Solomon Jones: In the houskeeping draft, Alice beats Lurch
SOME OF MY most stressful childhood moments happened right before games, when the best athletes on the block were designated team captains and the rest of us lined up to be judged.
SOME OF MY most stressful childhood moments happened right before games, when the best athletes on the block were designated team captains and the rest of us lined up to be judged.
Every dropped sandlot pass, every missed milk crate layup and every stickball strikeout was a black mark on your record. Your sports history was a childhood credit report, and team captains could arbitrarily foreclose on your right to play.
Sometime this afternoon, 32 general managers will do the same thing in the NFL draft, picking from a bevy of college athletes who've been poked, prodded and questioned about every mistake they've ever made.
"So, Michael Crabtree, why did you wet yourself in nursery school? Are you some kind of rebel?"
"Well, I . . ."
"Too late, son. See you in round seven."
We should all get to go through the draft process. Want to get married? Run the 40 from the bedroom to the kitchen. Want a promotion? Beat out 50 mail clerks in the envelope-licking drill. Want kids? Listen to a crying baby at two in the morning for a week, then function at work.
After talking it over, LaVeta and I liked the draft idea so much that we decided to draft a housekeeper. First, we picked the best-known housekeepers in America. Then we ran computerized simulations of each one cooking and cleaning. Finally, we went to the war room and made our selections.
ROUND ONE: Alice from "The Brady Bunch."
"She was like Mary Poppins," LaVeta said after reviewing the tape. "Practically perfect in every way. The kids were fed, the house was clean, and she solved their personal problems."
"I agree," I said, dialing Alice's agent. "And since she wore that same uniform every day and dated that loser Sam, she won't ever need new clothes. We'll save thousands in salary!"
ROUND TWO: Granny from "The Beverly Hillbillies."
"Granny kept a clean house, made down-home food and made her own lye soap," LaVeta said, watching a 1962 tape of the show. "She was the type who would kill a chicken, eat the chicken, take the feathers and stuff the pillow."
"She was a fireball," I said. "Even at 5 foot 2, she could chase Jethro down to the cee-ment pond with nothing but a broomstick, so I know she could handle Little Solomon."
ROUND THREE: Lurch from "The Addams Family."
"Lurch was like a hidden hand behind the scenes," LaVeta said.
"Actually, Thing was the hidden hand behind the scenes."
"You know what I mean!" LaVeta said. "All they had to do was pull that string and Lurch would say, 'You rang?' I can't remember one episode when they rang the bell and he didn't come."
"You're right," I said. "And at 6 foot 9, he could double as a bodyguard, saving us thousands in security costs!"
ROUND FOUR: Geoffrey from "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air."
"I never really saw him clean anything," I said.
"True, but he's got a mean sense of humor and that British accent," LaVeta said. "Kinda reminds me of Simon from American Idol."
ROUND FIVE: Rosie the Robot from "The Jetsons."
LaVeta didn't know much about Rosie, but I knew she was a late-round steal.
"Rosie was outdated, but she wasn't about to let some young hottie take her place," I said. "She could clean the house, kick Elroy's butt, and cook dinner, all while making that annoying pinging sound."
ROUND SIX: Alfred from "Batman."
"This guy could keep anything secret," I said. "If we ever decided to dress like bats and have a cave under our house, he would definitely be the guy."
Well, that's our draft. We forfeited our seventh rounder when we realized that Florence from the Jeffersons was the only housekeeper left. Next year, when we need babysitters, we'll be doing this again. If you want to watch our kids, start working out now. You might be a first-round pick. *
Solomon Jones' column appears every Saturday. He can be reached at