Thursday, July 13, 2006

Victorian Dad

Continuing the theme of children…

Now that we have punched out our last kid and, barring the intervention of a pitcher of margaritas and a Barry White CD, have put childbearing behind us, I find myself beginning to worry about who my shavers will eventually marry. Especially the girl.

Of course one hopes for plain, round daughters, if only so one doesn't have to spend the 2020s chasing bikers off the lawn. Unfortunately, #3 is already cute as a button, but at least I'll have the boys around as back-up.

Instead I take consolation in the fact that, now I have a daughter, I will at last get to fulfill a long time fantasy and say "I forbid you to marry him" at regular intervals. Examples of potential hims are...
Bill Gates
Bill Clinton (also applies to internships)
Arnold Schwartzenegger (included in the interests of political balance)
Simon Cowell
TV Evangelists
anyone called Keith (I give you Keith Richards, just as an example...)
Manchester United fans who don't live in Manchester
all the other Manchester United fans
Nascar fans
men with goatees
divorce lawyers, and

Might be worth moving to Massachusetts, just so I can add Roseanne Barr to the list.

Who would you add?

Roseanne Barr, yesterday, wearing her politics on her plus-sized sleeve with Michael Moore. Roseanne is on the left. Or is it the right? Whatever. She’s every inch the dream daughter-in-law.


Desargues said...

I'd add not just one individual, but an entire category: toxic bachelors. And hip-hop "artists"--black or white (yeah, I'm looking at you, K-Fed).

And if you guys are moving up north, add this woman to the 'no' list. Erm, I'm not sure which of the two is the woman. Neither, probably, but they say wymynhood is how you define yourself, these days.

R. Sherman said...

Given that the official daughter is 15, the list of "Thou shallt not date [insert name/category here]" is growing long, indeed.

I start with anyone who refuses to identify himself when I answer the phone.

The OD tells me that one of her callers recently said, "For a little guy, your dad scares me."

I was so proud.


Ivan the Terrible said...

Fine nominations, Des, tho' the point of toxic bachelors is that you don't have to forbid anyone to marry them, as the poor deluded females never get the chance to anyway.

And Randall - you're an example to us all :)

Foot Eater said...

Why did you punch your kid out, Ivan? I mean, I'm all for corporal punishment in the form of a clip round the ear or a ruler across the buttocks, but you seem to be taking things a bit far.

Paw said...

Anyone whose christian name is formed by two names, Billy-Bob, Billy-Ray etc.

Ivan the Terrible said...

"Punch them out" as in bus tickets, Footie, not as in Sean Connery's wife. Really, metaphor is an alien planet to you, isn't it?

I suppose I shouldn't have made that point with a metaphor, now I come to think about it...

Anyway, discipline for me revolves around the toys-in-the-bin and you've-made-me/mommy/Santa-very-sad gambits. No need to get physical unless they try and steal my bacon sandwich, the little pikeys.

Paw - excellent addition. Consider Billy-Ray and his ilk my new public enemy #1.

Fatman said...

Anyone suffering from lycanthropy.
Wrestling fans.
Guys who don't know how to turn their phones off during movies.
Guys who are overly rude to waiters for no apparent reason.
People who tell a really crap joke and say, 'That was a joke. Lighten up.' as if your mood was the reason that you weren't laughing.
Lobster Men.
Leonardo DiCaprio (what a dunce).
Ukulele enthusiasts (personal grudge).

Gorilla Bananas said...

I thought Simon Cowell preferred his own sex. A lot of human fathers seem to worry about their daughters becoming lesbians, but it seems to me that a woman could do a lot worse than another woman.

Ivan the Terrible said...

Excellent stuff, fatman, thanks.

GB, generally speaking you're right, but even with females there are limits. And anyway, Roseanne for one stretches the definition of "female" in all sorts of unpleasant dimensions, like a lime green lycra pant-suit...

dipnut said...

The solution is simple. Obtain a Luftwaffe drilling and some Nazi regalia. Refrain from showering and shaving. Hang used human-silhouette pistol targets on all your walls, with most of the bullet holes in the lower abdomen. Stick a bayonet in the ceiling and leave it there. When some dick-on-stilts comes to the door to pick up your daughter, pretend not to notice him as you sit in a pile of oily rags in the middle of the living-room floor, lovingly polishing your drilling. Optional: let a piece of string dangle from the corner of your mouth. Ask if he's delivering a telegram, and grimace horribly when he says no. Then, feign sudden friendliness and call to your wife for some rope. Ask him if he'd like a drink, and hand him a quart mason jar full of cheap rum. Contrive to spill some on him.


Ivan the Terrible said...

Done and done, Dipnut. For a moment there I was afraid you were trying to change me! Whew - lucky escape...

Paw said...

ilk - isn't that an unwell moose?

stubby said...

We live in Texas. The hub says that whenever a guy comes calling for our little girl, he'll just happen to be cleaning a gun.

She's only 4 so we should have a while (I hope). Then again, she already claims she's going to marry a kid named Adam. He's a cute kid, nice family, but I don't think so.