On Father’s Day, Or What It REALLY Should Be Called

Out Where the Buses Don't Run

As Father’s Day approaches, I always seem to take this day with something of a massive grain of salt. Because, let’s face, fathers don’t really ever get the love mothers do. And rightly so, because some dads suck. 

Okay, but what about the dads that don’t suck, the ones that haven’t left their kids (or their kids’ mommas) or pulled a Bing Crosby and got all liquored up on Scotch and used their kids as battering rams? What about the dads that never missed a ballet recital – even if little Cindy looked like a drooling spazz in a tutu, and you put on a brave face while your daughter looked horrifically inept – or missed your son’s soccer game – let’s face, little Jason ain’t going to be the next Lionel Messi. He’s messy, alright.

Us dads that actually care aren’t going to be showered with all the…

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