Narcolepszzzzzz....

This is my two-year old son, Tanner. The child has the uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere. These photos represent only a fraction of the times and places he has unsuspectingly slipped off into dreamland.




I cannot fathom having a conscience so peaceful, so serene, as to be able to lay my head down at any moment and nod off without a care in the world. A true demonstration in omni-slumber.



His unparalleled ability to publicly snooze is matched only by his intolerance for clothing. Many are the mornings when Katie has dressed him in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, only to find him seconds later downstairs sporting shorts, and maybe – MAYBE – a cape, as he dons the persona of the superhero de jour. So no, it’s not uncommon to find him half-nude and unconscious around the house – turning our home into some sort of frat house.



But here is what you have to admire. The man’s dedication. In this video clip you'll take note that while sleep may be his kryptonite, he will fend it off; and, with extraordinary determination, finish what he’s started.

Clutter

My friends, if history has taught me anything about myself, it’s that I am a chronic “pack rat.” (Other lessons history has taught me about myself: 1. I can eat an entire box of Famous Amos Chocolate Chip & Pecan Cookies and feel fine, 2. Though I love them, I can only listen to ½ of a They Might Be Giants CD in one sitting, and 3. Diff’rent Strokes is not 10% as entertaining as I thought it was as a pre-teen.)

The inability to throw things away has its benefits, to be sure. For example, do you currently own a 1988 INXS concert t-shirt? Hmm, interesting. I DO! Do you, as we speak, have in your possession an original VHS copy of the classic 1983 film noir, Mr. Mom? Well, well, well…I DO! Or do you, my friend, have a library of cassette tapes that includes Tina Turner’s Private Dancer? Me neither – what do I look like, some kind of weenus?

Notes passed in high school, elementary school report cards, movie ticket stubs, 63-page college research project with received an A (thank you very much), photo directories of past wards I was in, reference books on subjects from herbal remedies to unsolved mysteries to languages I’ll never learn, pieces of wood that could be used to build something someday, video cameras that might just need to be thrown into the wall (one more time) and they’ll work again…the list goes on.

And then, to add fuel to the fire, I have six kids. Adorable drawings, cute poems, charming notes that tell me how much they love me, award ribbons, play bills, rare and cherished books that have fallen apart…how am I supposed to throw dreams and ambitions away? Can you, you unfeeling, soulless, senseless parent? I defy you!

But then, the winds of change have come along, dear ones. And I am a new man.

I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but I have been overcome with a feeling of letting go. I am kicking off the shackles and bringing out the hobo in me. When they say, “Papa was a rolling stone,” I totally get it now. I’m tossing clutter as if my life depended on it.

“Get rid of it.” That’s my new mantra.

Clothes I don’t wear, books I’m not going to read, children’s toys I’m tired of picking up, research I can reprint, knick-knacks that have lost their luster, heirlooms that I can’t remember their significance. “Get rid of it.”

I’m going to make that slogan into a sign to hang it in our living room. You know, like the “Family: Where Your Story Begins” signs, or the “All Because Two People Had to Get Married.” And then, when I’ve made that beautiful, hand-crafted sign in mahogany wood with my own sweat and tears, I’m going to … throw it away! Because that’s what I do now.

I recently bought a shredder, initially to protect our family from identity theft by destroying sensitive information like credit card applications, bank account statements, jury duty notifications, letters from the IRS, etc. But now, that shredder is a monkey on my back. I have to shred. Unflattering photos, embarrassing journal entries, Katie’s wedding dress. If we ain’t usin’ it folks, it’s gone.

Oh, the joy that comes from pitching clutter. In fact, if it’s important – family memorabilia like personal histories, journals, letters, photos, home movies, whatever—it will either be in our computer or get chucked. Ideally, anything worth keeping is digitized. My dream is that one day our house will be on fire, and I walk in, brave and determined, and grab our computer – the only thing we need – and walk out. And that’s it.

Wait, wait, wait. I walk in, grab the computer and the shredder, and that’s it.

WAIT, wait, wait. I walk in – grab the computer and the shredder, and my Tina Turner cassette tape. And THEN, that’s it.

THAT’S what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Willis. 

My Fellow Americans

If you were to make a list of all my wonderful strengths and unparalleled abilities, then first of all, I’d like to see that list. But second of all, political savvynessocity wouldn’t be on there. Well, it might, but it would probably be pretty far down that list. Okay, if the list isn’t that long to begin with, then it would probably be at the bottom. But if the list is long (and please, I’d like it to be long), then it would be pretty far down. But not at the bottom. At the bottom would be “Avid reader of Nicholas Sparks books.”

Having said that, I think this should have been the election year I decided to run for president. I can’t help but look at the state of things and think, “Why not me?”

Here is my list of Top 10 things I would do immediately upon being your new president, and moving into the White House.

1. I would call Bono and say, “Come to the White House. I’d like to talk about a real solution for forgiving third-world debt.” And then when he arrived, I’d be waiting in the White House Concert Hall, and I’d say, “Just kidding, dude, here’s a guitar, let’s start with “Where the Streets Have No Name,” and play all the way through The Joshua Tree. Where are Edge, Larry, and Adam? I’m pretty sure I told you to bring them.”
2. Then, so there were no hard feelings, I’d have the #1 White House Chef make up a mess of bangers n’ mash for dinner. (I hear the Edge loves bangers n’ mash.) And since we’d be hanging out all night, for breakfast the next morning, of course, Lucky Charms.
3. Then I would take Air Force One out for a spin. (Not with U2 though, because frankly, they have their own ride, and Air Force One is my time.) Me and my First Lady would spend some time in Fiji, New Zealand, Italy, and the Azores.
4. I would throw a ginormous barbecue on the White House Lawn with all my friends, and as kind of a bon voyage party for all the snooty celebrities that had threatened to leave the country if I was elected president. I would convert half of the lawn into a miniature golf course, and the other half into a water slide park. The White House Chefs would be cooking all day (because let’s face it, I’m going to be putting them to work 24/7, as it is only a matter of days before I am impeached.)
5. I would have my secretary call Lorne Michaels and arrange for my immediate hosting of Saturday Night Live; and let everyone know that I will be brining some of my own sketches, that I wrote in college. Also I would like them to invite Steve Martin, Tom Hanks, Amy Poehler, and the late Phil Hartman to appear as “special guests.” (Coldplay as musical guests.)
6. I would arrange for a private screening at the White House Movie Theater Room of Three Men and a Baby, and hold a discussion about my conspiracy theory of how Steve Guttenberg managed to make so many movies in the 80s.
7. I would also arrange for a kind of hybrid game of “Hide and Seek” and “Paintball.” Where legislators and I would put on camouflage and hunt each other throughout the White House. (Think of how many awesome rooms there would be to hide in! … I  KNOW!) And if they catch me, then I won’t veto the bill; but if they don’t, then I get to veto whatever I want.
8. Since I have never watched a Super Bowl game, then I would of course want to appear at the half time show and perform with The Police. I would play the cowbell, just to mess with people’s minds, and kind to see if I could start a fight between Sting and Stewart Copeland.
9. I would constantly be meeting with my publicist and Hollywood folks, who would be working on my biography/movie entitled, Impeachment: My 72 Hours in the White House.
10. I would contact Ben & Jerry and insist they create a new flavor named after me. Executive Craig Chip or Craig-o-licious. Presidential Party in Your Mouth. Something. I trust them.
11. And as a bonus, I promise a Mix CD in every stereo for every American. (And no, it will not feature Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to Be an American.”)

Perhaps this sounds a little self-serving. A little greedy. A little “drunk on power.” But I assure you, no more so than the dude that you voted for today.