"It's not nice to call people names." Okay, fine, but what about race horses? "Uh, what do you mean?" As you may know -- "I don't." -- I'm going to own race horses someday. "Really?" And you know what that means... "I hate to be mean, but, what does that mean?" As owner, I'll get to name my horses... "But sir, the horse already has a name..." Oh yeah, I'm going to flex my very creative muscles. "You have muscles?" I can't wait to get started. I'll give my ponies really cool names, something wild like 'El Caballo.' "You're going to name your horse 'Horse'?" Hey, I just have a knack for that sort of thing, I guess. It's a gift (though I still can't figure out why I wasn't allowed to name my own kids). Another name I have ready for one of my future horses is 'I Ate Too Much'. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? "To be honest, sir, that makes my stomach churn..." Oh, you're just saying that... "Maybe you should stop while you're ahead." Nah, I'll keep going -- so many names, so little time: 'Where Have Those Hooves Been?' and 'Tail of Two Cities' are two of the many other monikers I'd have to consider for my four-legged friends. "Frankly, sir, a monkey could come up with better names." Yes, this name-calling thing is really my, uh, calling... "There's a couple of things I'd like to call you right about now." Having said that, why limit myself to horses? Maybe I should expand the business... "None of my business, but what business?" It's the one where expectant parents can come to me for name-calling advice... "We can't decide on 'Bruce ' or 'Wayne.'" I can do better -- name him 'Shirley.' (don't knock it -- it was a popular boys name awhile back) Yes, I'll be more than happy to name couples' children if they can't settle on a name. Something memorable, something unique... Something like -- I got it! -- Engelbert Humperdinck. "Uh, that name's already taken." Oh, well, in that case, how about 'Robert R. Roberts'? "Uh, we'll get back to you..."
We're paying for music lessons. "Oh, you're a singer?" Only in the shower. Actually, I'm talking about trumpet lessons. "Cool. We always knew you were talented at something." Uh, the lessons are for our younger son, a boy. "Oh, that's nice, too..." Yes, and the lessons are for good reason: the kid's got a lot of hot air in him. "That's wonderful!" His mother and I couldn't agree more. We put our heads together (not literally) and decided it was a good idea to steer our boy toward music. "Good... that's a good idea..." Not because he's my kid, but he displays an uncanny ability when it comes to the trumpet. I mean, you should see how good he is at putting the instrument back in its case at record speeds. "Sounds like you have a protegé on your hands." Oh, I wouldn't go that far... Though I do expect him to headline a concert someday. But no pressure. In the meantime, some have suggested that our Trumpet Boy get in a little practice time at freeway exits, maybe pick up a few bucks along the way... "It sure would help for college." That's what I say, right? It's never too soon to start saving. Yes, I really think our son has the talent to go a long way -- as long as he applies all that air in an appropriate, socially acceptable manner. Now, let's not fool ourselves. There are some inherent risks that come with trumpet playing -- like puffy cheeks that resemble a chipmunk's. "You don't want that for your son, do you?" No worries. I figure he could always audition for the Mexican version of The Godfather, right? "Don Corleone, how would you like your quesadillas?" I tell ya, my son's grandparents will be so proud. He'll be a one-boy mariachi band. "Play us 'La Cucaracha!'" And just to clarify, this is not a replay of when I was a kid. Back in the day, my dad 'encouraged' me to play my guitar for every friend and relative that set foot in our house... "Play something -- or else!" No siree, no way will I subject my kid to such awkward moments. No way... I want to ease him into the world of music, to make him feel comfortable with his God-given gift... Don't believe me? Then why else would I be trying to convince his brother and sister to play the tuba and trombone, respectively... "Not in a million years, Pops." It doesn't hurt to ask...
"Daddy, I know what I want to do when I grow up." No, absolutely not... Where in the world do kids get their crazy ideas? "From their parents, usually..." Oh... In any case, there's something I find very disturbing... "So, you're saying you're a disturbed person..." Look, my daughter's shown interest in dissecting a human body, maybe making it a career. "A dead body, right?" I'm not sure -- I'm too afraid to ask -- but let's hope so. I'm concerned. I mean, why such proclivity for the macabre? "Pro... maca... what?" I'd like to place all the blame for her strange career interests on horror flicks she watches. "Oh, you're just being silly..." Hey, you have to admit, slasher movies play tricks on kids' minds. I mean, why else would my kid want to cut open a body, right? Then again, as a parent, I'll take some responsibility. "It's about time..." You see, years ago -- over my wife's objections -- I decided it wasn't a good idea to let our daughter dissect frogs at school. "Why not? That's very educational." Nobody understood my hard-line stance at the time. And I was hesitant to explain my reasoning. Until now... I just hope it's not too late. You see, out of respect to frogs -- particularly Kermit the Frog -- I wouldn't allow it. Look, just between you and me, I always wanted a stuffed Kermit as a kid (my mom thought it was healthier for me to snuggle with a stuffed panda, instead). I never got a Kermit, so years later, even as an adult, I felt like I owed something to Kermit and his amphibious pals. "You made a pact?" Yes, I promised myself -- and Kermit -- that I'd never slice and dice a defenseless frog. "What about frog legs? Have you ever eaten those?" I'm going to ignore that... Anyway, that's the explanation for why I never let my kid dissect a frog. "I bet you feel better talking about it, huh?" Yeah, but now look at the results. My daughter's having weird thoughts. She's looking at humans in a whole different light. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about..." I can only hope it's just a phase she's going through... "Daddy, do you have an axe I can borrow...?" Gulp...
Before I start -- "You just did." -- I want to make something perfectly clear: In no way, shape, or form do I want to turn the following into sophomoric, silly, bathroom humor. "Fine, we'll behave like mature adults..." Don't get me wrong: bathroom humor has a place in our society... mainly in bathrooms, outhouses, and porta potties across America... So, where do I begin? "You began here quite a while ago..." Okay, so... Apparently, dinosaurs had much to do with Global Warming way back when... "When exactly was when?" Believe it or not, we can blame the change in climate during the Dinosaur Era on methane gas, if you catch my whiff, uh, drift... "You mean...?" It seems that British scientists with too much time on their hands learned that dinosaurs really affected the environment with their uh, bodily, uh, gases. "No way!" Yes way! "You've got to be joking!" Not at all. I'm being totally serious. "Totally? -- since when?" This is no time to joke. No time to laugh. "But it's funny!" No, it's not! We're talking science here, people! "I never liked science -- especially dissecting those frogs." Thank you for sharing... Simply put, dinosaurs were the first to cause global warming: the Allosaurus, the Brachiosaurus -- never mind the Ford Taurus... "You've got something against Al Gore, don't you? You're mocking him! You're poking fun at him!" Wait just a minute, I'm not poking anybody! And I'm certainly not trying to get political here. Please, listen to me -- and wipe that silly grin off your face, will ya? "But this is hilarious!" Please stop... "Okay, go on..." Thank you... So, to summarize, dinosaurs contributed to their own demise by -- "You're making this up." Think what you want, but why would I lie? "We know your type." I'm just the messenger, folks. Scientists are sure about this... By the way, I'd like to know what the families of these brilliant minds thought about the dinosaur findings... "We sent you to Cambridge and Oxford for this?!"
