As this deeply shitty holiday comes and goes again without incident (but with the requisite necktie and cologne), I found myself wondering, what do men REALLY want for this occasion?
1. Solitude. For 364 other days this year, dads are bombarded by people who want something. “Where’s that profitability report?” Or “Did you talk to your kid about his learning disability?” And “Wake up, you’re going to spill your wine.” For just this once, please, please, please: leave us the balls alone.
2. Alcohol. Some men like beer; others reach for the hard stuff. Here’s an idea we can all support: free unlimited booze for all dads every Father’s Day. I want to be like Nicolas Cage in “Leaving Las Vegas,” pushing a shopping cart down the aisle, singing and dancing, while loading up on every type of hooch imaginable. Have you ever seen a man look as happy as Nick in this scene? No. The answer is no.
3. A Different Day. Who the hell picked Sunday for my holiday? Not a dad, that’s for sure. Sundays are a rueful combination of “What did I do last night?” and “Back to work tomorrow!” (SFX: GUNSHOT). Fuck Sundays.
4. Cheerleaders. And no, not like that, you sickos. What I’m talking about is a group of insanely positive teenagers to follow me around and cheer like crazy at every minor decision I make. Like packing my own lunch. Or taking the bus. Using a coupon. And then, at the end of the day, those cheerleaders will form a human pyramid, lift up their collective skirts, and fulfill my sickest, wildest, most utterly deplorable fantasies. “Two four six eight, who do we appreciate?” Me, that’s who.
5. Three Days. Both Jesus and Thomas Jefferson get a four-day weekend. And I’m pretty sure both of those dudes owned slaves. Or at least, condoned the practice. I’m a 21st century dad, with two jobs, a mortgage, a mountain of credit card debt, and three ungrateful kids. Give me 72 hours and I’ll give you a new national or religious hero.
6. Bath Salts. Tell me you’re not a little curious.
7. A Flame Thrower. To me neighbors are perfect socio-economic mirrors; they reflect back exactly what you have been able to achieve (or not achieve). For this reason, they must be destroyed. Just this once, I want to ring Old Man Jenkins’ doorbell, then yell something clever like, “Knock knock, who’s there? Oh yeah, it’s an M2A1-7 napalm-fueled flame-thrower.” Then I’ll pull the trigger and fry that sonofabitch in his doorway, along with his perfect hedges and stupid PT-Cruiser.
8. An Awesome Lion. I don’t know much about animals or pet care, but I do know this: if you can find a way to saddle up a ferocious, man-eating lion and ride that beast into your boss’s office, the odds of you getting a raise will go up by about a billion percent.
9. Control of the U.S. Army. And while we’re at it, I want the codes to all our nukes. Let’s do this thing. After a Father’s Day like this one, I can’t go back. Not to my shitty job or my pathetic two-bedroom house. It’s time to finish what we started. Hand me the scotch. Prime the fuel tanks. Girls, let me really hear you this time.
10. A Necktie and Maybe Some Cologne. What can I say? I’m a softie for tradition.