Holiday notes

A Merry Xmas and Happy New whatever to all you jokers that are still reading this mess.

Here, in bullet form for easier reading because we are a very stupid people, are my observations, notes, happenings and thoughts from the holiday season:

- First of all, I finally got to meet the infamous Soren Ray Yates during his trip to see the family. He was a tasty little bugger. If only I'd had some BBQ sauce.

- I have now been to Barton, Ohio. Wow.

- A couple stories from my cousins on either side of the family and you will never want to have a child.

- Music trivia is big in Wadsworth.

- AholeonaPC has discontinued her blog, which is a big freaking bah-humbug in my book. Not to guilt trip you, ahole, but I'll never speak to you again.

- And I got sick.

A Christmas miracle

I spent four days in the 'Ville for the holidays, hanging with Pops, watching football, listening to mildly insane theories about Republicans, Charismatic Catholics and the Pittsburgh Steelers. All part of the family charm.

On day two, while visiting my one of my father's many bathrooms (and by many, I mean two) I came to the conclusion he was in desperate need of a new toilet seat. My Dad has one of those padded seats for a little extra comfort during life's quality moments. Hey, who can blame him?

But his current padded seat had been installed sometime in 1991. It had seen a lot of action over the years and was just worn down. There were some rips. To be blunt, if you happen to sit the wrong way, it was like taking a crap on an open box of steak knives.

"Dad, I should have gotten you a new toilet seat for Christmas," I exclaimed with a fright.

"Oh, I've got one. I just can't get it put on cause of my knees."

After a huge meal and a 90-minute nap and a football game and a Seinfeld marathon, I leapt into action. I was well prepared with pliers, several screwdrivers and that things that holds the other thingies in place on the watchmacallit. It was exhausting, the turning and the holding and the unscrewing.

But I did it. That's right. I fixed something. In the bathroom. My Dad now relieves himself with a newfound peace. Heck, I spent a couple hours just hanging out on this newly installed wonder.

This makes it official: I'm handy, mofos.

F You, Weatherologisters

I'd like to take just a moment of your time to talk about "black ice."

I don't know what this is, but I'm supposed to be scared a lot. According to the men with the hair who stand in front of the green screens on the TV, I will probably die unless I drive like my Grandma because of the "black ice."

Thus, I have come to this conclusion: I have decided to not believe in "black ice."

A) I've never seen it. Nobody has.

B) Ice is clear.

C) Totally racist.


Dry ice - you're on the clock.

Tips and such

Dear History Channel,

I love you. I really do. Got vintage black and white footage of the Archduke Ferdinand in a parade the day before he gets shot to start World War I? I'm in. I revel in my History Channel dorkiness.

That being said, I would like to give you three small tips that will perhaps make your programming better.

1) Ancient Cities of the Underworld could be an interesting show, although when you do tunnels underneath LA, I'm not sure that really qualifies as an ancient city. Anyway, the reason the show struggles is because host Don Wildman (pictured) is such a complete self-promoting, drama queen douchebag it makes me want to puncture my ear drum with a toothpick. Fire him. Immediately. Hire someone who is not as impressed with themselves for climbing down a hole.

2) I estimate that 75 percent of your shows involve Hitler. This is fine with me. You can never have enough Hitler ass-kicking in my book. And that's a war we good guys win every, single time! But slapping a small Hitler-esque mustache on any old actor does not make them look like Hitler during one of your outstanding re-enactments. The actor should actually somewhat resemble Hitler. Corbin Bernsen would probably make a poor Hitler.

3) The economy, as you may have heard, is difficult. Regardless, you are allowed to have more than three advertisers. I'm sure Rosetta Stone is a fine product, but if I see Michael Phelps signing autographs with his freakishly enormous, webbed, disgusting toes one more time, I will snap those chicken nuggets off his gold-medal winning feet myself.
And despite it's ties to Hitler and never-ending promotion, Tom Cruise (with eyepatch!) playing a good Nazi in Valkyrie looks like a huge pile of suck in my book.

4) You should totally add Battlefield Britain, which was an awesome show and was only on PBS for one season. Check out the example below. Maybe these guys would take the job of that jagoff Don Wildman.


Battlefield Britain - More bloopers are a click away