The Gospel According to Miller Lite

Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.
- Benjamin Franklin

There are only three things you really need to tackle any home improvement project - a hammer, a friend who knows which end of it to hang on to, and a six pack.
- Me

From time to time in this column, I have mentioned the word, “beer.” The context is usually something like, “The engineering summit consisted of us examining the baffling pile of what we assumed were the parts we were going to need, grunting at each other, and gesturing with our beer bottles.”

In response to this, I sometimes hear from readers with comments like, “We really enjoy your column, and think that you are the funniest person who ever lived, but it seems like you drink an awful lot of beer. We have children, you know.”

OK, aside from the “funniest person who ever lived” part, this confuses me. First, like most guys, I can’t see how anyone could consider “a lot of beer” to be in any way “awful.” Second, I am just mentioning beer in my column, not actually swilling it on a public street corner with my pants around my ankles, shuffling in circles and singing, “Polly Wolly Doodle.”

I Can't Wait To Be A Grandpa

Do you remember when you were a kid, and you just finished doing something spectacularly stupid, and then your mom would say, "You just wait, Buster. Some day you'll have children of your own, and then you'll get yours..."

As with most things, my mother was right. My son spent the better part of his childhood doing heroic duty to her memory, picking up and channeling every one of my childhood sins so that they could wash back over me in a giant dose of Kiddie Karma. Now that my son is grown and married, I've decided that I’m going to raise the ante.

You see, as parents it was our job to teach our kids to say, "Thank you" and to keep their pants pulled up when we had company. We had to convince them that it is generally a good idea to flush the toilet. It was our responsibility to mold them into future doctors, lawyers, astronauts, politicians, armed robbers, or televangelists.

A grandpa is free to be nothing more than a kindly old coot with an endless lap and a bottomless wallet.

Ask Dr. Mike - Relationships, Transmissions, and a High-Pitched "Yee, Hee"

Dr. Mike is an advice columnist whose main qualification for dispensing life-changing wisdom is his Ph.D. in Soap Opera Appreciation from the University of Tim Online (all major credit cards accepted).

Here is what fell out of this week's mail bag:

Dear Dr. Mike,

Why, I ought to rip your arm off and beat you with the bloody stump.

I don't know what to do about my marriage. My husband came home last night and seemed very preoccupied. When I tried to cheer him up by suggesting that we go out to dinner at his favorite restaurant, Casey's, he just shrugged and grabbed the car keys.

He barely spoke through dinner, and when I asked him what was wrong, he just said, "Nothing." He had a beer before dinner, and another one after meal arrived. On the way home I tried everything I could think of to cheer him up, but it was as if he was on another planet. If he answered me at all, it was only to grunt, "yes" or, "no."


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