Suddenly, Every Day Is Special!

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Yesterday was Pi Day, a celebration of the number 3.14159 etc., etc., etc.  Numbers don’t usually get a day, but mathematics is not what you’d call a labour-intensive profession and Math Nerds have a lot of time on their hands.  Today is the Ides of March, an ancient Roman something-or-other festival that nobody would care about if Brutus and his buddies hadn’t taken the opportunity to turn their pal Julius Caesar into a pin cushion.  And Sunday is St. Patrick’s Day, a day when everybody tries to drink themselves green because a pack of 19th century New York Irishmen got homesick.  Folks, I think we’re getting a little over- scheduled.

Back in the day, primitive humans observed a couple of annual events to break up the monotony of trying to stave off starvation.  They celebrated Spring because they’d lived through the winter.  “OMG! We made it!”  And they celebrated the autumn harvest because there was food on the table.  “Yay!  Let’s eat!”  Aside from that, there wasn’t all that much for primeval humans to get excited about.

Enter organized religion.  When you have nameable gods, it makes sense to pause from time to time and thank them for life, liberty and the pursuit of getting enough to eat.  “Oh, Lord!  You’ve been awful good to me this year.  Thanks for letting me kill that mastodon.  Here, I made you a necklace out of his bones.  Any chance of getting another one before winter sets in?  Amen.”

From there, it was an easy step to commemorating tribal events — things like the death of a great leader, a particularly successful hunt or a military victory.  “Hey, Benny!  Remember last winter when we kicked the crap out of the Neanderthals?  We should set aside a special day to have a howl and a dance and tell our kids that story.”

The calendar wasn’t all that crowded, and these were important occasions.  They were seasonal or religious events or days of national pride, and for hundreds of years, our society used these times to celebrate our common beliefs and aspirations.  We even added a few new ones, like Thanksgiving and Labour Day, and allowed a couple of “not-so-serious” days to come along for the ride – notably, Hallowe’en and Valentine’s Day.

Welcome to the 20th century.  We loaded up the year with enough “special days” to give every date on the calendar five or six notations.  It all started with Mother’s Day in 1908 because, of course, everybody loves their mother.  She deserves a special day.  But, what about dad?  We couldn’t leave that poor bugger out in the cold.  He needed a day.  And from there it was just open season – Grandparents’ Day, Groundhog Day, Farmers’ Day, Secretaries’ Day, Road Construction Day, Robbie Burns Day, Bloomsday (June 16th) Star Wars Day (May the 4th) and on and on and on.  Suddenly, every day was special.

So, today, if you don’t want to celebrate the 2,062nd anniversary of the death of Julius Caesar, you have some choices — and BTW, these are all official days.  First of all, it’s International Day against Police Brutality (kinda self-explanatory.)  Next, it’s World Consumer Rights Day (Good luck with that one!)  But, it’s also World Day of Muslim Culture (which, depending on where you live, could tie in with item #1) World Speech Day and Eva Longoria’s birthday (she’s 44.)

Personally, though, I’m going with World Contact Day.  That’s right:  This is the day that the International Flying Saucer Bureau wants you to go outside and try your best to contact extra-terrestrials — telepathically.  Don’t knock it!  It beats the hell out of World Malaria Day.

 

The End Of Chocolate Season

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With any luck at all, today will be the end of Chocolate Season.  Even as I type, there are only two eggs and one bunny (minus ears) left from this year’s Easter cacao extravaganza.  The eggs are already spoken for, and I really don’t think (considering his injuries) the bunny will last the night.  I’ve always loved Chocolate Season, but this year, I have to admit, I won’t be sorry to see the back of it.  The thing is I’m another year older and my man-of-the-world physique is getting a little thick around the equator.  This is no big deal really except the calorie fairies have been in my closet again and sewn all my clothes one size smaller.  Plus, the $49.95 digital scale I bought less than a year ago has developed a 5 kilo defect.  (In American terms, that over 10 lbs!)  So, much as I hate to admit it, the bottom line is, over this winter, I’ve radically increased my bottom line.

Back in the day, winter plump didn’t mean anything to me.  It was something that happened to other people.  I could spend the colder six months of the year lying around, watching TV sports and reading long, gangly British novels — without gaining a gram.  Pizza and Pepsi™ had no effect on me, and chocolate, in all its many forms, was my friend.  There was always a slight loss of muscle tone, but even in the last days of March, mirrors didn’t scare me.  How the mighty have fallen!  Last week I got out of the shower and — uh — let’s just say there wasn’t room enough in that bathroom for both of us to dry our backs.

The problem is inside my head I’m still broad-in-the-shoulder, narrow -at-the-hip, and 35 year old.  Nothing jiggles when I walk, and I can take my shirt off without frightening old ladies and confusing the babies.  That’s inside my head.  Outside my head, the reality is there’s only so much bum you can stuff into a pair of Levis™ before the fabric finally rebels.  And, quite honestly, there are bits of me that shouldn’t be this uncomfortable when I walk.  No, I’m going to have to silence my inner skinny person and do one of two things — either get off my grand derriere and get some exercise or buy a new wardrobe — ’cause I don’t want to miss Chocolate Season next year.

(FYI, Chocolate Season begins a couple of weeks before Hallowe’en when you start eating the candy you supposedly bought for the kids.  It runs from there through Christmas and Valentine’s Day and only ends when the last bunny bites the dust after Easter.)

A Few Helpful Hints For A Better Autumn

autumnWe finally made it.  Summer is officially over.  Once again, humanity has survived Mother Nature’s cunning plan to kill us all with soul- searing heat, mind-poaching humidity and the choking smoke of a billion barbeques.  Pat yourself on the back, folks. But don’t get complacent ’cause it ain’t over yet.  Believe it or not, there are people in this world who love summer and lament its passing.  Yes, I know: it sounds crazy, but it’s true.  Unfortunately, these folks just don’t know how to act once the temperature drops below broil.  Personally, I tolerate these misguided creatures, but many people don’t.  So, as the sun slowly fades south, if you’re still wearing flip-flops, here are a few helpful hints so that we can all live together in harmony this autumn.

If you insist on playing Christmas music before October 31st, you can be legally killed and your rotting corpse used as a Hallowe’en display.

Hallowe’en is a children’s holiday.  It’s not a Skank-a-thon.  Control yourself!

Pumpkin Spice is one of the biggest scams since Hallmark came out with Hallowe’en cards.  It isn’t even a real spice!  So, saying you’ve been waiting all year for it is like saying you’ve been waiting for Bernie Madoff to take your money.  And BTW, Pumpkin Spice potatoes, salmon and asparagus are all bullshit!

Parents, we understand you’re overjoyed that your kids aren’t hanging around the house anymore. But, folks!  You’re only driving them to school; you’re not in a race to get them the last seat on the Mars Rover!

Guys, put away the short pants.  You look ridiculous.  You’re a grown man, for God’s sake!

Likewise, women: a long woolen Harry Potter scarf with a pleated micro mini isn’t fashion: it’s a open invitation to pneumonia.

And if you’re too stupid to wear enough clothes when it’s cold, you deserve to get sick — so quit bitchin’ about it.

Also, Germbags!  If you’re sniffling, sneezing, wheezing or coughing up a lung, stay away from public transportation. That includes taxis and airplanes. (What is it with sick people?  Why do they all have this uncontrollable urge to travel?)

And a couple more words of caution — so you don’t become so annoying that regular people finally just snap and slap the crap outta ya:

It’s not necessary to announce that there are only X number of days left until Christmas — every half hour.

And, no,– I have no idea what I’m going to do for Hallowe’en.   Quit asking!