Best Father Ever


I’ve been destined since seventh grade to be the Best Father Ever.

I would be the most educational dad of all time.

Fantasy: We’re at a museum. We look at Boston 99.538—Heracles wearing the Nemean Lion skin and skull.

In the art, it looks to be no big deal. Do you know why? Because drawings are always clean. And they lack detail. And wherever there is figure lacking detail, as Scott McCloud has pointed out, we fill it in with self-stuff. I like being clean, so it looks like Heracles is wearing a clean plastic Halloween poncho from Eckerd Drugs:

Looks clean.
Looks clean.

So I would say to my kid,

Me: My God.

Kid: What now, Dad.

Me: I know it looks so clean in that “photo” there, but that’s rotting meat. Put out a steak for a week and then smash it on your face. Are its eyes leaking yet? How many veins are tangled in with your hair. What about fly eggs, larvae, and pupae? Can you imagine?

Kid: Huh—I never considered that.

Me: Your wearing a dead person’s head as a helmet! This is way worse than Silence of the Lambs, the most unscary film I’ve ever seen, by the way.

Kid: (Chuckles.)

Me: Could you imagine having a stinking and continually rotting corpse on your body? You’re putting the insides of someone’s skin on your skin. The moist, putrid, and jelly-filled insides clinging to and smearing around on your skin. Think moist. Would you even bother showering if you knew you’d be wearing those clothes?

Kid: Holy fuck, no.

Me: And your head! Your head is inside a shambling and rotting zombie head. The bones are still there—pointy little bone bits are surely digging into your scalp and face. Rotten maggot goo is dripping down the needles that are cutting your head. Rot and stink and moist are engulfing you and you’re getting infections galore.

I would bring it to life for my kid.

I would be the dad that encourages vivid and detailed reenactment.