Saturday, December 12, 2009

Father's Day

Father's Day Special

What it Means to be a Father

By: Greg Welky

Tim Russert has asked me to contribute to his new book on fatherhood and I'm pleased to tell you a little about my father and the everlasting relationship with my beautiful son James.

When I grew up, times were different. Back then, a father was the crux of the family and the family's survival depended on him.

Today, with modern conveniences and social progression, the father has much more free time to be a friend to his children. And I suppose my son James thinks of me that way.

But, when I grew up, my father wasn't always around to talk baseball, throw the pigskin around, and tell me how to change a tire on a Chevy convertible with no lug wrench!

My father worked 14-hour days at the GM plant in Flint, Michigan and the time he had after work was devoted to the continuous maintenance of our ramshackle house.

If it wasn't the septic tank, it was the roof. If it wasn't the roof, it was the heater. My father broke his back at work and when he came home it was no different.

Times were hard and what little I know of my father is in the small windows at dinner where he would silently fork hamburger helper, or whatever we could afford at the time, into his mouth.

But, you know, that's how he showed his love – through his determination to get our family out of that house and into a descent lifestyle. He knew it wouldn't happen in his lifetime, but with the money he put towards our education I'm happy to say that I've been able to give my son everything my father couldn't.

Don't get me wrong; I still see 14-hour days at work, but not often. And, what house chores need to be accomplished I'm able to leave for the weekend.

And I'm not alone.

Lately, on weekends my son and I work together on a gazebo we're building for my wife Sharon.

I guess James will tell you that I spend a good two hours a night helping him with homework and teaching him how to throw a screwball – I guess a lot has changed since my dad's day.

But, I believe that maybe what love I show my son now is a direct result of the love my father showed me. The only thing that's changed is what we can afford to show.

That's why I think this Fathers day we dad's should reflect on how lucky we are to live in a world where we can throw the pill around with our sons and daughters.

I know our fathers would be proud of us.

Dad, You are so Fucking Lame

By: Jim Welky

My Dad asked me to write a piece on Father's day for Tim Russert's new book on fatherhood.

Well, Tim, ever since my Dad purchased your last piece of shit, he's been totally gaying up our relationship and recently he's been taking my beer drinking time and putting it towards some fucking gazebo thing he's building.

Weekends used to be dope – I'm about to graduate high school (SENIORS RULE!), Larry's parents are in Barbados for six weeks, and Jerry has been scoring beer with his brother's ID.

Not only that, I finally got Jill to put out!

So, basically, I've been livin' the dream – until your fucking book got into my father's hands.

Before he read that piece of shit he pretty much forgot I existed.

And I didn't mind.

Look, Tim, a boy needs a father around – I totally agree. But, at this age I only need my father to bitch me out when I do something REALLY fucking stupid, or to bail me out when I do something even more REALLY stupid.

And, of course, for money.

All this "throwing the pill around" shit is fast becoming gayer than three gays on a gay train.

I get home the other day and Dad has his catcher's mitt on and produces my graduation gift: a fucking baseball glove his father gave him.

His ALKY father – don't get me started, grandpa died smacked out of his gourd on Schlitz.

So, goodbye Acura – hello crappy baseball mitt. Not only that, but when he gives it to me he starts weeping and tries to hug me.

Tim, you need to write another book and change this shit quick.

I hate baseball and if my Dad tries to hug me again I'm going to call Social Services.

Go fuck yourself,


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