from prankster to daughter

If there was ever living proof of a weird dad, this is it. Here is a response from my father after receiving our friend request on Facebook...

"I really don't need any new friends. Nor do I want them. A day doesn't go by that someone, somehow, found me and wants to be my friend. One nerd from college days suggested we have dinner. He still has snot dripping from his hairy nose!!! Why would I want to have dinner with this shit-head, except maybe to throw up on him. But that's not my style either. So I'm going to ignore him. I'll try to behave with Jenny and Jeff as friends. But don't expect any special favors. And don't visit me if you value your lives. I have two pit bulls at the ready, an electrified fence and sink holes all over the property. Other than that you're welcome to drop by any day during August. I'll be in Europe that month. Help yourselves to the stale bagels and sour swordfish. The key is under the mat. No hot water or electricity (forgot to pay the bills) but you'll find a way to cope. If not, please take me off your list. Thanks. AA"

I received this letter from him in the mail...

"Dear Jenny, here I am writing you by snail mail, and on Father's Day. Oh well, I might NOT be your father - so your mom informed me the other day. Now it's a guessing game. Could it be that handsome man at the city dump who always helps with our garbage? He does have a bedroom glint in his eyes. Or maybe Buck Henry, who mom has had a crush on for 46 years? You do have his sense of humor. Oh well, let it pass. I'll continue to pretend to be your real father. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Love and kisses, Dad."

I definitely have my dad's eyes, so the garbage man is out of the question. But I did start thinking about Buck and my mom. I dug through my archive of old snapshots and found this photo. They do seem to be frolicking...and up to something. But it couldn't have been too serious since, presumably, it was my dad taking the photo.

My father and his aliases have mailed off some crazy stuff to me over the years. I have saved every single note, drawing, card, letter, court document, editorial and article he has ever sent. It's not a pack-rat thing, although my family has been known to hoard. It's not mere sentimentality. I just happen to think my dad is pretty fucking funny. The microphone and spotlight are always on, even when he's writing a letter. Or appearing in public. My dad claims he just happened to be wearing this T-shirt to a recent screening of Tim Jackson's Radical Jesters (Photo taken by Maureen and Dennis Jackson).