The last we talked, I tried to raise the red flag regarding TDS, Teen Daughter Syndrome. The response has been eye-opening: the severity and resiliency of this affliction is beyond anything I imagined. Have you heard of the Black Plague, Mad Cow Disease, or Avion Flu? They're just a scratch on the knee compared to the ravages of TDS.
You know the afflicted ones: they are good men walking around with gaping holes in their chests. Who is dialing 911 for these guys? "My friend Bob seems to have lost a major organ and use of his brain!" Everyone just looks away...you threaten the nest of the red-cockaded wood pecker and people riot, protest and give up hygiene. Pull a man's heart right of his chest and it's "pass the mashed potatoes, please".
What gives?
The secret handshake here can be found in the feedback from the grown daughters. They were so confident of the effects of TDS, they brazenly commented without using an alias. They just put it out there, shaking their fists at justice, daring back lash.
Apparently they know what's going on. Nothing happened. No sting, no SWAT raid, not even a slight twinge of conscience. Just...
"My daddy's heart is mine..." "they give their hearts away the first moment they see their daughter" "it goes on unchecked into adulthood". Scary, scary stuff.
I urgently searched for an antidote, a tourniquet to stop the arterial bleeding of these dads. What I found confounded, shocked and confused me. There is an answer to this pandemic, but it's not pretty. For you wussy men, man up: this kind of gore and suffering couldn't be played in a theater without handing out bags first. For those of you even remotely considering being a Dad, you ought to know the truth now, before you get ambushed by TDS. Cover the eyes of the minors in the room...
YOU GROW A BIGGER HEART.
That's right, you don't run away, don't hide, don't offer your job - you stand and give that heart.
Here's how it works: the smiling predator (that's the cute, cooing creature you held in your hands in the delivery room) snatches your heart, right out of your chest, in front of you. Brazenly, she runs off to celebrate the supposed theft. What she doesn't know, is that as soon as that happens, you grow more heart. Like all serial criminals, she comes back for more, thinking "I've got it all, but just in case I missed something" BAMO! There's more heart! She is completely caught off guard and reduced to simply coming back for more of the dad's heart.
Initially, you might resist as it is sometimes painful and bewildering. But it is the ONLY proven method to survive the onslaught of TDS. Some dads have tried and failed with other solutions: buy off the daughter - massacre. Pretend to be busy - desolation. Give your heart to someone else - judgment.
What about the poor guy with 3 daughters?! O, the gore! Is there no mercy? His heart expands like construction foam on steroids. That guy is a stud. Army Rangers have medics with morphine for that kind of suffering and this Dad goes with it like a walk in the park. Point: As long as the dad does not turn away, he grows more heart. He will actually flourish under the ruthless demands of TDS.
In the end, the dads win. It's a little messy, but they win.
I don't want my heart back, after all.
You know the afflicted ones: they are good men walking around with gaping holes in their chests. Who is dialing 911 for these guys? "My friend Bob seems to have lost a major organ and use of his brain!" Everyone just looks away...you threaten the nest of the red-cockaded wood pecker and people riot, protest and give up hygiene. Pull a man's heart right of his chest and it's "pass the mashed potatoes, please".
What gives?
The secret handshake here can be found in the feedback from the grown daughters. They were so confident of the effects of TDS, they brazenly commented without using an alias. They just put it out there, shaking their fists at justice, daring back lash.
Apparently they know what's going on. Nothing happened. No sting, no SWAT raid, not even a slight twinge of conscience. Just...
"My daddy's heart is mine..." "they give their hearts away the first moment they see their daughter" "it goes on unchecked into adulthood". Scary, scary stuff.
I urgently searched for an antidote, a tourniquet to stop the arterial bleeding of these dads. What I found confounded, shocked and confused me. There is an answer to this pandemic, but it's not pretty. For you wussy men, man up: this kind of gore and suffering couldn't be played in a theater without handing out bags first. For those of you even remotely considering being a Dad, you ought to know the truth now, before you get ambushed by TDS. Cover the eyes of the minors in the room...
YOU GROW A BIGGER HEART.
That's right, you don't run away, don't hide, don't offer your job - you stand and give that heart.
Here's how it works: the smiling predator (that's the cute, cooing creature you held in your hands in the delivery room) snatches your heart, right out of your chest, in front of you. Brazenly, she runs off to celebrate the supposed theft. What she doesn't know, is that as soon as that happens, you grow more heart. Like all serial criminals, she comes back for more, thinking "I've got it all, but just in case I missed something" BAMO! There's more heart! She is completely caught off guard and reduced to simply coming back for more of the dad's heart.
Initially, you might resist as it is sometimes painful and bewildering. But it is the ONLY proven method to survive the onslaught of TDS. Some dads have tried and failed with other solutions: buy off the daughter - massacre. Pretend to be busy - desolation. Give your heart to someone else - judgment.
What about the poor guy with 3 daughters?! O, the gore! Is there no mercy? His heart expands like construction foam on steroids. That guy is a stud. Army Rangers have medics with morphine for that kind of suffering and this Dad goes with it like a walk in the park. Point: As long as the dad does not turn away, he grows more heart. He will actually flourish under the ruthless demands of TDS.
In the end, the dads win. It's a little messy, but they win.
I don't want my heart back, after all.
James, GOOD STUFF!! I posted your blog address on my facebook status tonight. Hope that's OK.
ReplyDeleteBlessings, Laurie Spencer (from writers' group).
PS--Dismal Trade was for a blog I was going to start, but haven't yet.