My brother Jonathan is angry with me.
It was my mom Nancy's birthday Tuesday. And it has Jonathan asking, "What am I gonna do? It's not like I have a national column to wish her a happy birthday. How am I gonna compete with that?"
The answer, of course, is that he can't. I mean, he's already accepted her as a Facebook friend. He's got nothing left. So he's gonna have to deal with it.
Three years younger than me, my brother Jonathan is better looking, has more hair, is smarter and more well-liked. He has more friends, a fantastic wife and is amazing at his job (he's a TV producer). He's got a better and more well-rounded world view, he's kinder, more loyal, more religious and funnier. My mom calls him "the good son."
The sad part is she's right. Jonathan calls her more, knows more about everything going on with my mom and dad and is less selfish with his time.
I'm taller and got the column. That's pretty much it. So yeah, I'm gonna use it.