F.U., F.D.

Father’s Day eats it. Built on lies and ridiculous assumptions, F.D. dupes dads into a false sense of appreciation because it’s theoretically a celebration of us and all we do. But then we get depressed and dismayed to learn that it’s basically like a birthday. But with no cake, no beer and no strippers.

If you had eyes on Father’s Day, you probably saw scads of sad little familial units sauntering around listlessly in the heat, smiling politely, nobody really sure of what to do, because all you’re supposed to be doing is ‘spending quality family time together.’

Up that. If I spent any more time with my family, I’d be surgically appended. And this is why Father’s Day doesn’t make sense on a most fundamental level.

Mother’s Day makes sense, it’s easy. Mom likes being appreciated in hotcake form. A couple silver dollar stacks, an incoherent Crayon-ed card, maybe a foot rub. Done.

You take me to brunch, I might smile, but it’s only to mask my contempt for the long wait for an overpriced meal with a bunch of other sorry, sackless assholes that didn’t properly express their F.D. demands. And you ever gotten a card from a kid? ‘Oh, is this Pepe the pug Daddy’s petting?’ ‘No, it’s POOOOOOOOP! And you’re eating it hahahahahaha!’ Super.

Seriously, what other holiday can you think of where I’m guaranteed to get nothing I want? I mean, besides Mother’s Day.

You ask any dad on the street what he wants at any given moment it’s probably a big slice of Leave Me the Fuck Alone. Why can’t you just celebrate F.D. in my absence? Hold a vigil or some shit. Tell tales of my heroism. Eulogize me, bitches!

Maybe the problem is just one of nomenclature. The name Father’s Day seems to explicitly state that it’s for me me me, which it’s clearly not. So call it what it is—Forced Familial Interaction Day. Catchy, ain't it?

What we really need is an Anti-Father’s Day. Better yet, a weekend. A long one. This is the time you tell your kid to get lost, that Daddy is going on what we like to call a “bender.” Google it, little buddy.

I'm also sick of this nasty implication that if you “have something better to do” on F.D. than hang out with your family, you suck. When in fact it is you, F.D., who is the one that sucketh.

Next year’s gonna be different. I think a strategically-timed flu shot should do the trick. Best to just sleep it off in the air-con, alone. Thanks for the card, though--now run along. Daddy's real contagious.