Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better
be delivering a package, because you're sure not
picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You
may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at
anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your
eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will
remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for
boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely
that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please
don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your
friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair
and open minded about this issue, so I propose this
compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear
showing and your pants ten sizes to big, and I will not
object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes
do not, in fact come off during the course of you date
with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and
fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world,
sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some
kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes
to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to
get to know each other, we should talk about sports,
politics, and other issues of the day. Please do
not do this. The only information I require from
you is an indication of when you expect to have
my daughter safely back at my house, and the only
word I need from you on this subject is: "early".
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with
many opportunities to date other girls. This is
fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter.
Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl,
you will continue to date no one but her until she
is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will
make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my
daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by,
do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time
for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter
is putting on her makeup, a process than can take
longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead
of just standing there, why don't you do something
useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date
with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas,
or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where
there is darkness. Places where there is dancing,
holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient
temperature is warm enough to introduce my daughter
to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or
anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a
goose down parka -- zipped up to her throat. Movies
with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be
avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay.
Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied,
balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on
issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing,
merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where
you are going and with whom, you have one chance to
tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but
the truth. I have a shotgun. a shovel, and five
acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little
for me to mistake the sound of your car in the
driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice
paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts
acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell
me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring
my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the
driveway you should exit the car with both hands
in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password,
announce in a clear voice that you have brought
my daughter home safely and early, then return
to your car -- there is no need for you to come
inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Lighter Side Archive