Father’s Day: A Day To Bash Dad

Mother’s Day is one of those sacred days where our mothers are nearly deified. We send cards, praise, flowers, gifts, poems, you name it. And it’s understandable; women carry us for 3/4 of a year, then bring us into this world. Then we torture them with nonstop crying (well, of course I didn’t!), late night feedings, and – oh yeah – we irreversibly change some of their bodies forever. For the last reason alone, they should be celebrated on their Special Day.

But for some moms, that isn’t enough.

This past Father’s Day weekend, the social networks were flooded with complimentary dedications to dads everywhere. I don’t mean “fathers”. I mean “DADS”. The guys who made their children feel safe. The guys who made it to recitals – or the ones who sadly missed them in order to take care of their families. The guys who showed up at games and almost got into a fist fight with the coach for benching their kid. These are the guys who laughed at their childrens’ stupid knock-knock jokes, the ones who busted their children smoking/drinking, but shared the cigarette/beer with them instead of screaming at them because he was just that cool.

The examples are endless.

But for some women who didn’t have such mates, they feel that they deserve both days. The father(s) of their child(ren) either took off, or was simply a loser to his family. (I suppose it’s redundant mentioning “men who run out on their families” and “losers” in the same sentence as they are one in the same.)

These women – who are, sadly, growing in number – took to the social networks this Father’s Day weekend to vent. One post literally said, “HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO ALL THE SINGLE MOMS IN THE WORLD”. Many others were just plain rude. But when I looked closer, I saw a pattern: NONE of these single mothers seemed to take accountability for their actions, and none seemed to consider or care about the impact such comments can have on their child(ren).

I’m willing to assume that most women understand the mechanics of human reproduction. Have unprotected sex with a douche bag, you just may end up with douche’s child(ren). But for one reason or another, his douche-ness didn’t stop her from saying “F*** it – let’s DO IT!” Some more than once. As is often the case with douche bags, they didn’t stick around, or stuck around to beat the crap out of the mother of his children – or worse, the children themselves. Then the moms of douche’s child(ren) decide that venting on social networks for their children and the world to see is the way to go. Bravo.

I have a secret: I get the feeling that it’s a human problem more than a gender problem. I know more than a few men who (knowingly, and therefore stupidly) involved themselves with evil incarnate – women who snoop through their children’s social network pages for info to use against their child’s father, or who simply delete their child’s father without the child’s knowledge or permission, or who deny the fathers of their child(ren) access to their child. Even on Father’s Day. Even by phone. Even if the child wants the contact. I know of a woman who’d actually gotten her daughter to lie to teachers about abuse her father supposedly inflicted on her.

Translation: people suck. PEOPLE suck. Not dads. Not moms. And just as there are great moms who deserve their day to celebrate the great job they did as parents, there are MANY great dads who deserve their day too.

So, ladies, you’ve got 364 days of the year when you can bash your ex. How about letting the REAL dads enjoy Father’s Day, free of reminders of a few of their peers who aren’t as great as they are. Otherwise.. well, you just come off sounding like a douche. Just like your ex.

I’ll leave you with a fun fact: the most collect calls of the year are made on – you guessed it! – Father’s Day.

Yep. The REAL dads have got it great.

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Marc Emery: “Martyr”, or “Fool”?

Marc Emery is a Canadian advocate for the legalization of marijuana. Having been a fixture in the pot world – and more recently, politics – for decades, he’s been referred to as the “Prince of Pot”.

Somewhat of a success story, he has made great money through his BC Marijuana Party Bookstore and Headquarters, most people like him (myself included), and he has a good-looking wife.

(WHAT?! I’m just saying.)

But then, he messed up: he sold pot seeds to Americans via his online business. At the request of the US Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) in 2005, the Vancouver Police raided his store, then arrested him. For extradition to the US.

I, for one, was disgusted. Since when did the Vancouver Police become the DEA lapdog? (My guess is that the RCMP – who are taken far more seriously here – told the DEA to go **** themselves.)

Despite numerous protests from around the world, Marc was extradited and is now serving 5 years in Washington state. Ironic, given the number of pot smokers there.

In a recent statement he issued through his impressively devoted wife, Jodie Emery, Marc said that he’s doing alright, getting rest and exercise, and observed that “most people here are Mexican and African-American” – in a state where the two races combined make up less than 12% of the population.

Some are now calling him a “political prisoner”.

(*Deeeeeeeeeep sigh.*)

You know who I think of when I think of political prisoners? I think of:

Gedhun Choekyi Nyima

Adolfo Fernandez Sainz

Mumia Abu Jamal

Cho Sung-hye

Nelson Mandela

NOT Marc Emery.

Regardless of my opinion on the subject, here’s my issue with Marc Emery’s fans take on things:

1) The US has enjoyed this antiquated – and very profitable – ‘war’ on drugs for decades.

2) They’ve made it clear that they don’t play fair and that they’ll destroy anyone who gets in the way of said cash-flow. (Too many over-thrown ‘dictators’ to name!)

3) Marc decided that he would go for it anyway. (Maybe he got bored by the lack of a real anti-drug enemy here in Canada??)

4) Marc is screwed now.

Come on, guy! How many DEA agents do you think grew up watching ‘Cheech and Chong’? Probably too many to count, right? But they STILL busted the original ‘Prince of Pot’, Tommy Chong!

The moral: Know the difference between a “martyr” and being a “fool”. And thank God you’re not “Mexican (or) African-American”. Or you’d REALLY be f***ed.

We’ll see you in 5, Marc. And if it’s any consolation, your wife’s a cutie.

(WHAT?! I’m just saying.)

For more info on Marc, his wife, his ‘plight’, or pot in general, go to:

http://www.cannabisculture.com/

OH, BABY!!! (Part One)

I’ve spent the past year jotting down ideas for blog posts, but ultimately not doing anything with them. Well, I’m back, baby! And I’ve got a few things on my mind.

Speaking of “baby”, am I alone in noticing a sudden explosion in the number of babies out there lately??? Or, more precisely, a sudden explosion in the numberĀ  of women having babies with partners they’ve known for less than a year? Women who have decided that “HOLY SH*T!!! I’m HOW OLD NOW??? I GOTTA JUMP ON THIS!!!”, as one recently put it?

There are a good number of them in the hood lately. One can imagine finding a list like this posted on their fridge:

1) Meet guy with pulse and job. (If he has a child, no problem. This means he’s open to children!)

2) Sell/get rid of everything, move in with guy within three months.

3) Get pregnant.

4) Talk constantly about impending motherhood and other “adult” subjects. (ie: “High taxation on the family”, “Montessori”, “Dr. Spock”…)

5) Post countless pictures of baby/embryo on social network(s) of choice.

Etc.

Back in the day, other women whispered about such women. (“Can you believe it? XYZ is PREGNANT! And it hasn’t even been that long!”) Now, many want to BE that woman. Getting to really know someone, then taking it to that next step just doesn’t work for their schedule, it seems.

I’m not standing on the pulpit, trying to tell people what they should or shouldn’t do. Nor am I trying to dis women. But as they actually make the decision to become pregnant and/or keep the child, it stands to reason that this should be primarily about women. (Her body, her choice, yada, yada..)

Thinking about it now, their logic may be a product of where I live. Vancouver is infamous for its’ next to impossible dating scene, the ratio of women to men being something like 3:1. Great for the guys, not so great for the gals. Complicating matters is the fact that – according to many of my female friends – the guys here are crazy, and – according to many of my male friends – the women here are equally certifiable.

I suppose that it’s inevitable that they’d eventually hook up and make a baby. “Desperate times, desperate measures”, I suppose. But still.. I don’t get it. Maybe we should blame Demi for that baby bump pic that launched a billion copy-cats? At least she can say she was the first.

But what happens when they HAVE their babies? Honestly? Sometimes it can be downright ugly. (No, not the baby!!!)

(Stay tuned for Part Two!)

PotAYto/PotAWto. Twitter/Twatter.

Has it really come down to this? Have we officially become so attention-starved, so bored with our lives that we have to post every single thought that pops into our heads?

Are we really so lonely?

Friendster, MySpace, and Facebook have all but completely robbed us of our need to communicate with one another in real time and space. But now, we have Twitter. This new tool allows us to share whatever we’re thinking – no matter the banality of it.

Just had a sandwich you liked? Broke a nail? Bought a new shoe lace? Then send a “tweet” to one of your followers! These insipid fellow slaves of ‘hip, new, and pointless’ will gladly listen. Why? Because they’ve got nothing better to do – just like YOU! AND they know that you’ll listen to their mundane thoughts too!

And it’s all in real time! Yay!

The people usually drawn to this kind of thing are those who lack real people skills. They include those who insist on texting you instead of phoning you. (This is possibly because they KNOW that you just may answer the phone.) They also include those who have to be in the know. They need to feel like they are a part of everything that’s going on.

Seriously. How old are the people who actually participate in this activity? I can see why teens are into it. They believe that their lives are the culmination of “me! me! me!”, after all. But adults??? Supposedly SANE adults???

I can actually understand the merit that something like Facebook has. One can share aspects of their lives via text, photos, and videos with family (near/far), friends (past/present), and/or colleagues. But Twitter is an altogether new monster. It confirms how little we have going on in our lives. We’re so desperate to remain relevant that we dare not miss a chance to prove it.

Is it a coincidence that the root word of “twitter” is “twit”? Good thing they didn’t call it “Twatter”, hm?

30 Seconds before coming down

There’s this place where I go, sometimes, that reminds me of how immediate life is. It’s not necessarily a physical, tangible place. In fact, depending on the time, the circumstance, and/or the person, it can be many different places.

It’s that place, about thirty seconds before starting to come down from hours of heavy drinking, when you ask yourself “What am I doing?”. Not because you think that what you’re doing is wrong, but just because the question suddenly arises, unsolicited.

Or that moment in the middle of the night, when you’re watching your lover, your child, or even your pet sleep, so still. And you think about how much of a pleasure it is to witness such beauty, such purity. Such a sense of security on their part.

It’s that point where you’re laughing so hard with your friend that for a split second you wonder if and/or hope that you can be friends forever, but at the same time, it doesn’t even matter.

It’s also that time when you’re alone and you wonder how people really see you, what people really think about you… How do you really smell? When you laugh, are they hearing your joy, or do they think you’re just putting it on – just like you’ve secretly accused THEM of doing sometimes?

Do they really like your cooking? Your opinion? Your kiss? After all, you’ve doubted them on a number of occasions, so doesn’t it stand to reason that they may doubt you too? But once again, you remember: does it matter?

It’s in those moments, in those places that I feel truly mortal after all. And the more thankful for the honor. I don’t even care if I’m still here tomorrow.

Published in: on October 9, 2007 at 7:39 am  Leave a Comment