There they were on the shelf in the public library. My library. Seven copies of the book, Shit My Dad Says lined up in perfect blue gray hard cover. The impact was staggering. What was the world coming to? Over the years I had become used to the fickle, trendy whims of television programming where the latest hot commodity whether fashion, idea, event, book, or celebrity must be analyzed, replicated, distilled, and duplicated. However somewhere I had gotten the misbegotten idea that the library was a saner place. A place less buffeted by the downward slide in popular taste. A place that would clearly be able to differentiate between flash in the pan popularity and real merit. But after I stopped getting huffy at the library I had the usual ass slap TV moment I have every day. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?” I wondered. This moment I’m ashamed to say was promptly followed by the less than original idea of a book called “Shit My Dad Did.”
Hmmm, I wonder? Could I write a book called “Shit My Dad Did” without being sued? It would certainly be an entertaining book. Let me see…the first chapter would start with the story of the time my Dad decided to take the back seat out of his car because he claimed us kids were always getting it messy. After that the ride around town did get a little bumpy, but at least we didn’t have to put up with him yelling, “You filthy animals!” Hey, wait a minute where have I heard that before?