Happy Father’s Day! (Wait a minute…)
Valentine’s Day was not even upon us this year when stores swapped out their heart-shaped crap for egg-shaped crap. I see Christmas displays in September and mannequins wearing sweaters in July. Everyone in charge of getting you to buy stuff seems to agree that you’re too stupid to properly plan to buy the stuff required for these occasions unless they beat it into your head for three or four months.
One of the holidays that never suffers from this is Father’s Day. It’s the polar opposite of Mother’s Day. Society tells us to dote on our mothers. We shower them with hugs, kisses, flowers and brunch. Fathers usually wind up celebrating ‘their’ day by buying everyone in the family a steak dinner and pretending to believe that the kids remembered Father’s Day all on their own. Marketing wizards are still unable to come up with anything better than the traditionally appalling selection of Father’s Day gifts. Here are some less-than-stellar examples; cologne- you stink Dad! Here’s a tie- go to work Dad! How about a wallet so you can keep all of the money I will be asking for in one place? One of the other things the department store usually has on display for Father’s Day is travel alarms…TRAVEL ALARMS! Hey Dad, Happy Father’s Day…now beat it.
I’ll assume you agree with me that nobody plans ahead for Father’s Day and that certainly nobody is thinking about it in February. So what is this all about? What extraordinary fatherly achievement could put Father’s Day in my head four months early? I was busy slugging a pot of coffee and trying to get a minute to myself this morning. While at the computer checking the news and sports scores, I saw that Rod Stewart had once again become a father. I remember having a few thoughts about how creepy it is for a guy who’s pushing 70 to be fathering babies. This must be when the caffeine started working, because my mind seized upon the fact thathe had a bunch of kids by different women. I began Googling names of celebrity frequent-fathers like Mel Gibson, Evander Holyfield, Anthony Quinn, Travis Henry and Shawn Kemp looking for funny comparisons. While I fully recommend this as an amusing way to spend your morning, I was in no way prepared for what I was about to find out. While all of the serial dads mentioned above had Phelps-level swimmers, I came across an astonishing feat that eclipses the mere frequency of fatherhood that these men share. I Googled some more to make sure of the dates. I Googled even more to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. I Googled for comparisons. I Googled so much I probably should have used lotion. Once I was finished fifteen furious minutes of half-assed research, I came to the conclusion that….
…wait for it
ROD STEWART HAS FATHERED CHILDREN IN SIX CONSECUTIVE DECADES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How is it that I am the only one that seems to have noticed this? Why is there no groundswell of ‘Are you f@#king kidding me?!?’ Where are the conspiracy theories about whether or not Rod the Mod had to mod his rod? I would put it right up there with Cal Ripken’s 2,632 consecutive games played. I would compare it favorably with Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ staying in the Billboard Top 200 for 736 successive weeks. There should be jokes floating around the Internet about Rod Stewart’s sperm roundhouse-kicking Chuck Norris into next week! Of the names I have already mentioned I felt confident that Quinn, who fathered children into his eighties, had Stewart beat. Not so fast! Though Quinn did indeed father children in six different decades, none were born in the 80’s, so they were not consecutive . I am not sure if this achievement is singular among celebrity dads, but I could find no evidence to the contrary. Name me one other guy that someday will be able to drop one of his children off at preschool and mail another one a ‘Happy 50th Birthday’ card on the way home?
You’re welcome, Corporate America. I’ve now given you a reason to get those travel alarms,ties and wallets out on the shelves early! How serendipitous would it be for the achievements of a guy named Rod to inspire a sale on balls at a store named Dick’s? I hereby declare that we move Father’s Day to February in honor of Rod Stewart: the Pharaoh of Fertility, the Sultan of Swimmers, the Master of the Baby Plaster and the Maestro of Man-Gravy!