Dad, you’re an f’ing idiot

Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?  Isn’t the Dad supposed to call the kid an idiot?

Why, in my family does the kid call the dad an idiot?

I guess it’s because I am good at sharing a litany of stuff that is,welllll, incredibly stupid.

And the latest example just reaffirms what Mike has known for years-his Dad is an incredible idiot.

The story unfolds at my beloved YMCA, where I faithfully transport my large bod twice a day.  As I work out, I pump high volume music from my phone to my headphones-at a level that makes me unaware of the outside world.

Here’s where the problem begins- I sing to the music….loud….to the point where others can hear me.  Because I have headphones on, I am unaware of how loud I am.

So I am walking the track, and people are smiling at me in a smirky kind of way.  At first, I am not understanding WHY people are smiling.

Then a YMCA staffer walks up to me and says, “Nice voice.” And I immediately realize the problem.  And I am embarrassed.  Very embarrassed.

But it gets worse.

The song I am singing along to is “Casey Jones” by The Greatful Dead.

‘Drivin’ that train

High on cocaine’

Oh man…soooo .cringeworthy

Wanna die…

I put away my headphones and slink quietly out of the gym.

The really dumb part? It happened again.  Fortunately, not the same song.

So I wind up sharing this story with my son. And he sends a low IQ missile to my solar plexus.  This is the latest missile of many.  Fortunately, his missiles are shielded with laughter, so that eases the blow.

And for me, getting a laugh is worth just about anything. I will take the abuse, the beatings, I will take it all in return for a hearty chuckle. Can’t help it, that’s the way I am. And this especially goes for my son.

So if you see a large, bearded, elderly man approaching you, singing at the top of his lungs, don’t run in fear.

It’s just an everyday idiot exercising his right to be a fool .


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