S--t my Dad says.
If you’re a Twitter user, as I occasionally am, you’re probably aware of S--t My Dad Says,which is written by a guy who describes himself as follows:
I'm 29. I live with my 74-year-old dad. He is awesome. I just write down shit that he says [No period on his! Either a typo or somehow periods are not cool.]
Recent samples of wisdom from this Twitterer include:
"I lost 20 pounds...How? I drank bear piss and took up fencing. How the fuck you think, son? I exercised."
"Science and Mother Nature are in a marriage where Science is always surprised to come home and find Mother Nature blowing the neighbor."
"Sprain, huh? Did you go to medical school?... Well I did, so spare me your dog-shit diagnosis and lemme look at your ankle."
Pearls of wisdom, to be sure, but I’ll take s—t my Dad says over this guy’s dad any day of the week, especially today, as it is my Dad’s birthday.
These days, we do most of our talking on walks, either in Portola Valley, where my folks have lived since 1971 (and where the above photo was snapped), or during our too infrequent breakfast get-togethers. If I had to distill all that my Dad has taught me, I’d probably express it in terms of my political make-up, which is socially liberal (meaning live and let live, not public housing for all) and fiscally conservative (meaning the government wastes about 10 pennies for every penny it takes in, so give the government money only as a last resort). Here in SF, if a political discussion starts up, I am always the lone guy preaching small government, etc., but I relish the role, as I think my Dad has always relished his even more conservative views (not conservative in the sense of making us all live by God’s law, but rather not being so quick to question stuff that has made sense since the dawn of civilization).
Dad, for all you’ve said and taught me with your words and deeds, thank you. And Happy Birthday!