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Tuesday, December 28, 2010

A Gift for Baby Jesus

Jesus was born on December 25th 2,010 years ago.

If I were alive back then what kind of baby gift would I bring the little tyke?

There weren’t any malls so a gift certificate to Baby Gap would be out of the question. Mary and Joseph would have no place to redeem it.

Then I was thinking a baby mobile decorated with clay figures of farm animals to hang above the Jesus crib. Goats and sheep and cows and mice and little rats. It sounds like a great idea but something tells me there was no roof to the manger, and if there was a roof it was probably made of thatch and how would Joseph ever hang it? I fear it would end up in the sack that’s tossed over the mule when traveling, or worse, gnawed on by the goats and sheep and cows and mice and rats.

Next on the list was a big ‘ole stuffed Teddy or Panda Bear, but once again, not available 2,010 years ago.

What about a book? “Winnie the Pooh”? “Everybody Poops”? “I Have Two Daddies”? Damn, they pre-date little Jesus.

Because our savior-to-be was wrapped in a swaddling cloth I was thinking a baby blanket, but I’m certain everyone would be bringing blankets. Sheep skin. Pig skin. Woolen. Calf skin. The woman-folk of Bethlehem were probably staying up late skinning and sewing for that perfect blanket secretly hoping their blanket would be Jesus’ favorite. I can’t compete with expert skinners and seamstresses so I’m not even going to try.

Then it came to me in a vision... a beautiful vision of white puffy clouds, angels with golden wings, and symphonic music...

If I were alive 2,010 years ago I would go to the nearest bazaar and trade my sandals for an abacus (aka a counting frame). It’s educational and by the time Jesus grew up there wouldn’t be any technological advances which means it wouldn’t be outdated for centuries to come.

An abacus for Jesus. The perfect gift.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Heavenly Happiness

Have you ever wondered if there’s a way to communicate with those who’ve ventured to the other side via email? Let’s face it, technology has come a long way and if we can send music files through the internet why can’t we trade emails with the beyond?
Does Heaven have it’s own website and email system? I imagine it would be something simple like heaven.hvn, and to email the Big One, aka God, all you’d have to do is send an email to God@heaven.hvn.

Besides doing good deeds and watching over us what does God do on his spare time? He probably sits on his thrown cruising the internet on his MacBook, laughing at how stupid earth people behave, choosing who’s next, and trading email stories with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

God probably also contributes articles to Heaven’s monthly email newsletter, Heavenly Happiness. Oh I can imagine how heavenly the newsletter would look with its cloud and pearly gate logo against a beautiful blue background. So peaceful. So divine. So full of heavenly gossip.

The newsletter would give us the scoop on who’s hanging out with who, names of those denied entrance at the Pearly Gates and immediately sent south to a much hotter climate, sneak peeks at the new angel wing designs, who’s the most popular newcomer, who’s the most angelic, and who’s the one person they’re all anticipating.

To get on the mailing list all you’d have to do is send a request to newsletter@heaven.hvn and Heavenly Happiness would be all yours. And if you opt to become a heavenly subscriber (for a nominal fee) you’d be rewarded with monthly coupons redeemable upon your arrival. Coupons? Oh yes, for a variety of items and discounts at the Heavenly General Store, the Heavenly Cafeteria, the Heavenly Hotel, and the Heavenly Cinema. (FYI - Tyler Perry movies are very popular at the Heavenly Cinema.)

Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A Green Dream

Yesterday I was riding my 21-speed bicycle home from the gym zig-zagging the side streets of Hollywood avoiding traffic when I saw something green lying in the gutter. No, it wasn’t the Grinch. It was much smaller. No, it wasn’t a dead Kermit the Frog, nor was it Kermit’s green penis. It was crinkled, papery and it seemed to be beckoning me.

I screeched my bicycle breaks and bent over and scooped it up in the palm of my hand. It was currency, money, a bill, worn, looking like it had been through a difficult life. I assumed it was a dollar bill and stuffed it into my pocket. Feeling the inner joy of being a dollar richer I pedaled home with renewed vigor.

Once home I prepared to shower and as I took off my pants I pulled the newfound dollar from my pocket.

Oooh... it wasn’t a dollar after all. it was a higher amount. I looked carefully, blinked repeatedly, and saw that it was a $1,000,000 bill.

For a brief - and I mean a very brief second - I allowed myself to believe it was real. I dissolved into the millionaire’s club. You know, the club where money is no issue, taxes are next to nil, and money’s power hangs like a halo around you.

I fantasized a new pair of expensive sneakers, a new bicycle to rival Pee Wee’s Big Adventure bicycle, a deluxe kitchen mixer, a fedora, a new car, a trip to England, a trip to Surabaya, a merry-go-round in the backyard of my new hacienda, and a crown of jewels to wear while I lounge on my thrown watching my big screen TV. Aaah...

Then I looked closer and saw there were tiny bugs crawling on the bill, and what looked like dirt (but could’ve been poop) clinging to the paper.

I threw the bill in the trash, tossed my gym shorts into the laundry, and immediately jumped into the shower and scrubbed my taut body clean.

For that brief second I was a millionaire lost in a green dream. Ooh it felt grand.

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Tickle The Nipple

I love getting free swag at conventions. Most of its useless, but every once in a while you get something you can’t keep your hands off.

This past weekend I went to the LA Convention Center for the annual ShowBiz Expo. As I wandered up and down the aisles staring blankly at all the booths wondering why I wasted time coming a high-pitched female voice suddenly interrupted my inner lament.

Would you like a boob?

A boob?

Yes, a boob.

She thrust her hand towards me and handed me a boob. A semi-firm skin-tone boob with a prominent nipple.

What does a boob have to do with ShowBiz Expo? The booth giving away the boobs was a Beverly Hills plastic surgery company. Aah, suddenly I got the connection: sagging boobs don’t look good on film, but a surgically enhanced boob looks “nipples to the wind” perfect. Oh Hollywood.

The boob now sits prominently on my desk beside my 13” MacBook computer.

When I’m feeling the lack of creative juice I grab the boob and squeeze.

When I’m feeling melancholy I gently caress the boob.

When I’m frustrated I pinch the nipple until it hurts.

When I’m feeling naughty I slap the boob.

When I’m feeling playful I tickle the nipple.

Oooh... gotta go....