Financial Crisis

It's been a devastating week financially. Both Plan A and Plan B have been ruled out as a means of sustenance. I guess it's time I invest in that pyramid scheme I've had my eye on.

Retraction

I must apologize to you, reader. In my last post I made an inaccurate generalization that "everyone loves babies." This is categorically false. The truth is some people don't even believe in babies. Thank you, reader, for bringing this to my attention. For any offense I've caused, I offer my sincerest apologies.

What's the big deal?

Everybody loves babies. Why not? They're cute. They're small. They can fit in a carry on, or a really big purse, or maybe your pocket if you're wearing Girbauds. That's cool, but let's face it, even cigarettes can do that. As I've begun to ponder fatherhood and the impending birth of our child, I've had to confront this question: what's so special about babies? That is, what have babies contributed to society? I know that great men before me have attempted to answer this question, only to get confused and go absolutely nuts. Nevertheless, it's an important question to resolve before the baby arrives. Besides, I'm neither great men, nor before me.

For the past several days I've been scouring the internet to compile a list of the greatest babies of all time and their respective accomplishments. Let me tell you my efforts have been largely fruitless. As it turns out, babies have accomplished very little in the history of the Western world. For example, I found no instances of a baby winning a Nobel Prize, a Pulitzer Prize, a Medal of Freedom, or even had a book selected by Oprah's book club. I know what you're thinking. This guy's off his rocker. Surely a baby has at least been in Oprah's book club. Well, see for yourself (http://www.oprah.com/obc/obc_landing.jhtml). So, what about athletics? Babies are probably good at sports, right? Wrong. There has never been a professional baby baseball player, basketball player (actually, I think there was a baby that played for the Washington Senators in their embarrassing loss to the Harlem Globetrotters in 1985, but I can't seem to find documentation), or football player. More tellingly, no baby has ever won the Daytona 500.

Undoubtedly there have been some very good babies--Baby Michelle, Baby Superman, Bruce Willis in Look Who's Talking, and Baby Jessica. And we all know how much Baby Spice has done for the feminist cause. But these are the exceptions, and when it's all over history may decide that even they fall short of greatness. So if babies aren't all that special, why do Americans spend $7 billion on disposable diapers every year? "So my baby doesn't poop on the floor," one mother suggested. Fine, but why do we collectively spend over $40 billion on toys? Clearly nobody knows. But many speculate that it's because of the Wal-Mart marketing machine. "It's just like those holidays that Sam Walton made up, like 'Presidents' Day' and 'Independence Day'," said one guy. Maybe he's right...maybe he's right.

Even deaf babies can read

Well, since it's been firmly established that I'm a truth teller, I suppose it couldn't hurt to expound even further upon the purpose of this blog.

As Dan Brown might say, "It was a dark and stormy night and there was two people and I like them people and they was there. And candles was." Well said, Mr. Brown. I guess I'll spare you the lascivious details of the moment, but the point I'm getting at is that my wife and I conceived a child. Or she conceived. Or I did. I'm really not sure who's responsible for what, but conception occurred. So, being rather risk averse, I thought it might be prudent to hedge our bets against birthing a deaf child. Most deaf babies are hearing impaired and cannot hear words of affirmation and love spoken to them (citation needed). However, even deaf babies can read. Now, if I could only figure out a way to make my baby read words of affirmation, then maybe he or she would not grow up to be a homicidal freak (or, worse yet, unpopular).

My first inclination was to write my reflections in my diary. But what would happen if I was ever lost at sea and couldn't reveal to my loved ones where I'd hidden the key to Mrs. D's lock? Or what if I didn't have time to black out the parts from 1993 when I had a brief, but earnest, infatuation with Diamond Rio? It would be best if I could record my thoughts in a place accessible to my friends and family. It would also be nice if that place was one in which I could share all of my favorite recipes and celebrity gossip--you know, two birds with one stone, that type of thing. That's why I decided to write this blog.

Bold truth teller or arrogant a--hole?

So, who in the hell names their blog "Bloggin' Awesome"? I'll tell you. It's the same guy that's currently drinking a white Russian and eating a chipless chocolate chip cookie with store brand Cool Whip. What's that? How do you make a white Russian? I don't know. I buy the stuff already mixed.