A Load of Hooey by Bob Odenkirk Read Free Book Online Page B

roomful of astronauts today. Okay, that’s fine, I’ll still talk to you people. You look enough like astronauts. My main point is this: they said it couldn’t be done! They did. But look at all of us, right here, right now. It’s being done.
    That’s not all they said, though. They also said, “Why try?” And: “Don’t bother!” Also: “There’s no point!” They called it “a waste of energy, time, and planning!” Naysayers! One person even said, “Nay”! What’s his deal? Does he think this is the Middle Ages? Forget that guy!
    Oh, but they said other things as well. One guy said, “I think it can be done but I won’t help. I’m too busy—I’ve got to pick up laundry and yadda yadda yadda.” I didn’t hear the last part of what he said—I had headphones on. The point is, that guy is NOT HERE right now. Screw him.
    One lady said, “I think it can be done, but I don’t want to clean up afterwards!” That lady IS here today…ma’am, will you stand up? Where is she? I can’t see her. You cowardly witch! Lady, you don’t have to clean up because we’ll all clean up! Right, everyone? No…Okay, I got a better idea, let’s just not make a mess, then NO ONE has to clean up. Sound good? Good. Now shaddup, lady!
    Now, let me address the guy who brazenly told me that he knew it could be done because—and this took some real cojones—because he’d already done it ! No. I don’t think so, pal. I don’t think you already did it, because then it would be done and what would be the point? There would be no point. But there is a point and it is this: It can be done. We can do it. We’re doing it.
    But I’ll go one step further. I think it can be done in record time . Today. Starting…now! So thank you for being here, thank you for believing, screw the naysayers, and LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH!

A HAZY CHRISTMAS MEMORY
    S weet Christmas!
    As I entered Momma’s kitchen I smelled the sharp whiff of crushed pine needles swaddled in strains of cinnamon, the aroma of baking cookies—cinnamon cookies!
    Wait, no, hold the phone, there were no cookies. We couldn’t afford cookies that year.
    But there were almonds! Yes, I recall a whiff of almond, as aperitifs were distributed amongst the becalmed adults.
    Scratch that—it was BEER! Almond-scented beer. That’s why we couldn’t afford the cookies—we needed to buy the Christmas beers!
    On third thought, there was no almond scent! The beer smelled like beer. In fact, the beer smelled like old beer. The adults were drinking (and spilling) beer! That’s what I smelled—I’m almost sure of it!
    Maybe someone was eating almonds. That must be what it was—almonds and beer. No, wait, nuts and beer. Or a nut mix—that had almonds in it. Yes, I can stand by that—beer and beer nuts were the smells that wafted about my excited nasal receptors.
    Blessed Christmas!
    We didn’t have a real tree—so nix that pine smell. PINE-SOL! Yes, that’s what it was, the dagger-sharp scent of Pine-Solemanating from the bathroom. This was on a Wednesday…or possibly Thursday. It was definitely one of the days of the week, that I can say with some degree of certainty, and Christmas was nearby, or in the recent past.
    Oh, Christmas.
    I’ll be honest, I don’t remember stuff very well. Except for regrets. I’ve got a photographic memory for regrets, which it turns out is unnecessary and burdensome. Still, for your amusement, I will keep digging…
    The sounds of Christmas! Such sounds!
    A cacophony of voices! Seven children jostling and fumbling through a mound of winter clothes, shouting plans for a busy snow day. “That’s my glove!” “That’s my boot!” “Give me some room, I’m try’n to get dressed here!” “Somebody just