The Cheap Seats

If you have read any of my posts over the past two years, you've probably reached one conclusion - this guy loves lists. Other than the occasional poem about angry Santas or life-sustaining coffee, most weekly entries have included semi-serious and silly itemizations of everything from the perks of singledom to 80's songs to personal turn-ons (not as titillating as it sounds). So naturally, I have been anxiously awaiting January - that traditional time on the calendar for the creation of the ultimate list: New Year's Resolutions.   In my opinion, the best definition of resolution is firm determination , which is ironic since most New Year's resolutions are neither firm nor determined. But in recent years, a good friend has reignited my interest in creating New Year's resolutions. Wisely, she creates an annual  Vision Board - a physical reminder she can view often, urging her on to meet personal, financial or material goals for the coming year.   Unlike he

'Twas the night before the night before Christmas, way up at the Pole, all the elves were on duty, each one with a goal. The 2013 quota was quite clear with time running short. "I don't see how we can make it," was the Head Elf's report. The children's wishes this year, dreamed up in their heads, were sure to put the North Pole's ledger deep in the red. So Santa called a meeting, and banged on his gavel. "Time for retraining boys, or Christmas will unravel!" "These days kids want gizmos and gadgets galore, to post, text and stream - and it seems much, much more. I can't say no - you know hard that would be for a soft, sentimental old elf like me." So the University of the Arctic was quickly constructed, elves tuition paid - "don't worry boys, all tax-deducted." But the dismay was apparent, clear for all to see round the clock, from an uploaded video that was streaming on TikTok.

'Twas the week before Christmas way, way up North, all the elves pulling double shifts 'til December 24th. Santa Claus announced, "No days off or you're all dead meat!" "He's a goddamn slavedriver!" the Head Elf did tweet. The kids' demands were spelled out loud - very clear, and would certainly destroy elf morale late this year. So Santa shut down the line and called a quick meeting.  "Oh great - a pep talk," the Head Elf was seen tweeting. "Boys, don't think I'm not aware of how hard you all work, or as late December gets closer I turn into a big jerk." "Does this mean," the top elf wondered, "that he's starting to get it? Maybe I should be recording this and upload it to Reddit." But Santa droned on, talking about teamwork and pride, "It's all about the kids - but hey, look on the bright side. In a few weeks you'll be on vacation and out of this j

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope the love and joy of this wondrous season wraps you in its embrace and keeps you warm all year long. Okay, enough of that crap.   Yes, it's that time of year - the receiving of the Christmas card letter. Not the modest accountings of the comings and goings of busy, functional families. Those are fine, and welcome. Instead, I am referring to those literary gems written in the 3rd person, sprinkled liberally with unsubtle references to new cars, new homes, job promotions, European vacations and Mensa children. I have a long-held Christmas wish to receive exactly the opposite kind of Christmas card letter - confirmation that the lives of other people aren't that much different from mine. Exciting and boring and frustrating and rewarding and stressful. Life as we know it. But because that is never going to happen, I've decided to write one myself - what one mythical man's family might have experienced over the past twelv