If Barack Obama were your dad, you would know you shouldn't ask him for help with your government homework, but you’d do it anyway, and he would go on and on and on for so long it would be like the damn State of the Union. You wouldn't be able to escape, so you'd start keeping track of how many times he said "Let me be clear" (15).
WHERE ARE MY JAMMIES
sir they're right where you left them
THOSE ARE MY CIGAR JAMMIES
I WANT MY WHISKEY JAMMIES
I ONLY WEAR THE CIGAR JAMMIES WHEN I'M SMOKING CIGARS
here they are, sir
ARE YOU BLIND
THOSE ARE MY UNDERSECRETARY JAMMIES
I HAVEN'T WORN THOSE SINCE THE BOER WAR
BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. And now, for the first time, the cover of DAD MAGAZINE: THE BOOK, published by Quirk Books! It will be available for purchase on April 26, but is available for preorder RIGHT NOW at Amazon, IndieBound, and wherever fine books are sold:
Giving up or going forward would require all hands. And there was one additional problem: among his crew was an incapable infant me. So my father did what any good crew member would: He put me in my car seat, tied the car seat to the mast below deck, with a bungee cord as my baby sitter, and finished the race. My attachment to boats, wild and innate, grew from that day forward.
I apologize for claiming Peak Dad last week. I was wrong, and am not ashamed to admit it. A man has created a car-horn for his armchair, that he might honk at cars passing by his house. I learned about it just now, and am wasting no time in sharing it with you.