Brett Berk

It’s April Fools’, our nation’s stupidest holiday! You heard right. While the Gay Uncle loves jokes, he hates surprises. And since most April Fools’ jokes hinge on shock and revelation, he finds them tedious (Oh my god! You mean my mom wasn’t really hit by a car?). The one exception he makes for this holiday is with kids. Kids LOVE surprises, shock, and revelation; these tactics feed their burgeoning understanding of narrative. So when he taught preschool, he used a standard April Fools’ taunt, wherein, when the kids came back from washing up for the morning snack, instead of fresh fruit, whole grain crackers, and juice, they would find plates of pebbles, baskets of leaves, and pitchers of mud. Imagine the hilarity that ensued. (Of course, the G.U. would have already introduced the idea of April Fools’ and what it means prior to this, so the kids didn’t think he really expected them to eat this shit.)

Which brings him to the point of today’s message. Gunc’s “friend” (and by that, he means Facebook Friend) Dale Hrabi has written a humorous book called “The Perfect Baby Handbook” which just came out last week. Dale’s publicist fucked up and didn’t send a review copy, so Gunc has no real details to share. But suffice it to say that, based on the title, and a few witty mass-emails he’s received from Dale, the Gay Uncle estimates that the book is at least a 7+ on funny spectrum. So, in celebration of Dale, his book, and this “holiday”, the G.U. will be giving away three copies. All you have to do is tell him about the best prank you ever played on your kid. It doesn’t even have to be an April Fools’ prank. Any everyday lie, cheat, or intentional misconstruing will do, so long as it is hilarious. Gunc will pick the three best ones, and get Dale’s publicist to ship (or perhaps not ship) a copy to you! So, have at it in COMMENTS below.

This week, in his MOMLOGIC column the Gay Uncle takes a close (but not too close!) look at another idiotic product, this one, a freestanding urinal for toddlers. You can put it in your living room!

Check it out.

The Gay Uncle read a press release recently that conjoined two of his core interests–kids, and cars–in a novel way. (In case you weren’t aware, the G.U.also writes Stick Shift, Vanity Fair’s weekly online car column.) It seems that On-Star, General Motors’ special satellite-linked concierge service, is now partnering with the Poison Control Center, so that in addition to being able to receive turn-by-turn directions on how to get from your driveway to your kid’s school, or to locate the closest McDonald’s during a “McNugget Emergency”, the little blue button G.M. places on the rim of your rear-view mirror can now connect you with experts who can let you know what to do in case your child devours an entire bottle of gummy vitamins, experiments with consuming the ice-melter pellets you keep in the back of the minivan (mmm, Dippin Dots!), or decides to find out first hand just why mommy so loves to chug this milkshakey looking goo called Bailey’s Irish Cream. Why would On-Star do something like this? Well, according to their research, since people are spending more time in their vehicles–including consuming a larger percentage of their meals in there–in-car toxic events are becoming quite common. And risky!! The G.U. thinks this is another example of whipping consumers (read: Parents) into a frenzy–feeding into the impossible and impossible-to-achieve expectation that you can protect your child from everything, all the time–in the hope that they’ll subscribe to the service. But maybe people feel comforted knowing that there’s an incompetent operator just a touch away, who can tell you whether to pop a Heimlich, administer bicarbonate of soda, or simply induce vomiting.

The Gay Uncle got some good news from Texas this morning. And no, it wasn’t only this adorable photo of his brother Derek and bandmate Chad at the South By SouthWest music conference that appeared online in Vanity Fair (go to #10 in the slideshow). It was an update on the battle over teaching evolution in schools. Because Texas has one of the largest school systems in the country, its state education board tends to help dictate what gets included in American textbooks. (Another reason to implement NATIONAL school standards, developed by SMART PEOPLE.) And just last night, in a tie vote, the Texas board decided that they would uphold the teaching of evolution as basic biological science. Why is this a cause for celebration, when the theory of evolution has pretty much been accepted as basic biological science by smart people everywhere for about 150 years? Because some narrow minded religious bigots have been trying to undermine this and inject idiotic calls for questioning the fundamental validity of the theory, and they’ve been pretty much shut down. (Though like a virus carried in toxic mutton, they might just be lying dormant until they gather enough strength to infect our whole brain.) Here’s what the G.U. thinks about religion and science: keep them separate. (Duh!) You want to be religious? Fine. Do it. But we’re not about to bring back the encouragement of wife beating, slavery, frog over-population, spontaneous bush-burning, or turning folks to salt as national educational policies just because they were practiced in some bedtime stories that folks told each other to make them feel safe. Gunc is a proud member of the Freedom from Religion Foundation, and gives them a significant annual donation every year. If you agree with him, you might want to consider doing the same.

The Gay Uncle discovered something very interesting today while on location in the Midwest working on a consulting project for a major food manufacturer. He was doing what is called a “shop along”. This is when he follows a consumer around a supermarket, peppering them with important questions about how they make their purchase decisions. Things like, “Why is that the right time for consuming cheese?” or “What else do you like to put peanut butter on?” The people he is following take these questions very seriously–as does he–in part because they’re getting paid (as is he.) They also seem to really enjoy the opportunity to have someone to talk to, or more often, someone to listen to them talk. Why is this? Because people relish feeling important, no matter how minor their relevance. Because people appreciate having their opinions valued, even if its by someone who is going to go out into the parking lot moments after they finish and mercilessly ridicule everything they said. And because we live in an alienating society in which most folks feel desperately lost and alone, without any social safety net or support, and fear they’re just one tiny mistake away from residing in a cardboard box beneath an underpass, eating cat food. How does the G.U. know this? Because during his store-walk today, while he and his consumer were paused in front of a display featuring a new Pop Tart product–one that provides 20% of the recommended daily allowance of fiber–the woman he was trailing launched into a very candid, confessional, and in-depth description of how she should probably consider purchasing that product because her nine year-old has a situation that would benefit from it. “He can’t go,” she stage whispered. Gunc smiled. “That’s a common issue.” The woman widened her eyes. “No. I mean, it’s serious. He. Can’t. Go. We had to take him to a pediatric gastroenterologist. And the doctor had to stick his finger up my son’s butt. My son cried and cried. And I said to the doctor, after he’d finished. I’m so sorry that you had to do that. That must be the worst part of your job. And the doctor looked at me and said. Don’t be sorry. I’m a pediatric gastroenterologist. That is my job. This is what I do all day. This is 95% of the cases I see. And I thought to myself. This guy is sick. So I really should get those Pop Tarts. My son likes Brown Sugar Cinnamon, so I’ll get that flavor.” The Gay Uncle, for one small moment, was rendered speechless, as he watched this mom put the toaster pastries in her cart. But he recovered quickly. “Shall we move on to the refrigerated meats? I’m very interested in hearing how you use those.”

Live in or near a resort town, and at a loss for what to do with the kiddies this week? Here’s an idea from The Gay Uncle’s not-quite brother-in-law, Nick, father of his adorable nieces Cakes (1), Lucia (10), and Faye (9), and step-father to niece Amber (10). Apparently, during dull an otherwise day last weekend, brilliant Nick was struck with a realization: it’s Spring Break. So in response, he belted all the girls into the minivan, rolled down all the windows, cranked the A.C., and drove up and down the main drag of Key West, Florida–where they all live–screaming at the clots of College Kids who stood outside every bar teetering, leering, and/or throwing up into their cups of cheap beer and vodka/Diets. “Woooo-hoooo!!!” he had the girls shout. “Spring Break!!! 2009!!! Rock on!!!!” As a means of penetrating a bit deeper into the local culture, he even had them ad-lib a bit based on whatever identifying phrases were written across the chests or asses of their cut-off sweats and t-shirts. When the girls saw the orange and green of University of Florida, they were told to shriek “Go Gators!”. When they saw the black and maroon of Florida State, they were told to holler “This is Seminole Territory, Yo!!” Gunc can’t remember any of the other colors or team names, but take it from him. It. Was. Awesome. Plus, it taught the girls how to make fun of fraternity douchebags, something that will certainly come in handy as they enter their adolescent years.

Do you feel like you’re missing out on some Gay Uncle goodness? Do you fear that there is too much going on in the G.U.niverse for you to track properly? Is actually caring for your child taking precedence over learning how best to care for your child? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, Gunc has a solution. Join him on Facebook and Twitter and receive regular updates on events, press, and his constant stream of stunningly vital publications in places like Babble, Momlogic, and COOKIE. You child is changing every day. Do you really want to miss some valuable nugget that could solve tomorrow’s problems? The Gay Uncle didn’t think so.
JOIN! FOLLOW! ADHERE!

In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a hideous depression in this country. Wait! Allow the G.U. to rephrase that. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a hideous depression in this country in just about every way but one. Babies! That’s right, a new report from the Center for Health Statistics has shown that more shrieking American infants were born in 2007 than in any other year, ever–including the former tippy-top banner of the birth-heap record-setting year of 1957 Of course, back then, our country had about half as many women, each having twice as many bundles of joy, which had its own benefits, including providing the huge demographic clump of people who would take up the mantle of disco dancing twenty years later when Saturday Night Fever was released, and gifting the world with such all-star talent as Katie Couric, Donny Osmond, Ray Romano, and Vannah White (all born that year!) The G.U. likes things better now. Not because he’s fundamentally opposed to large families. Someone’s got to plow the fields as Pa ages. Plus, he’s the second of a brood of four, and he loves his siblings more than anything. (It’s his mother he can’t stand.) No, he likes more moms to have fewer kids, because he knows from his years as a youth and family market researcher that parents tend to purchase the greatest number of supplies for their first child, and if more women are having fewer children, it means that there are more first children being born, and thus a larger opportunity for him to sell his stellar parenting book, The Gay Uncle’s Guide to Parenting. So keep up with your limited breeding, people. It works for all of us. (Plus, we don’t need any more Ray Romanos. Ew.)

The G.U. has received a number of Wii based questions from parents recently, the great majority of them falling into the categories of “How do I get my husband to share the Wii with the kids?” or “How do I keep my child (and husband) from becoming a Wii addict?” Gunc will admit that he appreciates the idea that the Wii can make one more active–or, more active than other video gaming systems. But this is not a replacement for teaching your kids (or husband) balance in terms of screen time and other endeavors, or suggesting that they enjoy the outdoors. (It’s that stuff on the other side of your windows–90 degrees to the right of the flat screen, in case you’ve forgotten what those are too.) So he was thrilled when he received a note from his friend Ethel yesterday that described a viable alternative. Her boys Lucian, 10 and Gregor, 7 (you may remember them from the post Youth, Racial Healing, and the Obama Election) have been requesting a Wii for some time, but Ethel didn’t want it in her home. So she bought it and installed it at her parent’s place–about an hour outside the City–and told the boys it was an Xmas gift from the Grandparents. This solution has resulted in a number of positive repercussions. The kids can’t wait to visit their grandparents every weekend. They get to go Wii-ing, but don’t have enough regular access to the console to develop a daily habit. And the grandparents–who used to protest that watching the boys on their own was too difficult–are much more willing to take them for a night or two without the parents present, because when the adorable little hellions come to visit, Grandma and Grandpa just set them down in front of the Wii. “It’s so much easier,” they told Ethel. Being who he is, the Gay Uncle asked if the grandparents play too. “No, my parents don’t play (can you imagine?) But they did make Miis of themselves (the avatars), which are hilarious. I think my dad made himself a six foot tall black man.” Gunc give Grandpa two more months before he’s boxing with the boys. Still, he chalks one up to Ethel for finding the middle ground. And for exporting addiction.

In his MOMLOGIC column this week, the Gay Uncle explores the confluences of long-term friendship, pregnancy, and vagina waxing (or, not waxing). Title: “It’s a Jungle Down There”. You have to check it out.