The Faux Pas Press #42: A Father's Love

The Faux Pas Press #42

A Father’s Love

By Jason Fresh

03 July 2010

What is good about families is that they are forever.

What is good about a father is that he wants the best for his children.

This edition of The Faux Pas Press sings praises to one of the nearest and dearest people in my life. A man who will someday be the first Mormon President of the United States of America – I’m talking about my father. He is a loving, swell, and most importantly, a “righteous” man. What’s great about this guy is that even after having asked him to leave me and my family alone, he persists – he won’t quit, you know. That is important to do as a father - even when all that your son has asked for is a little room to breathe. A father’s love, you know.

Dad, I just want to thank you for sharing your thoughts. You’ve given me plenty – just what I needed for my first father’s day and a happy 4th of July. Here’s looking at you, Mormo. I am excited to report that this letter from you has inspired me to go and look up the definition of bipolar disorder since it seems that all of you fuckers have it.

And, you, yes you, Richard can suck it – not mine, of course, the girl formally known as my sister made it clear that I do not have one. I guess miracles never cease right guys? And no, Guadalupe Alisa or whatever the hell your name is – I will not be fighting you. As a matter of fact, we won’t be dealing with each other ever. Besides it wouldn’t be fair for a Middleweight to fight Heavyweight. You got all the advantages – all your military training, right? The Army, the Navy, and the Marines? That is pretty impressive. I’m sure you make yourself proud. You probably learned to embellish your accomplishments from our father – Go Army Rangers, right? Unbelievable.

Here he is folks – the one, the only guy who assumes that all of my writing is about him.

Here is his response to The Faux Pas Press #38: The Banishing of Clyde McGoo, a fictional character, and a character I created on which to place my emotional charge, to deal with my own emotional trauma. I’ve have tried to process my emotions so I can be a better war fighter and a better father. Apparently, this isn’t good enough when religion becomes obsession. I did not send an email with the piece to anyone. I didn’t think anybody actually read my blog. Richard indicted himself. The idea was that if I could create an alter-ego, a hypersigil, someone not connected with me, that I could work my way into a relationship with my family again. I wouldn’t have to hate my father – I could hate Clyde McGoo. This has worked for many writers to gain healing. I was honestly thinking that if I could say what I really felt to my family in a fictional character that they would understand and we could move on. This was an experiment to see just how far it would cut. I used images that my father hates – images like Lucifer. He shows his true colors here. I don’t worship Lucifer but I’m beginning to wonder about some people. Well, it so happens that this piece marks the first battle of what may become a long war if my father does not back down and stop harassing my family. He and his wife have already frightened my wife and in-laws – this while my wife and I work through our own issues – mainly trying to maintain our little family. Thanks for contributing you positive energy to our families growth. Shame on you.

Starting to look a lot like the characters I created guys. Congratulations – confirming my theory that there are worse things in life than being alone. You could be trapped in a living room around a Christmas tree with these people.

Here is his email. Enjoy.

Jason,

One more apology is in order. I am sorry for being a weak dad, and apologizing so much. On the other side, please, realize that as a weak, just-trying-to-make-it-type dad that I believe strongly when we have done wrong, it is appropriate to apologize. So I have tried to apologize where appropriate. So before you stop reading my emails, posts, and letters, please, please read this one. It would just mean so much if you did, please. I just need to finish a few more apologies and I can go to my tomb in peace.

I apologize for getting up and going to those stupid cubicles for those thousands of days on end to put food on the table for you, I should have been strong and forceful enough to be a corporate president so that you would have had a bigger house, and better clothes, and nicer cars to drive. Please, please forgive me.

I apologize for going to every baseball, football, rehearsal, and performance for you. (By the way, when you looked up and saw me reading a book ONCE, I did that when you were in the dugout, and not at bat or on the field). Please, please forgive me for reading when you were in the dugout with your back turned. Forgive me for all of those wittle things, because I should have had the money, to pay for the finest of teams and dance companies. By the by, I battled with your mom for the Karate lessons and lost. My apologies for battling with your mom every fucking second for every fucking cent for you and your activities, I should have taken an easier course A) Abandoned you to her, and you would have gotten no support B) Abused her to make her obey (make sure you abuse, abuse Liz and get her to obey – Do not, do not follow the Mormon way – instead abuse the bitch.) (Oh my, on that one, are Mormon men weak and submissive or abusive? --- whoops depends on who you talk to I guess, wish those damn antimorgs made up their fucking minds on this issue!!) C) Worked even more jobs delivering pizza. My apologies for not being a strong he-man type like you and having done one of those things. (Your turn is coming my friend, just wait, Karma is a bitch, the universe has a way of turning our judgments back on our ass with a vengeance!).

I apologize for paying for college at Montana State, but as a weak pathetic dad, you should have been at Harvard for 4 years, and I should have had the money for that. (By the by, I battled with your mom, to get you the money that year, she did not want to send you a cent for college).

I apologize for all of the cars I gave you to drive. As our buddies in Plano pointed out, what an embarrassing set of pathetic used cars they were. I apologize for not having them washed and all new-car scented for you. (Did you ever fucking wash one car in those years?) I should have delivered more pizza and got you a fucking Ferrari, man. So sorry. By the way you fucking destroyed the Suburban by not checking the oil, Asshole.

I am so so sorry for having gotten you involved in the Mormon Church (little-referred-to as the Church of Jesus Christ). I have come to realize over the years that the Mormon Church is responsible for…. (take a deep breath, now)…. All guilt, all abuse, all suffering, all lies, all wars, all poverty, all distortions in the history of the world, all of your sad misfortunes, and…, the Kennedy Assassination, and the extinction of the Kiwi.

And more than anything else, I’m sorry for myself, having somehow managed to spoil someone enough to have developed such a whining, complaining, poor-me-so-abused-and-ignored-one-more-middle-child-so-forlorn, ungrateful attitude. As they say in AA --- poor me, poor me, pour me another drink. Did you pick up that I-am-so-sorry-for-myself attitude from your mom, so much like her, oh my --- what a terrible thought!

By the way your story about my talking to the papers with respect to Rozana , sounds like another distorted piece of your poor-me-middle-child distorted history. I believe they called me, and asked for the info, asshole.

So pwease pwease forgive me, I am so weak and pathetic.

By the way, you are not the only life which I am responsible for totally and completely ruining, I am responsible for all pain in my dads, my brothers, Alexandra’s, and your mothers life too. (Ask any of them on the other side, and they will affirm that for you. I am such a smuck-tee-smuck son-of-a-bitch!!)

By the way, I have guns, knives and lawyers on the stand-by also. I have gotten 4 people arrested, and three bishops removed from office. Oh yeah, oh yeah, I am a bad ass mother fucker like you, oh yeah.

There, another weak letter for your weak dad.

P.S. By the way Jason, Rule of Hitler for you --- Never, Never apologize for anything --- you will appear weak. There are other rules from Hitler, but I think you know them all.

Jason Scott! The way you are going about this is wrong. Turn, turn, turn around, please Son. With all facetiousness aside, I do love you, but I will not put up with your bull-shit. There is another better way. Be a real man and take it! I do want a relationship with you, but ONLY if you do not lecture me or interrupt me. Otherwise forget it! Touche.

Dad.

Jason, you will keep getting this letter in various forms until I know you have gotten to this line. Respond how you will, but you will fucking read this letter!”

The beautiful words of a Mormon prophet. I love how he has confused my sister with someone named Rozana. Also, Richard – if you are going to say “touché” please make sure that you use an accent mark. Otherwise, it just looks like you are calling yourself a douche and you just spelled it wrong. Patrons of the Press, please be advised that my father is an expert on Nazism too. So, just in case you were wondering – his new book, The Rules of Hitler will be coming to a LDS bookstore not-so-close to you. Also, I will open the comment section back up if you would like to enlighten us on what antimorg means. Thank you, senor. You are the greatest. One more thing, the universe will have to bring judgment on my ass – there is no “our ass”, never was really. Sorry about the suburban though. Let me get this straight – you are calling me an asshole, right? Got it. Shit, one more thing – this is all so good. Are you threatening to stab me or shoot me?

After all, you do love me, right? Thanks, Dad. Just keep my wife and daughter’s name out of your righteous mouth – and you sir, you turn the fuck around and leave us alone. Or “our ass” is going to have a big problem. Forget it (Take that, you big sexy Man of God, you. "I got three bishops removed. I really matter. I really matter.")

This really is embarrasing though. You guys just need to fucking not talk to me. How much bullshit and interrupting do I have to do for you to leave me alone.

Green Lights,

Jason Fresh

fauxpaspress@yahoo.com