Dear Young Tim,

Hello, handsome young lad. This is me – that is to say, you, writing to you from the future. It’s now 2012 and a lot has happened to us since I was your age. I wanted to talk about some of the things you’re planning to do over the next fifty years. First, don’t worry so much. You always were a bit of a worrywart. There will be some minor hiccups along your way – and a few doozies – but in the end, you’ll stumble through with more than a quarter of your dignity intact. Here’s some advice to make your journey to the year 2012 a little less bumpy. You’ll thank me later.

When you’re three years old, our mom and dad are going to dress you up as a Little Bo Peep for Halloween – complete with the curly-haired wig. Don’t let them. This humiliation will cause you to question your sexual orientation and sour you on barnyard animals for years. Insist on going as a tiger or maybe a ladybug. Just say No to Bo!

On the last day of school in fourth grade, the neighborhood troublemaker Hank O’Connor is going to try to convince you to jump on your skateboard and hold onto a rope attached to his banana bike as he veers all over the street – that’s right, just like water skiing – only on rock-hard asphalt. This is not going to end well, I’m afraid. Your next stop will be the ER of Albany Medical to repair two broken bones. Your cast won’t come off until two days before school begins next fall. My advice: Be polite. Offer to let Hank go skateboarding first. That hooligan has no summer plans anyway.

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It is a miracle I am alive right now. I could have been a statistic but thankfully, my life was spared. I live in Seattle, which recently experienced a devastating snow storm that shut the city down for five days.  The powerful storm became the top story on national newscasts until another nasty storm front with heavy wind(bag)s blew into South Carolina in the form of a Presidential Debate.

Forecasters, predicting the worst storm in four decades, called for 12 to 18 inches of snow in the Puget Sound region. When the last flakes finally stopped, almost six inches of snow covered some areas, proving once again that it is impossible to forecast the weather in the Pacific Northwest. What made it treacherous, however, was that the snow turned to freezing rain, coating roads, trees and power lines with a half inch of ice. This caused hundreds of cars (including mine) to get stuck and thousands of tree branches and hundreds of power lines to collapse. That’s when my terrifying near-death experience began.

At about 5am on Day 1 of Seattle’s Snow-mageddon, our house lost power – lights, heat, phone and internet. Venturing out by car into the blizzard was a foolhardy suicide mission. According to my best estimates, Seattle has exactly three snow plows – four if you count my neighbor Fred’s snow blower. There we were – without power, without heat, without hope, and barely a month’s supply of non-perishable food and beverages. Someone had to venture out for food. That someone would be me.

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As a successful entrepreneur and highly sought-after business guru, I am constantly being asked by people trying to climb the latter of success “How can I ever become as successful as you?” Well the short answer, of course, is “You can’t. Don’t waste your time trying.” That said, there are still several things you can do to ignite your career, including offering to have sex with your company’s president or blackmailing the CFO with photos from last December’s Holiday Office party. But these strategies are best reserved for the experienced career climber. For someone with your more modest level of talent and ambition, how about we start with something a bit more basic, shall we?

One of the most important things every business professional can do to improve their chances of getting promoted is this: Awlays proffread yoru wrok.

How we communincate in righting can leaf lunglasting impassions about us. Weather its an emale massage, a business mammo or a for mall propostal, it is criticial to revue your work for accuratecy. By making egreekious grammer and spoiling misteaks, it can from in the mind of the reader a severally negative impersonation abort you. They may persleeve you too bee someone who is lazey, careles, disogranized or somewon who simply can’t finnish their

I can’t stress how pearamount it is to careflee skan your work for posse ball tie pose. Remember, how you communionate in rightwing may be the differents between getting a raze and getting fried. I could knot be moor serialous about this then I are.

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Won’t you please help? Millions of dollars are spent every year on life-threatening illnesses like cancer, heart disease, and restless leg syndrome.  But precious little is being done about a chronic, as yet incurable condition that frankly, most people are not comfortable talking about. I’m talking about UHS.

If you’re like many women, you probably think it stands for Ugly Husband Syndrome (which afflicts roughly half of all marriages after 15 years). If you live in Arizona, perhaps you think it stands for Unregistered Hispanic Syndrome. If you’re my teenage daughter, your guess might be Unbelievably Hideous Handbag Suckiness Syndrome (my daughter is not good with acronyms). But you’d be wrong. I’m talking about an actual medically diagnosed and thus far untreatable condition called Uncombable Hair Syndrome. Yes, there actually is such an affliction. It even has its own web site.

What exactly is UHS? This silent killer (of any hopes for a social life) usually presents itself between the ages of 3 months and 12 years and typically results in thick, frizzy, light-colored hair which simply will not respond to combing.

So the next time you see a slovenly teenage boy who looks like a complete toad, with his over-sized pants hanging down around his knees, shoelaces untied, a tattoo of a snake slithering through the eye socket of a skull on his left arm, and unkempt hair flopping about all over the place, don’t be so quick judge. He just might have UHS. Underneath his sliced-up Judas Priest T-shirt and nipple ring, he might be crying silent tears (from the pain of the nipple ring). Give him an understanding nod, and while you’re at it, a hat.

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I consider myself an expert handyman. If there is something broken, stuck, loose or making a sound it’s not supposed to be making, I possess an innate ability to quickly identify the problem – and within minutes make that problem significantly worse than it was before I began fiddling with it. There are three things every homeowner should instinctively know:

• #1: The location of your main circuit breaker box: In most homes, this is conveniently located in the garage behind a clearly displayed grey metal panel. In our house, it’s conveniently located behind three boxes of stuffed animals, four crates of ancient photo albums, and nine cans of 14-year old dried house paint. Our circuit breaker was last seen in spring, 2003.

• #2: The location of your main water shut-off valve: This could save you thousands of dollars if ever your pipes burst. This valve is typically found somewhere inside the house on the first floor, either in your laundry room or front hall closet. In our case, it’s conveniently located nine feet up our fireplace. Apparently I must have pissed off some plumber as our house was being built.

• #3: Righty-Tighty, Lefty-Loosy. That little lesson sure could have come in handy had I known about it before my gas grill’s propane tank gas leak and subsequent explosion during the surprise party we threw in the kitchen of our former friend, Agnes Turlington in 1995.

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The staff and management of View from the Bleachers want to take this opportunity to wish you the happiest of holiday seasons  – with the notable exception of those heartless people who decided to unsubscribe from my humor blog, in which case, may Santa’s reindeer do irreparable damage to your roof and ruin your lawn. (I’m talking to you, Roger Ledbetter of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, you miserable SOB.)

Traditionally, this time each year, I write a long Year-In-Review letter to all my friends – which list notably no longer includes Roger Ledbetter of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. But this year, in the interest of being eco-friendly – and not at all because I was too cheap to buy cards and stamps – I’ve decided to send out my annual letter via this blog, thus killing two calling birds with one stone.

To bring everybody up to speed, my wife’s name is Michele. She is an amazingly talented portrait artist whose only apparent failing is her shockingly poor judgment in choosing a spouse. Then there are our two daughters, Rachel and Emily, who, because my wife hates it when I reveal their true identities in this blog, shall henceforth be referred to as Rachaela and Emma, to safeguard their anonymity. After all, we would not want anyone to know that my two daughters are actually related to ME. Think of what it would do to their reputations.

Oh sure, I could boast about all our achievements, like Tim’s recent promotion at work, Rachel’s – I mean Rachaela’s acceptance into Stanford, Emma’s earning a spot on the U.S. National Junior Olympic gymnastics team, and the recent unveiling of Michele’s official portrait of Pope Benedict XVI, but then let’s face it. Who would believe for a second that Tim got a promotion?

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It started out innocently enough. My wife asked me to go to Costco because we were low on shampoo. Perhaps I should not have gone on Black Friday, when Costco had everything on sale.

The second I breached the entrance of Costco, I was immediately confronted by a bank of alluring gigantic flat screen HDTVs showing exotic tropical waterfalls. Wow! Some in 3-D. Hey, look. If you buy the home theatre sound system package, you can get a 55” flat screen HDTV for only $1,449.99 (big savings today only). What a bargain. So I added an LG 55″ Class 3D 1080p 120Hz LED HDTV with 4 Pairs of 3D Glasses to my flatbed cart.

As I was lugging my cart towards the shampoo aisle, I couldn’t help but notice the festive Christmas tree display. An 8-ft Pre-Lit Clear Mixed Country Artificial Pine ChristmasTree complete with 800 Clear Dura-Lit Mini-lights for $20 off! Wow! It looks so real. By buying it, I’d be doing my part to save the world’s endangered commercial tree farms. So I added the artificial tree with mini-lights to the cart.

On to the shampoo aisle. After all, that is why I came here today. Just before I reached the shampoo section, I noticed this really cool 3-speed nail gun in the hardware aisle. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted one of those. It’s just $79.99 (regularly $99.99). So I added it to my cart. And if you’re going to buy a nail gun, you might as well make sure you have an electric drill – oh, and the accompanying Black & Decker 300-piece Ultimate Super Drill Bit Set for just $69.99 more. Oh sure, the last time I used a high-speed drill was in 1987 when I tried unsuccessfully to build shelving for our garage. But you never know when you may need to build a jungle gym for your darling grandchildren (whom I hope to have within the next 15 years).

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After months of grueling, often intractable debates – at times marred by heated name calling on both sides – the two leading members of the Jones household budget Super Committee appear to have reached an eleventh hour compromise that will keep the family budget funded, at least for a few more months.

As the deadline for a solution to the budget crisis approached, both sides became further entrenched in their positions. On the brink of failure, the leadership on both sides blamed each other for their selfish intransigence and caving to special interest lobbyists.

The leading liberal on the super committee, Michele Jones, argued vociferously, “We have to raise revenues. I know the other side enjoys writing its humor blog week after week, but we will never be able to pay for college on a blogger’s income. It’s time to wake up and smell the Skinny Double Tall Latte.” Meanwhile, the leading fiscal conservative on the committee, Tim Jones (coincidentally Ms. Jones’ husband), argued, “In this economic climate, near term job creation is simply not a viable option. The only feasible solution is drastic budget cuts and serious entitlement reform – starting with the kids’ cell phone $40/month unlimited texting plans.”

Mr. Jones has pushed for a variety of drastic budget cuts to some very popular entitlement programs, including scrapping plans for the upcoming Hawaiian family vacation in February and next summer’s student exchange program in Italy for their younger daughter.

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Okay, maybe I make a few things up now and then in this blog. I’m not proud of it. I have decided to turn over a new leaf and come clean about some of my previous false and potentially slanderous comments (with the exception of my previous remarks in which I have publicly questioned the patriotism of actor George Clooney – I stand by those comments).

As a professional humorist, it’s my job to provide illuminating commentary on the important people and events that make the news – like the Florida Boy Scout troop leader who this past week accidentally set his arm on fire – or the recent shocking study that concluded that sex with farm animals can lead to penis cancer. (Both are true stories. I would not lie about things as important as boy scouts and farm animals.)

In my thoughtful commentaries, I often make use of insightful research – unless it takes more than five minutes on Google to obtain this research, in which case I usually just make it up. But, please don’t judge me. I am not the only offender. The fact is that 68% of statistics cited by bloggers are complete fabrications. Okay, it’s possible I just made up that statistic.

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I’ve lived in Seattle for twenty years and I still love it here. It’s known by various nick names: Jet City (because of all the Boeing jets built here) and The Emerald City (because of all the greenery). Personally, I prefer Drip City because it’s more accurate, thanks to all the rain and the fact that at last count there were at least 1,542 Starbucks locations in Seattle (and that’s just in downtown).

For many people in the eastern two-thirds of the country, Seattle is this mysterious, faraway place they only know about from Sleepless in Seattle. But there is so much more to this city than a spunky Meg Ryan (although let’s not understate Meg’s importance).

Let me debunk a few myths about my adopted city:

• Myth: It rains here all the time. That is simply not true. The weather here is gloriously sunny and mild with zero humidity – if you happen to be here in August. Otherwise, yeah, it does rain a fair bit.

• Myth: The sun vanishes for nine months of the year, from October through June. Again, utter hyperbole. There are many winters where you may see the sun for long stretches of time – usually during the second week of August.

• Myth: It is so damp here that the roofs of most houses are covered in thick moss. Actually, it’s more like a light dusting. And this also goes for the dusting of moss you’ll typically find on our lawns, driveways, patio furniture, and any toddler who has been left out in the backyard for more than 45 minutes.

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