Top 5 Father Figures:
Video Games, Film, Television, and Other
5.) Jack Shepard, LOST: Oh, Jack. You taught me not to talk to strangers…err…others. You were the de facto leader in the Oceanic Six, thus the go-to guy of a party of five! You oozed sweat, tears, and reason. Sometimes, the emotions attached to the life-and-death decisions you had to make weighed you down, particularly your head. And so it bobbled a bit…a lot…every single time you got emotional? Who noticed? Here’s to you, Jack. Without you, I wouldn’t know what direction to go in the world–though my sources say sideways. In other words, I’d be LOST without you. C’mon, give me a break, you knew it was coming.
4.) Bryan Mills, Taken: So you and mom got divorced. She rebounded nicely. She got herself a man who runs a suit-and-tie sweatshop on Wall Street. She got a mansion. She got custody. You? You got a Jedi-esque array of skills that makes you a nightmare to overconfident human-traffickers. Luckily for you, I got my jail-bait behind snatched and whisked away by a horde of said human-traffickers. Nothing is as precious as a loveable daddy taking his righteous vengeance out on the Albanian Mafia. That earns you number four.
3.) Michael Bluth, Arrested Development: There you were, a soon-to-be father toiling over what name you ought to give your newborn boy. Then, Wham! it hit you: George Michael. A manly first name followed by a more manly first name–what could be a more manly name? Unfortunately, your best intentions were always squandered by our delusional family (though, in Gob’s case, dillusional is the correct spelling). In the end, you understood that the key to being a great father was asking me the right questions. Her?
2.) Professor Oak, Pokemon: Though you are more of a grandfather now, your rigorous eyebrow-dying regiment lets me know that you still care about your looks–though, it should be noted that your half-disheveled hair suggests that you don’t give a shit. I think you want to be young and spry, but you’re conflicted because your hair is geriatric-grey, and so you live vicariously through your grandson and me. Unfortunately for you, you suffer from a rather debilitating case of Alzheimer’s Disease. It is a further misfortune that it manifests in your inability to remember your own grandson’s name–it’s Gary. This allows for his greatest rival–me–to name him whatever the hell I want to and you will unwittingly call him it. Douchebag, Muskrat Muncher, AIDS, Nancy Grace and the like are all possibilities. Sorry old man, the joke’s on you. I can only imagine how disappointed and demoralized you must feel when you find out your own son named your only grandson Imketchumsbitch. BTW: Thanks for the Pikachu (please click, you just must!).
1.) God, The Bible: Hot damn, the perks. Talk about good genes. Am I right? I’ll work from my smallest perks to my biggest. First, whenever I am utterly astonished, surprised, pissed off, having great sex, and etcetera, I can say “Oh My Dad!” instead. It could get awkward in a reverse-Oedipus sorta way, but, what the hell, it’s a perk. Another perk: I have 12 friends and only one wants to kill me. If you’re being honest, how many real friends do you have? Two? Three? I suspect at least one of those friends would tar-and-feather your ass for a five-spot. Next perk: Sure, I can turn water into wine, but I can also turn a few two-by-fours into a kick-ass tree-house where me and my apostle posse can chill. Check plus! Another perk? Get this: I can walk on water. Oh, so you say you’ve heard. Well, do you know what that means? It means I can run on water. Oh, so you figured? Then surely you know what else it means? It means I am the world’s premier prodigy for Triathlons and I will never have to heed a “CAUTION: Wet Floor” sign–“CUIDADO: Piso Mojado” sign, for all my Mexicans. That means my kicks stay dry. Suck it.