Christmas Eimertoons - Merry Flulike Christmas

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A Very Merry Hunter's Christmas

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Christmas Eimertoons Dec. 14

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Christmas Eimertoons Dec. 13

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13 Holiday Eimertoons in 13 Days. Stay tooned!

No Christmas Gifts For You!

I was a man of my word. I didn't buy anyone over 18 years of age a single gift this year.

Sure I bought my nieces, nephews and two kids some Christmas cheer. But that was it.

And guess what? Nobody's pissed off. In fact, I think people are actually happy that they didn't have to buy me anything either.

And just like Kramer shunning boxers and underwear for nothing under his pants, I'm loving every minute of it.

This holiday season, I had a blast roaming through the aisles of Target, Home Depot, WalMart and Barnes & Noble stress-free. I didn't have to search the CD aisles looking for Celine Dion's Greatest Hits for my sister-in-law or L.L. Cool J's debut album Radio for my brother.

Did I buy my aunt Chicken Soup for the Soul last year? Does my dad need another box of assorted flashlights? Does Mom really need another sweatshirt emblazoned with Ohio State Mom?

Who fucking cares!

Hard to believe, but I got my wife-to-be wrapped up in the no-holiday-gift-buying frenzy this year. Let me just say, the smile hasn't worn off her face yet. I think she enjoyed focusing strictly on the kids in the family. Hell, I even got a little kick out of hitting the toy stores searching for gifts for the little fuckers.

That was fun.

But buying a Giant Eagle fruitcake for my grandma every single year isn't fun. In fact, I've heard from reliable sources (i.e. my uncle) that grandma cuts off one piece of the fruitcake. Eats it. Than wraps the rest in aluminum foil and hides it deep, down inside the fridge like it was the Lost Ark of the Covenant. Come Springtime the thing probably resembles a Chia-pet.

Look, I know this no-buying-policy may not work for every family. I mean, who wouldn't want an extra screwdriver/socket set or Jerry Garcia tie for Christmas from your great Uncle Pete every single fucking year?

But, for this happy man, I'm going to hang on to this no-gift-over-18-policy for years and years and years to come.

Fuck it, I may even add the policy to birthdays as well. Can't wait to see how many party invitations I'll get after that.

Yep. That's right. Who fucking cares!

Monday (Semi) Sports Rant

BUCKEYES BABY
Wow. After Illinois defeated the Buckeyes at home. I thought to myself, "Oh well, we'll beat Michigan and go on to the Rose Bowl." I was content to watch the Buckeyes shut up all the naysayers and plant a foot up USC's ass this year. Plus, it was a New Year's bowl game, which I prefer instead of waiting until Monday, January 7. On the flip side, I think it's great the Buckeyes are - once again - playing for a National Championship. I can't believe Missouri and WVU lost on Saturday. I've never used the 'LAST' button on my remote control more than flipping between those two games. That said, I watched a couple interviews with LSU Head Coach Les Miles after last night's announcement. Don't know about you, but the guy seems a bit cocky to me. Sort of reminds me of Notre Dame coach Charlie Weis before he got his ass handed to him 34-20 in the Fiesta Bowl a couple years back. Here's what I think. Ohio State will kick Les's ass at LSU. Then, when he takes the coaching job at Michigan next year, the Bucks will kick Les's ass again at Ohio Stadium. Keep talking Les. Keep talking.

BCS, CONTINUED.
Does Ohio State deserve to be in the Championship game? Probably. However, I do think there's another team that deserves the right even before the Bucks and that's Hawaii. How is it possible to go undefeated in your regular season and not play in the national championship? Must be hard, because no other team in the Division I rankings has done it this year except Hawaii. "Strength of schedule, dude!" Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. If you go by that defense, then, with the exception of playing Penn State, Purdue and Michigan, Ohio State has no right in the championship game either. And I'm not even counting the loss to Illinois, who were unranked at the time. (Just being honest, here). If we're not going to mimic Division II and III and have a playoff system (which seems to work well in those divisions) I say we just go back to the old bowl way and let all the good college team play on New Year's Day. I used to love that shit. What better way to judge the year's best teams than watching them all the same day? Then - like the Heisman trophy is decided - let the polls, coaches and sportswriters decide. Seems like it would work better than the current BCS system.

R.I.P. EVEL KNIEVEL
Everyone has their favorite Evel moment. For my brother and I, it was when he jumped the pool of sharks. After we watched that show, I remember going outside, building bike ramps with plywood and bricks and jumping various things, even each other. There were many movies, people and television shows that fed our hopes and dreams of being professional stuntmen. Evel Knievel stood high atop the list. The man was an inspiration for an entire generation of wannabe backyard daredevils. He'll be missed, but his legacy will live on at many state and county fairs around the country.

THE PATRIOTS, NFL AND FF.
Well, I finished 12th out of 13th in my Fantasy Football league. I'm just not cut out for this stuff. I went online and checked out various FF tips and tactics. Nothing has worked. One guy on our team has every Patriots player imaginable. He lost one game, which coincidentally, was the Patriots bye week. FAG. In any event, I think it would be really, really funny if A.) The Jets beat the Patriots in the final game of the season. B.) The Patriots lose in the Superbowl. Ha. Ha. Look, I said in a previous entry that it was fun watching the Pats kick everyone's ass. Now I'm not so sure. Seems like everyone is on the bandwagon. Hell, I've seen fresh Patriots bumper stickers on cars across Northeast Ohio. I saw about 10 or 15 people wearing Patriots jerseys at the mall yesterday. Before you ask, yes I went to the mall yesterday (I took my daughter to see Santa). But it was in Cleveland!! What happened to city pride mother fuckers. If you ask me, this whole thing is getting sort of lame. I'm going a complete 180 on this. I think it's time for the Patriots to lose.

DOES ANYBODY CARE ABOUT THE NBA?
Look, right now, I could care less about the NBA. Even the Cleveland Cavaliers. I think the NBA season is too long. Seriously, nobody starts to care about NBA basketball until after the fourth quarter of the Superbowl in February. Here's my idea. Tip off the season in January and play three games a week until the end of March. Then, have a playoff that lasts until the end of April. That's it. Period. Season over.

THE WIRE
The Wire is, by far, one of the best dramatic television series I've seen. Ever. It's well written. Well directed. And well acted. I shit you not, the acting is top notch. Even better than Six Feet Under, The Sopranos , NYPD Blue and M*A*S*H combined. If you've never seen an episode, I suggest you rent Season 1 and go from there. The series takes place in Baltimore. It covers the corruption, the drug trade, the dockworkers, the schools and the cops that are trying to fight crime in this decaying city. Good stuff. I'm surprised this series hasn't been nominated for any Emmys. I guess mainstream America can't handle the content. Bunch a pussies!

GARGOYLES
I work in downtown Cleveland. After watching the movie Transformers, I find myself glancing up in the sky and watching for debris - in particular cement gargoyles - falling from the buildings due to the Autobots and Decepticons battling for supremacy in the city.

I HATE CHRISTMAS
Well, I really don't hate Christmas, per se. I like the lights. I like the Christmas Tree part of it. I like the songs. I like the cartoons. Come to think of it, I guess I like Christmas. I just hate the buying. The pressure to buy a gift for a loved one is out of this world. And in the end, you're basically just exchanging gift cards for the same price. That's why, this year, I told my family I'm not getting them anything. And I told my fiance I'm not getting her anything, either (Yeah, that's right mother fucker!). In fact, the only people we're buying for this year are A.) Our kids and B.) Nieces and nephews. I think it should be a law that, during Christmas, the only people you should buy for are kids 18-and-under. Period.

Come to think of it, I do hate Christmas.

The Sears Catalog....My Christmas Bible.

It was a couple weeks before Thanksgiving in the early 80's. My dad, brother and I were outside playing Steelers football on a crisp, cool Saturday afternoon. I was John Stalworth. My brother Terry Bradshaw. I guess that would make my dad Chuck Knoll.

We kept replaying that scene in the fourth quarter of Superbowl XIV when Bradshaw took a snap, faked a handoff, and then threw a pass to Stallworth who, without breaking stride made a clutch catch in the middle of the field and took it all the way to the endzone for a 73-yard go-ahead touchdown.

The 'Stillers' (as we called them in the Ohio Valley) took the lead over the Rams and, ultimately, the Superbowl victory.

After going through that same exact play for the 100th time or so, a familiar green car came rolling down the hill and slowed down as it reached our house. We knew who it was. The country mailman.

When I was a kid, one of the most exciting things was getting the mail. In my opinion, when you're old enough to get the mail, you feel like you're contributing somewhat to the family. It's one of the special moments that makes you feel like an adult. But, not too much of an adult if you get my drift.

As the ball dropped from my hand, we slowly started walking over to the mailbox. Our mouths agape like zombie extras from Night of the Living Dead.

On this particular Saturday, the mailman was taking a little longer than usual, which could only mean one thing. He was packing our mailbox with a ton of extra goodies.

After he went on his way, the starting pistol sounded and the race had begun. Battling for space, my brother and I hightailed our way across the road to retrieve the treasure that lay inside our banged-up, black mailbox.

The handle was within my reach. But, as I grasped the handle, my brother pushed a hand to my face and belted in front of me. "Asshole," I yelled to my brother who returned my sour grapes with a shit-eating, Cheshire grin.

He opened the lid, reached deep inside the cylinderical, metal box and pulled out the pirate booty. A couple bills. A direct mail piece. Our country newsletter The Colerain Times.

It was a good haul by Saturday mail standards. Except, on this particular day, there was more.

"Look," I screamed at the top of my lungs. "You missed something."

Looking like Sam Jones sticking his hand into the alien rock pit in the movie Flash Gordon, I reached into the darkness of the mailbox and felt something big. Something important. Something fantastic.

As I hoisted the mysterious prisoner from its captivity, all was silent as we feasted our eyes upon:

The Sears Great American Christmas Wish Book.

It was 1,000 pages (or so it seemed) of Christmas possibilities published inside one dream catalog.

Now, before the internet. Before thousands of television channels and commercials. Before strip malls. Even before Walmart and Toys R' Us, The Sears Christmas Wish Book was our only Christmas link to the outside world of toys and fun.

It was the only way could get our fix on the latest and greatest toys of the holiday season.

It had every new toy. Every piece of NFL clothing. Every Atari video game. Every outdoor sports supply incuding sleds, balls, bats and kickballs. Basically, it had everything a kid could possibly wish for under the tree.

This book would be our Christmas Bible for the next month or so. We would eat dinner with it while sifting through the pages. We would dissect the latest and greatest new Stars Wars toys before school. We would take it into the rest room and read it for hours as we grunted and groaned on the toilet. In less than a week, it would have those white thumbprint smudges at the edges from turning the pages so much. We would circle, then recircle, every possible item that we wanted Santa to bring us under the tree.

On Christmas Eve, we would both finger through one last time before we went to bed, and pray to Santa Claus that our Toy Wishes would come true.

Which brings me back one particular Christmas involving NFL football and the Pittsburgh Steelers, which I'll talk about tomorrow.