The World According To Dad

This’ll be a short one today, Kids. It occurred to me to render to print a few of my Dad’s wit, wisdom, and hopelessly ridiculous comments; to wit:

  • “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him suck your dick.” Whaaaa…??? But there it was, delivered with an expression of abject solemnest; no further explanation was offered, and apparently should NOT have been required…
  • “I’ll break your arm and beat you with the bloody end of it!” I think I first heard this one at the age of 4, after trying to insert the tines of a fork into an electrical outlet. In retrospect, it prolly would have been “the lesser of two evils”…
  • “Quit that RIGHT now, or I’ll take you BACK to the orphanage where I GOT you from, and get ANOTHER one looks just LIKE you!” I somehow derived comfort from this, at least knowing that he liked the way I LOOKED anyway…
  • “You see that man in the car to my left; the one in the PASSENGER seat, with the WOMAN driving? That man is either a fag, or he’s got no legs.” Here was another slice of unsolicited Worldly Wisdom from dear old Dad; although Mom was a better driver than he was (Prolly ’cause she was SOBER just a tick more often), if/when we ever went ANYWHERE together, then HE drove — PERIOD! And I don’t care if it was cross-country, the old Man was THE driver; that’s just the way it was; we never DID find out whether or not that dude had any legs…
  • “We shouldn’t have stopped with only TWO Atom Bombs on Japan!” O.K. — give the guy at least a partial “Bye” on this one; 37 months in Okinawa during WWII, .30 caliber Japanese sniper bullet lodged in his right arm — I GETCHA, Pop! When I bought my first Japanese vehicle in 1982, The Old Man would make me part that thing a quarter mile away and WALK to his house; luckily, I only had it for a few months…
  • “You stay here and watch TV; I gotta take your Mom to the Groinocologist for a tubal litigation and a breast monogram.” See? This actually DOES work, in a convoluted, Archie Bunker sorta way; I mean, I DID know what he MEANT…
  • “You’re a bum, all your FRIENDS are bums, and all of youse are never gonna be anything BUT bums!” This was pretty much Dad’s DAILY send-off to me; it literally became my own personal “Mantra”. When I got old enough, I remember responding with “Then the apple don’t fall far from the tree, does it Dad?” (Insert stink-eye here)
  • “If I catch you and your friend Mike fucking around with that fire again, your FANNIES are gonna be on fire!” This was in response to another of my bright ideas; to wit: Make paper airplanes and throw them THROUGH the contained brush fire that Dad had made to burn up the tree limbs of the tree that he cut down for firewood; this was during the “Green Acres Years” when Mom decided that we would be farmers/ranchers/cattlemen. I can tell ya’ — throwing a paper aeroplane through a bonfire and watching IT catch on fire, yet still remain flying, is a pre-arsonist’s DREAM! O.K. — I never became an arsonist, but I WAS willing to learn!
  • “Do that again and I’ll hit you so hard I’ll kill your whole FAMILY! Relatives you don’t even know you GOT are gonna be droppin’ dead!” I wonder if Dad understood the irony of this — “Uh Dad, if you DO that, won’t YOU be dead TOO?” I never offered that poser to Pops; hey, I may have been STUPID, but I wasn’t DUMB; some “corrections” are better off NOT pointed out…
  • “I used to drink all the time, but recently I’ve REALLY cut back; now I only drink when I’m alone or with people…” Nice work here Pops; gonna use that one myownself!
  • “Fuck him — another drunken, skirt-chasing Irishman gets his.” This one repeated two times — once after each Kennedy assassination. I found particular irony in THIS one too, since my Dad was often drunk, and often (rumored to be, at least by Mom) a skirt-chaser; furthermore, most of his drinkin’ buddies were IRISH, f’er Chrissakes! I think it was because Mom liked JFK/RFK, so anything Mom LIKED, Dad automatically DISLIKED (this went for liquor and cigarette brands too).
  • ANYTIME you wanna move out, there Junior — I’ll get your suitcase down outta the attic and HELP you pack!” This was another of his “top admonitions” — I believe I heard this at least WEEKLY from ~4 years old on. I made good on this the DAY I graduated high school, never to return — ah, the kids today, eh?

So there you have it — the “Dirty Dozen”. I’ll be sharing more of Dad’s gems of wisdom right here, Boys & Girls — stay tuned!

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