dear father: several reasons that prove you to be a tremendous asshole

In this open letter to my father (which he will never read, as I will prove that he has wholly disregarded and disrespected my capacity for rational thought and thus this would be a paradox for him) I will explore the many reasons which I feel have separated my father and I to this current state of emotional distance.

This blog is sponsored by the following adventure in H family politics:
At dinner this evening, with my uncle Dick as our honored guest, my dad made some crack, I don't remember the context, to the lines of "Ich bien ein Deutchlander" (i apologize profusely to Bethany, Davis, Grant, and anyone else who reads this with any knowledge of German). I laughed and said, "Like I am a donut!" Because I remember someone telling me that JFK's famous "Ich bien ein Berliner" really meant "I am a donut." Well apparently this found offense in my father's ears. This is not hard to do. He said "What?!?" and I said, "Never mind, pass the hot dog buns." And then he got offended. So I attempted to explain myself, saying that someone had told me that JFK's German was incorrect and that it really meant, "I am a donut" (that still cracks me up). But I can hardly get a word in edgewise before he starts rattling off about how he knows German better than I and that I've insulted him and la-di-fucking-da. So witness the two of us, cut of the same stubborn cloth, plowing forth on our respective rants and not paying any mind to the other. I win! No really, I got the laughs. That's right. Lorn wins.

Here comes the point where I say: Why does my relationship with my father have to be a contest of wills? What's his deal? Okay-since the argument (I didn't post about this, but before I left for Wisconsin my dad and I had the long awaited confrontation which I lost, because my stubborn cloth is interwoven with non-confrontation cloth), I have admittedly changed my tune and done my best to endure my dad's lectures, racist statements, faulty politics, and patriarchal attitudes. I have had conversation with him about the events of my day. I have smiled and said good morning. Hurrah. I have put up with dirty countertops and urgings to "help mom out around the house."

What it comes down to is this:
I refuse to be put into a situation with my own father, who should love me and want to hear my opinion on things, in which my opinion is instead devalued and debunked merely on the basis of it being contrary and hostile to his own. I reserve my right to liberal thinking opinions and non-racist policies. I did not vote for Arnold. Go to hell. You are a crabby and obnoxious pig-headed old man and although I am required to love you, I am not happy with you. Deal with it. You're not frigging perfect. Neither am I. But I have the good sense to listen to someone finish talking before I assume anything about the content of their speech.

Dearest BS readers, I am sorry for the intense content of the past couple blogs. I promise next time I will post something more lighthearted, like a picture of a kitty stuck in a hammock. Until then, please accept my sincerest apologies. Or, kindly fuck off. Thank you.