Phull On Lander

Posted by John


If any of you read my good friend Chris’ post the other day and thought, “Hey, what’s wrong with Nickelback? I really like that Rockstar song on the radio,” go ahead and stop what you’re doing right now, stand up, do a few trunk twists, knock out a couple toe touches, really stretch out those hammies and quads, and just get loosened up all around so you can kick yourself in the goddamn face. Nickelback is horrible. Twenty years from now Nickelback will replace Aerosmith as the band of choice in every seedy strip club in America where all the fat, sweaty, bald, sleazy 50-something year old dirtbag men who are currently in your peer group are paying your daughter’s way through college.

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We went to a Predator’s Hockey game the other night, or as the wife says, “What the fuck kind of mascot is a predator?” with a friend of ours. The game itself was quite fun if a bit uneventful, but the true action was not on the ice, rather it was up in Section 305, Row M, Seat 19 to be exact.

We were lucky enough to have been seated next to the friendliest and most talkative 6-year-old imaginable, who also happened to be the biggest Predator’s fan on the face of the earth. We weren’t in our seats more than 30 seconds before he started chatting up our friend and the wife and he didn’t stop talking for the next two hours. He was largely regaling them with every ounce of knowledge he had in his head, 90% of which was about dinosaurs. No shit, this kid had compiled more information about dinosaurs in his six years on the planet than I have in my 30, and that says a lot because I was the Triceratops in the 4^th Grade Layton Elementary School play and you don’t get a part like that simply with good looks. At any rate, it was like this kid had practically lived through the Mesozoic era, talking about what they ate, how big they were, how they hunted in packs. The kid even talked about the meteor that struck the earth and wiped them all out 65 million years ago. Most Americans, including most former vice presidential and future presidential candidates, don’t even know that shit.

The kid was truly precocious and full of wonderment in every sense of the phrase, right down to the little rat tail he had hanging off the back of his head. At first I thought it was hilarious and awesome but then I realized at the ripe age of 6 he lacked the irony to realize how funny the rat tail was so I was left with only one thought – “Wow, his parents make bad decisions.”

We learned a lot from the kid that night, but some things really stuck out, as in, I will never in my life forget some of the shit the kid said. Our collective mental reactions to his statements are in italics below:

Our Friend: “So do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Boy: “I have a brother but he’s in heaven.”

Oh. My. God. That is the most horrible thing I have ever heard.

Dad: “What’d you say boy?”

Boy: “I said my brother is in heaven.”

Wow, it sounds even worse the second time.

Dad: “You know that’s not true, boy…”

Oh, thank god it’s not true.

Dad: “Your sister is in heaven. She died in a car crash when she was 2…”

Ahh, fucking-a, that is now the absolute worst thing I have ever heard.

Dad: “He has two half brothers too, but we don’t know where they is…”

Holy shit, stop talking now. This can’t possibly get any worse.

But that’s not the worst part because our friend asked the boy what his name was. Again, our collective thoughts are in italics:

Boy: “Philander.”

What the fuck did you say? Your name is “Philander”??? (Honestly from my seat I thought he said, “Salander,” which I thought was perhaps the strangest name I’d ever heard, until….)

Philander: “Wanna hear me spell it? P-h-i-l-a-n-d-e-r! Philander!”

Fucking-A, your name is Philander!

I seriously had to Google that shit to make sure it was actually a name. It is:

“From the Greek name Philandros meaning “friend of man”; from Greek philos, “friend,” and andros, “of a man.” In the 18^th century this was coined as a word meaning “to womanize”, and the name subsequently dropped out of use.”

Or so we thought.

Seriously, how the hell did the kid get the name Philander? I’m guessing the dad’s name was Phil and his two sons who disappeared with their mother were probably named Phil Jr. and Philips while his daughter in heaven was named Philippine , so pops was at a loss as the new son was baking in the oven until he informed one of his other baby’s mamas that he impregnated another woman, again, and she flew off the handle, “You are such a philandering asshole!” and the rather dim light bulb went off, so was born Philander Asshole Jones. Then again, based on the father’s obvious lack of dental insurance, I’m pretty certain none of his babies’ mamas knew what philosophy was, let alone philandering.

After all that I couldn't help but think about what I would name my three sons if I were so lucky to have three sons with one or more mothers. I’m thinking probably Johnson, Tommy Johns, and Jongleur, or something.