Author: shanelindsay

Since ancient times, humankind has struggled with storing spare change. I believe it was the Romans who first used a spare sock. With the Renaissance came the invention of the glass jar. And now, as we march boldly into the Twenty-First Century, I am pleased to announce that after a lifetime of hard research and product testing, I have finally hit upon the perfect spare change repository:  A hollowed-out pig.

You have to admit, this is sheer genius on my part. The answer seems so obvious in retrospect. How many different types of containers have we seen throughout our existence?  Boxes, tubes, tupperware, and barrels. The list goes on. Yet only a miniature hog fulfills the necessary requirements for coin storage.

Pigs are just naturally associated with money. For instance:  Pigs are where we get the word “swindled,” and there are many pithy sayings such as “You reap what you sow” (female pig).  When I tell you that you have a choice between placing your coins in a clear glass container, or in a pagan pig idol with a slot on top, the answer becomes obvious.  Pig with a hole in it.

The pig has several advantages, not least of which is that you cannot see how much change you have accumulated. Pigs are generally opaque creatures.  You will feel safe and secure not knowing that most of the weight comes from Canadian pennies you found in the parking lot.  And if thieves happen to break into your house, everyone knows they only look in the sock drawer or in the couch cushions. Several studies have shown that ceramic pigs sitting on your dresser attract no attention whatsoever.

Piggy banks have the added benefit of not easily relinquishing what you have deposited, making them an ideal savings mechanism. What they lack in interest rate, they more than make up for in risk tolerance. I have found that the best pigs have a plug in their belly roughly the size of a dime. If you stick a quarter in the slot, you are almost guaranteed not to lose a cent on that investment.

Some people may scoff at the idea of referring to these as Piggy Banks and not Piggy Safe Deposit Boxes, but I submit to you that pigs can and do offer all the services of a bank, up to and including denying me for loans.  Most Piggy Banks also offer free checking, but they will kill you in penalties if you overdraft.

The producers want you to know that no animals were harmed during the making of this movie.

We mean it.

Look, this movie may have featured terrific explosions, collapsing skyscrapers, half the country burned to a crisp, the other half frozen over.  It also featured several actors phoning it in for an easy paycheck at the box office.  But our consciences are clear on this matter:  Animals have escaped our production completely unscathed.

Also we’d like to point out that not only the lead actress, but also the hairdresser and a few of the grips are vegetarians. The rest of us do eat meat from time to time.  White meat only, mind you.  We’re not monsters.  It’s just that they hired this chef from L.A., and he’s got these lobster rolls to die for.  And occasionally, in the editing bay, we would send out for Chinese.  But only during all-night sessions.  And apart from this, no animals were harmed in the making of this movie.

Alright, yes, okay, we did shoot some scenes in the swamp.  How else were we going to simulate total planetoid destruction by Global Warming?  The actors did swat some mosquitos.  Do those count?  If they count, then we may have swatted a few.

… Well, have you ever been to Louisiana in July?  No?  Then don’t judge. It’s open season on plasma down there.  If anything, you should scold the mosquitos.  A few errant slaps are par for the course.

Oh yeah, and the fogger.  I guess technically, that’s poisonous gas.  But the bugs were outrageous.  We were losing the light, getting eaten alive, and about to go into overtime.   Anyway, you can’t prove that a particular animal died from gas.  Maybe they were just old.

… I may have seen the director kick his dog.

I don’t know why I blurted that out.  The dog was barking, and we were trying to have a script meeting.  It just wouldn’t shut up.  It wasn’t a very hard kick.  Just enough to shame it into silence.  He was very friendly later.  His tail was wagging and he wasn’t limping.

Yes, I know about the rodent problem in Stage 12.  The cats took care of it.  The cats are not technically on our payroll.  We did not instruct them to do any killing.  We merely brought them in, neglected to feed them, then set them loose for a night.

Did I say neglected to feed them?  We did not neglect.  We had every intention of feeding them first thing in the morning, but they were already full.  No, we did not hire Animal Services to come round up the stray cats.  Animal Services is staffed by volunteers.

I know what you’re thinking, but I’m pretty sure there were no fish, ducks, or other animals in the bay when we staged the big tanker explosion.  We had a city permit.  They would have taken care of that.  I specifically remember telling the mayor to protect the wildlife during our steak dinner.

To sum up, this movie was a production of the highest integrity, and no animals were harmed at all by our actions in making this post-apocalyptic legend for the ages.  Trust us:  Would we ignore Stuntman Bob’s last wishes, especially after he gave his tragic last performance falling off that burning water tower?

I have no problem celebrating Birthdays, Holidays, Anniversaries, Graduations, Engagements, Weddings, and Births.  And with the sheer volume of cake we’re consuming at each party, we should probably throw Funerals into the mix as well.  But I really must insist that we do away with the tradition of greeting cards.

It is very thoughtful of you to spend time and money selecting the right card for the moment, but I think we’d be doing ourselves a big favor if we simply dropped the charade.  These things are greeting nobody, and card companies apparently do not grasp the concept.  I don’t walk into work wearing cat ears and say “I thought of the purrrrfect word for your special day,” in spite of how much easier that would be, especially on a Monday morning. Card writers think everything must involve a picture of some sad chipmunk in a party hat, accompanied by the world’s lamest pun. “To the world’s nuttiest nephew.”

Lately, more and more cards have been including a special sound chip.  The card will make a farting sound effect, or trumpet out Ride of the Valkyries, or likely both at once.  They are especially deceptive about this, usually waiting until a nun walks by you in the card aisle, looking for a special message for her nephew.  Most greeting cards have fewer words than a haiku anyway, so when we start creating audio book versions, I think we have reached the height of human laziness.

And don’t sign your name. I can usually tell from the return address who it comes from.  The only time I might not know is if I receive a big bundle of cards at a party.  And do you really want me knowing this was the best you could do?  A picture of Yoda with a beer can?  The only reason to sign a card is if it accompanies a gift.  I think a fun prank would be to enclose a few bucks with your card.  The receiver will be obligated to send you a Thank You card in return, which possibly costs more than what you gave them.

I’m sure it’s in bad taste to immediately toss the cards in the trash, but what’s the statue of limitations on these things?  By the end of every birthday, my refrigerator has started to look like a dating site for one-liners, and I am out of magnets.  Note for Idea File:  Start Greeting Card company where the card is itself a magnet.  There’s a fortune in there somewhere.

For those of you that simply must give me a piece of paper in honor of me not dying for a whole year, I ask that you please take a look at the back of the card where it lists the price, count off an equivalent number of $1 bills, and hand them over.  Feel free to also tell me “Hello” or “Happy Birthday” at the same time.  I will be much more appreciative, and much more likely to reciprocate when your birthday rolls around.