First question: where the fuck has Nathan been? He wrote at the beginning of the week about how his child smuggled a Lego gun through a TSA checkpoint at LaGuardia, and then wasn’t heard from again. We suspect some sort of secret rendition in retribution for the gun-smuggling, and look forward to some Wikileaks photos of him being in the middle of one of those naked prisoner piles soon.
DadWagon, of course, rolls on without him. Brian Braiker, a journalist known on the Twits as @slarkpope, stopped to fill in the slack. Actually, as he pointed out, it is a little bit of a trial: in our ongoing quixotic search for a replacement for the illustrious and departed Christopher B., we will be bringing in some guests from time to time. As he and his fans might like to point out, he was dadblogging before it was cool (actually, it’s still not cool), writing Mr. Nice Guy and the “I, Breeder” blog for the Publication Now Known As NewsBeast. So he’s got some of the trade secrets. He knows how to pawn a video link off as actual content (F is for Float!). And when it’s time to write, he knows that multinational chemical companies make for fat targets (actually, his takedown of #LysolMoms was pretty awesome and worth a read). He was wrong about the extent of the hazing here, though: we won’t know if someone is a good fit with DadWagon until they’ve been through The Trials, which involves lots of offline things like fingernail extraction and eating enormous quantities of natto.
As for Matt and Theodore, they were up to their usual this week.
Matt told his daughter to call her vagina a “cooter” and actually thought it was a good solution. He also proved incapable of enjoying a quiet afternoon with her. He also had a strange education kick: he slagged Little Pim language videos, found a Beyonce/Algebra song, and commented on cheating Chinese students. Also, Facebook profile pics of Strawberry Shortcake may not end pedophilia for all time and the Internet really killed him this week.
Theodore passed along praise of the vas deferens and made his son cry by beating the tar out of him at checkers. He also launched a delicious attack on the veggie-people, or at least on the kind of people (there seem to be so many) who mistake their children’s natural dispositions for some fucking award-winning parenting. Although actually, Theodore himself showed off some fairly slick parenting skills—patience and perspective—by his deft handling of his son’s new efforts to play Theodore and his ex-wife against each other.
Perhaps we are learning something here after all.
Actually, no. We are not. Next week will undoubtedly feature the same sorry slurry of mistake and regret.
Enjoy your weekends.