Okay, we’ve all heard the story about the single mom who left her kid in the car to do some shopping and found a rotting corpse when she returned three years later. You haven’t? It was told to me by the brother of the cousin of a guy who swears it happened to his girlfriend’s best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s dog walker. So, okay, it may not have literally happened, but it speaks to a deeper truth that seems to have been forgotten by modern society.
Children need fathers.
Children need fathers to bean them with baseballs in the park on a warm summer’s afternoon.
Children need fathers to take them to the hospital after they’ve beaned them with baseballs in the park on a warm summer’s afternoon.
Children need fathers to explain to child and family services how they beaned their kid with a baseball in the park on a warm summer’s afternoon, and nothing more. Really. There’s nothing more to it than that. Believe me.
Children need fathers.
Proof? You want proof? Forget all those studies that show that children can grow up well-adjusted as long as their parents – whether they are single women or gays or lesbians – show them love. Yeah, I know, there are a lot of them. But, they’re just…feminist propaganda.
The only proof you need is the proof all around you. I conducted a survey of my buddies at Hooters – good family men, all. Eighty per cent of them agreed that boys needed a strong male authority figure in their life more than an Internet connection, and if they didn’t like that, they could just go to their rooms until they had children of their own and understood. (Bill, the other 20 per cent, was too wasted to respond intelligibly to the question, so I put him down as “other.”)
Being a good father is about setting firm boundaries.
Like, you can start drinking beer when you’re 12, but you’re not allowed to drink hard liquor until you’re at least…16. No, 18. Well, somewhere between 16 and 18. Okay, firmish boundaries. No use being an asshole over it. I mean, a beer never hurt no one, but hard liquor can make you do stupid things. Really stupid things, like not contesting the custody of your two children.
Not that I’m talking from experience, you understand. My split with the hateful, spiteful cow Mildred was perfectly amicable. I didn’t want custody of the kids because, frankly, at that time of my life I didn’t wanna be weighed down. I was a carouser. I admit it. No harm in carousing when you don’t have any responsibilities.
Then, Martin at Daddies Dearest, a male support group, explained to me that kids need a masculine presence in their life or they’ll turn to a life of crime. Boys, especially, need a strong father figure to be a role model. And, that means their biological dads. Cause, frankly, you can have a fancy car and big house and good paying job, but, in the end, blood is thicker than Grand Marnier, you know?
I never liked that fruity shit. Mildred knew that. She took up with that asshole just to spite me. Ah, well. It’s all Grand Marnier under the bridge now.
Martin explained it all to me. He explained how over 80 gazillion per cent of custody battles are won by women because the system is biased against honest, decent, hard-working men. He explained that the statistic that 70 per cent of children in contested custody battles were awarded to the male parent was feminist propaganda – man, those feminists really get into your head and do a number on you!
So, yeah, uhh, Mildred, I can’t take the boys tonight. Martin’s got me stuffing envelopes at Daddies Dearest, then we’re going down to Queen’s Park to stir up some shit. I mean, protest the way men are abused by the divorce laws in this society. Yeah, when I’m not working, I volunteer at Daddies Dearest – you wanna make something of it? I will spend every waking, non-working hour of my life in that office so that I can spend more time with my boys!
Because children need their fathers.