I’m having dinner with my boys and we’re practicing “guy banter”. You know, that good natured yet abusive that eventually always gets us in trouble but if it weren’t for that we wouldn’t communicate at all sort of thing? Anyway, my younger son asks me if he can kill the older one. So I told him I’d give him a dollar for it.

At this point the older one protests that his brother always gets permission to kill him, but he never gets to kill his brother.

“Well,” say I, “when the Angel of Death passed over Egypt, there was a reason only the first-born were taken. They are simply too obnoxious to live.”

He shrugs and says, “That’s why I always paint lamb’s blood over my door.”

I almost fell out of my chair, as I never remotely dreamed he would know the story. So I told him how proud I was that he knew that, and asked if he had finally started listening in Sunday School.

But he confesses that no, it’s not church. They did a unit on Egypt in school last year and they showed some feature length cartoon about Moses. He then goes on to describe the chariot races between Moses and some pharaoh dude where they rode up the sphinx and right down its nose.

At this point I began wondering if the film’s director hadn’t confused the Book of Exodus with the filmography of Charlton Heston. My mind wandered for a bit to ponder whether there was a connection between Manna and Soylent Green. But I really didn’t want to go there.

So much for proud… if it weren’t for cartoons, my kids wouldn’t know nuthin’.

I was in the checkout line at the grocery store today watching the lady in front of me try to keep a straight face as my 10-year old asked me if the $108 million dollar lotto prize would be enough for college. But what was more interesting was the guy behind me.

Here’s a guy obviously fresh from work. Well, maybe not too fresh. He clearly labors at some task or other which warrants a shower at the end of the shift. He had that rugged tired look about him which would likely land him his own truck commercial some day. It’s just too bad he won’t live that long.

He came to the grocery store to buy just one thing. A greeting card. But this wasn’t just a last minute Happy Birthday wish to someone. This was a mushy pink beflowered card with lots of ornate script. This was clearly going to that special woman. The last woman he’ll ever love. Because as I mentioned, he’s not got too long left.

Now let’s examine guys and greeting cards. Some greeting cards are simply designed to be purchased by guys. They announce the purpose of the card in large letters right on the front. “Happy Anniversary to My Wife”, “Happy Birthday to That Special 10-year old”, or “I’m Sorry for Running Over Your Cat”. Guys like cards like this because it’s not really required that you read the rest of them. The purpose is right, and we trust that Hallmark will convey our sincerity in whatever they wrote in the rest of it. You can whip into a store, pluck a card and be back in the truck in under 7 minutes. If McDonalds started offering greeting cards at the drive-through window, more guys would go there for lunch.

But this guy’s mind was clearly as muddled as his body looked bedraggled, for he hadn’t even bothered to read the big scripted letters on top. Now I’m assuming that this was not an anniversary or birthday card, because you can spot mushy cards for those occasions, even blind drunk. Those words did not appear in the big type. So there are only two other legitimate guy-reasons for buying mushy cards for girls. Either she’s been gnawing his ear off about how he never does those “little things” any more (or ever), or he screwed up bad and is trying to do penance. But regardless, he’s a dead man.

For the card opened with those words every woman is dying to hear, “To My Dear Friend…”. I do not know what the rest of the card said, but I hope they at least read it at the funeral.