The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Some of you out there who stay abreast of fake news coming in 24/7 probably already got the word. And the word isn’t good. Impeachment. I know, you’re tired of it. You’re sick to death of it. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news for those of you who finally turned off your computer, dropped out of Facebook, said you’d rather drink rat poison than listen to one more MSNBC or Fox News commentator drone on half an hour about it. You’d rather go and listen to the South End String Band than endure that.

Yeah, I know. But sometimes you can’t put your head in the sand. You can’t plug your ears. Sometimes a story is too Big, too important, too … life changing to ignore. They’re impeaching Santa Claus. I couldn’t believe it either. The jolly old guy was ratted out by Donder and Blitzen, probably pissed they had to work every Christmas when Santa could have contracted to Amazon Prime. Quid Pro Quo, they claimed. Santa wouldn’t know a quid from a quo, but that’s no defense. The elves had the lists of Naughty and Nice, but Santa had them sequestered before the subpoena came in. Might’ve saved his bacon except Mrs. Claus admitted that yes, the presents for the kids were conditional on their good behavior. Quid … pro … oh no!

I can tell you, the North Pole will be a litiginous place this season. Fa la la? I don’t think so. Next year, if I don’t miss my bet, even the naughty kids will get gifts. Nobody said this was a fair world. And if I were the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, I’d be afraid. I’d be very afraid.

Merry Christmas, Everyone! I guess it’s okay to say Christmas, but if you find that offensive, Happy Holidays! This has been a great year for the Daddle family and as we do every year, we like to share our glad tidings. Daughter Brenda went back to community college after her degree from Swarthmore proved less than marketable. She is taking Business Accounting and expects to find much better prospects after graduation. We told her English Renaissance History narrowed her career chances, but you know kids these days. A year working for Burger King convinced her to change her major. Even with the minimum wage increase that’s coming.

Son #1 Jeremiah served his 9 months and two weeks at the Snohomish County Jail for some breaking and entering. Drugs! You think you’ve warned them about the consequences but they think we’re just old fogies. Jerry should be fine after his Narcotics Anonymous regimen. For the time being he’s comfortable in the basement apartment Linda and I set up. Sure, I miss the pool table, but family always comes first! And it’s great to have him home again, even if we have to lock up our valuables.

Son #2 has joined a religious commune down near Santa Cruz. Brian is not supposed to contact his earthly family so we haven’t got much news to report. Occasionally he writes for money and we are happy to help out. Well, Linda is, I confess it irks me no end to send that little twerp anything beyond a message to Wake Up! But these things too shall pass, isn’t that what they say?

Linda is doing much better this year. As you might remember she struggled with some mild depression. Empty nest syndrome is what I thought it was, nothing she wouldn’t pass through soon. Boy, was I ever wrong this time! But her doctor has her on some very effective medications and her crying has greatly lessened. Jerry has been a great help. Sometimes he even makes his own lunches.

Retirement, as a friend of mine likes to say, is greatly underrated. Oh, I struggled a little with boredom at first. Like everyone. But right after my heart attack in February (not to worry, I’m okay, just a couple of stents) I started walking more. You know I never really liked exercise of any sort, but that ticker-tweet kicked me in the butt to get up off the couch and get outdoors. I’ve been walking every day. Truthfully, I walk almost all day. Linda says I’m obsessed, but I say a walk a day keeps the cardiologist away. I tried to talk Linda into walking with me, but she says 20 miles is too much for her. Ha ha. Her sense of humor is coming back!

We did make a couple of trips this year. One to Santa Cruz to see Son #2 at his Seeing Orb Commune, but we were told at the security gate no one was allowed inside, not even parents. Admittedly things got slightly out of hand and the sheriff’s office had to intervene, but in the end I settled down — without some damn mantra — and we drove to the coast and stayed at a very nicely restored auto court overlooking the beach before driving back home.

We also attended a Trump rally in October up at Lynden. The man can connect with an audience, I’ll say that, and we were happily surprised when he won on Election Night three years ago. He’s making America great again and even though I know some of you didn’t vote for Mr. Trump, I think you must to be pleasantly surprised. The business of America is business and this is a billionaire businessman. Okay, enough politics….

Hope you and your family have a warm holiday. We in the Daddle household are going to make Christmas Great Again. It will be Yuge, as Donald says. Ha ha! I mean Ho Ho! Love at ya! Linda and Jeremiah and Skeeter

Breakfast at the Diner is usually a war zone, but the other day things heated up hotter than Big Larry’s grill sizzling with 10 pounds of bacon. Jimmy the Geek mentioned that his mizzus had heard Pastor Paul down at the Little Church in the Ravine preaching that Christmas was under attack. Walter chimed right in. “You can’t even say Merry Christmas now,” he declared to everyone in the place. “Starbucks gives you a red cup, no words, they’re so %#@>&* politically correct. It makes me want to puke.”

“Settle down, Walter,” Anita warned him as she refilled his coffee. “We don’t have anything written on our cups either.” Two Toke, ever happy to tweak Walter, asked him when he last went to Starbucks. “I thought you were boycotting the Yuppies, Walt.”

“You bet I am! This mud in a mug is all I need,” he declared, brandishing his cup like the gun he carried with his concealed permit. Walter’s ready for battle, trust me.

Down here in Holiday Central, the South End, we love Christmas. We love muzak, we can’t get enough of month-long advertising, we feed like candy canes on Bing Crosby and another viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life. We practically dress in tinsel and we don’t care who’s naughty or nice. Christmas! Most of us leave the strings of colored LED bulbs draped on the gutters and eaves all year round. So when we hear there’s a war on Christmas, you better believe we get up in arms, concealed carry or not. What Grinch wants to ruin our party? we asked ourselves. Couldn’t be WalMart. Couldn’t be the Little Chapel. Couldn’t be TV and their sponsors. Who would want to kill our buzz? Who hates Christmas???

Two Toke said even the South End Greenworks was in full holiday hype, selling faux mistletoe bundles of thai sticks. Flathead Fred’s mizzus had stood in line Thanksgiving midnight waiting for shopping sales at Elger Bay Store’s Black Friday super sale. Flathead avowed that if there was a war on Christmas he sure didn’t see one. Walter shouted “Open your eyes, Fred! The government hates Christmas!!”

Well, we boys at the Diner must be conscientious objectors, cause we couldn’t see a skirmish, much less find that war. Tyee Megastore is open early and closing late. Our stockings are hung with care as always, it’s snowing once again in Bedford and Jimmy Stewart isn’t going to kill himself this year either. Down here on the South End we’re all dreaming of a White One. The rest of you, take cover!

Call me a cynic and slap me with Greta Thunberg’s last report card, but listening to some guy on NPR who had a startup company whose mission was to counsel folks on their carbon footprints, I felt the way I do when I hear about people who pay money for ‘life counseling’. Probably just entrepreneurial jealousy, wishing I’d thought of it first. Kinda like wanting to be the first used car salesman. Or the guy who sold his art-lined cave to another Neanderthal and took a small fee.

Greenland is melting 7 times faster than it was in the 90’s. I get it, by god, I definitely Get It. The world is going to hell in a hurry. The ocean’s are rising, the hurricanes are wicked stronger, the earth is getting wilder. I don’t need a weatherman to tell me which way the wind blows, it’s blowing down my house, but thanks anyway, Bob.

This tree hugging capitalist figured folks needed a bit of guidance to assist them in navigating the labyrinth of politically correct and green purity avenues that confront and befuddle us modern folks. We’ve fretted nights worrying if we should use plastic or paper, buy organic straws, purchase a hybrid or a full electric vehicle or just walk to town. Should we convert to propane or stick with electric furnaces? Does it make sense to order from Amazon or just shop at the local hardware? Is it better if we order milk in a glass jug and have it delivered? Aluminum or glass? Paper or plastic? Hamburger or Beyond Meat patty? Fly or stay home? Newspaper or internet? Hybrid Prius or 640 horsepower Dodge Charger?

What is an environmentally conscientious yahoo to do? Get a Green Counselor, amigo, that’s what! He can map out a more gas saving route to work than the one you have now. He can tell you to skip having that fifth kid. He can reduce your carbon footprint from Sasquatch to baby print. And … you’ll sleep better knowing that you, one of the billions of people on this warming planet, is doing your bit. Guilt will slide off you like sweat off a Malaysian boat stripper. You may not save the planet, but you will win arguments with your less conscientious pals. And isn’t that worth the money spent?