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Thanks, Dads

Covalent Blonde

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On behalf of fathers… my father, your fathers, the fathers you are, the fathers you know, and even the passing moments of paternal advice you hand off to those around you, here is a heartfelt thank you for what you do. For all of the patience you have had and the times you steadied your hands from choking the ever loving shit out the things you love and every smile you cracked as you watched your children learn and grow and succeed, here is a toast to the things you do and a moment of gratitude for who you are.

Thank you for the good you do and for passing it on to others.

And for checking out the scary shadows I would always see in the middle of the night… thanks for that, too.

Shadows

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WhyEaglesWhy

I would like to thank my Dad for leading me away from the dark side and into the light. When I was but a wee lad, I had a brief flirtation with the Dallas Cowboys. It was the late 70s, and in the 5-channel universe, they were on TV all the time. Plus, Roger Staubach was dope, and his rival Terry Bradshaw was just A dope.

Anyway, Dad was tasked one Christmas with buying me a Cowboys bathrobe and slippers. It’s a testament to the man’s strength that he didn’t drop dead on the spot. Instead, he nudged, prodded, and mostly waited for reason to take hold.

I came around in time to see Ron Jaworski and 52 of his best friends perform a synchronized pants-shitting in the Super Bowl against a meh Raiders team they’d beaten during the regular season. I was home.

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Cuntler

Being a Dad is cool. ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⛳️⛳️⛳️

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Cuntler

None of the gun and heroin emojis appeared. Step it up, #bestfaninbaseball

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Sep

I spoke with my Dad earlier. I find it oddly comforting that cleaning the pool is something that he is looking forward to with glee. I don’t understand it but I appreciate it.

Here’s to you, Fathers.

http://i.imgur.com/yyNCGxr.gif

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upstate underdog

Oddly enough I too look forward to cleaning the pool. It relaxes me.

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VonTazeMeBro

Wishing all you dads, future dads, cat dads, dog dads, maybe dads (spring break ’02, I’m looking at you) a day full beer, pantslesness, and maybe a blow j! I
I do believe that covered all the types of dads we have in the group, unless you’re a fish dad then fuck that, you’re weird.

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laserguru

But I,
I,

I have a fish tank. You should see my angel fish. She’s a beauty, yes she is!

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Covalent Blonde

Nope. VMB is right. Angelfish? Pffft. You gotta go full weirdo… tamandua-style!
http://media.petster.com/photos/13197/572-856-194-751-269996-m575.jpg

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laserguru

I appreciate everything my dad did for me. I just wished he would have lived a little longer. My kids barely got to know their grandfather and that’s a damn shame.
I plan on giving my grandkids the full granddaddy experience.
God help them.

There may be diaper changes involved eventually.

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King Hippo

My old man is departed, too. All three of my daughters did get to know him, though my youngest had just turned 5 when he died and are fuzzy on the specifics of his voice, etc. He was a badass grandpa, too. We called him “the baby whisperer.” My mom being the spot-on comedian of the family noted “oh yeah, he was always wonderful with you kids until you developed opinions.”

One of the common fallacies about men is that we don’t have emotions. Au contraire, we feel very deep emotions – we JUST DON’T LIKE IT. It’s also part of the unwritten rules passed from generation to generation that even the most progressive and enlightened of our troglodyte gender tend not to express said feelings in public, absent the backdrop of sports. Sports makes it ok. Don’t ask why, IT JUST DOES. So my then-wife was more than a little startled the first time she saw me cry – more than just a solitary tear, a veritable torrent…when the Land Baron’s 4th down pass hit the turf, no flags were to be found, and somehow my lovable loser DENVER BRONCOS had won the Super Bowl.

Similarly, I was able to convince one of my kids to come up and watch the end of the Jim Valvano “Survive and Advance” 30 for 30 with the promise that “every time they show his last speech in Reynolds Coliseum, I cry.” “But you didn’t cry at Grandpa’s funeral!” she exclaimed. “Not that you SAW” I protested, which she didn’t understand because of course that makes no goddamned sense because men make no goddamned sense.

I did speak at my Dad’s funeral, hands shaking like Michael J. Fox coming off the eggbeater ride at the state fair (behind the podium so nobody could see, thank fuck). But my real public mourning, of course, had to be sports-related:

http://www.statefansnation.com/2007/07/rest-in-peace-jed6872/

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laserguru

Both of my daughters are all grown up and on their own now so it’s easy to forget how much of a challenge it was to raise them.
They were both incredibly easy to raise but I’m not sure their mother would say the same thing.

Anyway, this is my youngest and her post to me this morning:

“Thank you for always being my shoulder to cry on, my personal gourmet chef, that little voice in my head that tells me to “do the stupid thing,” and one of my best friends. You are one spectacular individual and I’m more than proud to call you Dad. HAPPY FATHER’S DAY. You sure raised one hell of a kid! I love you.”

That’s my girl.

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King Hippo

On behalf of the father community, we apologize for all the us-specific issues, and hope that they are of the therapy-manageable varietal, and not the serial killer producing kind. Nobody wants CNN showing up on their front porch when they may not be wearing pants.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSeZxjLhxV4

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