Three Guys sit in their common room watching T.V.

Greg (9/11 kid): So what’s going on tonight?
Jim: I don’t know man. Staying in.
Mike: Yeah, I don’t really feel like going out either.
Greg: Come on guys it’s my 21st birthday. Let’s get wasted!
Mike: Don’t you know what today is dude.
Jim: Show some respect.
Greg: (fed up) You know guys, this is bullsh*t. The past 6 years I’ve dealt with this and I’ve taken it like a champ. No complaints. I understand. But it’s my 21st birthday!
Jim: Too soon.
Greg: So I never get to have a normal birthday, ever again?
Mike: Try to be a little more considerate Greg. We’re in yellow right now.
Greg: Yellow?
Jim: Elevated. Significant Risk of Terrorist Attacks.
Greg: How do you know that?
Jim: I have a facebook app.
Greg: Well this is stupid. You guys really do suck.

Annoyed, Greg exits the common area and goes into his room to call his Dad.

Greg: Hey Dad.
Dad: Hey, Greggy boy. Friends don’t wanna go out?
Greg: How’d you know?
Dad: There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since you were young and I think you’re finally at the right age to handle it.
Greg: (confused) Dad, what’s going on?
Dad: Son, our family is cursed.
Greg: Cursed? Are you drunk again Dad?
Dad: What’s my birthday?
Greg: Uhh, December 6th?
Dad: I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. It’s December 7th.
Greg: So?
Dad: Have you learned nothing in history? December 7th is the day the dirty Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.
Greg: That’s just a weird coincidence.
Dad: It’s no coincidence! Sorry son. Family curse. Each first born son as far as I can track has been born on the day of a national disaster. Grandpa was the Stock Market Crash. You know your Great Uncle Sal? Single-handedly responsible for the Cold War.
Greg: This is ridiculous. So my son is going to cause a national disaster?
Dad: Have you met a special girl?
Greg: Dad, c’mon. You know I don’t like talking about girls with you.
Dad: (off phone; in background) Honey, Greggy has a girlfriend!
Mom: (on phone) GREGGY! What’s her name?!?
Greg: (annoyed) Jesus, I don’t have a girlfriend.
Mom: Oh you can tell me Gregory. I am your mother.
Greg: There’s no girl. Dad was just telling me about this stupid family curse.
Mom: Oh, the curse. Well, I pray for a girl. I don’t know if I could handle a first born male disaster. Just don't have the years in me anymore. Not since cousin Peter caused the JFK assassination. Such a good looking man.
Greg: Jesus, you guys are ridiculous!
Mom: We just don’t want your son to be the fall of Western Civilization, that’s all.
Dad: (mumbling) Better yet, lay a Chinese. God knows their people could use a setback.
Greg: I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
Dad: Just wait to impregnate her son. We’re in yellow you know.
Mom: Significant Risk of Terrorist Attacks.

(Click.)