Father’s Day Salute; Rick Perry Wields Empty Head As A Weapon

 

So. Happy Father’s Day to all of us fathers. I wish that sincerely in spite of the fact that I’m somewhat ambivalent about this kind of holiday. Valentine’s Day and Father’s Day and Grandparent’s Day… I get the sentiments but don’t get any personal sentimental values from them.

I do enjoy getting the calls and cards from my three human kids, each of whom live in other states. Those would be the children I’m not allowed to write about upon the threat of an extended stay over to Shoal Creek Loony Bin. Their mother, my ex-wife and psycho therapist, Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson, laid it out to me this way when presenting her not so veiled threat.

She said to me, she said, “Look, Mooner, you inappropriate asshole, our kids are the only people who are in your life through no choice of their own. The rest of us can only blame ourselves. Don’t write about them and embarrass them.”

Whenever I attempt any kind of counter argument she’ll simply say, “Then why did all three of them move out of the state?”

“Because you are such a bitch,” I always respond.

But she’s right and I know better. I’d leave town too if I’d witnessed my father’s arrest on TV. With his pants at his ankles and his brightly-colored ass hair shaved to look like a cartoon character. During a City Council Meeting. A dozen times.

Or maybe they moved because they grew tired of the full-body searches they endured to visit me over to Shoal Creek. I guess the joy of playing in a padded cell was outweighed by the invasive scans.

I’m thinking we need a new holiday, one to honor the people who put up with the most. I think we need a “Children’s Day” or we could call it “I Survived My Father Day.” I think we need a day to tell our kids how sorry we are for fucking up their lives and embarrassing so badly that they feel the need a couple thousand miles of separation.

But my kids love me and now I’ll shut my big yap about that taboo subject and tell you what has been planned for me by my adopted kids. Since Daddy and Grandpa are both long dead, I am the Johnson Family patriarch, a fact long lamented by both my mother and grandmother.

Gram doesn’t say much, but Mother constantly reminds me that Daddy was a better father than I was a son. It doesn’t hurt my feelings– I know she’s right. My father was a very good man.

Anyway, Squirt and Honor the cat, and the two homosexuals who hide in my closet, are taking me fishing for Father’s Day. Rick Perry and Rush Limbaugh are getting pasty-looking from spending too much time indoors. My pet ostrich and hog need airing out, same as my closet.

Isn’t it funny the way your kids choose what to do for Father’s Day? If they were to take me to do exactly what I wish to be doing today, the cooler of Carta Blanca beer and old dad here would be dropped off over to SAC Ellen’s place for a day of sexing.

Instead, father and beer alike are headed to our pier to sit in the hundred-degree heat to fish. The joys of my Father’s Day will be watching these four misfits. From digging the fishing worms to the crazed antics that is this fish-catching circus, this will be a good day for me.

Hell, it already started when at breakfast, the Squirt told me, “Happy Father’s Day,” in twenty different languages. My favorite was the Filipino greeting of, “Aran masaya ama.” At least I think that was Filipino. I’ll ask the Reckmonster.

Anyway, I need to get going. Rick Perry is swinging his empty head around like a weapon and breaking things.

Happy Father’s Day! Manana, y’all.

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4 Responses to “Father’s Day Salute; Rick Perry Wields Empty Head As A Weapon”

  1. Squatlo says:

    Mooner, I know you consider yourself the World’s Most Inappropriate Man, but I believe my dad beat you to the title by about fifty years. “If you’re gonna be stupid, you gotta be tough” was heard a lot at my house, and he’d save that sage advice for AFTER my idiotic behavior, ’cause it would mean something then.
    My little sister’s wedding ceremony was performed in our living room at the family house, and dad was a reluctant observer (the only way he’d go to the wedding was if it was in front of his television where he’d have no choice) When the minister got to the “If any man knows of any reason why these two people shouldn’t be joined together in matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his…” and that the exact moment when my dad let loose a Falstaff Beer belch from the back of the room that rattled the windows.
    Swear to god…

    Upon seeing Jehovah’s going door to door in our neighborhood, he said to my mom, “Watch how long this takes” then opened the door before they had a chance to knock, announced, “We’re orthodox Jews!” and slammed the door… beer in hand.

    I thought my mom was gonna die of humiliation about once a day because of the man.

    When our car died at a traffic light in Oak Ridge one afternoon, a man behind us started blowing his horn. Dad got out of the car, walked back, smiled at the guy and said, “Tell you what. You go up there and start my car, and I’ll sit back here and blow your horn for you.”
    The guy rolled up his window and put his car in reverse to get around us…

    Most inappropriate sumbitch EVER… would say anything to anybody, totally fearless. Man of few words, and all of them were classic.

    We’re getting tomatoes turning colors up here… life’s good.
    Happy Fathers Day, Mooner!

  2. Squat. Happy Pops’ to you too! Your dad sounds like my kind of guy. Mine stood up to his mother, that would be Gram, and I always admired him just for that. He was likewise the Quiet Man but you best pat attention when he did speak. I miss him like crazy.

    In fact, fuck it all, I’ve got tears leaking into my popcorn.

    Good to hear your tomatoes are starting to work. Now that you are through the monsoon season you want to be careful of blossom end rot. Usually comes from watering to much (often) and not deeply. The red orbs like it hard and deep and then like to dry out before another irrigation.

    Wait until I tell you about today’s fishing trip.

  3. Yo, Mooner… Happy Father’s Day! And don’t ask me about what Squirt said to you. Do you know that there are nearly 100 different dialects of “Filipino”? The main “national” dialect is Tagalog. My mom is from a different set of islands – so she speaks a different dialect (but she can speak Tagalog as well as her own dialect). There are other Filipinos from different islands that she cannot even communicate with! Anyway…I just had a little “Mooner Johnson digression” there…
    As I was saying, HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, you crazy bastard!!

  4. admin says:

    Reck. Tagalog– somehow I think that’s really fucking funny. I’ll aske the Squirt which dialect she was speaking. And thanks, Father’s Day is special to we crazy ones.

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