A loyal reader recently wrote in with a note. “For Vol. 2 of Gay Uncle”s Guide, I think you should swap out the wipe warmer references to make room for this gem.” Shut. Up. What is this extraordinarily significant new product that will revolutionize the way in which children are reared during these cruel, pain-inducing times? Well, it’s a patented, fashionable, 100% cotton, washable, biomorphically molded…(wait for it)…Shoulder Pillow!! Oh my god! Is this not exactly what you have been praying to god to deliver? Fuck extending your unemployment benefits, or rebuilding our failing infrastructure, or providing health care for the 50 million folks who lack it. This is IT. No longer will you have to suffer through “shoulder fatigue” after having a little one”s head rest on your deltoids. Unh-uh! Now, both parent and child can immerse themselves in the void of blissful, fibrous comfort. And not only that. The press release describes it as “egonomic”. Ideal for our narcissistic times! Need to burp that baby after a boob juice binge? Compelled to give that toddler a comforting hug when they fall from atop the coffee table? Wanting to greet your three year-old between your three part-time jobs? Don’t rush into things. “Just a sec, darling. Mommy has to go grab her Shoulder Pillow.”
The G.U. was convinced for a nano-second that, with the death of capital, people would stop–or at least significantly retard–their production of this kind of FUNDAMENTALLY MORONIC JUNK. But, according to his pal Heidi Stevens–parenting columnist for the venerable Chicago Tribune (and all-around amazing person)–there is some sort of last gasp going on. “Maybe this is the point just before the bubble bursts, but my PR pitch load has reached extreme levels of late. I don”t know if people are trying to save their jobs by getting some press for their products, or if marketing budgets have been slashed to the point of just hoping for free publicity from the (increasingly irrelevant) press, or maybe a little of both, but I”m getting double the calls and e-mails in the last few weeks. Maybe (hopefully) if the PR stops working, they”ll stop churning the crap out.” So the Gay Uncle predicts that you all are either in for an onslaught of desperate promoters competing for your increasingly limited disposable ching-ching, and/or a new market will develop out of this very desperation, preying on your desire to insulate your precious cargo from the increasingly hostile, painful, and egonomic world.
Armored Bugaboos anyone?
Gunc has a new piece up on Babble, this one called 
One of the other things the Gay Uncle discovered during his recent whirlwind tour of the homes of his parent (or soon-to-be parent) friends in the Mountain and Central time zones last week was a hidden cache. This is not one of the ordinary secret stashes he’s prone to finding–porn, weed, sex toys, chocolate–stuffed in the bottom of a filing cabinet, the top shelf of a bedroom closet, or crammed into a ceramic pig labeled DRIPPIN’S. Nope. This was a freezer full of breast milk. Well, not precisely full. That would imply a solid block of breast milk in the shape of the frozen foods compartment, sort of like a 
This may come as no surprise to any of you parent types out there, but for The Gay Uncle, a routine drop-by to see his friends David and Celia (while visiting Chicago for work) turned into quite a surprising little voyage into the world of body morphism. It’s only been a month or two since he was last in the windy city, but in that time, Celia’s little bun in the oven has gone and turned into a full loaf. Check this out. This is a very skinny girl, in ordinary times. Now, she’s looking a bit like a frozen turkey around the middle-section. When the G.U. asked these two how they’re feeling about the little bugger, David smiled and said, “Oh, it’s going to be so cute. It’ll be like having a new dog. Something cuddly to take care of.” Celia just rolled her eyes and sighed at Gunc. “Worst decision ever.”
It’s the official birthday of The Gay Uncle’s Guide to Parenting! The book arrived on shelves one year ago. Since then, the Gay Uncle has written close to 700,000 posts and articles, and has participated in all sorts of other humiliating events like radio interviews with hostile shock-jocks, no-audience readings at public libraries, and reality TV show pitches in which he was interrupted mid-sentence and told “We’re really not looking for anything in the parenting space right now.” But it’s all been worth it, because he’s met (and hopefully helped, entertained, and/or humiliated) YOU. So help Gunc blow out his single candle, and then take a sec to participate in the following gunc.com treasure hunt. See if you can find:
Check out the Gay Uncle’s weekly MOMLOGIC column. This week, he helps a confused mom figure out what to name her child. Read his 
The Gay Uncle has been featured as an “expert” interviewee in three articles in the past couple days. Support Gunc-Positive journalism, and check them out. 
The Gay Uncle is in Denver for work today, which means that he’s being treated to views of the Rocky Mountains, some weirdly balmy 70 degree weather, and an ever so slight aura of Deadwood at every turn (mostly derived from the weird “Western” font they use on everything here.) It also means that he gets to hang out with his good friends Victoria and Butch who live in the Mile High City. These two have added a second son to their brood since the G.U. last saw them, and that little infant seems to be doing just fine. But they’ve been having a bit of a struggle with their older boy Skylar, 4.5. “He turns everything into a weapon,” Victoria said over dinner. “A stick, broccoli, a piece of toast. And it’s not just that, he’s fascinated with killing things. He’s not just shooting. He saying, I’m killing daddy. Or, I’m burning up the cat with a laser. It gets to the point sometimes where it really disturbs me.” Gunc asked if they had a rule about gunplay at Skylar’s school. “Yeah. They don’t allow it. I get so fed up sometimes that I suggest to him that we have a ‘no-kill day’ where he’s not allowed to pretend to murder anyone. Where he has to find other ways to channel his energies. And it ends up forcing him to be much creative with his imagination.” The Gay Uncle felt like she’d solved her own problem, and he told her. “I love that rule. Sounds like you’ve solved your own problem.” He suggested that she implement this practice at once. “It’s fine to place restrictions on things your kids like, even things they really like–ice cream, TV, mass murder. This isn’t ruining their fun or their life. This is your job.” He suggested that in order to get Skylar’s buy-in, they together create a list of things that would be disallowed, as well as other forms of play that would be deemed acceptable. And because The G.U. is all about using appropriation as a too for defeating kids, he even suggested that one way not to have a battle about this all the time, would be to use his patented “Co-Option Option” where you allow kids to have access to the illicit on a very restricted basis. “In addition to the general ban on killing, you could implement a once-monthly or once-a-season All-Kill Saturday, where’s he’s allowed to go sick on everything. Circle the date on the calendar, and let him know in advance.” Gunc imagines that the excitement of this kind of day would wear off very quickly. So long as they’re not stockpiling weapons and ammo in anticipation.
As battles allegedly rage across the country regarding the potentially helpful (durability, low-maintenance, low-cost, rapid drying) and deleterious (lead trap, offgassing, poor foot feel) effects of fake grass–otherwise known as AstroTurf–the Gay Uncle would like to weigh in with a story of some folks he know in L.A. In an effort to “go environmental” this family with two young kids decided to tear up their lawn and carpet the area with artificial sod. Why would they do something like this? Because grass is evil. It requires tons of water (something southern California decidedly lacks, since it’s located IN A DESERT.) It takes all sorts of carbon-fueled machinery to keep it up (sprinkler pumps, lawn mowers, leaf blowers, lawn-boys) making its net impact on the environment a problematically negative one. And its a “monoculture”, which means that it’s…all one thing, crowding out diversity and other helpful species. “So…,” Gunc can hear you asking with baited breath. “What the fuck happened to this family?” Well, after they dug up their lawn, covered the soil to some depth with a shredded and bouncy recycled tire slurry, and laid down their gorgeous permanently green carpet, they made an important discovery: When left to sit out in the blazing California sun, AstroTurf heats up like the flaming lava rocks of Hell. Why they didn’t ask about–or weren’t told about–this issue before hand, the G.U. is not sure. Perhaps they’re bad parents. Perhaps they didn’t read the fine print. Perhaps their mental processing capacities were short-circuited by all the good they felt they were doing for the world. But when their kids started coming into the house with melted sneakers and second degree burns on their feet, they felt they had to remediate. What did they do? What any good CA family would do. They added a sprinkler system that would mist the fake grass and cool it down, and then they built a giant awning over their entire yard to shield it from the sun. Now, the kids can play out front again. Problem solved.
The Gay Uncle has been saying for over twenty years that young kids learn through play. This is how they construct meaning, practice at life, learn to synthesize new information, and come up with creative solutions (on the fly) to questions and problems that are thrown at them. Not only has he said that an emphasis on play is good for them, he’s claimed that it makes them smarter, better adjusted, more socially conscious people. Even beyond this, he’s claimed that open-ended, free-form play is not only healthy, but actually NECESSARY for the well being of young children. When he ran a preschool, unstructured (but guided, controlled, rule-bound, and open-ended materials-based) play was a cornerstone of his curriculum. As were twice daily trips to the park. Snow? We put on 20 snowsuits, pairs of mittens, hats, and boots (no one froze). Rain? We built water chutes, looked for worms and snails, and changed when we got back (no one melted). Heat? We ran in the sprinklers, and then made Virgin Piña Coladas on our return (no one got sunstroke, though the shrieks of anticipatory pleasure caused by the whirring of the blender did once cause the NYPD to arrive at our doorstep.) Once-annual Arctic Blast? We stayed in, and made an obstacle course in the classroom. When people would ask, “What the fuck, Gay Teacher? Why do you always take my kid outside in any weather?” The G.U. would respond: “Kids are like puppies. You gotta’ run ’em.” So…he was more than pleased to read that 