I’m a sucker for advertisements. When the iPod billboards went up, I went down to the Apple store and bought one. I’m lactose intolerant, but when the American Dairy farmers asked me if I “Got Milk?” I was, like, “No,” and then bought gallons of the stuff. So, it was only a matter of time before I got me some Namibian children.

I don’t know how much of their marketing budget the Namibian Tourism Board spent on Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, but let me tell you it was worth every penny -- God damn, those two are hot together! However, for those of you already planning your Namibian vacation, let me give you a heads up; it isn’t your typical Club-Med-type-situation down there. The restaurants are pretty weak, the chicks are kind of stand-offish, the nightlife is like, totally non-en-fuego, and no one speaks any English…I mean, like, WTF, right? All week, I was all, “Hola. Te hablas, Ingles,” and people down there stared at me like I was talking in another language or something!

But I will give the Namibians credit for one thing; they sure as hell know how to pump out some cute ass kids! From the moment I landed at the airport in Winhoek I was mobbed by tons of those little fuckers. With their distended bellies, toothless smiles, and their endless supply of Chiclets, the Namibian kids have the same sad/cutesy appeal that pugs have. They’re cute because they’re weird looking! PLUS, they DON’T SHED! Now, how cool is that!? Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a sucker for a distended belly and some Chiclets. Needless to say, I had to have a few of them!

I’m proud to report, that on December 8th, 2006, I adopted Uukule, Kanamununa, and Na’{click, click} Simataa (I think). Here’s a picture of my kids.



Awesome, right!?

Their names seemed cool at first, but I kept getting them all mixed up. My kids were coming back to the United States of America for a fresh start, and I didn’t want them to get their asses kicked as soon as we landed. On the flight home, I racked my brain for some bad ass, new school, original names. My friend, Ari, made a good point that many Americans pick Pollyanna-ish names for their kids; names like Hope, Faith, and Charity. Other new parents have even tapped into flower genus territory to come up with names such as Daisy, Iris, Lily. So lame! There was no way I was going down that road. My kids are African warriors, so the names I’d pick for them had to represent their inner spirit! Ari suggested that I look at an untapped source of nomenclature for original names -- pharmaceutical drugs! You ready?

From left to right, meet: Xanax, Lunesta, and Mordechai!

The options in the Pharmaceutical world are endless! For awhile, I considered the names Kaopectate, Thorazine (Thor), and Cialis, but I ended up throwing those out for obvious reasons. I almost named Mordechai, Lexapro (Lex), but decided at the last minute I should probably Jew him up in case he wanted to work in the film or television industry. You never know.

Wait, you know what? I just totally got them mixed up! I’m such a dork! Mordechai is the one on the left side, and Xanax (which is a Palindrome, BTW) is on the right with the ‘Thompson Twins’ faux hawk. When all else fails, I can always tell them apart because Xanax has Ringworm. This new parenting stuff is harder than I thought!

When we got to Brooklyn, we had some adjusting to do. Right off the bat, there was the whole figuring out of the sleeping situation. I live in a one bedroom apartment, and I couldn’t afford to buy beds, or blankets, or pillows…or stuff. But when we got home after the flight, they immediately curled up on the hardwood floor and just knocked out. They were totally psyched! It hit me that they were used to sleeping on dirt, and so for them, my hardwood floor must have been a step up! I was already making a difference in my kids’ lives! Being a dad is so sweet sometimes.

The first couple of days were a trip. I was, like, living in this crazy fantasy world. You see, I always imagined being a father would be just a whole bunch of fun. Me and my kids would watch Wrestling, and I’d coach them in Marathon practice, and we’d stay up late and play the didgeridoo…but I have to be honest, this having kids stuff is a lot harder than I thought. For starters, when I gave them a didgeridoo, they looked at it like it was a stick. But the worst part is my kids like, need stuff, and, like, constantly want attention, and that can get kind of annoying after awhile. It’s as if they’re tethered to you ALL THE TIME. Personally, I got shit to do. I can’t be having my style cramped 24/7.

So, to free up some of my time and get them to stop being so damn clingy, I enrolled the kids in school. But apparently, because they don’t speak any English, and sometimes make weird clicking noises, the principal said they were “disruptive.” What the hell!? Isn’t that what school is for? I pay taxes for that stuff. I think.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and homeschool my kids. My babies weren’t going to be brought up with no learningness issues. I even came up with my own killer curriculum! Want to see it? Okay, here it is:

THE JONATHAN B. KESSELMAN CONSERVATORY OF SCHOOL

(Headmaster) Jonathan Kesselman
(Faculty) Jonathan Kesselman
(Adjunct Faculty) Skyler, my neighbor downstairs, when I have to go and do stuff.

Classes Offered For The Winter Term:

1) How to cook breakfast, clean around the house, do laundry, and other stuff for the person paying rent so he doesn’t feel like you’re an ungrateful little shit, lazing around the house all the time.

2) Hygiene 101: Getting rid of that stench, and those annoying flies that seem to follow you around.

3) Sweatshop Technologies: An exploration into the technical aspects of working in a Queens’ clothing factory.

4) How to learn English by watching ‘Sesame Street.’ Taught by new adjunct professor: Big Bird.

5) Music 101: Starting a successful Boy Band.

That last one’s pretty cool. My kids can’t sing, but they can dance, AND I’ve got Xanax taking bleach baths!!! Michael Jackson, watch your back!

Now, while parenting can be a joy, that’s not the real reason I’m writing. I don’t want to get all Sally Struthers on you, but my kids and I are starving! Like, big time. I tried to make some money on the side by selling their collectors edition headshots. As they’re still working on their literacy issues, I had them individually autograph each headshot by placing their hands in some day-glo paint before touching the bottom of the photos.

Ultimately, we didn’t sell many of those. Apparently Madonna is doing the same thing with her Namibian, and she’s famous, so her kids’ autographed headshot is worth way more. Damn you Madonna! Like you don’t have enough money already!?

Below, you will find a link which will allow you to donate money to support my Namibian Children. I promise the money will go to good causes. Things like: clothes from the Banana Republic (for me), a Nintendo Wii (also for me), and probably some beef jerky for the kids. Oh, yeah. I also need some drinking money.

I know what you’re probably thinking about the drinking money, but I’m a responsible parent, I swear. You have my word that the money will be spent on MY drinks only...and potentially on a few drinks for any of the hot chicks I might meet at a bar who I'd like to bang. Did I mention that my kids need a mommy?

I hate to beg, but it’s Xmas, and you Christians are supposed to be nice and help those in need. If you don’t help us, I think Jesus will be angry with you. So please stop being selfish and send money to us; Brad and Angelina would have wanted it that way.

Merry Christmas!

CLICK HERE TO SUPPORT MY NAMIBIAN CHILDREN!!!

Sincerely,

The Kesselman’s:
Xanax, Lunesta, Mordechai, and Jonathan