Father Knows Best: Reason My Dad F*CKING ROCKS #147

As Margaret More Roper once said of her father, Sir Thomas More: "My dad fucking rocks." (Actually, I think the exact quote was, "Excuse me, sir, can I buy my old man's head back? Our fam's in a real pickle." 


And if you don't know why that joke is effing hilarious, you really need to catch up on your 16th century Reformation-era history. But I digress...)  


The point: Like Sir Thom, my father rocks. 


A few examples:

#76: He slow-braises beef short ribs for hours in savory demi-glaze, spoons them over homemade garlic mashed potatoes, freezes them, then sends divine meat-packages into the city so my friends and I can have home-cooked meals even when we can't come home.

#15: He prefers weed to alcohol and, at 56, can still roll the most immaculate joint you've ever seen in under two minutes.

#112: He's 6'2", 240 lbs. and weeps openly every time he sees a father walk his little girl down the aisle at a wedding.

#147: The card I'm about to detail for you in this post.

A quick primer: 

Having successfully survived the part of raising girls which includes living under the same (small) roof with two hormonal teenaged time-bombs, a perimenopausal wife and a deaf female rat-terrier with OCD, Dad's paternal instincts are as immaculately honed as Charlie Sheen's coke insufflation technique. With his nest now empty, he keeps his skills sharp in a variety of ways, including (but not limited to) playing surrogate father to the myriad vagabond bohemians I call friends. 


A few weeks ago, said ring of vagabond bohemians continued its decade-long tradition of inbreeding when one male member and one female member started hooking up on the regular. (This happens frequently. Though I'm assuming it'll be happening less, since we're running out of members who haven't, at minimum, gone down on one another...but again I digress.) The male then did something even he openly admits was stupid and hurtful, wounding the female badly enough that she told him to go fuck himself.  


When Dad called a few days later he asked after his surrogate children. I gently explained the falling out of Male and Female (both of whom he loves and will love no matter what stupid thing they do) and mentioned Female was feeling jaded by the whole encounter. 


Shortly thereafter, Female received a handwritten note from my father in the mail. 


The front of the card has a picture of a dog hanging out a car window with the Madame de Stael quote "The more I see of man, the more I like dogs" underneath. The inside reads thusly:

Dearest Ms. [Female's Name Withheld Because Blogging is Bad for Incestuous Social Circles],

I'm sure you get the sentiment of this card...especially when you are dealing with "young boys"...they oft think like "young children."

Sometimes I wish I could have redone some of the things I did when I thought like a young manboy...and, of course, [insert name of Male who wounded Female here] is incapable of being as perfect as I was in my youth. But that's still no excuse for him being a dumb ass.

It's okay...be mad...be pissed...think revenge...then move on.

You have so much to give...so much personality to be able to handle this...so much that makes you the catch you will be for the right person when you are ready...and so much life to go. Don't fret--know you are loved by family and friends...when you are sad so are we, so move on to a better place...and better guy.

With love,

Papa and Mama Syllabick

PS: "Love" doesn't mean a six pack stomach and rippling tushy muscles...if that were true, then why has Mama stayed with me so long? It's more important to feel love in your heart and mind.

And if that fails, go for the money. 

That, gentlemen, is how you raise daughters.


That, ladies, is a piece of text we should all be reading like scripture. 


And that, everyone, is reason #147 my dad fucking rocks.