Comrade Profile Part 5; A Life Across The Hall From Mr. Spiker

There are few people who can say that they have decent relationships with their siblings. And for a long time I didn't. Spending three years as an only child, I never really grew out of that selfish phase, but I always had to deal with the fact that because I was older, I had to be a role model and be responsible. In other words, I had to be a big brother. So, then began the life of sharing and hanging out with someone who I had to be nice to. Weird concept, I know.

So, for the first few years, we shared a room. We had bunkbeds, which was always pretty cool. Our room was always trashed, and our parents always wanted us to clean up, but we didn't. I'm pretty sure we didn't see the carpet of that room for a good 6 years due to Ninja Turtle, Ghostbuster, and random McD's toys scattered in an uncomfortable version of broken glass. I'd say it was a pretty good setup.

But I got older, and that selfish older brother who suddenly became embarassed by everything kicked in. I wanted my own room. I opted to take the room across the hall, which was half the size of the shared room. But it was mine, and I stopped being roommates with the younger sibling who at the same time I started to quarrel with daily.

There were almost always fights about things kids fight about, which I realize now were entirely my fault. Jesse smashed my legos. That was because I had all the cool legos and left him with the pirates and cops, while the spacemen and underwater dudes ruled my army. I had the cool ninja turtles and their villains, while he got X-man who was missing one arm and Baxter Stockman, sans wings (although he almost always picked Mondo Gecko, who was a pretty sick character).

But even through these stupid fights about childish things, there was always a sense of pride I took in being a big brother. I believe if you asked a one David Valderama about his bloody nose, he can account for that. Whenever we would fight with the neighbor boys (who lived next door for a year, maybe), my brother was left out of the neighborhood fun. So, in standing up for him, I take a punch to the head, which leads to a one David Valderama getting his nose flattened, leaving the Spiker boys to rule the neighborhood.

Now we're adults, and in the last few years, through all the shit, Jesse has been a huge support. When I take myself too seriously, Jesse is there to knock me down a few pegs. And I would say that his newly discovered wit and charm would rival that of a Ryan Reynolds Van Wilder interpretation. I haven't been the best brother over the years, but no matter what, I'd say that Jesse has always been the kind of brother someone would want in their life.

So, I'm sorry for the shit, and I'm glad we're related, most of the time. I can be a dick, but you keep me in check. I'd tell you I'd love you, but after living a life across the hall from Mr. Spiker, I'd say that might be a bit "Mikeysexual."

Letters To My Daughter; Year 3

Dear Riley,

I'm sorry. I know your life is hectic, and there are too many people in your life telling you what to do. I just want you to know it isn't your fault. I know it doesn't make sense, but it will later, I promise. I wish I could explain better, but one day you'll be old enough to understand that your situation isn't exactly normal. But I think that will give you a bit of spice in your personality. Almost everyone has a mommy and daddy, but not everyone gets a Callista, you're right. I didn't get a Callista until I was 22. You're a very lucky girl.

I'm also sorry that I yell. It breaks my heart seeing you sad, and I'm not trying to be mean. I know you're a good kid, but it is something I have to do right now. I hate being the parent, but someone needs to be, and I think you'll appreciate it later. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I don't ever want to waste a day putting you in time out. I want to spend everyday making you laugh and seeing you smile. And I'm sorry I can't be with you every day. It won't always be like this.

One day you're going to meet someone that is going to take your heart away from me. And I will hate them. And when they break it, I'll be that person that puts it back together. Boys like Wade are stupid. I don't care if he's three years old. There are always going to be people who love you, but I always want you to remember that I love you more than all of them. I will always love you more than all of them.

I don't want you to be like your mother. I don't want you to be like me, either. I want to see who you are. Just remember things like the Golden Rule, music is the constant that brings people together, and that you did it yourself (god didn't help you). You're already so headstrong and confident, and so intelligent. Stay that way. It's more important than being good looking.

And of everything I just told you, I just hope you live the life you want to live, whatever it may be. You're more important than you will ever know.

Love,

Dad

A Brief And Eye-Opening Lesson On The Art Of The Compliment Burn

There is no other burn like the compliment burn, plain and simple. I could spend days, months, and years coming up with ways to destroy an ego, or to minimize self esteem in any number of people. Negativity is almost always a give in. There is no real art to it, however. Normal "burns" tend to be instinctual, and almost automatic, rather than thoughtful and clever. Sure, telling someone they smell worse than John Candy's socks after filming Planes, Trains, and Automobiles isn't bad, but it took me longer to type that than to think of it, which is saying alot.

This is why the compliment burn is such an important and lost art in the happiness crushing daily conversation.

Of course, this cannot come as a constant tool in use. Compliment burns only work if they are sparse, much like the sprinkling of chocolate chips on the best negative-asshole cake you've ever had. The cake is so sweet, and it really hits the confidence crushing spot, but that little bit of cake is nothing compared to the bit of chocolate you find every now and then.

So, what is a compliment burn? Well, rather than the John Candy remark, one would follow through with "you smell better than a house full of roses." But, it isn't this simple. Following the path of the Boomarang burn, the Compliment burn has to be preceded by any sort of negative burn. So, if someone tells you "I hope you die," your follow up would be "I hope you life a long and prosperous life." This is just a simple example.

Then next time a negative nancy comes your way, and tells you to fuck off, a "have a nice day" will work much better, because it will not only confuse his primate brain, but will also trigger a great deal of anger that he will not understand. It will create a black hole of depression in the man's soul, and eventually will cripple him emotionally. And if you believe in Kharma and the Golden Rule, this will fit right into your arsenal of tools that will get you into that next life as a bird, or whatever.

So, I hope you all have a nice day. You all deserve it.

Alternative Crimefighting Personality, Part 1; Shawn Striker

I never really believed in keeping secrets. I always felt that it was a bit taxing to hold something inside, keeping it to yourself to rot your guts and manifest itself into something far worse, whether it be anger and rage or horrible depression. So, just for the fine people out there surfing the interweb, I would like to let you guys in on a bit of a secret I have been keeping for years. I am a superhero.

I am Shawn Striker.

Following in the footsteps of Clark Kent, I always believed that hiding in plain sight. I mean, it isn't like my costume was anything fancy and cryptic. Jeans and white t-shirts are actually more comfortable and much more conducive to fighting crime than a sweaty pair of tights and a cape. We have all seen the Incredibles. We have seen how well capes work out. And as for masks? Biiiiiiiitch pleeeeeeeeease. I would like a to take a page from Ray Charles and say "I can't see shit." Why would I blur my vision to keep some home burgler from seeing the rage in my eyes? I. Hate. Crime. And they should know it.

But just like any superhero, I do have a slew of supervillains I battle at every turn. Just like the Green Goblin to Spiderman, my archnemisis is none other than the Maniacal Meatball. With the powerful stench of rotten garlic and a meatball mace, there is not another more potent and aggitating villain I face. I have yet to figure you out, Meatball, but I do know this; you can only poop at your own home.

Of course, there are others, but they are of no threat any longer. There was the Sneaky Slit, using her powers of dastardly undercover shadiness to eliminate those in her way. There is the Perpetual High, whose skills destroying child psyche is unmached. There is VanMan, who lures middleschool girls into his Fortress of Mustache. And there is the most devious of them all, The Deity Embodied. Somehow, this foe, though imaginary, has been able to "move" millions of people, thus creating an ignorant but insanely loud army that now controls one of the most powerful nations in the world.

As for weaknesses, there are none. Simple as that. Other than stovetop stuffing, mountain dew, and chocolate. But honestly, how many of these villains would even carry these on hand? None. And that is why I am the most effective superhero. Ever.

So, move over Superman. Batman, you're not even really a superhero. Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Captain Marvel, FUCK YOU. There is only room for one superhero. Crowds will gather and have grand celebrations, throw parades and cook feasts for the greatest superhero of all time; Shawn Striker.

That's me.