Still scrounging for that last minute gift for the person who has everything except the decency to make a list? Well, for a mere $290, you can get Aunt Millie, cousin Nerdling, or Tad the paperboy a lifetime subscription to MyWill, an online service that will make sure that after they die their social networking sites are "handled."
A company in Sweden has determined that we the living shouldn't have to worry about what will happen to our online friends and followers once we've gone to the great Wifi-free zone. The company offers a basic service to deactivate up to ten Internet accounts and send five e-mails written in advance by the client:
"Dear Friends, If you are reading this e-mail, it is because I am no longer on this..."
SORRY, YOU'VE EXCEEDED YOUR WORD LIMIT, PLEASE TRY AGAIN
"Everyone. Died. Sorry. :("
But the better deal is the lifetime subscription with will provide "detailed management" of social networking. Just think, once you're gone, you can have MyWill continue to post on FaceBook and Twitter, and perhaps send a few funny YouTube links to your friends. I would so love to be on the MyWill team because I have some great ideas for posthumous posts:
"Jim has changed his status to 'undecided.'"
"Just sitting here waiting for stuff to happen. Same ol' same ol'."
"Snidely has sent you a pitchfork from 'Whose L'il Devil RU?" To accept and send a pitchfork back..."
"You'll never believe who I saw today! Michael Jackson!"
"Helen is now following Buddha, Ra, and Zeus, just in case."
"Norman was tagged in the photo album, "Guess What I'm Coming Back As?"
"Yes, that was me standing behind you, breathing on your neck as you texted your new girlfriend last night. A little soon, don't you think?"
"Guess what, Achmed? That whole 72 virgins thing was a lie!"
Heck, I'm having so much fun, I tell you what. If you would prefer to keep your hard-earned U.S. dollars in the U.S., I'll provide this service for a mere $289 a year. And, as a bonus, the people on your holiday list don't have to die first. If they've got the flu, are feeling a little blue, or are just too damned lazy to keep up with their online social obligations, I'm there for them. Please specify whether they'd prefer to keep or lose their friends and followers.
Happy holidays!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Vampire Holiday
Vampires have been a huge hit this past year. I'm sure that if preteen and teenage girls were polled, the latest flock of the undead would certainly outrank Santa in popularity. Because while Santa may bring gifts once a year, vampires are hunky and to die for, OMG!!!!
All of this leads me to the logical conclusion that somewhere in the country there must be a mall vampire who has usurped the usual spot of the jolly Kris Kringle. Look, right past Sears near the holiday graveyard with the festive fog and toe-tapping screams... yep, it's him, it's Edward Cullen. (If that name doesn't sound familiar to you, ask any twelve-year-old who he is, or substitute "Dracula.")
The line of 12-20-somethings who have waited in the cold since 4 a.m. snakes through the red and green headstones, while vampire's little helpers dressed in in black and red pass out cinnamon-flavored dental floss. Because dental hygiene is a must when you make a living with your teeth. Finally, the first girl runs past the velvet rope and hurls herself into Edward's lap.
Edward: Happy holidays. Have you been a good little girl?
Preteen: I can be as good or as bad as you want me to be.
Edward: Uh, let's start over. What do you want for the holidays, young girl?
Preteen: I'm not as young as I look. And I want you to suck my blood.
Edward: I'm sorry, I can't do that. My contract specifically prohibits breaking skin. I could catch Swine Flu. And while there may not be many things that can kill a vampire, the CDC hasn't determined yet if that's on the list.
Preteen: Okay, how about a hickey? Your assistant can take a picture and it will look just like you're sucking my blood. Plus, I can show the bruises to all my BFFs on Facebook.
Edward: No can do. Nothing involving my mouth and your neck. I can sneak up behind you quietly and then turn into a bat and fly away.
Preteen: That's pretty lame. Who wants their picture with a bat? That's the one part I don't like about vampires. It would be better if you turned into a koala bear or something cuddly like that.
Edward: Look, you're going to have to make up your mind here, there are hundreds more just like you in line. Wouldn't you like something else like a karaoke machine or Global Warming Barbie?
Preteen: (sulking like only a preteen girl can do} Forget it! I'm going to go to JC Penney's. I hear they have a holiday werewolf.
All of this leads me to the logical conclusion that somewhere in the country there must be a mall vampire who has usurped the usual spot of the jolly Kris Kringle. Look, right past Sears near the holiday graveyard with the festive fog and toe-tapping screams... yep, it's him, it's Edward Cullen. (If that name doesn't sound familiar to you, ask any twelve-year-old who he is, or substitute "Dracula.")
The line of 12-20-somethings who have waited in the cold since 4 a.m. snakes through the red and green headstones, while vampire's little helpers dressed in in black and red pass out cinnamon-flavored dental floss. Because dental hygiene is a must when you make a living with your teeth. Finally, the first girl runs past the velvet rope and hurls herself into Edward's lap.
Edward: Happy holidays. Have you been a good little girl?
Preteen: I can be as good or as bad as you want me to be.
Edward: Uh, let's start over. What do you want for the holidays, young girl?
Preteen: I'm not as young as I look. And I want you to suck my blood.
Edward: I'm sorry, I can't do that. My contract specifically prohibits breaking skin. I could catch Swine Flu. And while there may not be many things that can kill a vampire, the CDC hasn't determined yet if that's on the list.
Preteen: Okay, how about a hickey? Your assistant can take a picture and it will look just like you're sucking my blood. Plus, I can show the bruises to all my BFFs on Facebook.
Edward: No can do. Nothing involving my mouth and your neck. I can sneak up behind you quietly and then turn into a bat and fly away.
Preteen: That's pretty lame. Who wants their picture with a bat? That's the one part I don't like about vampires. It would be better if you turned into a koala bear or something cuddly like that.
Edward: Look, you're going to have to make up your mind here, there are hundreds more just like you in line. Wouldn't you like something else like a karaoke machine or Global Warming Barbie?
Preteen: (sulking like only a preteen girl can do} Forget it! I'm going to go to JC Penney's. I hear they have a holiday werewolf.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Happy Global Whatever
Well, the holidays are officially here. Although WHAT HOLIDAYS is not as clear now as when I was, say, eleven. Back then I assumed everyone except my two Jewish friends had a Christmas tree, a nativity scene on the mantel, and a crazy uncle who got liquored up and rearranged the lawn reindeer into sexually-suggestive poses.
Things are way more complicated these days. And I don’t just mean because parents can’t decorate the house with spun glass angel hair like my dad used to, at least not without Child Protective Services getting a phone call. You can still buy the stuff on eBay and it doesn’t even come with the usual warning: “Touching this decoration will leave you with shards of glass in your fingers for years and may result in one or more trips to the Emergency Room before the holidays are over.”
Now that we’re in the 21st century (at least most of us are), we’ve become more aware that there are other winter holidays beside Christmas and there are many people who don’t celebrate anything in particular during the entire month of December, except maybe Jimmy Buffet’s birthday (December 25). These people have been here all along, it’s just that we couldn’t see them from our tiny little universe in Abilene, Texas or Mistletoe, Maine or Christmas Valley, OR. Maybe we weren’t looking hard enough.
It’s hard to be unaware of the rest of the world these days, however. Part of this is because the Internet has connected us with people outside our hometown, something I’d have given my sister’s collection of Monkees records for back when I was young. Not to mention that in the past decade many American jobs have been shipped overseas and we’ve taken to playing a kind of Where’s Waldo game, trying to find the exact location of our former paychecks. And when we call customer service to try to figure out why the gas company charged us $8713 to heat our house last month, our phone call often ends up being an exercise in international diplomacy.
You (joking): Even my brother the arsonist doesn’t spend that much money on gas.
Them: Excusing me. What is this “arsonist?” Is new American pop star?
Yup, it’s a global world now. Always has been, unless you’re a member of the Flat Earth Society. To you, it’s more of a large map world. Which must be a struggle, seeing how hard to is to get the thing folded up at night.
Now when it comes to holidays, even our children realize the winter holidays include Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Winter Solstice, and Ramadan. These days, I’m a spiritual but not a religious person (this phrase drives my religious friends nuts. To them, it’s like saying I’m a woman, but not a female). But I’m totally okay with celebrating anything. If you believe it and you want to invite me to your party, I’ll be there. I’ll kiss under the mistletoe, light candles or diyas, spin a dreidel, exchange presents, pretend to believe in a jolly fat man who can find anyone’s house anywhere without stopping and asking for directions, wear a Uwole, dance around a fire, or abstain from sex – all of which are part of the traditions many people around the world honor. The only thing I won’t do is fast. Not with so much gingerbread and eggnog around every corner.
Some people think that by honoring many celebrations, I and my fellow co-conspirators have declared “War on Christmas.” Really, nothing can be further from the truth. I have a Christmas tree at my house. Of course, I may have it up to protect from witches, ghosts, and evil spirits, as many ancient pre-Christian societies did – that’s for me to know and you to find out. Besides, I’m from German stock (kind of like chicken stock, only with a beer chaser) and we Germans started the tradition of cutting down perfectly healthy trees and bringing them indoors where we could dust them. So I feel compelled not to let my people down this time of year. Of course, mine’s a tiny little fake tree with lights permanently attached, so it probably doesn’t count.
I’m writing this column to ask everyone to try to play nice this holiday season. Just because someone wishes you the wrong holiday or says something stupid like “Have a nice day” instead, please just have another swig of nog or a Jimmy Buffet-inspired margarita egg nog and assume they meant well.
Things are way more complicated these days. And I don’t just mean because parents can’t decorate the house with spun glass angel hair like my dad used to, at least not without Child Protective Services getting a phone call. You can still buy the stuff on eBay and it doesn’t even come with the usual warning: “Touching this decoration will leave you with shards of glass in your fingers for years and may result in one or more trips to the Emergency Room before the holidays are over.”
Now that we’re in the 21st century (at least most of us are), we’ve become more aware that there are other winter holidays beside Christmas and there are many people who don’t celebrate anything in particular during the entire month of December, except maybe Jimmy Buffet’s birthday (December 25). These people have been here all along, it’s just that we couldn’t see them from our tiny little universe in Abilene, Texas or Mistletoe, Maine or Christmas Valley, OR. Maybe we weren’t looking hard enough.
It’s hard to be unaware of the rest of the world these days, however. Part of this is because the Internet has connected us with people outside our hometown, something I’d have given my sister’s collection of Monkees records for back when I was young. Not to mention that in the past decade many American jobs have been shipped overseas and we’ve taken to playing a kind of Where’s Waldo game, trying to find the exact location of our former paychecks. And when we call customer service to try to figure out why the gas company charged us $8713 to heat our house last month, our phone call often ends up being an exercise in international diplomacy.
You (joking): Even my brother the arsonist doesn’t spend that much money on gas.
Them: Excusing me. What is this “arsonist?” Is new American pop star?
Yup, it’s a global world now. Always has been, unless you’re a member of the Flat Earth Society. To you, it’s more of a large map world. Which must be a struggle, seeing how hard to is to get the thing folded up at night.
Now when it comes to holidays, even our children realize the winter holidays include Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Winter Solstice, and Ramadan. These days, I’m a spiritual but not a religious person (this phrase drives my religious friends nuts. To them, it’s like saying I’m a woman, but not a female). But I’m totally okay with celebrating anything. If you believe it and you want to invite me to your party, I’ll be there. I’ll kiss under the mistletoe, light candles or diyas, spin a dreidel, exchange presents, pretend to believe in a jolly fat man who can find anyone’s house anywhere without stopping and asking for directions, wear a Uwole, dance around a fire, or abstain from sex – all of which are part of the traditions many people around the world honor. The only thing I won’t do is fast. Not with so much gingerbread and eggnog around every corner.
Some people think that by honoring many celebrations, I and my fellow co-conspirators have declared “War on Christmas.” Really, nothing can be further from the truth. I have a Christmas tree at my house. Of course, I may have it up to protect from witches, ghosts, and evil spirits, as many ancient pre-Christian societies did – that’s for me to know and you to find out. Besides, I’m from German stock (kind of like chicken stock, only with a beer chaser) and we Germans started the tradition of cutting down perfectly healthy trees and bringing them indoors where we could dust them. So I feel compelled not to let my people down this time of year. Of course, mine’s a tiny little fake tree with lights permanently attached, so it probably doesn’t count.
I’m writing this column to ask everyone to try to play nice this holiday season. Just because someone wishes you the wrong holiday or says something stupid like “Have a nice day” instead, please just have another swig of nog or a Jimmy Buffet-inspired margarita egg nog and assume they meant well.
Glad to Have a Job
My boss is a jerk. And I work for myself.
Usually I don’t bad mouth myself behind my back, but when it comes to the holidays, I’m a real Scrooge, so I deserve to be publicly chastised.
Just a quick look around my office shows how little holiday spirit there is at my place of employment. Not only does my boss not let me put up a any kind of decorations for fear that I might offend myself, she’s also confiscated my red, green, gold, and silver Sharpies to make sure I don’t write a festive note to tuck in with my monthly letter to Verizon inquiring why they continue to charge me for text-messaging when I have assured them repeatedly that my thumbs aren’t really opposable.
My boss has even changed my radio presets to prevent me from accidentally hearing
Needless to say, we’re not having a holiday party this year. Last year, we actually took fifteen minutes out from our day to play online solitaire while wearing party hats and eating fudge, but apparently harsh economic times have put the kibosh on festivities of any kind. She says if I feel the need to celebrate the season, I should do it on my own time. Which I would, if she didn’t follow me home every night. Despite that restraining order.
And I can forget about time off for a little shopping or general holiday cavorting. I worked up the nerve to ask her last week. Our conversation went like this:
Me: I was wondering if maybe I could take Friday afternoon off. I’ve really got to get a few gifts to send to my sisters next week.
Boss: You should have done your shopping at garage sales in July like I told you to. See, this is what happens when you don’t listen to me.
Me: But it’s just a few hours. You won’t even have to pay me for the time off.
We both laughed and laughed.
Boss: I can’t afford for you to be away from your desk. What if an editor calls with an important assignment? What then?
We both laughed again.
Boss: I’m serious. Someone could call. With an actual paying job.
Me: Well, if she did, she’d get my voicemail.
Boss: Oh, that’s very professional, now isn’t it? You remember last month when you were looking for someone to fix the roof and the first three companies you called went right to voicemail, what did you do?
Me: I called the next one down the page.
Boss: My point exactly!
Me: But I’m not a roofing company. I’m a humor writer.
Boss: So you say. If you were a roofing company, we might not be having this
discussion. After all, they actually work for a living.
Me: What are you implying?
Boss: Implying? Nothing. I’m saying that anyone who wears reindeer slippers to “the office” and takes breaks every hour to pet the dogs so they don’t feel you’re taking them for granted shouldn’t be in here begging for time off. She should be thanking her lucky stars I don’t can her. You know, plenty of other people have lost their jobs recently.
Me: So I guess a bonus is out the question?
I really need to update my resume. I wonder if one of my other personalities is hiring.
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