Hi! Like most people I have the kind of job that stresses me out twenty-four-seven/three-sixty-five. And after five cups of coffee I get a headache that feels like someone’s driving nails into my skull with a sledgehammer. I used to think there was nothing I could do. I tried aspirin, Tylenol, Excedrin, even Extra Strength Advil—nothing worked. I’d writhe in agony at my desk all day and lie awake all night. That was before I discovered something that works better, lasts longer and lets me get the rest I need so I wake up refreshed in the morning ready to hit that traffic jam—heroin. Taken daily, heroin gets rid of my headaches like no other pain reliever. Ten milligrams in the morning, ten milligrams at night and my pain is gone. Heroin—the modern pain reliever. (New, snappier voice) And next time, instead of those five cups of coffee, try crack—the quicker picker-upper.

WOOD (X-MAS TREE)

I want wood. I want to live near woods. Trees. And I want to burn wood in a fireplace and sit in front of it. And have a rocking chair made of real wood. Maybe a pipe made out of wood. And all this wood will make me feel nostalgic for the olden days when things were only made of wood. No plastic. No styrofoam. Just wood. Wooden wheels rolling over the prairie. Log cabins. Made of wood. And wool. A wool comforter and a good book. Falling asleep over a good book in front of a roaring fire. Of wood.

When you get older you become nostalgic, just like when you’re young you keep thinking about the future and how great it’s going to be. Then you get there and it’s not so great, so you switch over to thinking about how great everything used to be.

It works like this: first you’re little and you’re very excited about everything, and everything is very important and you feel somewhat safe; then you get older and you think you know everything and you take chances; then you get disappointed and realize you’re getting older and things don’t feel safe at all; then you are even older and cherish any day in which you don’t have aches and pains; then you die.

I think I understood how it all works when I was about three years old. It was the fifties. I was three in the fifties. It was Christmas, an old-fashioned Christmas. Eisenhower was president, everything was completely depressing, the war had been over only a few years, even the stock market crash hadn’t been that long ago. People just getting over their last bout of polio …