Anyone who knows me knows I’m a little obsessed with my parents. Even coworkers who know me completely superficially know the ins and outs of my family life; the foods we prefer, the nagging rituals, the sense of guilt, the raging love to anger ratio.
One person I’m particularly fond of making fun of is my father. (Side note, you’ll notice this blog for some time now has had a category titled “the never ending literary debate between Jack J and Janine J.” Not only am I oh so clever, but I have the same alliteration in my name as him, it’s meant to be!)
I’m fond of making fun of him for several reasons, but the most important reason for today is because:
He is the most intelligent person I know, and yet he says the craziest unfounded sh*t and then plays it off as fact.
He has done this my whole life. And while it’s hard for me to imagine a time when the world existed without me (In case my blog doesn’t already scream so, I’m pretty self involved), I have a sneaky suspicion he’s been doing this for awhile. Sometimes it’s because he is being funny. (Another side note, funny is very relative.) Other times it’s because he thinks he is saying the truth that everyone is really thinking, but do not have the guts to say out loud, a la Larry David.
You can imagine how hard it was for me as a child, sitting at the dinner table listening to him speak. During those impressionable years when a daughter devotes her love and adoration to the number one man in her life, she tends to take every single thing her father says seriously.
This was pretty dangerous in the Jankovitz household. Often I would need to report to my mother what he said in order for her to interpret fact from whatever crazy sh*t my dad decided to tell me this time.
Mommy, is it true that Dad never received a “B” in his life and that if I get less than a 100 on my spelling test then he will throw me out of the house and I’ll have to live in the trees until I go to community college?
Mommy, is it true that all (fill in any minority group other than Jewish here) are antisemitic and that if I tell them I’m Jewish they will come to the house and kill me?
Mommy, is it true that the only reason I got A’s was because my teacher is a lazy son of a bitch that uses coloring and construction paper to teach?
Mommy, why did Dad say “Life sucks. And then you die” when I asked him why I couldn’t have some ice cream?
Now of course my father said things to me that were full of love and kindness. He read to me every night. He also tucked me in bed. And of course my father did and still does things for me for which I am terribly grateful. For example, my college education, anyone? But those stories aren’t funny or interesting and so they won’t make it on here.
So imagine my surprise when I come along this little baby: A whole Someecards section devoted to “Sh*t My Dad Says”.
I love Someecards. I love the retro images of innocent playthings running around with a quick line above saying something obscene. The humor is across the board, from religious jokes, race jokes, political humor, topical jokes, sex, alcohol, and sometimes just laziness.
Hey! This one reminds me of my dear Ol’ Pa!
It’s tragic and hilarious.You can find one for all your friends!
So when I found the link to “Sh*t My Dad Says” I became very excited. I imagined tragic and hilarious vintage postcards of fathers and daughters in innocent surroundings with a line recalling something from my very own childhood. Instead I found this:
I found something lame, not relevant, and completely unworthy of Someecards.
So I thought, “Hey! I could make these cards! I talk about my Dad all the freakin’ time, and he says some funny things. In fact, his stuff is funnier than this crap.”
Besides, everyone loves Jewish humor!
So now all I need is a graphic designer, or at least someone who knows more than just copy and paste, like this girl. I’ve got the material. Oh, yeah, I guess I also need Someecards to take the criticism as “constructive” and give me the job. Because who ever wrote this “Real Sh*t My Dad Says” is not funny, and I can tell he ain’t Jewish neither.
What would my dad think? How cute of you to be concerned.
He’d say, “Get over it Janine”.