Happy Fucking Father’s Day

Growing up, my father was never one to beat around the bush about the way he felt about things. I know some people go all their lives without ever seeing their father break character or resemble anything but a stone gargoyle with a huge penis. And that’s not to say that my dad is some pussy that goes around pouring out his heart and soul every chance he gets, but I’ve never had to question his character.

One of the first serious conversations I remember having with my father was when I was about thirteen years old. We were discussing how badass my grandfather was for surviving WWII, coming home, banging my grandmother and raising an army of bearded Italian men. Then we got on the topic of my grandpa kicking the bucket (real uplifting, I know). And with the most serious, stern looking face that can ever come out of a human male, my old man looked at me and said this:

“When I get old, if you ever try and put me in a home, I will gather enough strength to kill you before I go.”

And with those words, I’ve never had more respect for my father or fathers in general. The bond of father and son goes beyond the blatant honesty in situations such as these. It’s learning not to give a fuck about the things that don’t matter. It’s about learning the endless uses for things such as barbeque sauce, a pocket knife and boobs (not usually at the same time btw). Liking and hating the same sports teams, roughing it in the woods and cooking excessive amounts of meat are all things that father and son have experienced together for eons. And by passing down these traditions, males in our species have learned to instill these values in their future sperm.

Dads of all species put up with our bullshit.

So if you yourself is a proud owner of some offspring of the male persuasion, are soon to be one or happen to have a father, like mine, who’s enough of a badass to walk to his car in the morning with a claw hammer in case someone tries to mug him, remember to appreciate it that shit. There aren’t enough men in the world to teach us guys about drinking shitty beers, growing a gnarly 80’s mustache and how to treat women right.

My father once killed a porcupine with a hand axe,

Jersey John

 

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