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******Static*******Static*******

*****Static*****Static************************************************************************************************************************************************************************(6 years of STATIC)**************************************** (Someone clearing his throat.) Locke:  Crikey, Albert!!! Are we on?  Do not touch that dial.  Every time Will touches that button, we can never get it back on the right channel.  Blasted walkie talkie.  Santa should have gotten a contract with Motorola.  These things are junk.  Ok....let me see here.  Is it Channel 1?  I think we can broadcast now. "Hello, hello!  Good Morning.....ahem....Good Afternoon.....where are we Albert?" Albert:  You forgot to say "over." Based on my superior geographical knowledge, we are in a place called Buckeye....Buckeye, Arizona.  That's "Bravo," "Romeo," "Uncle".....wait...."Uniform," "Cheetoh," "Kilo," "Echo,"...
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Christmas Cookies

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Today, I helped Mom make some cookies for Santa Claus. I like helping with the mixer, and as soon as Mom says "mixer," I run and push the dining room chair by the counter.  I know exactly where that sucker operates, on the counter near the garbage can.  Before she can pull that baby out, I'm ready for the project.  I have my own scraper too.  It's just my size.  I especially like when we make cookies because Mom let's me be the taste taster afterwards.  Well, shoot, I get to taste-test the dough too.  I don't let anything go to waste. 
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PBJ

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Finally, I can call myself an American without feeling like a fraud.  Sheesh.  The delay in fully realizing my national consciousness/awareness was Mom's fault -- completely.  And, while she claims her half-Polishness is partially to blame, that's wrong.  I know for a fact that my uncles were never as delayed as I was in becoming a true, honest-to-goodness, red-blooded, patriotism-breathing "American."  So, that means my grandmother did her part, even though she was full-Polish.  You're wondering how the heck Mom completely messed up the first six months of my second year as a so-called American.  Well, she failed to introduce me to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until just now.  Do you know how old I am?  I'm nineteen months, and I was nineteen months and one day before I ever had a real mcoyster PBJ sandwich.  Ok, to give Mom credit, I have had peanut butter, apple pie, cheetohs, chicken-fried steak, okra, mashed potatoes, and ...
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