Uncle Fritz

I'll grant that I'm not the wisest person in the world and I'm not a source of really profound life advice. I've never gone skydiving, base-jumping or cave-diving, so I can't speak knowingly about the issues and opportunites that attend death-aspected thrillseeking. I can't even tell you how to hit a halfway decent tee shot, since my golf experience is limited chiefly to bombarding the tractor shed and having the wheel on my golf bag pull cart fall off.

But listen to Uncle Fritz when I tell you, in all earnestness, to never, ever, spend a whole day drinking crappy light beer and watching Bridezillas on the WE channel. I've done it, and I'm here to caution you strongly against such shenanigans. I'll go so far as to steal the remote control or have the power to your house turned off. I might even gnaw through the TV cable and throw away all your beer if that's what's required to keep you from drinking light beer and watching Bridezillas.

To paraphase every single Bridezilla they ever show, Oh My God! It's a complete skull-shattering nightmare when you're sober, but when you're about half-lit, it's enough to make you long for death. I kept wondering if I screamed really loud if I could get my coronary artery bypasses to fall off, and if not, if I could saw through my wrists with a can opener or blind myself with a pair of tongs. It's the kind of jaw-dropping lack of taste, perspective and circumspection that makes you think that maybe the Muslim Brothers aren't entirely wrong, that maybe in their calls for moderation and rejection of Western excess they might be on to something.

It's amazing there aren't more murders in wedding parties. It's amazing there aren't more suicides in wedding parties!

Holy Moses!

And can I say, for the record, that for all the snooty beer hauteur displayed on Samuel Adams beer commercials, their light beer gives me headaches just like Milwaukee's Beast does. There's your high-end beer for you.