Father’s Day, Humbug. Humbug I say.

It is not that I don’t overall enjoy being a dad, I do.

It is not that I don’t love my kids. I’m not giving them back no matter what you say.

I don’t mind the spit up on my shirt; neither do I mind the screaming tantrums asking for something absurd, nonexistent, or unattainable for the moment.

I love my wife. One of these days I will get a moment alone with her.

But I really don’t care too much for Father’s Day. It is arbitrary. It’s about as important as Arbor Day. When is Arbor Day anyway? Who cares?

Really being a dad is a thankless job. No one notices or cares unless you are runaway or otherwise bad dad, then plenty of attention is given to you. No thanks.

Being a dad is like unto a couch. It’s lumpy and old and has stains so you turn the cushions over. One day you will take it to the dump and leave it there but not today you don’t have time. For today it will suffice.

So keep your ties, I have enough ties.  I buy my ties to match my suits that I wear once in a while. Fathers need love but not once a year, every day all day. Fathers need a lot of things but oh well. Its just too bad. Suck it up and be a man. No sleep. No affection. Just crying all day and all night everyone crying. Plus a rock band practicing across the street until 1AM on a school night. I got news for you guys the soundproofing ain’t cutting it, plus you suck.

Being a dad is great. Never boring. So much fun all the time.