I should be more careful about letting Merlot listen to the news. He has been upset now for a week since he found out that parents have been naming their children "Cheese", far more, in fact, than named their children Cheese last year. It seems to be trending. I had a friend who named his first child Brie and his second child Colby, but naming a child after a whole food group had never occurred to Merlot, who thinks it is ridiculous and irresponsible. (This from a dog named after a wine.)
According to Merlot, the whole hipster irony thing has gotten out of hand. Everything is supposedly (which hipsters spell "supposably") an inside joke, or at least everything is a joke that the previous generation held near and dear to their hearts, like the birth of Jesus, the flag of this great country of ours and bean burritos. Merlot, of course, can understand why the military, the Senate, and the oxymoron of government websites, are an inside joke to hipsters (given the NSA telephone shenanigans and having to take your shoes off at the airport), and perhaps student loan default and college application essays (topics which almost always get Merlot into a dander), but when hipsters get married in the nude (to show off their matching heart tattoos, half a heart on his left butt cheek, half on her right) in Vegas by Elvis, Merlot feels they have crossed the line. Not everything is a joke.
Especially not a person's name. So on the day of the birth you're smoking a doobie and you think a crazy hipster joke would be naming your kid Cheese? Maybe these hipster Cheese namers should think before they choose a name for a child who will have to live with it.
"Hey, Cheese, is your sister's name Hamburger?"
"Hey, what's that cheesy smell in here? Oh, it's Cheese."
"Hey, Cheese, did you hear that there are two people named Cheese in Nazareth, Pennsylvania? They're Cheeses of Nazareth!"
"Hey, Cheese, what's that band-aid on your finger? Did you cut the cheese?" (Actually Merlot thinks that one would be hard to resist using, even for him.)
I personally, hate Facebook. Everyone has "Friends" who are so "happy", with "smart cute kids" and "expensive vacations" with "buckets of ice water" and "kittens dressed up for Halloween as slutty nurse Ratchet." I'd like, for once, for people to post how their day really went:
Here's a picture of my grandson, Cheese, after I told him he can't have any chocolate ice cream.
Here's a picture of my wife, after I told her she can't have any chocolate ice cream.
Here's a picture of me in the basement on the brown plaid couch with Merlot, watching Lassie re-runs. I'm not fond of Lassie, but Merlot refuses to watch Downton Abbey, and I won't watch Bones, so we are stuck with Lassie. Lassie has not won an Emmy in 50 years, and when it did, for the episode in which Timmy was rescued from the well, it really affected the one writer, who thought, How can I win another Emmy? I know, I'll have Lassie rescue Timmy from the well again! You can tell the actors were getting frustrated with the writer because they say things like: "Woof, woof, woof."
"What is it, Lassie? Did that stupid moron, Timmy, fall down another well?"
"Woof, woof, woof!"
"What is it, Lassie? You want us to bring the save-Timmy-from-the-well kit?"
That's what people should post on Facebook.
According to Merlot, the whole hipster irony thing has gotten out of hand. Everything is supposedly (which hipsters spell "supposably") an inside joke, or at least everything is a joke that the previous generation held near and dear to their hearts, like the birth of Jesus, the flag of this great country of ours and bean burritos. Merlot, of course, can understand why the military, the Senate, and the oxymoron of government websites, are an inside joke to hipsters (given the NSA telephone shenanigans and having to take your shoes off at the airport), and perhaps student loan default and college application essays (topics which almost always get Merlot into a dander), but when hipsters get married in the nude (to show off their matching heart tattoos, half a heart on his left butt cheek, half on her right) in Vegas by Elvis, Merlot feels they have crossed the line. Not everything is a joke.
Especially not a person's name. So on the day of the birth you're smoking a doobie and you think a crazy hipster joke would be naming your kid Cheese? Maybe these hipster Cheese namers should think before they choose a name for a child who will have to live with it.
"Hey, Cheese, is your sister's name Hamburger?"
"Hey, what's that cheesy smell in here? Oh, it's Cheese."
"Hey, Cheese, did you hear that there are two people named Cheese in Nazareth, Pennsylvania? They're Cheeses of Nazareth!"
"Hey, Cheese, what's that band-aid on your finger? Did you cut the cheese?" (Actually Merlot thinks that one would be hard to resist using, even for him.)
I personally, hate Facebook. Everyone has "Friends" who are so "happy", with "smart cute kids" and "expensive vacations" with "buckets of ice water" and "kittens dressed up for Halloween as slutty nurse Ratchet." I'd like, for once, for people to post how their day really went:
Here's a picture of my grandson, Cheese, after I told him he can't have any chocolate ice cream.
Here's a picture of my wife, after I told her she can't have any chocolate ice cream.
Here's a picture of me in the basement on the brown plaid couch with Merlot, watching Lassie re-runs. I'm not fond of Lassie, but Merlot refuses to watch Downton Abbey, and I won't watch Bones, so we are stuck with Lassie. Lassie has not won an Emmy in 50 years, and when it did, for the episode in which Timmy was rescued from the well, it really affected the one writer, who thought, How can I win another Emmy? I know, I'll have Lassie rescue Timmy from the well again! You can tell the actors were getting frustrated with the writer because they say things like: "Woof, woof, woof."
"What is it, Lassie? Did that stupid moron, Timmy, fall down another well?"
"Woof, woof, woof!"
"What is it, Lassie? You want us to bring the save-Timmy-from-the-well kit?"
That's what people should post on Facebook.