Fatherly Advice

(Sorry for the late post, America. I've been sick with a terrible case of patriotism)

Sometimes I look at my wife, and I can't help but notice that slightly wistful frown she gives back to me. "What are you thinking about, honey?" I'll ask, but I already know the answer. "Oh, nothing."

Even the kids would ask sometimes why we never go anywhere as a family, and I just smiled at them sadly and said that Mommy and Daddy work on such tight schedules that it just never seems to work out. I always wanted things to be different, to be perfect. "They" say that you can't have violins the whole time, and, as the pain has cultivated itself I've learned over the years that "they" were right. We started on the wrong foot, sure, but I had no reason to think we'd stay there forever.

When the kids moved out, we lost most of our reasons to pretend. I confined myself to my side of the house. It had everything I need, the beer, the television and my hiking enthusiast magazines. I don't hike, but they help to remind me that there's more out there than just my enclosure. It's not like I planned things this way--when we were married, I knew I wanted to spend every minute of my life with this woman. It was true then, and it's true now, but it seems that such happiness is not meant to be mine.

When the call came, I was ecstatic to talk to my son. He had found The Girl, and he wanted to tell me everything about her. I listened with melancholy optimism as I heard so many of my own sentiments from years past find an incarnation in my son's young, naive "love" for this girl.

Perhaps I should have let the moment pass. Perhaps I should have just listened, silently hoping and praying that his luck would be better, but some protective spirit in me couldn't stand by and watch my son descend into that same quiet hell. I had come face to face with my old demon, the one that had ruined me, and it would not take my child.

"Son," I said with trepidation, trying to fight the quavering in my voice, "When you ask her to marry you, don't add the caveat `or I'll take a blowtorch to this bag of kittens.' Promise me."

"Uh, okay, Dad."

A single, bitter tear rolled down my wrinkled cheek as I hung up the phone.

Five Aliens

Five aliens walk into a bar.

The first alien says, "Hi, there!"

The second alien says, "Gimme a drink!"

The third alien says, "Jonny's making up this joke as he goes."

The fourth alien says, "We must be building up to something great."

The fifth alien says, "I doubt it. There probably won't even be a punchline."

Charities

I don't really support charities, because I think voluntarily giving money to organizations for the benefit of people you don't know and will likely never meet is no way to achieve results. I mean, if these charitable foundations are really making such a difference, where do they keep finding kids to put on their TV spots? Exactly. They don't do anything.

That's why I support the philosophy of imposing charitable donations on Americans through their taxes. Why send you money off to a faceless organization working to "feed children in Africa" when you can see the results of your tax dollars? Empty buses, crime-ridden and broken-down government housing, and, of course, government offices with friendly staff, accommodating hours, and rapid service!

Yes, America, competition doesn't work, and altruism doesn't exist. That's why we should proudly raise our taxes and be forced to do our part. I'm going to go stand in line for a driver's license, so I won't be answering any emails until at least Friday.