Dad Is Fat

by Jim Gaffigan

Whenever I hear that a restaurant is “not kid-friendly,” I always think, “That place must be awesome! Let’s get a sitter.”

Newsflash: High school is over. You are not cool.

In high school, if you wanted to find out what was cool, the last people you would ask would be the kids that worked on the high school newspaper: “Hey, guys, can you tell me somewhere cool to go this weekend? You know, someplace where you guys are not going to be?” I know this is true, because I worked on the school newspaper.

Now the nerds are the tastemakers. The nerds are rich and successful, and those jocks are dumb divorced guys with beer bellies.

They present the duty of cutting the cord as if it’s a magic bonding ceremony. In reality, you’re just the dorky guy snipping the ribbon in front of a new building that you didn’t build. It’s ironic that the man whose virility caused this whole situation is now the most impotent person in the room.

The cord is clamped already, so it’s not even a medical procedure. It’s a symbol. “Now you will symbolically release the child from the mother’s care … and then immediately return him to his mother’s care for the next thirty years.”

But, of course, a dog is not a baby. It’s a dog.