Yesterday I said that – and not for the usual reasons – when Mom told me my card to Dad was not customarily late but spoiler-alert early.
When the hell is Father’s Day? Tomorrow’s the second Sunday of June. I thought that was the deal, you got the first Sunday to go “Oh, shit, Father’s Day’s coming,” and then another week to plan your excuse for why you are a disappointment to your family.
Not that I’m complaining. This gives me time to scarf up some E3 shit and mail it home and pretend like I bought it. Here Dad, have a … Bionic Commando Rearmed 2 tote bag. But there will always be three annual celebrations whose ordination remains a complete and total mystery to me: Easter, Father’s Day, and Lobsterfest
So, they found that teenage girl whose responsible parents let her try to sail around the world alone. All of these increasingly parsed firsts of exploration, and the inevitable breathless search-and-rescue stories just leave me cold. I’m thinking about what Dan Rather said of the billionaire balloonist, way back in 1998: “Forgive the inelegant language, but fuck Fossett.”
In the World Cup, maybe you’ve heard of this, but the United States triumphed over England yesterday. The score was 1-1.
“Teenager Passes Out Marrying Cow He Had Sex With” There’s not much I can add to that.
