Mother's Day Revelation

They're coming! 

They came, they ate, they cheered for the Lakers, they cursed the Lakers, they went home.  The big discovery on Mother's Day was watching my dad watching the Lakers.  He was trying to manipulate the outcome with his secret powers, sending out positive vibes with his fingers, dancing those digits back and forth, and corralling everyone in the room to participate, in a "we can do this" delusional way.  And yet, this is a man who controls the weather, which has been historically proven, dating back to WWII, so why couldn't he control the game?  He couldn't.
The Lakers eff'd up again, but that wasn't my dad's fault.  He gave it his best shot.  He managed to score a few baskets for them with his good vibes. What stuck with me, though, was the genetic component, undetected till that very moment in time.  Why had I never made the connection before?  The youngest son has been doing the exact same meschuggie thing his entire life -- twirling his fingers, chanting, transmitting his secret powers into the TV set during important sporting events. Up in Santa Cruz, the college boy was watching the Lakers eat sh*t and paralleling his grandfather in Sherman Oaks.  It was a revelation!  I couldn't wait to share it with you, because in a few short hours, I'll be performing a similar ritual, only mine won't be directed at the TV, but the outside of the house.  Today the paintners arrive, which means the SJG will be out there, trying to control them with my own secret powers, twirling my fingers, and chanting, "You missed a spot."  Pray for me.  And speaking of revelations, the paint color we chose is -- hold your applause -- Dunn Edwards Tan Plan!  If it looks like baby poop, we can all weep together.