Best Christmas Ever

I miss the clanging of The Salvation Army bells on the street corners of downtown Boston. The bells are silent because someone complained about the noise. If there are gunshots on the same corner, nobody notices.
The person who fought to remove a Christmas Nativity display from a local town common has filed a petition to have candy canes removed from the town’s holiday decorations because of the candy’s religious overtones. Who knew?
Santa is under fire by a politically correct coalition who wants him to lose weight and go on a low carb diet to send a healthy message to the children. Another group wants to change Santa’s laugh from “Ho-Ho-Ho” to “Ha-Ha-Ha” because someone was offended by the word “Ho”.
My Christmas lights are in disarray. I couldn’t find last years storage boxes in the attic, so I had to improvise. Since I was pressed for time, my wife and son offered to help me decorate in the cold. Actually, my son stood there watching me while my wife proceeded to take down the lights I just strung up on the porch.
“Why are you taking down those lights?” I asked.
“You put them up in the wrong place,” she answered. I was smart enough not to argue.
I was waiting for a warm day before Christmas when I had nothing to do so I could redecorate the outside of the house when no one was around. This week’s foot-and-a-half of snow squashed that idea. The lights look fine to me now.
I’m looking forward to going out for a Christmas Eve dinner I can’t afford. “Order whatever you want,” I tell the kids. “Christmas comes but once a year.” And then I have to pay for it over the next 12 months. When a restaurant has no prices beside their lobster dishes on the menu, it’s too expensive for anyone to order. Last year I learned the hard way. Although the price of the lobster included a ringside seat to a fistfight at the next table in the dining room of the elegant restaurant we chose. Nothing says Christmas like a violent altercation by screaming members of a dysfunctional family. Tis the season after all.
Our plans may change this year. My youngest son is recovering from strep throat. I thought he was pretending to be sick so he could stay home from school. My older son is home recovering from back surgery, adding to the festivities. Another Xmas on Oxycontin for him this year. Stay away from my eggnog martinis.
The troubled economy adds another layer of gloom to the holidays this year. While Christmas shopping, I pass people on the street who look disheveled and out of work. No one looks happy, not even the well-to-do woman in the expensive red jacket carrying her Newbury Street bags full of gifts for herself as she checks in with her nanny on her cell phone. I sip my $4 Starbucks Espresso Truffle while trying to get that warm fuzzy holiday feeling, but the caffeine only gives me a headache and makes me hyper.
I was already out of time before the holiday season began. Still, I braved long lines to buy things for my wife and children. Hopefully they’ll like some of the things I bought or them. I’m trying to be practical this year. I’m giving my wife gifts she’ll use. Within reason. I learned my lesson the year I gave her a vacuum cleaner. I never went Christmas shopping at Sears again.
I am always grateful for any gifts I receive, even if they’re not what I wanted. I should be the easiest person on anybody’s list. I love homemade things. I love books and music. I’m beginning to wonder if my family knows me at all.
Christmas morning, my bizarre winter hay fever usually kicks in. Maybe I’m allergic to pine trees. I spend the morning sneezing as clear liquid pours from my nose. I use all three handkerchiefs I stuffed in my bathrobe pocket as we open our gifts. I make a pot of coffee and wish for something other than decaf, but that’s all we have in the cabinet since my wife’s mystery illness manifested itself in November. I suppose there are worse things than living without caffeine.
I notice how our Nativity set has grown smaller over the years. It’s no longer in the living room on prominent display. The hand-made stable my wife’s father built, along with the large ceramic figures her mother painted for us, are packed away in a dark corner of the attic. Maybe if I look hard enough, I’ll find the true meaning of Christmas up there too.

Circus of the Stars

The media loves to turn a person into an overnight celebrity. Rags-to-riches stories are the oldest in Hollywood. However, the fickle media only allows a person to stay on top for so long before tearing them down by focusing on every misstep and magnifying one's indiscretions in the public arena. And like the arena of the Coliseum in ancient Rome, the media loves to tear you apart as punishment for daring to achieve a high level of fame. Fame is a vicious circle, like a snake eating its own tail.
Britney Spears' journey from the Mouseketeers to the mental ward is one of these fascinating tales. Even though I am not in the desired demographic, I was compelled to watch last week's documentary on MTV entitled Britney Spears: For the Record. This film detailed the past year in the young singer’s turbulent life in her own words. I was curious to hear her side of her recent bizarre behavior chronicled on entertainment television.
When a reporter asked her if she thought her life was "weird", she paused while fast paced clips of her bizarre world flashed on the television screen.
"Weird?" she said, seemingly confused by the question. "No, I don't think my life is weird. It's all I know. To me, my life is normal."
I thought that was a very telling moment in the documentary because it revealed how far outside the norm Britney lives.
The documentary didn't focus on her much-publicized breakdown, but rather on the past year in which Britney picked up the pieces and put her life in order. Britney's public meltdown was interesting to watch at first, but it quickly escalated out-of-control. Why didn’t anyone step in to help her stay out of harm’s way?
Despondent after her divorce from the father of her children, Britney's fiery downspin was fueled by the paparazzi's insatiable appetite for destruction. Every miserable moment of Britney's descent into madness was captured on film and broadcast for us to experience on a nightly basis. From running around in multi-colored wigs to speaking in a faux-English accent, it all seemed like harmless fun at first. Shaving her head in the window of a beauty salon and beating on a car with an umbrella seemed to indicate Britney crossed the line from prankster to just plain pathetic.
Near the end of her ordeal, I saw a photo in a magazine of Britney sitting on a curb at night, huddled with a little dog in her arms, alone under a streetlight. A reporter accidentally stumbled upon her and asked what she was doing there. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Just sitting."
Britney's breakdown culminated with the eleven o'clock news broadcast of her being transported by ambulance to a psychiatric hospital. The result was a judge stepping in to grant custody of her children to her ex-husband (who is no shining example of parenthood, either). Britney's father was named conservator of her estate and became her legal caretaker. He was portrayed as a nice guy in the documentary, lovingly making his daughter breakfast in the morning and overseeing all of her upcoming public appearances. He seemed to have Britney's best interest at heart.
As a publicity tool, the Britney Spears documentary was a marketing masterpiece. It coincided with Tuesday’s release of her newest CD entitled "Circus" which is poised to win the coveted Number One slot on Billboard magazine’s music chart. Good luck to her. It's only a matter of time before the media turns on her again. Next time, the media may not be as forgiving. Usually you only get one show biz comeback, although there are rare exceptions.
So let's hope Britney enjoys her rise from the gutter into the celebrity stratosphere. She's more famous for her life off stage than on. Her vocal ability is questionable because her albums, like her life, are heavily produced by others. Her electronically embellished vocals only hint at any talent lurking in the mix.
Britney claims her only freedom is within a 4 ft. by 4 ft. area inside the protective barrier of her security team. Ten years from now, maybe no one will be talking about this former Mouseketeer from Louisiana. Maybe she'll be able to blend in with the crowd without causing a near riot when she walks down the street. Despite her protests, she may not be ready for the real world.
Watching her train wreck of a life unfold before us has become a spectator sport and we're watching every brutal moment of it. At some point, however, it ceases to hold our interest and makes us wonder why we ever watched in the first place. When the line between entertainment and humiliation becomes blurred, it's time to tune the media out and turn the television off.

Men Who Shop

My co-worker Woody and I took a walk downtown to check out the clearance racks at Macy's. Usually we find great deals, and usually Woody finds the better deal. I found an awesome vest but it wasn't marked down low enough and it didn't really fit although I tried it on over the vest I was wearing so it was hard to tell. Anyhow, I found a new favorite pair of jeans that I got for a really good price. Woody wasn't so lucky this time as the pair he found were so expensive that the discount only brought the price down to what you would pay for an expensive pair when they are not on sale. If you want to wear Calvin Klein, you have to pay the price. Then it was on to Dunkin Donuts for an afternoon mocha latte. I got the lattes while Woody checked out the produce stand in front of CVS. When I walked out of Dunkin, Woody told me we had a ride back to the Herald. Something called a Tylenol Taxi was giving free promotional rides through Boston and Woody was lucky enough to be selected for a free ride. As usual, our day ended with the unusual. That's the price you pay for shopping with Woody.

We Can Be Heroes

I'm watching HEROES on DVR and tomorrow is Veterans Day. I see the connection even if no one else does. Phil the Plumber stopped by with Rick to look at the job they have to do this week. I can't wait to have laundry again. Bush and Obama met at the White House today.

No Time Like The Present

I have lost the month of September, October and half of November. If found, please return to Scott at www.scottmu.com

September 1st

Wow. A month has passed and I didn't get to post a single thing. Maybe I was too busy helping my son move into his new apartment in Boston for his last semester of school. If only the student loan goes through...I'm keeping my fingers crossed. To read about my own school memories got to www.scottmu.com and click on WORDS.

Second of August

A month has passed quicker than the blink of an eye. My vacation is over and it's back to work on Monday. And all I can do is listen to the distant echoes of voices from the past.

First of July

It is morning.
7:30 am.
The house is still.
My wife has left for work.
My son sleeps peacefully on the sofa,
worn out from a night of video-games
and cartoon shows.
The dog lies sleeping in his dog bed.
The cat sits at the threshold of the back door
and watches the chirping birds.
The only other noise
is the hum of the large air conditioner
in the kitchen window.
The only movement,
a drifting foil balloon
that reads "Happy Birthday".
The stand fan blows a soft breeze
benefiting no one except the artificial plant.
I need to make my lunch and head to work.
Instead, this is the time I choose to write.
Something in me decided I needed to capture this moment,
not on film or with a camera,
but with words.

Friday the 13th

The nineties came and I stopped blogging because it was too hot. Today was in the 80°s so it wasn't too bad. I went uptown with Woody during my lunch hour. He bought a pair of sneakers in Chinatown. They were "ED" brand (go figure). Every box said size 12 but the Chinese woman told him to ignore that and just try them on. $15. Woody loved them so much he didn't even try to get the price down. I think he could have gotten them for $10. Then it was on to Dunkin Donuts for them to screw up my order once again. What's so hard about making a chocolate iced coffee? Here's a hint, just give me mocha and tell me it's chocolate. I won't even be able to tell the difference. Woody also bought a phone cover off a cart at Downtown Crossing. The vendor was being tended to by the police for some heart problems and an ambulance was arriving to take him to the hospital. Luckily for Woody the vendor from the next cart stepped in to finish the sale. And it's a good thing Woody knows how to operate a lottery machine as he had to go behind the counter in the Chinatown store to punch in a QuikPik for me for the daily number. The woman behind the counter was no help. I lost anyway. Thanks Woody. And tomorrow is Friday the 13th. I feel some good luck coming my way.

The Nineties

The nineties are coming – temperatures in the nineties that is! All year long we can't wait for summer to get here, and when it does we find a way to complain about it. Let's just enjoy it while it's here. Now excuse me while I go lug the air conditioners around and spent my day trying to cool the house off. You never know, though, the weathermen have been wrong before.

MTV Movie Awards

The MTV Movie Awards are broadcast so us forty-somethings can realize how out of touch we are with the current pop scene. But there's one thing the powers that be didn't count on: our generation is not getting older. Unlike the ex-hippies, the disco generation is still in the forefront of popular culture. We are healthier and more in touch than our parents could ever hope to be at our age. And we're not going anywhere.
Sorry kids, look around. The 70's and 80's still rule. And they may continue to rule until we are in our 70's and 80's.

Why Weathermen Are Wrong All The Time

The forecast calls for rain all day and yet it's bright and sunny.
Are the weathermen really wrong all the time
Or are they just trying to be funny?

Treasures In The Attic

Just some thoughts for a new column. Our senior citizens, or our elderly relatives are the best resource we have to connect to the past. Listen to their stories, better than any reality show on television. A connection to another era. Archaeologists of time, living through the ages and having seen things that some of us luckily never will. Faded as an old photograph, but with more information. The lines in their faces each tell a story, and a good one. Hold onto these links with the past, ever tenuous. I'm going to hold onto my parents tightly for as long as I can. Hugging them tight until I almost crush their brittle bones. They were the portals that brought me into this world, created in their likeness, and filling me with love that I can pour out to my own family.

I always thought it would be the ex-hippies of the sixties that straightened out society as they all approached old age. But now I know that isn't true. And my generation is not aging at all much to the chagrin of the youngsters. My generation, approaching fifty is still rocking and rolling (Prince, Madonna) with no let up in sight

New Superhero for today's world?

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Vaster, Vaster

The vast wasteland of TV gets vaster tonight as American Idol is no more. NOw all I have is that wacky lie-detector show that relishes in tearing families apart, for money of course. What is wrong with these people? I'm not really watching it, I'm filling out financial aid forms for my son's college even though we don't qualilfy for any. The school makes every student fill them out just in case. We don't qualify for aid and we can't afford the tuition. So load up on the loans. Buy now pay later (and pay and pay and pay). It's the American Dream (in Bizarro World).

Poor Me

Well, well, well. David Cooks wins American Idol and Mrs. Skippy drops to 23rd place in the pool. Is there no American Justice? Congratulations David Cook. You owe me $250.

The Idle Rich

My wife is about to win the American Idol pool thanks to David Cook going home in second place (that is if America picks David Archuleta as their American Idol. How could they not?) You never know how America will vote (even if the whole thing is fixed).

Harbinger of Doom

Why do I always end up going to a funeral every time I dream of my cousin Diane? She is the harbinger of death in my symbolic subconcious. And this time in the dream, she hugged me (bad sign). I hope I am wrong this time but my dreams never lie. You just have to know how to interpret them.

Never Needs Ironing

The movie "Iron Man" had enough hype to get me to go to the movie theater to see it. This film was so good, it has renewed my faith in Hollywood and I want to see a new movie every week. I may be jaded because I am an ex-comic book geek (okay, not so ex) but this film was awesome. Robert Downey Jr. has come made up for all his career mis-steps. And even if he was playing himself, as he has a lot of things in common with Tony Stark, he did a superb job. Bring on the sequel! I may even go see Edward Norton in "The Hulk" now. Too bad "Speed Racer" is getting such bad reviews. Oh well, there's always "Kung-Fu Pandas".

Bowling Banquet

Tonight was my bowling banquet at Prince Pizza on Route 1. The food sucked. The drinks sucked. The entertainment was worth it (two great comedians). No coffee. No dessert. I had a good time.

Mid May Already

Mid May already! I am not ready for summer this year. I am a season behind. Just when I think I will never get caught up, another season comes and goes.

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Young At Heart

Everything went fine for my parents at my son's school where they attended a forum on grandparents for the Science class. It was like a show-and-tell session with student's grandparents on exhibit. There was some early confusion (as usual) as my parents were waiting for me one street and I was parked on another street, but we eventually met and I got them to the school library on time. The class asked the attending grandparents questions on how they stayed young. My mother said her exercise was going up and down 13 steps several times a day doing laundry. How anyone can have that much laundry is beyond me. They had a good time at the event and I know my son appreciated them coming in. I will definitely write a column on young and old contrasts for my newspaper column soon. I wish I attended the event and took some notes.

Time Stands Still

My son's science class asked the student's grandparents to come in Friday morning and share their secrets of staying young. My parents who are in their early 80's are happy to attend. When my son had to make name tags for his grand-parents he told the teacher he didn't know his nana's real name. He only knows her as Bunny. I told him that was fine, Nana has been bunny since she was nine years old. I can't wait to see how the day goes for all of them. I hope when I'm in my mid-eighties I'm visiting my grandchildren's school to share my tips on staying young.

Future Shock

My wife just got a Blackberry from her employer. Nothing will ever be the same. The future is now.

Candlepins For Cash

My bowling team is now in second place in the Monday night league. Next Monday is the championship and we might just go all the way! Yeehaw!

False Idols

American Idol has run its course. These wanna-be stars are mediocre at best this season. Thank God I've been doing my bills while its on the television or I would be bored to death. I need to find some new shows to watch next year. My time is more valuable than this.

Rainy Days and Sundays

I was going to have a rainy day Sunday with nothing to do but get caught up on everything I had to do during the day so I could have the night to myself. No such luck. My son called to ask for a ride to the house from his apartment in Boston so he could come home to do his laundry. Storrow was a nightmare so it took forever, but I would still be able to get most of my work done early. That is until my wife called to say my parents dropped by for a surprise visit. Did my mother really wear those sweatpants to the wake they just came from? Okay another pleasant obstacle but after dinner I would still have just enough time to do my work. That is until everyone decided to go to Chili's for dinner. After the six of us fitting snugly in a table for four, the car broke down in the parking lot. AAA jumped me and the car died again after they left. A wrench and a coke from Home Depot saved the day. Dead batteries and chicken wings to go (or not to go, that is the question). I can't wait for tomorrow.

HD TV BLOWS

What do you do when the lamp bulb of your big HD Hitachi TV blows? I guess I'll be finishing that new Stephen King book after all. This really sucks as my extended warranty just expired and of course I didn't see the need to renew it. Damn it.
Now I gotta go through the hassle of finding a service center, set up a repair man to come to the house and install the new bulb in the TV and all that crap. Aaarrggh.

Walk Hard

I just saw Walk Hard, the movie with John C. Reilly based on Johhny Cash and every other country singer's life. It was very, very funny. Some slow parts but mostly really funny. I have a feeling it's going to be funnier the second time around.

Laptop Attachment

I am now permanently attached to my laptop computer. I can't even watch TV without typing (not that I'm missing anything). I'm supposed to be working on my bowling league team average sheets, my story for this week's newspaper and a cartoon idea for this week's paper. But instead I am going to bed. I'll have to think of some ideas while I sleep.

Cat Scratch Fever

At six a.m. as I lay in bed waiting to hear the morning news on the radio, the cat decided to use my face as a springboard to leap across the bed, digging into my face and lip with her back claws. After rushing to the bathroom to rinse my bleeding face with hot water, soap, neosporin and Listerine, I thought to myself, I love my cat.

Roller Coaster

Wow. Things have been moving fast. February and March were a blur and now it's the end of April. I need to type here every night just as a lesson in discipline. It's gonna be tough, but I'm going to see how many nights in a row I can do it without missing one. Starting now. Go!

And The Oscar Goes To...Hell

What happened to the Academy Award shows I used to love? I guess it would have helped to see some of the movies that were nominated. I think the only one I saw was "Eastern Promises" so I'm going to root for Viggo to win. I just saw his performance in Chainsaw 3 on cable. That was a trip. Anyway, a few good jokes by John Stewart does not an award show make. Where is Billy Crystal? Letterman? Even Ellen might have livened up things (Best Actress for crying over a dog). This year in my book Katherine Hiegl wins for Best Dressed for evoking the spirit of Marilyn Monroe. Best Supporting Actress Tilda Swinton (Queen of Narnia) looked more like Gollum from "Lord of the Rings" although her acceptence speech was sincere. More to come tomorrow after the show (if I make it to midnight...)

DramaRama

The guys in the office were incredibly ruthless today. I was already on edge from being in the Middle School principals office every morning this week, and now I have to deal with the "children" who work in my office. These so-called friends/co-workers readjusted my chair settings so I had no back support, they sang songs about me, and they pretty much just made my day miserable so it was impossible to do my job. And these are adult co-workers. No wonder my 13 yr old is having so much trouble in Middle School. I tried explaining to him that there will always be irritating people in your life; they don't disappear when you get older. There will always be people who will try to break your spirit. Even if sometimes they do it out of love. This is life. And there's nothing we can do about it but live it.

Biggest Loser

The Herald health club has organized The Biggest Loser competition at the company gym. I have entered even though I don't anticipate winning the contest. I'm paying my $5.00 a week to keep myself aware of exactly what I'm eating. So far so good, I've lost five pounds. My eating habits only needed minor fine tuning so eating healthier isn't difficult for me (easy for me to say as I sit here drinking a Cosmopolitan and chomping on Pepperidge Farm Goldfish). I'll let you know how I do this week when I am weighed in on Thursday. Last week I was in third place. Not bad.

Continental Breakfast

Ahh. The Continental. Who knew this imitation dining room of the Titanic could be so exciting. Our Christmas Eve dinner was marred by a fist-fight at the next table. The holidays always bring out the best in people. I wasn't as shocked by the violence in the dining room as I was when I got the bill for dinner. Happy Holidays! God Bless Us Every One!