Cousin Eddie

In these challenging economic times, many Americans are utilizing creative ways to minimize their expenses. Some have taken roommates, others have begun carpooling but only one couple possesses the fortitude necessary to show up at a home they sold decades earlier and simply pretend they still live there. That couple is none other than Randy and Evi Quaid. 

While Randy is best known for portraying “Cousin Eddie” in the National Lampoon films, it appears that his financial solvency has dwindled in recent years. While a lesser man would have filed for bankruptcy or taken a supporting role in a Steven Seagal film, Quaid refused to allow his family’s dignity to be compromised. So after the couple was charged with defrauding a high-end Santa Barbra hotel of $10,000 last year, they decided that it was time to head for the old homestead.

Understandably miffed when their key did not work in the front door of the house they sold in the early 90’s; the couple decided to shack up in the guest house out back. This lasted only a brief period before the home’s current owner (who was not living there at the time) called the police on the Academy Award Nominated-squatter and his wife. The couple insisted that they had never actually agreed to sell the home and that the entire sale was a fraudulent transaction that involved the forging of a dead woman’s signature. The owner alleged that the couple caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage while residing in the mother-in-law suite. Randy would admit to nothing more descriptive than “redecorating.”

After being released on bail, the couple trekked northward into Canada where they checked into a Vancouver hotel and skipped their court date. The judge issued a warrant for their arrest and Canadian officials nabbed Randy and Evi while they were out shopping. Faced with extradition, Randy finally decided it was time to play his ace. The couple has now officially requested asylum in Canada because they fear that their execution has been green-lit by the most feared shadow organization in Hollywood: “the Hollywood murderers.”

According to the Quaid’s, the “Hollywood murders” have been responsible for the deaths of Heath Ledger and David Carradine among others. They fear that Randy may be their next victim because the two previous victims were “personal friends” of the Quaids. The couple has even expressed concern for the safety of their dog if they to be incarcerated. When asked for comment, the couple’s attorney read only the following statement:

"We are requesting asylum from Hollywood star whackers."

First, and foremost, I would like to express my admiration for the Quaid’s attorney. That he was able to stand up in a court of law and read the aforementioned statement with even a semblance of sincerity is an unimpeachable testament to his professionalism. Secondly, if you are going to fabricate the existence of a homicidal cult that specializes in the assassination of film actors it might behoove you to give them a more creative moniker. Instead of “The Hollywood Star Wackers,” might I suggest “The Famous People Hurters” or “The Actors-Guild Assassins?”

If there existed an organization with the financial resources and formidable skill necessary to convincingly portray the deliberate slaying of two world-renowned thespians (on two separate continents) as accidents, I seriously doubt that Canadian sovereignty will provide Randy Quaid with the personal safety that he is going to require. If they can ambush David Carradine in a high-end Thailand hotel, I am sure traversing the Canadian border to rub out Randy Quaid at the Calgary Motor Lodge will not present an insurmountable challenge.

Of course, I will feel terrible if Quaid has an “unfortunate incident” at a Maple Leafs game or the couple’s dog suffers a debilitating accident involving the lawn sprinkler. Were the Quad’s suspicions to be confirmed, I would like to utilize this blog entry to formally reach out to the “H.S.W.” and ask if they accept requests. I have a short list I would like to submit when it is convenient. 

The Roofers

Several weeks ago, my wife and I found ourselves in need of a roofing contractor. I will readily admit that contractors, like mechanics, intimidate me because 80% of the time I have no idea what they are talking about and I simply nod my head in faux comprehension to retain some semblance of my manhood. Feeling in over my head, I asked a few friends if they knew a trustworthy roofer (this was often met with laughter) and when that turned up nothing I scoured the yellow pages for ads that were reassuringly absent of any grammatical errors.

I settled on two different local contractors who had positive ratings with the Better Business Bureau and websites that did not feature banner ads for AdultFriendFinder.com. Both men spent about twenty minutes on the roof before they descended and began using terms like “inadequately-distributed soffit ventilation system” and “undersized-gutter backflow.” I nodded solemnly to assure the contractor that I fully understood the grave nature of these structural shortcomings and would intermittently repeat the last line he said in the form of a question to highlight my attentiveness.

“Mr. Taylor, I would definitely recommend that you go with the shingle-over PVC ridge venting.”

“So you think the shingle-over ridge venting would be the best choice?”

They both agreed that I should pursue a homeowner’s claim as the damage appeared to be caused by hail. My insurance company sent out an adjuster named Tim who got on the roof and came to the conclusion that my contractor was delusional and that all the “hail damage” he had identified was the result of “boot scuffing” that was so widespread it appeared as though my home had been used as a set-piece for Riverdance. I then called the insurance company to request a second opinion, and from there the conversation quickly slid into madness:

“I would like to request a second inspection.”

“We can have Tim come back out as he is familiar with the property.”

“Why would you send the same guy back out?”

“Sir, I do not understand. Do you have a problem with Tim?”

“Not at all, but I am not sure how Tim can give me a second opinion.”

“Sir, we are trying to accommodate your request by sending someone out for a second opinion.”

“No, you are offering to present me with the first opinion for a second time. I don’t want to get into the semantics of this with you, but generally a second opinion has to originate from a second source.”

“Sir, was there something wrong with Tim?”

“I am sure his integrity is beyond reproach, but again, by sending Tim back out here you give him only two options. One is to reverse his prior findings thereby admitting either passive incompetence or outright dishonesty. The other is to retain his dignity and agree with himself. Do you think that situation fosters objectivity?”

“Now that you put it that way, I don’t know why we would send out the same guy again. Mark will be there next week.” 

After Mark came out and concluded that Tim must have “been on my neighbor’s roof,” we set a date and time for the contractor to begin. As I would later learn, an appointment to a contractor is not so much a fixed moment in time as it is an abstract concept to be studied in retrospect. One particular day they called me at 9:00 AM to ask me when I was going to be home to let the painters in. After reminded her that no one had told me the painters were coming and I was at work, she said that she would call me back and let me when they could “reschedule.”

The next morning around the same time, I received a call informing me that the painters would not be able to make it that day and needed to reschedule for the next day. When I again relayed to her that I was at work and no one had informed me that were slated to work that day at all, she said they would reschedule for the following day in order to accommodate me.

When the painters did arrive, they consisted of a husband and wife team named Earl & Judy. I soon learned that Judy’s grown son from a previous marriage had been living with them for almost a year and a half while he was “getting his life together.” At one point after Judy needled Earl about eating slow at restaurants, he responded “Why should I hurry when I eat since all I have to look forward to at home is staring at your son’s useless feet on my damn coffee table.”

They were a pleasant couple and informed me that the young man was slated to move out that weekend. When I jokingly asked if they were going to celebrate, Earl turned rather serious and stated that he planned to remain inebriated for the better part of three days. I knew that he meant every word.

To be fair, what the workers lacked for in punctuality they compensated for in craftsmanship. Most were friendly and only one made me slightly uncomfortable (he favored wife-beaters and had the habit of staring two inches east of the person he was addressing) but all in all it seemed to work out OK.        

A Baby on the Low-Low

Life was not going well for poor Patty Bigbee. Her youngest daughter, Stephanie, had gotten pinched on a fraud case and was being held without bond which left Patty to care for Stephanie’s eleven-week old son Aidan. Patty was already struggling financially and her daughter was constantly lamenting that she needed a new car and had to find some way to cover her mounting court costs. Things were looking bleak until Patty and Stephanie hatched a plan to raise a little capital….

     Stephanie                           Patty                         Lawrence

In July of this year, Patty began scouring the Internet for the long-lost daughter she had given up for adoption in 1983. After weeks of tireless searching, she finally made contact with her now 27 year-old daughter Danielle via Facebook. The two exchanged contact information and spoke on the phone on several occasions. Danielle was undoubtedly flattered that her long lost mother had finally taken the effort to contact her and inquire about her life.

Danielle told Patty about her recent experiences as a young wife and mother and openly mused that she would love to add a few more children to the family. It was at this point that Patty’s entrepreneurial intuition kicked in and she offered to sell baby Aiden for the bargain price of $75,000 and she and her boyfriend Lawrence were even willing to throw in a gently-used stroller. While the exact sequence of events following this initial offering have yet to be revealed, Danielle quickly contacted local law enforcement who encouraged her to continue with “Operation Baby Bargain” while they monitored the situation.

Over the next several months, Danielle was able to whittle away at the infant’s retail price until both parties agreed on $30,000 (the stroller would still be included). They agreed to meet on November 6^th in the parking lot of a Daytona Beach Best Buy to complete the transaction. Danielle was accompanied by an undercover officer and after Patty was provided with a cashier’s check, she and her boyfriend dutifully provided the merchandise.

Patty and her boyfriend were immediately arrested and questioned by local law enforcement which is when things got disturbing. Patty told police that Aiden’s incarcerated mother, Stephanie, had asked her to sell the child so that she could pay court costs and “get a new car.” The mother agreed to sell the child but only if she could take a ten percent broker’s fee for the transaction. As the plot unfolded, it was revealed that Patty had lied to her daughter concerning the child’s retail value, claiming that Aiden was only worth $10,000. It appeared that grandma was going to pull the old Sioux City Switcheroo and pocket $20,000 plus her agreed-upon $1,000 cut. Authorities are currently looking into allegations that Aiden’s father not only encouraged the transaction, but was eager to father more revenue generating offspring with Stephanie if everything went smoothly with son number one. Aiden is currently with Florida child services.

Barring the obvious questions concerning the existence and current condition of the participant’s souls, there 

are some finer points to the case that caught my attention.

1. Why was it necessary for the newborn’s price to be talked down in order for the investigation to proceed? Was that all that the local police department had available for the buy? I realize that most municipalities are struggling with a dwindling tax base and a “black-market infant purchase” budget line item is a tough sell to the city council, but they weren’t going to let her cash it anyway so what did it matter? Perhaps there is a jurisdictional enhancement for haggling? I am not sure what I find more disgusting; that the grandmother was willing to sell her own grandson or that she was willing to give a 70% discount to the first person that made her an offer. Everyone knows that only suckers give in to the first buyer.

2. How did they prep Danielle in the fine art of newborn negotiations? Did they bring in a used car salesmen to shadow her? I can only imagine what the phone conversations must have been like:

Danielle – “I don’t know mom, seventy-five thousand just seems like a lot…”

Granny – “I am practically giving the kid away; you should see his Babinski reflex!”

Danielle – “Even so, Dan and I were really set on getting a Land Rover next year.”

Granny – “I am telling you, this kid is almost ready to work a push mower he is so strong!”

Danielle – “Would you take $20,000, if you keep the stroller?”

Granny – “I would love to sell him to you because I promised myself that I would keep him with family, but there is a Lebanese warlord up the street that is really pushing hard….. I tell you what, give me $30,000 for the kid, downgrade to Honda CR-V, and we have a deal.”

3. Did the exchange occur during Best Buy’s business hours? Did some customers notice that a baby was being exchanged for a cashier’s check in the middle of an outdoor strip-mall? I cannot fault the populace too much, because I know if I were to tell my wife that I think I just saw some sell a baby from the back of a Toyota Camry she tell me to shut up and get in the car before I made us any later than we already are.    

What kind of a society do we live in that a woman cannot be trusted to sell her own grandchild without trying to skim something off the top? Whatever happened to integrity in human trafficking?  

At any rate, I doubt poor Danielle will ever recover. She goes 27 years having never spoken to her birthmother and when they finally meet their first conversation ends with “How much will you give me for the kid?” Patty should have to spend the rest of her life cleaning the men’s rooms of Arkansas truck stops during the chili-dog festival to pay for Danielle’s counseling sessions.

I can only hope that twenty years from now, when Aiden is on a date with a college classmate and she asks what his birth family was like, he will be able to truthfully say, “I don’t remember anything about them.”  I wish I could say the same….

Organ Donation for Cowards

Recently, I have been giving organ donation a lot of thought. While my wife has always been an advocate for the cause, I must admit that I had never given it much thought. I consider myself an educated person, but I must admit that much of my trepidation was based on irrational and unfounded fears. In the interest of full-disclosure I will detail them here:

1. I will be involved in an auto accident and the paramedics, perhaps as a result of having read this blog, will determine that my internal organs would best serve humanity elsewhere and let me lapse instead of performing CPR. While this scenario frightens me, I cannot argue with the logic.

2. That once all of my factory parts are gone, I will appear too hideous to for an open casket funeral and mourners will instead be subjected to a framed 8x10 of my high-school senior picture. However, this will insure adequate weeping from those in attendance.

3. I make it to the hospital intact, but a software glitch with the EEG machine gives the appearance that I have “checked out” when in fact I am simply in a coma. Seeing a lack of activity, the medical team initiates “Operation Innards” before I am able to recover consciousness thereby robbing humanity of my witty observations.

4. My organs will be given to another man who, driven by gratitude, will begin a tireless quest to discover the origin of his new parts. Eventually tracking down my still-grieving widow, he finds himself smitten by her emotional vulnerability and they begin a passionate love affair fueled by her sense of longing and his feelings of isolation. At some point, my widow will remark, “I never thought I would find someone with a heart like Brian’s.” (I believe this was also the basis for the character portrayed by Sean Penn in the film 21 Grams.)

5. That my well-tended organs will be distributed to someone whose own body was destroyed by their poor decision making and lack of self-control. Did I really choke down multi-vitamins and go to the doctor every year so that an alcoholic can get a back-up liver?

As funny as it sounds, these were very real concerns of mine and I struggled with the decision until one day I had an epiphany. Every single one of my concerns was based in nothing more than my own selfishness. Would I really be willing to withhold giving another human being a chance at life because of the infinitesimally small chance that the EEG machine is on the fritz or my liver might give someone struggling with addiction a second chance?

I decided that I cannot be that person. Over the past few years, I have had the privilege of getting to know someone whose life is held hostage by organ failure. While I contemplate my asinine problems, this person is wondering if they will receive a stranger’s donation in time and it humbles me in ways I cannot describe. In short, I am a whining, ungrateful wretch.

My friend is one of the thousands of mothers, fathers, sons and daughters who, for one reason or another, have to face a future with an asterisk beside it. I know that bequeathing your parts to strangers is not a decision to take lightly, but it at least deserves your heartfelt consideration. Besides, it is also a good time to ensure that your memorial service features the correct music. For instance, I have made it perfectly clear that if at any time my cadaver is exposed to Vince Gills “Go Rest High on That Mountain” I will relentlessly haunt my entire extended family. Paranormal Activity will seem like a church-camp skit compared to the psychological warfare that will be unleashed by my organless-phantasm.

If you want to find out more about organ donation, check out the following links:

http://organdonor.gov/
http://www.donatelife.net/