Dear Subscriber,
How are you this fine Tuesday? Well I for one hope you’re fantastic. Or maybe, halfway decent. At the very least, without a hangover you stupidly obtained from a wild and crazy Halloween party the night before and now have two obnoxious noisemakers crawling all over you. I mean, it IS a Tuesday. Check yourself.
Speaking of Tuesday, this newsletter is a Tuesday thing now. At first, it was going to be a Saturday thing. You know, “start off the weekend with Joe” or something similarly cheesy. But that meant I’d have to get it finished sometime on Friday, and, well, fuck that. Friday is for sneaking out of work early and being excited about the weekend, not writing assignments. Then I was going to make it a Sunday morning thing, but that sucked worse. Saturdays I absolutely have to get out of the house. I don’t care where; the water park, the local farm, shopping, your mom’s house1, just out of these four Goddamn walls. So obviously no writing gets done on a Saturday.
Monday mornings became the thing, and that lasted for a few months, but eventually I got sick of missing out on Sunday Night Football. So now it’s Tuesday! YAY! THE TUESDAY MORNING NEWSLETTER!
But, you ask, what about Monday Night Football? Aren’t you just going to move this thing again?
Probably. In a few weeks I’ll be like, “Guys guys guys, listen up! Welcome to the Wonderful Wednesday Newsletter!” Eventually I’ll again push it one more day. Next thing you know, it’ll be a monthly newsletter. Then yearly. Then, one day, I’ll be on my deathbed, never having made anything of myself as a writer, bitching about how I never had a chance.
It’s good to know ahead of time that I have no one but myself to blame.
Back to my hangover. It was pathetic; I only had two beers Saturday night. Well, okay, I had a little bit of some weird concoction out of a punchbowl, but that was it. I’ve always been a bit of a lightweight, but this is ridiculous. I felt godawful. I must have no tolerance now.
At least I can be proud that I was somewhat responsible. Five years ago at this same party I got offered—
Ah, shit.
I really can’t tell this story. The guy who has this party is somewhat of a public figure, and I can’t risk sullying his reputation with a story of alleged extralegal activity. That sucks, because this shit is pretty damn funny. I guess it’s going in the book. I don’t care about throwing mud at a public figure if someone is buying a book from me. I love this guy, but I love my future customers more. I’ll give him a free copy.
Okay, where were we? Oh, that’s right, nowhere. Eleven paragraphs in and I haven’t even come close to making a point. I suppose I could talk about how my daughter Sasha turned six last week, but a kid’s birthday party is a kid’s birthday party. My wife Evi put together a great event, but the highlight for me was my buddy Steve driving me to pick up the pizzas in his 2002 Pontiac Trans Am Ram Air Convertible. He has a fun car. I want a fun car. I have a minivan.
I suppose I could write about how I’m a sexist misogynist pig. I wrote an essay here a few weeks ago that I thought was pretty funny and safe since I only made fun of myself, but I got absolutely excoriated for it in one corner of the Internet. Reviews included:
Your weapon incompetence isn’t funny. Or amusing.
It’s an example of sexism and outdated gender stereotypes at their worst.
This is gross.
Times have changed. Incompetent Daddy isn't funny anymore. We are tired of it. Deal with it.
Our daughters no longer find it even mildly amusing.
You come across as immature and lackadaisical.
You come as across a male chauvinist, who expects your Wife to handle all the responsibilities of raising your Children and running and maintaining your home.
You act like you having to Parent your own Children and run your home for three-four days.....should qualify you as being a Saint.
You need a good kick in the ass and wack upside your head.
My response was, “okay yeah, but how about the Metallica bit, amirite?”
Just kidding. I really didn’t respond much other than to thank them for the input, which I begrudgingly admit made me a better person. Man, there is nothing worse than being enlightened against your will. I swear I’ll keep fighting maturity and personal development for as long as I can, but it’s a seemingly losing battle.
That’s it for this week. Just so you know, the book is coming along swimmingly. For now, it’s eBook only, but I’m thinking about doing a Kickstarter for a run of actual physical books, like my wife once did. If you’re a paying subscriber here, your copy is super mega free. Just make sure I have your address.
I love you,
~JCS
Just checking if you’re paying attention.