Author: Chris

During the Revolutionary War, more soldiers died from neglect on British prison ships than died in the battles in which they surrendered. Unlike modern wars, the prisoners were expected to be provided supplies by their own side and American army was on life support. Over 10,000 died from neglect, a large percentage of those soldiers were tossed into the ocean instead of being buried.

In the Civil War, rifles had improved faster than the tactics. During the battles, generals ordered men into the teeth of enemy lines, too ignorant or stubborn to realize the accuracy of the weapons was dramatically improved. There were documented stories of soldiers mowed down and ordered to retreat, but running backwards so their families back home wouldn’t be shamed finding out they were shot in the back. Other stories from that war tell of men dying on the battlefields, crying out at night for water or their wives or mothers, but unable to be retrieved for care. Over 600,000 casualties – 2% of the US population. That would be six million if fought today.

Not all casualties are immediate or overseas – poison gas, burns, IEDs, cancer causing chemicals like Agent Orange and the mental tolls of war have taken lives and destroyed families after the battle is over. Politicians get libraries and speaking engagements while the soldiers in the wake get a plaque or maybe a spot on a trailer at a parade. The estimates of soliders’ suicide rates over the last five years has been shown at 17-23 per day.

In all, it is estimated from the wars we celebrate and the ones we have forgotten, that over 1.1 to 1.3 million US soldiers have died from combat (depending on the source), with over 2.8 million casualties. The number of deaths at Argonne Forest in World War I, 26,000, is the size of my hometown. At Shiloh in the Civil War, there were more casualties than in the entire history of US wars combined up that point. Dan Bullock altered his birth certificate and was killed in Vietnam at the age of 15.

These are some of the numbers of Memorial Day.

A large percentage of people don’t know how far six feet away is. Another percentage don’t realize they are blocking the entire lane looking for the perfect can of beans for six minutes.

At this point, I don’t care what opens up, I’m ready to roll around in the grass like a dog as long as it’s not my own yard.

Ironically, we get take out the same as before because taking kids to a restaurant is a living nightmare. “Don’t go under the table!” “Sit still!” “No, you can’t get ice cream until you eat something else!” “Don’t knock over dad’s beer!”

If I can’t get the kids outside at least twice, my night is filled with an hour of “time to go to sleep. No, now. It’s time. No, stop running. Stop screaming. Please get in the tub. Please get out of the tub. Please put your pajamas on. Please don’t drag those toys out, it’s late.” I now went from “meh” on rain to hating it with every fiber of my being.

I need to learn how to make more drinks. My “Coke for color” college skills are pretty limited. Effective, but limited.

The cat brought a living chipmunk in the house and it was the second most exciting thing this month.

At this point, I’ve spent four hours staring at the open refrigerator, muttering “None of this shit looks good.”

Coffee, coffee, water, water, beer, beer, mixed drink. Repeat. Sometimes repeat the latter part more.

If someone broke into my house and stole all the cookies and snacks, I would kiss them on the mouth.

Dream English Kids is the worst You Tube kids’ show and I will die on this hill.

I now really identify with the “Meesta Meesta, get me outta here!” lady on Happy Gilmore.

One of the joys of having children is that going to the bathroom is no longer a private experience, like you were used to for several decades. Now I get, “Did you poop? Can I see it?” and “Does pee come out the ba-gina?” This is sometimes a bit much. There’s also nothing like being mid-stream and having a two year old burst in and try to touch the, at that point, unstoppable flow. It’s like trying to throw the gearshift into reverse at 40 mph.

This weekend I was draining the lizard, to use the scientific terminology, when my no filter four year old entered. “WHY ARE TOUCHING YOUR PENIS? DON’T HOLD YOUR PENIS!” I said the only thing that came to mind. “I’ll get in a lot more trouble if I don’t hold it, trust me.” Then she left, leaving the door open, naturally. I think my next house project will be putting an outhouse with a triple door lock out in the farthest corner of my back yard.

As if 2020 wasn’t bad enough, now we have murder hornets. No fear, my friends, I am pretty much an entomologist from years of killing every insect I can. I probably hate flies and mosquitoes more than anyone who has ever walked the Earth, thus I am a PhD of six legged extermination. Here’s how we stop them.

• Talk politics to them. Nothing kills momentum like having a casual conversation and someone is all like “You how we can fix this country?” The murder hornets will go back to Asia.
• In Asia, bees have learned to swarm the murder hornet scouts and vibrate, creating heat and suffocating the murder hornets before they can get their back up troops. We see one, we just have to pile on and start grinding on one another until the murder hornet can’t breathe or vomits and kills itself from revulsion.
• Shoot them. We have a lot of guns, time to use them. You can probably even kill them with potato guns and I helped make one in high school. I think I may be a millionaire from this soon.
• Dance off. Those stupid hornets probably can’t even do the Roger Rabbit.
• Block them on Facebook. Maybe they will go away if we act like they don’t exist.
• We have time to practice wheel kicks at home watching old Van Damme movies. If they come to Ohio, I’m watching Road House on repeat and bouncing those buttholes right back to Brad Wesley’s mansion.

Here’s my pitch to take over as the number one adviser on the economy. I think outside the box or virus or whatever.

The meat processing plants must be number one priority. I got about two black bean burgers in me before I turn into a tree or werewolf or whatever. The fabric of society is counting on wings and burgers, get it done. BUILD THE WALL…AND THE ROOF…AND WHATEVER PROCESSES MEAT.

No bars? No problem. Reopen them, but everyone has to wear a mask. How will America drink, Chris? Two words: Butt. Bong. Look it up. Actually, don’t look it up. I just heard an urban rumor it works, but I think I’m onto something.

Invent lightning proof clothing for kids. After being stuck inside with two kids under five during all day rain, I am 100% convinced these would be more popular than iPhones. They would be fully staffed also. I can still hear my own screams…and wheels on the bus echoing off the walls.

END THE TYRANNY OF THE TWO DRINK TAKE OUT LIMIT! Also make people that don’t tip delivery drivers or restaurant staff have a finger removed. That will stimulate some money or at least punish whatever soulless jackass doesn’t tip someone getting them fed.

Finally, give every business that was declared non-essential a chance to mitigate or do curbside. Can’t do it safely? Closed. Can? We’re listening. There are a lot of places that didn’t need shut down if they could operate with social distancing and no customer interaction face to face.

There’s my ideas, some actually serious, but either way, I need a law saying I can wear what I slept in to work please. My vote is for sale, politicians.

Now that I’m still at home and have vacation I have to use for work, I’ve been struggling to come up with ideas on what to do. I have a rough draft though, maybe you can use this also. Or it’s terrible and I’m bored.

Bar night. Blare bad music from the late 90’s and early 2000’s on my large Budweiser speaker I won at a casino fundraiser while I stand in my kitchen muttering “This bar sucks” and pounding Bud Lights.

Take up a new hobby. I’ve actually pulled my guitar back out, but I am also considering voice work. Maybe I can read bedtime stories and record them for practice. My own book collection is limited to history and Edgar Allen Poe, so I maybe I should hold off.

Personal training videos. I’ve seen a lot of these. I’m not in amazing shape, so I’ll have to call mine, “Be less fat than you were!” or “You’re too old to be in shape, but this will keep it from getting worse!” It will be me running circles around the yard with my daughter or doing push-ups and cursing about how they used to be easier.

Write more jokes. My brain is so riddled with stay at home material, I have severe writer’s block. Right now writing about anything else is like writing about being in outer space. I’ve heard of other things than being home, but don’t really have a base to work from. I’m actually more likely to write outer space jokes right now, to be honest.

OnlyFans. I heard people are making dirty videos for money on some site called OnlyFans. My video will be me staring back at a camera asking why in hell you clicked on mine and insulting you until you pay me to shut up. Not very hot, but I’m sure someone’s into it.