Happy day after Father’s Day, folks.  To celebrate, let’s make like Internet Dad, go out of the office for cigarettes and never come back.

Or, in the interests of preserving our family ties and/or ability to pay our bills, (in whichever order or the exclusions of whichever item you prefer), we could just do a Father’s Day themed draft.

Well screw you, I’m running this draft and we’re gonna do it anyway.  Plus jokes on you, I enjoy pretzels.

For Mother’s Day I think the theme was ‘Mothers You Wouldn’t Want.’  We could do that for Father’s Day, but I’d again have to rule out taking your own while again pointing you to the nearest therapist and I already made that joke so let’s do something else.

This idea came to me while walking my faithful hound Tucker at about 9:00 pm last night.  I was walking him that late because I went out to a beer garden with my father and brother and my brother had to drive because he isn’t a father, (that we know of, anyway), so yesterday wasn’t about him.  Suffice it to say it was nap time when I got home, (I only had two beers, but they were high octane, and I also had split a BLT Benedict and a Crab cake Benedict and let’s just say that is some fine sleepin’ food!  Also delicious.  Then I had to mow the lawn and then my daughter showed up to take my out for ice cream.  Pretty solid Dad’s day all around.  I hope all you Dads had a similarly enjoyable and artery-clogging day.

/looks at word count

For today we’ll be drafting people deemed “Father of X,” with ‘X’ being something of particular note, or if not note of particular interest to you.

For the sake of not being labeled sexist pigs I will extend the draft to women deemed “Mother of X” and just pretend we live in a world where no one gets too wrapped up about gender.

A person may be drafted more than once, but only once per ‘Father of’ category.  We’ll call this the Thomas Edison rule.

With the first pick I will take Benjamin Franklin, in his role as ‘The Father of Electricity.’

I like to think of the artist looking at this, thinking that the cherubim and serraphim, (sp? fuck it, who cares), behind Ben might be a bit much and then deciding that he’s on a deadline and the hell with it.

The rest of you are on the clock.