CHRIS COEN

I have never sent Christmas cards.  I have received them, but the closest I came until this year was once I thought it would be funny if I put empty beer cans around my dog while he was sleeping and send that, then I realized it would take more than three minutes out of my life and I didn’t.

Now I have a daughter and a wife, so it was happening this year.  I’m the type of person that would draw a stick figure on a Giant Eagle receipt and send it out for a Christmas card.  My wife at one point had nine options open online at the same time.  I tried to explain that I’ve never at any point opened a Christmas card and exclaimed, “This font is unacceptable!  Unfriend these rabble!”  It was to no avail.  After much editing and changing, the cards were ordered after midnight on the third day of trying to finalize them.  Here’s what came.

That’s right, the Hanson family Christmas cards were ready.  The only problem is that’s not our name.  Somehow the stock name slipped through our sleep deprived editing process.  The bonus fun is that Chris Hanson was the guy from “To Catch A Predator.”  There’s a joyful holiday conversation – “Hey, remember the guy that went after pedos?  Well, funny story…”  We were going to reorder, but there wasn’t time and those cards are pricey.  Red Sharpie and a label – Merry Christmas and MMM Bop to all!

I’ve listened to the sound machine and the library CD’s so much with my newborn daughter, I decided to flip the radio to Christmas music while in the nursery.  I came up with some thoughts, none of which are important.

1) Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, Bing Crosby, Amy Grant and few select others are the best at Christmas music.  As sick as I got of hearing the same 24 songs over and over again, I wanted to throw my daughter’s soiled diaper at the radio when I heard Michael Buble redoing some Christmas song.  Leave my classics alone numbnuts.  Except for Grandma got ran over by a Reindeer.  Anyone can do that one better than those hilljacks Elmo and Patsy.  That song makes me wish Christmas came once a century.

2) Last Christmas is just awful.  I saw an article online claiming it was the “Greatest Secular Christmas song of All Time.”  Someone got paid to write that article.  Real money.  For a job and stuff.  Then I heard Taylor Swift redo it and I found myself defending Wham.  Look here Taylor, if I’m going to hear Last Christmas, it better be the super breathy, super gay Wham version with 80’s keyboards.  Go back to writing breakup songs I’ll never listen to – George Michael has this one covered.

3) Do They Know It’s Christmas? had some good intent, but it annoys me.  Nothing like a Christmas tune that calls you a piece of shit for not helping people out.  Now I’m full of cheer.  I think they need a song for some of the people in that video.  Other than Bono, I think they’re all homeless now.

4) When I was growing up, the kids choir sang the same song every year in church.  “Christmas isn’t Christmas” in the same high pitch singing for over 20 years.  They always had some kid singing a solo so high the windows cracked.  I got in trouble at age five for singing “King Kong went to Hong Kong playing Ping Pong with his Ding Dong” in church.  I would have enjoyed that more than Christmas isn’t Christmas for two decades.

Well, I’m old now.  It’s official.  I don’t want silly things; I am mature now.  Here’s what I want, you know, the simple things.

– I want my daughter’s first word to be daddy.  I’ll settle for freedom, eagle, Merica or eagle though.

– That reminds me, I want a pet bald eagle.  They can’t be caged or controlled, it’s science, so I hope one thinks I’m cool and we fight crime and terrorism together as partners.

– Every time a stranger asks me a question, I want Ronnie James Dio to appear and sing metal hits so loud it drowns it out instantly.  Example: “Excuse me, can you sign the petition to…” (smoke, explosions, music starts) HOLY DIVER!  YOU’VE BEEN DOWN TO LONG IN THE MIDNIGHT SEA!  OH WHAT’S BECOMING OF ME?  “Never mind, sorry to bother you sir.”  Perfect.

– A car that drives itself.  It’s 2015.  This was supposed to happen years ago, science dicks.  If I could sleep while my car drove…well, I’d be my grandpa.  Bad example.

– People to order my book at http://www.amazon.com/Stuff-Read-While-You-Sh/dp/1329558936/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1450154283&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=stuff+to+read+while+you+shit+book and give it five stars.  Or the next president to mandate that everyone has to order a copy.  Whatever gets me to 350 million copies sold first.

– Beer to have zero calories, but not in a way that makes me grow a vagina.

– The superpower to do my wife’s next 35 home improvement projects by playing Fallout 4 or pinball.

– My daughter to look at me while we are watching Sesame Street and say, “Daddy, can we watch Ken Burns documentaries instead?”

That’s all I want, and a happy and healthy family.  And Mexican food.  And Busch Light showers.  And Pantera music when the wind blows.  The simple things.

1) Some sadist decided to put screws in every battery cover.  The screws are the size of a mouse’s asshole.  Thanks – I was really worried the wall mounted sound machine would lose all the batteries SINCE IT DOESN’T MOVE.

2) How many songs are actually about sex.  Pretty much every song released since 1974 is about banging.  I’m even screening Christmas music at this point.  “Round yon virgin?  What in the hell is this Silent Night song trying to pull?”

3) If you would ever sell your soul to the devil, it would be during a crying fit.  Especially when your kid is not feeling well.  Luckily, I have no soul, so I’m safe.

4) I never knew I would be happy to find out another human being pooped.  Now my wife and I openly text about it.

4a) I never knew poop traveled that far from the source.  There’s not enough White Castle in the state of Ohio to get me to poop to the middle of my back.

5)  The hardest thing in the world is holding a baby in a dark room with a repetitive song or white noise in the background and staying awake.  There is nothing harder.  I could headbutt a mountain ram and stay awake longer.

This is cheaper than therapy and hopefully humorous.

1) You send an email to someone and then pick up your phone and call them to ask if they got the email and what they think about it.  The email is four paragraphs and you sent it two and half seconds ago, so of course they had time to read it and respond.

2) You post political links from highly partisan political sites on Facebook five or more times a day, then block or unfriend people that disagree with you.  “I don’t get it, I put up seven simple links to why the party I don’t like is EXACTLY the same as the Nazis, called everyone a racist (or anti-American), followed up with some abortion commentary, and SOME DICK actually disagreed with me?!  Blocked!”  Did you kick a dog and bitch that he bit you?  You’re stupid.

3) You’re on your cell phone, driving, when you are startled by someone honking and flipping you off – and you get mad at them.  If you don’t know why someone is going bananas, there’s a 97% chance you weren’t paying attention and you’re a scumbag.

4) You come to an open mic comedy show and heckle the comics, but won’t get onstage.  This is more personal.  I had a guy Monday show up, blab and yell the whole time, insult the comics and decline the invitation to get up and do comedy.  Then after the show he came up and tried to tell us a joke.  I got up and walked out the second he started talking to us.  Not so fun, is it you used up nipple baby?  Mommy ignored you and now so will I.  Get your attention from your lonely drink and barstool.

I love football.  NFL, college – I even checked my high school team’s scores each week.  I even used to watch the XFL and Arena League.  Unfortunately, like all great things, it comes with a bag of horribles.

The commercials are straight up awful.  Not only am I not buying seven cars, ad execs, I’m not basing my decision on a car that can get me “into the end zone of life” or whatever shitty sports tie in you came up with.  The breast cancer awareness is cool to a point, but a league that fines players thousands for having socks that are two inches off the mark encouraging them to wear pink shoes, wristbands, facemasks, jock straps and mouthpieces for a month?  It’s pandering.  Stop it.

The worst thing about football, whether it’s college or pro, without a doubt is the pregame music.  I grew very tired of Hank Jr. singing All My Rowdy Friends with an obligatory lyric change to reflect that week’s matchup, but I was used to it.  There is no way in hell though, that I’m buying that Carrie Underwood has been “waitin’ all day for Sunday night.”  I don’t think Big and Rich were really coming to my city to watch Ohio State and Hawaii.  Don’t get me started on the year Santana kept popping on the screen playing that same stupid riff each week.  Does anyone sit down, on the fence about whether to check out the Steelers vs. Colts and need the song to push them over the edge?  “I’m either watching this, or I’m yelling obscenities at the neighbor kids for walking on my lawn.  Wait a minute, this singin’ lady has been waitin’ all day for Sunday night!  I better check this one out!  I’ll deal with you whippersnappers later!”

If they start incorporating Star Wars backup dancers, I’m going to sue NBC for emotional damages and being extreme mega douches.  My luck, Kelly Clarkson would burst into song just before the hearing and my brain would explode.