoanalysis of weather patterns and where to buy the best sweet corn: another cousin with a suicidal, psychological disorder, heavily medicated close friends in mid-life crisis, friends of friends that have recently died suddenly—a seemingly endless concentric circle of anguish and disappointment.

But then, as the party winds on, you notice while following the meandering conversation of all things ephemeral--as if God has grabbed and turned your head and forced you to look at it--that your Aunt Zoe is still as joyful, friendly, exuberant, and yes, happy, as she has been every year you’ve seen her your entire life.

And you decide that when you get home, and the kids have been tucked snugly into bed, that you will close the door to your room, climb into bed, and let that cry get as far up and out as it needs to go.

But you don’t.

Freakonomics

Here's some findings I found fascinating from the controversial new bestseller Freakonomics, by renowned economist Steven D. Levitt:

- Jews are not actually more naturally inclined to be proficient with money and successful in business, they’re just really lucky.

- If African-American males were given more socioeconomic opportunities to succeed in corporate America, the NBA would be filled with ponderous, slow white guys, creating boring low-scoring games that would be difficult to watch.

- The capital gains tax could be lowered even further if we invaded France and sold all their art.

- If the minimum wage were increased for the first time in ten years, poor people would probably just piss the extra money away on cheap liquor, pull tabs, and loose women.

- Only 2% of Fortune 500 companies are run by females. However, this number would be higher if women weren’t always nagging or crying over the least little thing.

- If Mexican immigrants were not allowed to work in the United States, a Big Mac would cost $17.50.

- If you invested just five dollars each day for the next thirty years, you are probably the kind of person people ignore at parties.

- The reduction in urban murder rates in the last decade can be directly correlated to a decrease in the number of playa haters who had it comin’.

- People who drive mini-trucks are almost always annoying assholes.

- The controversial legalization of abortion in 1973 did not prevent the birth of Ryan Seacrest.

- The steady decrease in American high school students’ scores on science tests is correlated to a reduction in the number of awkward geeks and nerdlingers that need a swift butt-kicking at the hands of the popular kids.

- Curing cancer would inevitably lead to longer lines at Disney World as well as the DMV.

- Japanese kids have little tiny calculators in their heads that make them good at math.

- Cigarette smoking is the primary causal factor related to the current healthcare crisis and 850,000+ deaths annually but sometimes you really fucking need one.

Forgiveness

We are swimming with the snakes
At the bottom of the well
So silent and peaceful
In the darkness where we fell

But we are not snakes
And whats more we never will be
And if we stay swimming here forever
We will never be free

I heard them ringing the bells
In heaven and hell
They got a secret
They're getting ready to tell

It's falling from the sky
Calling from the graves
Open your eyes, girl, I think we are saved
Open your eyes, girl, I think we are saved

Lets take a walk on the bridge
Right over this mess
Dont need to tell me a thing
Baby we've already confessed

And I raised my voice to the air
And we were blessed

It's hard to give
It's hard to get
And I'll never forget
But everybody needs
A little forgiveness

- Patty Griffin

Underrated

target's food court

down market pilsner

meaningful masturbation

paying the extra money for quality condiments

getting to know your waiter or waitress on a more personal level

listening to neil diamond un-ironically

a compact but heartfelt "ok, see ya" when parting ways with a dear friend at the airport in lieu of a drawn-out maudlin display

patty griffin

libertarians

poetry written by people who are not poets

long john silver's

foxhole friends

throw away lines from obscure tom waits songs that bring you to your knees

sam lipsyte

dylan's religious period

townie tavern bartenders

reconstructing memories

women that are not hotties

soft kisses

the japanese

love that changes form and purpose but doesn't go away

courtesy laughs

self-deluded clarity

crackerjacks with almonds

New Diet

Here's a new diet I've been following that has really worked wonders for me:

Breakfast

Low-calorie "health" bar


Lunch

Small salad with fat-free dressing


Dinner

Large sausage and peperoni Papa John's pizza dipped in Papa John's garlic butter sauce

Bag of Doritos

Malt liquor

Ice cream

Contact

So, anyway, a few weeks ago my soon-to-be-six year-old son Christian was watching a TV show in which one of the characters put a heartfelt message in a bottle and pitched it in a river.

"Hey, I wanna do that!" he exclaimed.

So he did.

With some help from his mother, he wrote a short letter about himself along with his home address and asked whoever found his epistle to write him a letter about themselves (For the record, his four year-old brother Charlie also wrote a letter and put it an a bottle, but decided at the last minute he would rather keep it for himself).

When Christian returned home from the river, he couldn't contain his excitement over his letter and how delighted would be the lucky recipient of his bottle.

What a sweet sentiment, his mother and I thought, realizing that by far the most likely recipient of the bottle was a Hennepin County trash heap. And how quaint the notion that there is someone out there somewhere to talk to about your life who will want to know more about you simply because you exist and will want to tell you about themselves and share their lives with you while asking for nothing in return.

We've all wistfully wished for this at some point in our lives, haven't we?

It's the thought that counts, my dear son.

A few days ago, Christian received the below letter from Cyrus, a nine year-old Native American boy living on a reservation in Garrison, MN.