Christmas Newsletter

Dear Family, Friends, Neighbors and Distant Relations,

It’s the season of sharing, and the time has come for my family to share its annual achievements with those who have none.

This year, poop production has reached an all-time high. As you can see on the flowchart handout that was stuffed in your Christmas stocking, not only did our discarded diapers meet our 2013 quota – we beat last year’s number by 200 percent! But that’s not the only record that’s been broken. In June, the vinyl edition of the Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was destroyed during a temper tantrum. And in October, I lost my entire ABBA collection. In addition, 90 percent of our good china has been removed from circulation, and all electronic devices now rattle when you shake them.

Full disclosure: the preceding paragraph was a lie (the hint was the ABBA record. I own no, nor shall I ever own any, ABBA related merchandise). But you’ve got to admit, it was more entertaining than hearing about how my son is an honor student, my wife just earned her doctorate in Smarter-Than-You-ology, and I got that promotion along with a hefty pay raise so we can finally purchase that family farm we’ve been dreaming about and start growing organic vegetables, raising free-range chickens and drinking non-pasteurized milk.

Full disclosure: the second preceding paragraph also was a lie. The truth is that I am currently recovering from my traditional Christmas holiday head cold, which Widget2 generously shared with me, while we spend the last two weeks of December at grandma and grandpa’s house in the cold north. I have no interest in writing a real newsletter, and besides who needs them in this day and age of facebook, twitter, blogging and neurotically networked people. Does anybody really want to hear about Widget1’s superior reading skills (which he does actually have) when I can instead give them the juicy details about how he tickled the man in front of us on our flight, or how he demanded the wheelchair-bound elderly man in front of us at the security checkpoint to get out of our way (speaking of which, we are fundraising to buy a new car to drive ourselves home since we can never again be seen in that airport).

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