Rent-A-Kid



It just occurred to me this week that I’d better start saving up for Christmas presents. I didn’t realize that December 25 was so close until all the pages from Toys-R-Us catalogs started showing up in my sock drawer, on the bathroom mirror, and in my pants pockets.

I can’t find anyone to bring me my phone when it rings, but let a toy commercial come on t.v. and my living room resembles Gattiland with all the kids that pop up.

In fact, the holidays have snuck up on me so fast that I don’t think I have the money put back to buy much, so I’ve devised a plan to make the kids pay for their own presents. You know, like men do for Father’s Day, birthdays and Christmas.

What I’ll do, I’ve decided, is start a kid renting service. Listen, you might not think so, but a kid or two comes in pretty handy from time to time. I think I might make a little change here. Enough to get them a toy or two at least, and maybe even make a little profit when it’s all said and done.

Tell me what you think:

Rent-A-Kid.

All kids are current on their shots, and in great shape due to playing sports. We have three models to choose from, so take your pick and enjoy.

Rheagan- Eleven year old female. Pretty as a picture, and eats like a bird. Great for light duty house cleaning, babysitting, and spelling of words (sixth-grade limit, please).

Need a top-notch tattle-tale? This is the one for you! Send Rheagan along with your spouse or teenage child, and get a full report upon return. Also great if you have excess money in the budget that you need to get rid of. Just take this little angel to the mall and watch her go!

Renters of this model may want to wait until at least 10 a.m. to pick up. She’s not a morning person.

The going rate is $10 per hour Monday-Friday, or $15 per hour on weekends.

Trevor- Nine year old male. Great chick magnet for teenaged boy to have. Whether you are at the big game, church, or just hanging around town, take Trevor with you and watch the girls melt (only works if you are young enough not to be the father).

Also good for outside chores, such as sweeping the sidewalk, bringing in firewood, and even mowing the yard. Push mowers only, folks. He isn’t quite tall enough to reach the pedals on a riding mower yet.

Renters of this model must show proof of ability to use Google, in order to answer the gazillion questions per hour that Trevor will ask.

The going rate on Trevor is $10 per hour Monday-Friday, or $15 per hour on the weekend.

ACT NOW and get Rheagan and Trevor both for just $15 per hour Monday-Friday, and $20 per hour on the weekend.

Jenna- Eight year old she-devil, I mean female. Gorgeous curly hair with big blue eyes. Make Jenna mad and see those big eyes actually turn blood red and spin like a slot machine!

Jenna has extraordinary copy-cat skills, and is absolutely fearless in the face of danger. She is our only model that has already had stitches, so she is well battle-tested.

Hard of hearing? Not to worry. This model screams everything she says, so you’ll never lose track of her in a crowd. She’s also an animal lover, and doesn’t mind sharing a snack with the family pet from time to time.

Renters must have plenty of cash (she likes fashion) and never, never look her directly in the eyes (she takes it as a challenge).

The going rate for Jenna is- well, we’ll pay you $10 per hour Monday-Friday, or $15 per hour on the weekend.

Play as long as you can



I had a pretty amazing weekend, and it didn’t have much at all to do with Thanksgiving. Or did it?

Thursday was great. We visited my wife’s family, and everything I put on my plate was tremendous as usual. And also, as usual, I ate way too much.

Friday was spent watching football, eating leftovers, and trying to forget about Thursday night’s game with A&M and Texas. Saturday we cut our Christmas tree before my son and I joined some friends to cut and split some fire wood for the winter.

Sunday? Well, Sunday I got word that this guy I knew died. His name was Jimmy, and he left behind a wife and daughter. He never even got the chance to be a grandfather, and he would have been a good one. We weren’t close or anything but when we saw each other we always shook hands, shared a laugh or two, and asked about each others’ families. So I spent all day Sunday and Monday trying to figure out why I couldn’t get this guy out of my mind. Like I said- we weren’t best friends, I just didn’t expect him to up and die all of a sudden. And this is what I’ve come up with:

Are you familiar with the Chicago Bulls of the ‘90s? They won six NBA championships, and were led by Michael Jordan, the greatest basketball player of all time. You can argue that if you want to, but you’d be wrong. Anyway, like any other team or business they wouldn’t have been great with just Jordan. He had a lot of other guys helping him out.

There was Scottie Pippen, Steve Kerr and Dennis Rodman (Rodman was the crazy guy with colorful hair). Chances are you’ve heard of them. Then there were the guys that only basketball fans remember- Ron Harper, Horace Grant, Will Perdue, etc. Role players, we call them.

Each of them played roles in the championships and were all part of the team, but when it came down to it they were really just interchangeable parts. The show went on without them when it was time.

Jordan, Pippen, Kerr and Rodman got most of the glory or the heat, depending on their record. They had the responsibility that I’m sure most of the role players would have loved to have.

Well, in my working career I’ve always been a role player. Sure, I’ve aspired to be Michael Jordan or Scottie Pippen, and I always figured I’d at least be a Kerr or a Rodman (minus the pink and blue hair). Always figured it was just a matter of time and effort, and being in the right place at the right time.

I even preach “not settling” to my kids. “Always shoot for the stars” I say, “and don’t take ‘no’ for an answer”. I want them to treat the word “because” like it’s a cuss word. “It’s usually followed with an excuse,” I tell them.

I’m telling you all this because I got a job offer that has been playing tug-of-war with my mind. It’s a great job with really good benefits and would allow me to come home every night like normal people. And that’s most important, because I can see that my kids really miss me when I travel- especially my son. The boy wanted to hang with me so bad this weekend that he rode with me to visit my mother in the nursing home. Most nine year olds would have come up with a homework story to get out of that.

The problem is that if I take this job, I’m a role player for life. At least ‘till retirement. Not only would I not be climbing the ladder, there is no ladder to climb. From here on out there will always be someone to say “yes sir” to, and it won’t be me.

And so Sunday, while I was right in the middle of walking around the yard cussing busted Christmas lights and pouting and feeling sorry for myself for taking this job, I swear I could hear Jimmy’s voice in the back of my head. “Who cares if you’re a role player or the star of the team? You’re still in the damn game, ain’t you? Play as long as you can.”

And I guess he’s right. Hell, I’m sure Will Perdue is just as proud of his championship rings as Rodman is of his. And he never had to dye his hair pink.



Like the column? Hate the column? Have an idea for a new column? Contact Shannon at robconews.com or shannonscasta.blogspot.com.

I waited all year for this?



A few weeks ago I sent out a request for some of the worst Thanksgiving dishes that your families make. I promised you I wouldn’t embarrass anyone, or rat your names out. So let’s go through a few of them now.

The first one isn’t a new one to me. In fact, I’ve complained about this one a time or two, myself. Someone sent me a letter and said that their sister-in-law has made a chocolate pumpkin pie for the last few years.

Ladies, can we please get something straight? Don’t mess with the pies. And for God’s sake, stop trying to force chocolate into everything. Chocolate pumpkin, chocolate pecan, chocolate cheesecake… it’s too much. Sometimes, less is more. Look at it this way- regular old pumpkin and pecan pie have done pretty well on their own for about 150 years or so. Why fix it if it ain’t broke?

Speaking of pies, “James” sent me a message telling me about “Granny’s” mincemeat pie. “Imagine wet dog food, mixed with wet cat food, and stuffed into a beautiful golden-brown pie crust. It’s horrific.”

Oh Granny. Granny, Granny, Granny. First of all Granny, the words meat and pie should never be used in the same sentence. It’s just a bad idea, kind of like the El Camino- either give me a car, or give me a truck. Please don’t try to give me both in one.

And by the way, when I eat meat I like to know which animal it came off of. I’ve never heard of an animal called mince in my life.

I talked to a fellow at the store the other day and he told me about his wife’s (we’ll call her Helen) squash casserole. This is how he described it. “It’s kinda like squishy summer squash drowned in a soupy sour cream-like sauce.”

Oh Good Lord Helen, stop it. Not one thing about that dish sounds even remotely appetizing. There is no way, in my opinion, that you can serve that to your family with a clear conscience. You have to know that is horrible.

I also heard about something called “ambrosia salad” that “Jenny” makes. Her sister-in-law told me it consisted of canned fruit, coconut, mini-marshmallows and cool whip or jello mixed with… wait for it… mayonnaise or sour cream.

Disgusting. Again with the mixing of the taste buds? Look people, there are only two times when mixing sweet and sour are a good idea- in kettle korn and Amaretto. Stop messing with Mother Nature, it’s Thanksgiving dinner, not a science project.

My friend “Tom” told me that his grandmother will bring a dish of mashed potatoes already mixed with beets. He says she brings it every year, and every year takes a full bowl back home with her. “I think she wraps up the same bowl and freezes it every year, then unwraps it and brings it again,” he said.

Tom, I know this is your grandmother we are talking about. And I know it’s the holidays, and you are supposed to love everyone, and blah blah blah. But I swear you should hire a lawyer and sue her for everything she is worth. It may not be a crime in the books, but it’s a crime against humanity.

And finally, one buddy of mine told me that his health-conscience family uses white rice mixed with celery and carrots instead of dressing. And there is no gravy, giblet or otherwise.

I’m telling you now, I’d rather be fat.

Shannon Says 4



The ol’ inbox has been stacking up on me. Gotta get to some of these peoples’ problems.

Here’s one now.

Dear Shannon- My 4 year old granddaughter is becoming difficult to discipline. She recently stole a trinket at a store, and has started talking back. She has also hit her preschool teacher. What should I do?

Shannon Says- What should you do? What should you do? You should start lifting weights with your right arm, that’s what you should do. That way, it won’t get so tired when you are wearing her spoiled little butt out with a belt every ten minutes. Look, the truth is that I don’t spank my kids near as much as I joke about, but that’s only because I don’t have to anymore. Raising kids is just like building a house. It all starts with a good foundation, and these early years is where you lay that down. Spank away, Granny.

Dear Shannon- I’ve been married for over 20 years. My husband and I separated for a short time, and he befriended another woman. I don’t think there was sex involved, but he throws their relationship in my face a good deal. I’m an attractive lady, in good shape financially, and he is becoming more and more emotionally difficult to deal with. What should I do? P.S. We do not have any children.

Shannon Says- Let me get this straight. You’re hot. You make good money, and you have no kids to worry about? Why are you even taking the time to write this? Pack your bags, girl. This is the one life you get, and you’ve wasted a quarter of yours with this dead beat. Oh, and as far as his “friendly” relationship with this other woman… I want you to Google the great philosopher BizMarkie to read his take on “friendly relationships” between men and women.

Dear Shannon- My husband’s sister is getting married in a couple of weeks. I’m very happy for her, but my in-laws have not invited my parents to the wedding. When my brothers were married, my parents made sure to invite my in-laws. This has hurt my parents’ feelings, and mine as well. What do you think about this?

Shannon Says- I’ve got news for you sweety. I can’t speak for your mother, but I’ll bet every red cent I have that your dad doesn’t give a damn about going to another wedding anyway. Invitation or not, just take your mother to the wedding with you. What are they going to do, turn you away? And let your father go play golf or watch football like every other man gets to do.

Dear Shannon- My father threw me a huge wedding this past spring. We had about 300 people attend, many of them business acquaintances of my fathers. My father wants me to write a thank you note for each gift, including those from people I do not know. I say what good would that do? What do you say?

Shannon Says- I say, you are the reason men hate weddings. These people traveled from God-knows-where, missed playing golf and watching football, spent hard-earned money on a gift so they could suck up to your father, and you are too good to write a simple thank you card? Geez lady, I hope it was an open bar at least.

Got some “Great” changes to make



I just celebrated another birthday this past week. Well, maybe “celebrated” is the wrong word to use. When you’ve had as many birthdays as I have, it’s just a day to reflect on what all you have and haven’t done in life. You use the day to remind yourself how far you’ve come, but also remind yourself how far you still have to go.

One of the very, very few good things about getting older is that you get to watch a younger generation grow up right before your eyes. In the last couple of years, my wife and I have witnessed three or few young couples get married and start their lives together.

And so now- in fact any minute now- my niece and her husband will have their first child. That will make me Great-Uncle Shannon. How old-manish does that sound? Seriously, that’s false teeth old.

I don’t know what I’ve been doing the last nine months, but I’d better get ready now. Great-uncles have good stories about their youth to tell children, and I don’t have any good stories. Well, let me rephrase that… I don’t have any appropriate stories to tell the young man. I guess I’m going to have to make up some stories, or just steal a couple from someone else.

That will be easy, but some other changes won’t be. For instance, I’ve got to switch from Levis blue jeans to kacky britches. And I’ve got to pull them way, way up. Somewhere around mid-stomach. I might even get me some suspenders.

I have to brush up on my thumb tricks, too. You know, the “got your nose right here” thing, and “watch me take my thumb off and slide it” trick. All kids love that, and all great-uncles know how to do it.

I’m already pretty good at the “horse eating an apple” knee tickle, because I still use that on my kids from time to time. Of course, my kids are a lot older and tougher, so I’ll have to adjust the pressure so I don’t hurt the little guy.

I’m probably going to start keeping me a bag of candy with me, too. Chocolate, maybe like a bag of snack sized Snickers or something. Both of his parents are pretty healthy and in good shape, so I’ll let them worry about giving him healthy stuff to eat like fruits and vegetables. When he comes to Great-Uncle Shannon’s house he gets what he wants. Who the Hell wants fruits and vegetables?

Along the same lines, I’ve got to start making sure I’ve got plenty of root beer, RC Cola, and orange soda on hand. Ooh, and lemonade in the summer. Might even put me a tire swing up somewhere, too.

And finally, I promise to always keep a $2 bill with me at all times from now on. Back in the day it was quarters, but inflation has blown that out of the water. A kid can’t buy anything with a quarter or two anymore.

Besides, he’d probably try to swallow the quarters anyway.

Cornucopia of thoughts

My wife and kids haven’t done anything too dumb or funny to tell you about this week, and I’m sure everyone is sick and tired of political talk. So I figured I’d throw together some weird web stories for you this week. A cornucopia of thoughts, since Fall is finally in the air.

The first one is in honor of Halloween, since we just celebrated that holiday.

An eight year old New York girl is really named Boo!. Her mother and father- who I would bet a whole paycheck have ties to my last story in this column- named her that because she was supposed to be born on Halloween day.

“We didn’t want to call the baby “it” while my wife was pregnant,” said the girl’s father. “So we started calling her ‘Boo!’.”

“It was a joke that became reality,” the mother said. “And now, Halloween is extra fun.”

Oh, I’m sure it is. And I’ll bet that little girl doesn’t get beat up at school or made fun of at all, right? Please. I still get made fun of for having a girls’ name. You’re telling me that “Boo!” doesn’t take a little ribbing from time to time? You just know that every time a teacher calls out “Boo!” some other kid in the class says “Tee, sugar free. Your momma works at H-E-B.” Haha, my kids will love that one.

Our second story comes from Colorado, and it sounds eerily familiar to me.

Sanford Rothman, 63, of Boulder, woke up to a “bang” the other night and felt his left knee buckle. Rothman, who sleeps with pain pills and a 9 mm next to his bed on the night stand (genius), says he was sleep walking when he accidentally shot himself.

The reason this story sounded so familiar to me is because last Sunday I was watching football and dozed off on the couch. I woke up to a “bang” on my forehead.

When my eyes stopped watering, I saw my wife standing there with a rolling pen. “Um, you were baking in your sleep again,” she told me. “Luckily I ran in here and stopped you from hitting yourself again.”

Ahh, I’m a lucky man, folks.

And finally, have you ever seen the bumper stickers that say “Pork- The other white meat” or the commercials that say “Beef- It’s what’s for dinner”? Well, I think I might have a new one for you.

It seems just the other day I read something that said alcohol drinkers were the longest living group of people in the world.

But researchers in London recently revealed a study that says alcohol is more dangerous than illegal drugs such as cocaine, heroin, ecstacy, etc.

The researchers said they studied the effects of all known drugs, legal and illegal, and found that alcohol scored the highest when it came to addictiveness, harmfulness to one’s body, environmental compact, economic cost, and the breaking up of families.

I can see it now, people. I’ll be driving down the road when some redneck passes me and his bumper sticker will read “Chrystal Meth- The healthy alternative”.

Looking for a conservative holiday



Got quite a few things on the plate this week.

First of all, I’m happy that the Texas Rangers earned their first ever trip to the World Series. Actually, I’m only happy for Nolan Ryan and Josh Hamilton. I’m usually an Astros fan.

Ryan, who is one of the best pitchers to ever toss a ball, played for the Texas Rangers when he was younger. He also just became part owner of the team a few months ago.

Hamilton? Well, you have to love his story. This guy went from a self-described crack head and alcoholic just a few years ago to one of the best hitters in the league. His teammates think so much of him that instead of celebrating with champagne after the game like every other team in history, they used ginger-ale.

The only problem I have with Hamilton is his post-game speech. I felt the same way about Colt McCoy last year, and every other athlete who keeps putting God in their speeches. Look, I’m not a religious guy so maybe I’m not the one who should talk about this. But if there is a God, I doubt very seriously he cares whether or not somebody wins or loses a game.

Speaking of religious views, I’ll be glad when the political season is over. Along with the tacky signs in yards and the never-ending commercials, you also have to deal with phone calls nowadays. I was watching t.v. the other night when I got one of those calls. The guy on the other end was only trying to do his job, so rather than be rude I went ahead and tried to answer his questions. Tried, I said.

One of the first questions he asked me was if I usually vote Republican or Democrat. Right off the bat, we had a problem. I’ve never voted all Republican or all Democrat. And I believe people who do are mighty close-minded. How can anyone in their right mind agree with 100% of what any political party pushes on us? For instance, when it comes to crime, the death penalty, welfare and health care, I agree with one party. But on the other hand, when it comes to gay rights, abortion, and most environmental issues I tend to agree with the other party. Even if you don’t agree with me on these issues, you have to admit that no well-rounded person agrees with everything that someone says.

And finally, let’s talk about Thanksgiving. I know that at every Thanksgiving Day dinner, someone will bring a dish that makes everyone else in the family cringe. But there’s no easy way to tell them it’s disgusting without hurting their feelings. That’s where I come in.

Maybe your aunt has a green bean casserole that has bacon bits on top, I don’t know. Whatever it is, I want you to write me and tell me all about it. You can reach me at robconews.com, shannonscasta.blogspot.com, or find me on Facebook. In my column before Thanksgiving, I’ll tell them not to make it this year. Don’t worry, I won’t put your name or theirs, I’m not trying to embarrass anyone here.

What I’ll do is say “To the lady in (whatever town) who keeps making the chocolate pecan soup/pie- Stop it. A fork doesn’t do any good here, we need a spoon, or a ladle. And why in God’s name are you putting chocolate in a pecan pie anyway? That borders on criminal.”

And crime, which you already know, is something I’m very conservative about.



Love the column? Hate the column? Have an idea for a new column? Contact Shannon at robconews.com or shannonscasta.blogspot.com and leave a comment.