It’s that time again. My wish list for the coming year. I want just a couple of things, Santa.
Let’s start with an airport security system based on common sense. I’m tired of unbuckling my pants in public areas and then having some dermatologically challenged teen-ager repeatedly wave a magnetic wand over my crotch. My shoes have been X-rayed a hundred times. There is nothing there but what I stepped into in my front yard. The dog’s name is Bernie. I guess I don’t mind pilots carrying guns; just don’t give them to the flight attendants. Ever.
I would like a couple of other things. Bicycles that collapse into small briefcases that you can hang on the garage wall. A scout scarf surgically attached to the scout uniform so you can find both. Church clothes for my sons that double as a jump suit and zip up the front.
Basketball shoes that are wired with the Clapper so you can find them minutes before tipoff. Christmas lights that self-install. Toilet lids that self-clean.
Please, Santa, could we enjoy a couple of months devoid of any annoying interviews with washed-up celebrity types who share their various addictions: Whitney Houston, Paula Poundstone, Anna Nicole Smith, Winona Ryder, just to name a few. Same with Jennifer Lopez and all the hoopla surrounding what would be her third marriage in six years. Add Britney Spears to this list as well. No more Michael Jackson under any circumstances. No more closeup photos of his nose or any other body part. No more shots of his sons, daughters or whatever gender they are or will be when he is done with them. Can we have a “One-Hour Photo” that really develops your film in an hour? Instead of a downtown stadium, can we start with just one decent downtown restaurant that stays open more than a month?
And Santa, you probably are not political, but let’s hope Strom Thurmond is the last senator to celebrate his 100th birthday in office. Can you say “term limits”? And can you find Al Gore a job? Any job. Anything to keep him off TV. Can we get a year without the media glorifying tattoos, body piercings, rappers and the Osbournes? No more detailed stories of cruise ship viruses that affect the intestines. I figure anyone bored enough to take a cruise was probably sick before they climbed aboard.
Could I go to one restaurant on the planet where management doesn’t have to tell its employees in bold lettering on the bathroom wall to wash their hands? It would also be nice to arrive home after a late-night flight and find my half of the bed unoccupied by my first-grade daughter. Please, Santa, no remote-controlled cars and everything else that gets left on our driveway and becomes a pancake when I’m late for work. No more lawsuits by 400 pound teen-agers whose frivolous lawsuits clog up the court system.
Just one day a year, would you please direct the postman to deliver the mail at my doorstep, not three blocks down the street. I placed our phone number on the “no-call list” but someone must have misplaced it. Give me a caller ID that not only blocks telemarketers’ calls but implodes their phones. No more “reality programming” that bears zero relationship to reality: “Survivor,” “The Bachelor,” “The Amazing Race,” and on and on.
Our home already has a dog and a cat. We therefore have no need for hamsters, gerbils, canaries or fish that have an average life span of two weeks and then require a burial worthy of a five-star general.
Santa, I like my sons’ principal, but I really don’t need to see her anymore on an urgent basis.
And as for my children, my two older sons don’t believe anymore, so scratch them from your list. They say I embarrass them. It makes my day. My daughter and son still believe, or at least if they don’t they aren’t saying. And while you are filling my list, don’t overlook anyone else who is deserving. Especially those who defend our freedoms and put their lives in harm’s way to protect ours.
So travel safe, and be sure Homeland Security knows it’s you who’s popping up on the nation’s radar systems.
Merry Christmas to all!
Matt Keenan’s book, “Call Me Dad, Not Dude,” is available at Borders and online at thekansascitystore.com. Write to Matt at his Website, matthewkeenan.com.