Since the party hatted stuffed animals who will be attending my birthday party are not allowed to use matches (doctor/patient privilege will not allow me to go any further into that), not to mention the fact that not one of them can bake a decent cake, the opportunity to make a wish while blowing out my candles is not likely to arise this evening. Luckily, I have been informed that the night should hold plenty of falling stars upon which to cast my wishes. That being so, I have decided to ready myself with a wish list. Those damn things fall fast, you know. You have to be prepared if you want to take full advantage.

The Vessel's Birthday Wish List:

1. World peace.

2. A piece of the world. (Just an insignificant country like Scotland. Hell, they're probably too drunk to realize I've taken over anyway.)

3. A piece.

4. A kitty.

5. Inner peace.

6. An innertube.

7. An inner ear infection. (For my ex-wife)

8. Infective laughter.

9. Ineffective laughter. (Looks like that one already came true.)

10. A new president.

11. Some new pepsodent. (is it bad when you are offended by your own breath?)

12. To set a precedent.

13. The twins from Doublemint.

14. An end to starvation.

15. Nuclear Non-proliferation.

16. A woman free from menstruation.

17. Or at least a guide to fulfilling masturbation.

18. A free world.

19. A free car.

20. Free Merle!

21. The Bell Jar.

22. A monkey that wears a tux.

22. A monkey that rides a bike.

23. A monkey that can bake a cake.

24. Hell, I just want a monkey.

25. To be able to relax.

26. Exlax. (This should also help with 25)

27. A kitty to play with my monkey.

28. To meet Einstein.

29. To meet Dawkins.

30. To meet Robbins.

31. To get them all in a latex floored room with a vat of baby oil and assorted fruits and vegetables.

32. To live another year.

33. To smile from dawn to dusk.

34. To give Van Gogh back his ear.

35. And to give Val back her tusks.

Happy Birthday Me. And Happy Non-birthday to all of you.

Early September 1971. My older brother is starting school. There is life out beyond the great green expanse known as Yard and soon he will be experiencing all that it has to offer. Reading, writing, friends, milk break, shoe tying; they are all within his grasp now. The whole of the world lay at his fingertips. I am ready as well. I have risen early, filled my tippy cup to the brim; donned my city hat and found my favorite sock. Oh, the adventures that must await me; the trials that beckon with their siren's song of glorious achievement. Today is the day. I am ready for Life. Big glorious wonderful life!

Where do the years go?

In four days I will be thirty eight years old. Its not the birthday at which most find themselves in a deeply introspective stupor, but hey, I live there, so where else would I be? In truth, I find this birthday more significant than the normally dreaded numbers of thirty or forty or fifty. Thirty eight is the twentieth anniversary of what society defines as adulthood. It is the point at which we have had two full decades of adult life to forge ourselves into the strong, stable, independent individuals we always thought we would be.

Are you where you had hoped you would be?

I can remember a time when I wanted to be a professional baseball player. (Actually, it is still that time, but dreams must be put out of their misery at some point). There were also the old standards of fireman, cop, spy, and super hero. As it has turned out I am none of these, though I do wear a red cape from time to time. Now, after my two decades of time to become whatever it is I desired to be, I find myself not only without the desired achievement, but running awfully short on desire itself. It seems my dreams were the little boy in the big red hat, left standing at the screen door.

But don't take this post to be a pity party. I will have none of that. No, the approaching birthday is just one last moment to look back on what I have not become, reflect, learn, and then jump forward into whatever it is that awaits. There are more dreams out there, I just need to find one. After all, that is life. Whether I'm three, thirty eight, or eighty five, something always lies ahead.

I've always liked that picture, but this year, I think I'm going to make it out that door. After all, I didn't get all dressed up for nothing.

What is this world coming to? There is war in the Middle East, Mel Gibson has been arrested for anti-semitic driving, Fargo temperatures hit somewhere around one thousand nine hundred and fifty degrees, and Paris has banned topless sunbathing and thongs along the Seine. Life as we know it is changing, folks, and it doesn't seem to be for the better. Banning thongs, for Christ's sake! Why God, why?

Well, at least, in times like these, there is still a place on this earth a man can go stand on a wooden platform and fling a giant dead eel at another man. No? You mean that's gone too?

It seems the glory days of eel flinging, or conger cuddling as it is known locally, are over for the small English fishing village of Lyme Regis. The ancient game, dating from as far back as 1974, was an annual event in which teams of men stood atop wooden platforms and swung a dead eel at one another trying to topple the opposing team members from their perch (the platform, not the fish). The eels used in the event were collected by the fisherman, who from time to time find them dead in their nets, and were frozen until time for the contest. But, thanks to one animal rights activist with a vendetta against good clean eel flinging fun and, probably, against Democracy, the event has been canceled.

The activist threatened to bring negative publicity to the event by filming it, most likely with help and narration from Michael Moore who would likely say things such as, "That eel could have been president one day," and "This makes me hungry," then distributing the footage to news organizations. The threat was enough for the town to cancel the event, saying "We decided that it really wasn't worth upsetting anybody by going ahead with using a dead conger." Then adding, "But it's a dead conger, for Pete's sake. I shouldn't think the conger could care one way or another."

I never thought I'd live to see the day when drunken fisherman no longer had a venue in which to stand on platforms and smack each other with a dead 25 lb. eel. Actually, I never thought I'd live to see the day on which they did have such a venue. But after they did have that venue, then I never thought I'd see the day when they didn't. But they don't, even though they did, because they no longer do. Yep.

Anyway. The world is going to hell in a hand basket, people, and the hand basket is a no thong zone. Its time for one and all to take a stand in support of the freedom to be stupid and naked before the liberties of ogling over barely clad French booties and smacking each other with deceased sea life are gone forever. Now is the time to rise, take off your pants, and smack someone with a trout. Its for the good of us all.

Well folks, yet again we find ourselves at that time of year when we are not at all thinking about Christmas. But shouldn't we be? No. Probably not.

Anyway. In case you are one of those anal retentive bastards who always like to get things done on time, or worse yet, early, but you are having trouble finding the right gift for the people on your computer print out double spaced alphabetized Christmas gift list, I have decided to offer a few suggestions. These aren't the run of the mill gifts that you gave last year; the hand crocheted sweaters and change holders and family picture collages that your loved ones now keep safe from harm and viewing in the top of their closets. No. These gifts are... Well, they're something.

So, without further nearly incoherent rambling, I present to you,

The Vessel's Christmas Gift Ideas 2006 (TVCGI '06)

1. The Death Clock


What says "I love you", "You're special to me", or "Hey, how about that inheritance?" more than a Death Clock. This gift provides hours and days and months and years of dread filled entertainment. Simply fill out your will, insert the cd-rom into your computer, answer a few simple questions and in no time your counting the seconds that remain before you put on your grass pajamas and settle in for the big nap. The Death Clock calculates your remaining time, based on a few simple lifestyle questions, then provides you with a screensaver countdown clock that ticks off, second by angst filled second, your remaining time on the exterior of this big blue ball of life. Fun for all ages. (Not recommended for people whose countdown may not surpass six digits)

2. The Retro Cell Phone Receiver

Know someone who is tired of that tiny un-cumbersome cell phone? Do they want to put a bulge in their pocket that will have the ladies requesting a restraining order? Do they long for the days when they could talk on the phone and asphyxiate themself with a plastic cord at the same time?... Really? Well, then I guess the Retro Cell Phone Receiver should be on your list. This bulky obtrusive lump of high grade plastic will take that special, or specially educated, someone in your life back to those inconvenient days of yore. Before they know it they'll be saying things like, "Mable, patch me through Klondike5-5555, please." If that ain't fun, I...well, someone might like it.

3. The Jesus Action Figure

Uhm, yeah. For heathen and holy roller alike, the Jesus action figure is a can't miss child pleaser. Whether little Tommy wants to play Sermon on the Mount or crucifixion, there is no end to the fun that can be had when a child can combine his imagination with a 5" tall reproduction of the King of the Jews. Fully equipped with partially mobile arms, allowing for such poses as the above illustrated, "It's this big," or the hands above the shoulders "Hey, I look like Scott Stapp," and wheels at the base for a life like reproduction of water walking across any smooth blue surface. "Hey, Tommy. Can I play Jesus with you?"

4. The Condom Container

How about your best buddy? You know, the one who is always taking home the girl you wanted to talk to but didn't have the nerve. Doesn't he deserve a gift? Well this should be perfect. With this condom container on his nightstand, the girl you wanted won't have to wait long before he is tightly wrapped and making her scream like a banshee as you cry lonely frustrated tears into your pillow in the next room. You can even sneak it from his room and pretend you are touching a large nippled breast while he is out macin' the real life chicas. For added fun, you will always know where his condoms are so you can poke holes in a couple and watch with psychotic joy as he receives that dreaded phone call. Now, its his turn to cry!

5. Rocking Horse Toilet

The Rocking Horse Toilet. Yes, that's right, I didn't stutter. The freakin' Rocking Horse Toilet. What can I say about this marvel of human ingenuity? No longer will your morning constitutional be a boring ride on cold porcelain. With the Rocking Horse Toilet every morning becomes a rodeo. Cowboy on up and give it your best shot. Hi-ho Brown! Away! Foot pegs allow for a healthier knees above the waist, or is that waste, positioning. I shit you not. This gift is sure to make a big splash. Be sure to watch out for that saddle horn!


Well, I hope you find this list helpful. Just do me one favor. If I'm on your Christmas list, remember, I've got nothing against a nice tie.

How many times has this happened to you? You are sitting in the living room, unwinding after a long day at the office or cleaning out septic tanks, surfing through the channels and thinking, "Damn! I sure could use a sandwich." Suddenly, you happen to notice that you have stopped pushing the little up arrow on the remote control. The marquee in the bottom right corner of the screen alerts you to the fact that you are presently watching "Nick at Night". Then, just when you are about to start your habitual flipping again, a woman of astronomical girth appears before you. You pause, take in the megalith of womankind that is Rosanne Barr, and think to yourself, "You know, she ain't that bad. Hell, I'd do her."

A recent study, published by the people in England who study things, may have found the key to this strange and secretive phenomenon. The British Journal of Psychology, or as I normally refer to it, TBJOP, published a study in which it was discovered that hungry men are attracted to larger women than the women... who are not as large... that are the object of attraction... of less... hungry... men. Or something like that. Basically, if you need a sandwich there is a much better chance that Mimi of "The Drew Carey Show" will put a lift in your Levis.

Apparently, the British researchers are under the impression that this is a survival instinct. It is thought that people living in areas where food is less plentiful look for well fed mates to ensure healthier children. It is a well documented fact that, in cultures where food is scarce, the concept of womanly beauty differs substantially from the concept in cultures where food is plentiful. In other words, old Oprah would be gettin' her groove thang on a lot more often than new Oprah on a trip to Bangladesh. I tend to think this might have something to do with keeping a plentiful food source close at hand, or sleeping next to you in the bed, just in case worse comes to worse. But, then again, I'm not British and I don't study things.

Reading this study reminded me of another study I saw last year where it was determined that beer goggles, those invisible spectacles through which, nearing closing time, Gertrude the Gargantua becomes Gigi the Gymnast, can manifest themselves on the nose of unsuspecting men with the mere mention of alcohol related words. Researchers, this time in the good ole U.S. of A., found that men who were shown words such as beer, keg and liquor, rated photos of women with various features as more attractive than did men who were shown words such as soda, water and coffee. Upon hearing mention of this study the president of the International Association of Men was quoted as saying, "Beer, beer, beer, liquor, keg." He then left for a Weight Watcher's meeting.

I think these two studies, along with another little study I like to call "My Life", lead us to one simple conclusion. A guy will basically hump a rhino if he has the opportunity and a socially acceptable excuse.

Now you'll have to excuse me folks. I've been fasting for three days and listening to George Thorogood's "I Drink Alone" on an endless loop. I think I'll go to the zoo today.