Seriously... I'm Kidding

Apprentice . That’s like ninety-seven hours of TV to watch every week. That barely leaves any time to focus on what’s truly important in life—Facebook and Twitter.
    By the way, I’ve noticed that there is a show to find the “next” everything—the next model, the next chef, the next designer, singer, dancer, entrepreneur. Pretty soon there will be a reality show to pick the next president. We won’t even have to leave the house to vote. “Sorry, sir, during this debate you did not stuff enough marshmallows into your mouth. You will not be moving on to the primaries. Please bring me your torch.”
    What they should do to save us all some time is combine every show into one giant reality show. Who wouldn’t watch a show about the next tap-dancing celebrity bachelor apprentice who can survive in the wilderness while singing about losing weight? Ryan Seacrest would host and we would all watch.
    Let’s all challenge ourselves today to get up and move a little more. You know what we should be doing more of? Squatting. Let’s all squat more. For every YouTube video you watch, do a squat. For every video game you play, do a lunge—not at someone. Then squat again. And then thrust. And then lunge again. And then squat. And then thrust.
    And now work your arms by turning the page. You’re doing a great job.
    Note: This chapter was dictated but not read.

Aspirations: A Short Short Story

    I want to be an astronaut when I grow up,” said young Delilah.
    “You live in a tiny village outside a small town next to a great big city,” said her mother. “You will stay here and work on our farm. You will never be an astronaut.”
    Indeed, Delilah worked on the farm for many years and grew old. On her final day, in the care of local villagers, she turned and asked, “Was I an astronaut?” And they said, “Yes. You were a great astronaut.” And she said, “Really? I was?” And they said, “Shhhh. No more talking.”

Social Skills

    T here has never been a time when people could communicate and express themselves as instantly and as much as they can now. It’s hard to believe, but there was a time when communicating meant we had to WRITE LETTERS! (If you’re reading this book to your kids as a bedtime story, and I highly suggest you do, now might be a good time to teach them about handwritten letters, record players, VCRs, and the first season of The Hills .)
    Nobody writes letters anymore, which means nobody has pen pals. I remember when I was probably about ten years old I had a pen pal, and writing letters back and forth with him was one of my favorite things to do. His name was Steve and he lived in one of those huge mansions that’s so big it has a name. It was called the Louisiana State Penitentiary, and he told me it was even bigger than the mayor’s mansion. We’d send letters back and forth and he’d ask me to send him my favorite books and small pieces of metal or wood that were lying around and all the money I could find in my house. And I’d gather them all up and put cute little stickers of cats on the packages and send them away. It was so fun. Eventually we stopped writing because I moved to another city and he moved out to live on his own. He called it “solitary confinement.” I was always so impressed by his vocabulary.
    I’ve always liked writing. I like the feeling of having a nice pen in my hand. It feels like I’m creating something when I put pen to paper, even if it is just a doodle of a flower or a note that says, “If you ever park in my spot again I will have your ass towed.” It’s a nice feeling.
    When you physically write something down you’re forced to take time to actually think about what you’re writing. We don’t really do that anymore. Now we just press buttons. We can delete things and change things at our leisure. We’re so spoiled. Think about what cavemen had to go through when they wanted to write something down. They had to chisel it into stone. It probably took hours just to write “Dear Krog. Going out for bread. Be back in twenty. Glok.” If they made a mistake they’d have to go out and find another flat stone and start all over. Who knows if they ever even made it out for bread. I do know they used to club each other over the head a lot, so I’m not saying we should do everything like the cavemen. I’m just saying nobody writes letters anymore.
    Now everything is electronic and instantaneous. We e-mail, we text, we Facebook, we Twitter,