(“My Top Three Excuses” contest. 150-word limit.)
1. Dear Son. You don’t call, you don’t write, and now you invite me to your wedding to somebody named Mary Christiana? I’ll stay home and watch Exodus again, thank you very much.
2. Dear Son. You invite me to my grandson’s brit milah (or as I refer to it, my grandson’s genital mutilation)? I’ll stay home and watch Hostel again, thank you very much.
3. Dear Son. You invite me to attend the group babtism of your entire family in the Pauxtenny River, dressed in black suits and white shirts and black felt hats, until the water washes them off your heads and they float away down the stream, what a waste? If I want wet like that, I’ll stay home and watch Noah’s Ark again. Have a good time, Mr. John the Babtist!