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My younger brother just called from San Diego. His LTR/girlfriend/common law spouse/sigo (god, we need a better term) spent the night awake in contractions. They called her mom to let her know and she said, "Oh, yeah, didn't we tell you? Second children in our family usaully come about 3 weeks early." Thanks, Mom.

While this might ordinarily be just data for the gay uncle, I've been invited to witness the birth. (!) They figure I'm unlikely to be more directly involved in one, and sadly, they're probably right. So, the news is cause for some excitement on my part, too. Suddenly, I have to alert coworkers, prep a bag, shift plane reservations early, and finagle a laptop out of work. Not to mention psych myself up for the proxied paternalness of it all. The blood. The doctors. The screaming.

I've never been so close to the reality of new life.

Wish me luck.

A number between some and all of you have been waiting with breath of wanting to know about my holiday details. Since it is still within the general parameters of the Christmas season and the all-encompassing super holiday that has become the norm are still in active modes we can proceed. I will tell you some of the pertinent details regarding my holidays. PS: God bless the victims of that terrible flood and horror in Asia recently, my heart goes out to them all.

To begin the holiday season, I decided to have my friend Steve, who prefers walnuts to candy for holiday snacking, take a photograph of me in my Barcolounger. It was a nicely taken photograph due to Steve's talents with cameras and so I decided to select one thousand people at random on the internet to send this photograph to. I did not know any of these people and had never spoken to them before in any way. I wanted to give them a special treat at the holidays, a photograph of me on my Barcolounger doing some lounging and smiling. This is the spirit of the holidays for sure.

So, these went out and I waited hopefully that some would write back and tell me about their families and their pets. I was in the mood for a conversation about cats and the way they are about the house (sometimes mischief is involved which can be funny at times). I ended up having one conversation with an older man who wanted to know why Bob Hope and Joey Heatherton weren't in Iraq. He was nuts out of space. The lack of responses prompted me to write follow up messages to those who had not sent thanks back to me for sharing this wonderful personal photograph with them. I was appalled by the results of my holiday giving.

In my absolute inanity, I marched down to the grocery store and purchased a large package of pre-sliced salami with questionable port of origin. I proceded to feast upon this snacking meat until I could eat no more and then I would eat some more until belly ache was result of poor decision making. Some of you have trouble with liquor, which is evident in the quality of your writing, but I have trouble with snack type beef and pork products. You might be drunk but I am full and now which one of us is screwed?

Even after my salami eating festivities were complete, there were no more responses to my random mailing of a photograph of myself reclining in a Barcolounger with my feet up in a holiday pose. These strangers were not being very friendly, so I began placing calls to people. These people were people I knew, unlike the random strangers I had sent the photograph to (and no one who knows me will receive this photograph ever for obvious reasons). How much more clear could I possibly be? A simple thank you for a computer copy of a personal photograph is not too much to ask.

I decided to spend my lunch hour for the next week hanging around outside of tanning bed salons and peering into the windows they have out front there. Often a woman will look just a wee bit too long at another woman's breasts and then titilation surely results somewhere along the line in at least one of the characters talked about in the scene described above. That sentence was a mouthful and don't think I don't know it. I am a middle aged man of Middle Eastern descent who grew up in post-World War II Germany on the other side of the wall. You know, the side you weren't just thinking of right now, that is the one I was on.

Now, let me quickly clarify a few points in order to make myself clear and avoid misunderstandings of a magnitude. I would like the random people I sent my Barcolounger photograph to think about what they have done by failing to say thank you for this holiday gift. You are killing Christmas and making no love to anyone during its hours. This is not good at all so rethink immediately. Gracias (in Spanish now is Behr).

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