This Father’s Day, Deal With Your Daddy Issues By Yelling At Tombstones
Oh, you think that’s dark, do you? Let me tell you what’s dark. Dark is when the only picture you have of your father is a cut out of a guy in a porn magazine. Dark is when your mother tells you your father might’ve been Richard Nixon. Dark is when the shadow man that haunts you at night keeps whispering in your ear, over and over, “Only good girls have daddies.” So yeah, spending this Father’s Day at a graveyard working out your daddy issues by yelling, “YOU’RE DEAD, AND SO IS YOUR PENIS!” at random tombstones doesn’t sound so dark anymore, does it?
Hear Me Out
While all your friends spend this Father’s Day shooting the breeze with their non-deadbeat/non-dead dads, visit a graveyard and let go of all those pent-up daddy issues. Sure, there will most certainly be other people present, grieving their lost loved ones. But they don’t know what it’s like having to continually say, “All I know is my dad wanted to name me Chewbacca.” Besides, screw anyone who judges you for spitting on a tombstone and yelling, “PROBABLY WISHING YOU COULD PULL OUT NOW, HUH, BITCH?!”
Seek Comfort In Those Who Can’t Yell Back
You’re probably thinking it would make more sense to just go to your own dad’s grave and yell “WHO CHOOSES A SEX CULT OVER THEIR OWN CHILD?!” Oh, my well-adjusted wittle bunny wabbit. If only life were so simple. Because sometimes, there is no grave. Sometimes, there isn’t even a body. What there is, though, is a lot of dead dads. And we’re pretty sure the dead understand that yelling at tombstones that, “IT’S YOUR FAULT TOMMY LEE JONES FILED THAT RESTRAINING ORDER!” is better than going to jail for violating said restraining order.
Rest In Peace, You Son Of A Bitch
Look, we know Father’s Day can be rough for those of us who had terrible dads (who subsequently left us with terrible daddy issues). It’s hard thinking about all the happy, carefree people out there spending Father’s Day in front of the TV, curled up on their dad’s lap watching Frasier reruns. That’s what … people do, right? We wouldn’t know because someone was too drunk to attend our piano recital and slipped and fell off a fucking bridge.
Happy Father’s Day, everyone.
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