My poor nephew Zach. Last year he stumbled upon a video of Santa being shot on Christmas Eve, and here he is discovering that his gingerbread house has gone into foreclosure. I fear if Santa doesn’t get him that Playstation he’s dying for, the only bailout he’ll need is from jail.

Here’s wishing everybody a Mele Kalikimaka!

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2008. |
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I was reading through a travel journal I kept on a trip around the country my family took when I was 10 and thought I’d share a few excerpts:

“We went to McDonald’s for breakfast. I had hotcakes & sausage.”

“We went to a nearby KOA campground to their drug store and I got a lot of comics.”

“The Grand Canyon was beautiful. The shades of rock were pretty colors. The length could make you sick.”

“The Petrified Forest was nothing like we expected. All it was was wood everywhere, no forest or trees.”

“We were right next to a waterslide. We went on it for an hour. I somehow always ended up going backwards. When we were supposed to get out I kept going for a 1/2 hour. I could’ve gone longer but I figured I better get home.”

“The arcade was gnarly. Today I got 2 or 3 free pinball games. Lucky me.”

“I got over 100,000 on a soccer pinball game. I also got 3 free games to play. I’m having a lucky streak.”

“The pool had a slide and diving board. The game room was gnarly.”

“We were all getting a bit cranky. While everyone set up, John and I had to stay in the car. What a bummer.” (Note: for the life of me, I can’t figure out why that was a bummer).

Mama Smurf

“The other day I played the funniest joke on Jodi…”

“John met 3 friends, 2 were total babes.”

All the identification information was filled in except for my weight and I abandoned the journal after just two weeks. Basically, what I learned from reading this and checking out the pictures is that, other than declaring myself a Christian and showing some maternal instincts in keeping my first smurf warm while I froze my ass off on top of the Empire State Building, I haven’t changed all that much since I was 10.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2008. |
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Nine siblings are among 11 children as old as 17 who were left at Omaha hospitals Wednesday under Nebraska’s unique and new safe haven law, which allows caregivers to abandon babies and teenagers alike at hospitals without fear of prosecution.
(Full story)

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2008. |
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The first one occurred on Christmas Eve as I was en route to my sister’s house for the holidays. She was busy preparing for Christmas and her two kids were a bit rambunctious so she went to the NORAD website where they track Santa’s travels and set the computer to play videos of the various places he’d already visited that night. A little while later, terrified Zach, 6, ran into the kitchen and cried, “They shot Santa!” My sister asked him to explain and he said that Santa was peeing on a wall and some guy came out and shot Santa. So she returned to the computer to check out what videos had played and realized that the NORAD videos are now hosted on YouTube and that after the regular videos had played, Zach had navigated his way through other videos and sure enough, there was one showing exactly what he had described. I’m pretty sure that on the list of traumatic childhood events, seeing Santa get shot and killed on Christmas Eve is actually above seeing one’s own parents get shot and killed. I know the typical American response in such a situation would be to sue NORAD and YouTube for emotional distress but my sister settled for telling him that it wasn’t real and then putting parental controls on the computers.

The next day I confirmed the story with Zach and he told me it made him cry. I asked why and he said, “Because I was worried about Santa… and if I’d be getting any presents.”

The second story occurred last year and it’s another urination story involving my nephews. Just before Christmas the family had driven from their home near Phoenix up to Flagstaff and along the way Zach really had to pee. With no services around, they had to pull over to the side of the road. The younger one, Jake, was three at the time and insisted he didn’t have to pee. Then he caught sight of the action and decided he needed to participate and squealed, “Pee on the tree!” and ran out to join the fun. On the drive home he recognized the same area and asked, “Pee on the tree?” So they indulged his white trash impulses. Once home, the novelty hadn’t worn off and he continued to ask if he could “pee on the trees” in their backyard and his little tush was just too cute for his parents to say no. Then they purchased their enormous Christmas tree. My sister walked into the living room to find Jake in his firing position as he asked innocently, “Pee on the tree?”

My sister managed to avoid a Golden Christmas and she maintains she’s thankful for it but I still think it would have been worth the clean up if he’d actually gone through with it.

With that, let me wish everybody a Happee New Year!

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2007. |
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The whole ordeal prompted me to put my own dying wishes in writing and give them to my sister but I think a public blog is an even better place to make those wishes known, just in case my sister gets sucked in by some religious cult and conveniently “loses” what I wrote. It’s pretty simple: If there ever comes a time when I’m asked whether I want to live or die and I can’t give a decipherable answer, put me down. I don’t care how many balloons my eyes seem to follow or if someone thinks the fact that I winked when George Clooney appeared on tv is a sign, if I can’t say or write “I wanna live!”, pull the plug, hold a pillow over my face, stick a little sumpin’ sumpin’ in my IV – just let me go. I’m not one of those people who thinks life itself is precious, it’s the quality of life that makes it precious. Fortunately, nobody in my family is interested in being my caretaker so I don’t have to worry about anybody putting up a fight. My dad even offered to buy a gun and shoot me (a little too wistfully, I might add).

So back to Terri. With the anniversary of Terri’s death approaching I’ve come across this photo tribute to her many times, which is featured on her family’s website in her honor, Terri’s Fight. I understand that people want to remember someone at their best. But in a situation like this, where her family fought so hard to convince the courts and the world that she was a viable human being in her PVS state, I’m curious why they didn’t choose a photo of her in that condition. It wasn’t the young, vibrant, gorgeous girl who pulled at America’s heart strings. It was the woman lying helplessly in her bed as both sides tugged at her that did. I’m sure most people agree with the family that starving and dehydrating her was an inhumane way to end her life, regardless of whether or not she felt pain. So THAT’s the photo they need to show: The one of the shriveled up woman on day 14 without food or water. The Terri Schinder Schiavo Foundation won’t be able to change people’s dying wishes but a powerful photo like that could encourage changes as to how those wishes are carried out.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2006. |
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When you reach a point in life where your actions can’t really screw your future, why play by the rules? Once you’re in your 60′s there’s no reason a game of “I Never” shouldn’t have you wasted before it’s even your turn. Then when it is your turn, you should be so stumped that you have to get really specific: “I never bungee jumped naked. No wait. I never bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate bridge. No wait. I never bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate Bridge while an anti-war march was taking place… in the last decade.” Someone with really fun friends, might even notice one or two take a swig.

If you’re retired and you set an alarm clock in the morning or if you care even the slightest what your credit rating is, you need to hit an after hours rave and shoot up a little heroin with a former child star. Even if you don’t have a great time, at least you’ll have something more exciting than grandkids and HMO’s to talk about at your next dinner party.

(Speaking of Waldo and all kinds of copyright infringements, shortly after Bush ambushed Iraq, I created a “Where’s Saddam?” game. It’s a bit out of date and the quality isn’t great but some games just take you back).

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2006. |
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The problem I have is that the little blurb on me never seems to portray me accurately, or at least, not in the best light possible. For example, one year when I’d traveled overseas to entertain military troops and was writing for a national magazine, my portion only mentioned that I’d bartended for Wolfgang Puck. Last year’s card said that I made frequent trips to Arizona to see my nephews (i.e. Jenée has no life of her own).

It’s not that Mom deliberately discounts my activities for the year, she just makes odd choices sometimes. And it’s not always in regards to my recap. A couple years ago, my brother worked on the season’s number one new tv show. Mom’s card that year mentioned how he’d moved into a new apartment with a lovely view of the Mormon church. If I recall correctly, the card included a picture of that view and none of my brother. But I’m the bad sheep because I complain about that stuff and my siblings don’t. I strongly suspect their Christmas envelopes weigh more than mine.

So yesterday I received this year’s card. It’s a small booklet and each page contains a photo in an ornament and around the ornament is a couple lines about some of my parent’s activities through the year. With so little room for text, I figured it was impossible for me to get screwed this time.

I was wrong.

First of all, my name is written as “Jenee.” I’m used to people leaving out my accent mark and, while I always notice, it usually doesn’t bother me. But she’s the one who gave me the name with the accent mark. She’s the one that sentenced me to a life of having to press “Alt 1-3-0″ every time I type my name (and on my laptop, I have to press “fn” and “num lock” as well). All I’m asking is that my own Mama spell it right.

The bit on me contains all of five words and Mom probably thought she was safe from my ire. Unfortunately, those five words happen to be, “Jenee (right) & friend Carrie” on top of a picture of me posed very cozily with an old friend. Now, if I were to receive this card from someone, I’d probably think, “Hmmm… Jenée’s not married… she’s a comic…she’s always been pretty tough… the picture could have easily been cropped to just her face but it wasn’t so there must be a reason why her ‘friend’ was included in the family Christmas card. I guess this is her mom’s way of announcing Jenée’s a big dyke.” Not that there’s anything wrong with being a big dyke, I’ve just found that sort of marketing isn’t particularly effective for meeting men (well, lesbians definitely attract guys’ attention but can only hold it for maybe 5-10 minutes at a time).

On top of it all, it’s not even a good picture of me!

I didn’t say anything to Mom this time, mostly because I don’t think any of her friends have hot single sons who need to know the truth. But it sure would be nice if she’d give me final script approval in the future so the world could finally learn about my torrid affair with George Clooney and this cure for cancer that I found.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2005. |
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With the stores already closed, I’m second-guessing some of my gift selections. In the past, shopping for my nephews was always a breeze. This year while cruising the kiddie aisles I struggled to find anything they don’t already have. What do you get the pre-schoolers who have everything? I ended up getting them soccer boppers even though the box says they’re for ages seven and up. I figured, how dangerous can they be? Then I told a friend about the gift and he said years ago his drunk dad and uncle brawled with soccer boppers and his uncle broke his dad’s nose. That really doesn’t tell me if soccer boppers are too dangerous for a two and four-year-old just that they probably shouldn’t be used while intoxicated. So instead of returning the gift, I think I’ll just add a breathalyzer to it.

For my parents, I purchased Sirius satellite radio for their car. I don’t think they’re big radio people but I know Dad will love all the sports coverage and Mom will enjoy the Martha Stewart channel. Plus, it sounds like they plan to make frequent trips to Arizona next year and after 40 years together, I’m sure they welcome anything other than conversation to pass the time. But I just saw a commercial for the Playboy channel and discovered it costs exactly the same per month as the satellite radio subscription. And I realized that after 40 years together, THAT’s probably what they’d welcome more than anything. However, my parents are the type who repeatedly comment on the last gift you gave them. I don’t think I could bear to hear them tell me how much they enjoyed Memoirs of a Gay Slut and The Liar, the Bitch and the Whore Probe. Satellite radio it shall be.

Maybe next year, I’ll save myself some trouble and give the present everybody can use: gift cards to the 99 cent store. Then my parents can tell me how much they love using their new shampoo and toothpaste and impress me with all the Spanish they learned in the process.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2005. |
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“Mom’s in the hospital?” I asked.

He answered, “Oh, thought I told everybody. She’s been in since we got back from our trip.”

Nice to know how easily I’m forgotten in the information loop. It reminds me of the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry’s mom died and nobody notified him because they didn’t want to ruin his trip to New York. Then they told him how great the funeral was! Hilarious. Whether Dad not telling me was accidental or intentional, I really can’t blame him. The last time Mom was in the hospital I didn’t know about it for several days because I never checked my phone messages (I hate the phone that much).

Anyway, when the folks left China, Mom was sick but didn’t tell the authorities because she and Dad didn’t want to get stuck over there. As soon as they returned, she went to the doctor, barely said the word “China” then was wrapped in a face mask and sent to another hospital to test for Bird Flu (“They haven’t heard a peep from her,” was Dad’s contribution). Looks like she’s fine.

I was shocked by my parents’ dishonesty. They are the most honest people I’ve ever encountered- honest to a fault. They’re the type who would turn me in if they knew I’d done something wrong. Maybe these weren’t the best circumstances for them to begin a life of deceit, but I was sort of proud of them. Frankly, I think lying has gotten too bad of a rap. Not that I condone lying, but at the same time, I don’t think it’s inherently bad the way religions have made it out to be. There are times when DIShonesty is the best policy. Like when a little child can’t sleep because she’s afraid somebody will break into the house and kill her. Do you tell her, “Well, it’s a possibility and it does seem to happen quite a bit, but it hasn’t happened in this neighborhood yet, so you’re probably safe?” No, you tell her it could never ever happen so that she can have some peace of mind. Let’s face it, if she ever finds out you lied, she probably won’t be able to call you on it.

Right now my sister is utilizing the most effective lie ever created to incite good behavior in other human beings: the ‘ol “Santa doesn’t bring gifts to kids who act up” lie. Pure genius! For a few glorious weeks, kids around the world do their homework and chores, they don’t try to kill their siblings and they don’t backtalk their parents. All out of the fear they won’t get Christmas presents. Life in the month of December is the closest we’ll ever get to Utopia. Don’t tell me that particular fib’s a bad thing.

But I wonder how Christians rationalize the whole Santa lie. I know they do because the lines to sit on Santa’s lap are way too long to all be atheists. As far as I know, there aren’t any clauses in the Ten Commandments to allow for little white lies. Perhaps it’s because there wasn’t enough room on the tablet to explain special circumstances or maybe it’s because its dictates were set in stone (hey, is that where that expression comes from)? I just don’t understand how people can subscribe to a particular religion with its plethora of rules when they can’t even abide by the top ten list. It’s the reason I want to smack people who list “honesty” as one of the most important traits in themselves and in others. They’re so full of shit.

I’ve told my share of lies over the years- mostly to the CHP- sometimes to protect others and sometimes to save my own ass. But I think my track record’s been pretty good as far as dishonesty not adversely affecting anybody else. I don’t need to follow the Ten Commandments when the Golden Rule sums it all up without all those unreasonable specifics.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2005. |
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I spent about half an hour searching for the itinerary Mom made for me. I almost threw it away after she gave it to me, but she’d spent so much time on it, I couldn’t. It’s not really just an itinerary, it’s more of a travel brochure with pictures of their destinations. Mom likes to make things like that. After discovering they were scheduled to visit a portion of the Great Wall today, it took about another half hour to figure out where it is in proximity to the worst hit earthquake zone. It appears they were a safe distance away, assuming they didn’t make any changes to their schedule.

In this day and age of cell phones, it’s very frustrating to not be able to contact someone in a situation like this. Even worse is the feeling I had before I found the itinerary, not knowing where they were or how I could possibly locate them. I’m sure they’re fine, but this is one daily recap I’ll especially look forward to receiving.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2005. |
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