By John Kass

June 18, 2023

Father’s Day

In the barber chair the other day getting a Father’s Day haircut and a beard trim, the great barber/philosopher and Neapolitan soccer expert Raffaele Raia asked me two extremely important questions:

What was I writing about for Father’s Day?

And, how’s Betty?

So, I told him, and that minor argument we were having about the dog.

Not Zeus the Wonder Dog who lives comfortably with us in our beautiful low-crime and low-tax paradise of Northwest Indiana free of crazed Bolshevik journos. And Zeus is doing fine.

We were arguing about another dog that we don’t even have yet.

“Where’s Zeus?” asked Raffaele.

He’s great but he sleeps a lot in the afternoons. He can’t catch and eat rabbits anymore like he used to. They mock him as they run away. But I’m thinking about getting another dog. Not to replace my loyal Zeus, but to be Zeus’ younger friend and help keep him peppy.

Raffaele said his brother and sister-in-law are the proud owners of two large German Shepherd Dogs.

I’m partial to the GSD, but Betty won’t like all that shedding. But I’ve settled on another breed that is just as smart, perhaps even smarter, and doesn’t shed as much:

The long, lean and athletic Doberman with cropped ears and tail. A black and tan with a glossy coat, a strikingly beautiful, vigorous, long legged dog.

Raffaele made a face. “Too aggressive,” he said. “What about the grandchildren?”

Our sons aren’t even married. Simmer down my Neapolitan friend. But given my health–I can’t really exercise a lean aggressive European bred-Doberman to the extent that he’d need to be tired  to maintain mental stability–I began looking at other breeds and this is where the fight with Betty started. I’m having enough trouble typing this, let alone training a high-drive dog.

What about the noble and courageous English Bulldog? The low drive Bulldog might suit me. I’m no high-drive specimen as of late.

The bulldog is ugly to some, but not to me. And though its pushed-in face and bandy, bowlegged stance reminds me of a pugilist at rest, they’re really quite gentle or so I’m told.

“Eeewww, no. NO way, no Bulldog,” said Betty. “No.”

They’re fat and stumpy, she said. All  a bulldog wants to do is sleep on the couch and snore and fart, she said.

It sounds like a perfect dog to me.

“I don’t want us to get one. They’re ugly, gross and they drool. I can’t stand a drooling dog in my house,” says she.

Well, that was the perfect intolerant Father’s Day column quote I needed. You can’t use it, she said. I forbid it, you can’t quote me saying that.  I said: Freedom of the press! Freedom of the press!!She put her hands on her ears and shouted “La La La!!’ to drown me out.

How have we stayed married, lo these 37 years? It was easy. I love her. Love at first sight. Always have, always will. Yes, I know that I’m the luckiest man…man…man…on the face of the earth. And she loves me too, except in those brief and rare instances where she can’t stand me.

It’s obvious my dear wife would rather have a Doberman Pinscher crawling about aggressively, terrifying the care-givers, neighbors and Raffaele, than allow a  gentle and cuddly English bulldog into the house to sleep by the fire. But we’ve lasted now 37 years as a married couple, and I love her so much that I just hired her to help me with the column.

Uh-oh. That could end badly. I keep hoping she might write something and I’ve suggested a few topics, my favorite being “My Amazing Life with John.”

Friends of ours have been begging her to write such a column and promised her it would be great fun, even if she does write it as satire. Although I can’t think of  how satire would work or even apply.

I think it will take more convincing. Our grown sons have tried  convincing her. She’d do anything for her b0ys.

Call me a conservative, call me a Peloponnesian hillbilly. Call me a patriarch, call me old-fashioned, but I don’t care what the Democrats say, you can’t have Father’s Day without a mother.

I know this might enrage them, though they still won’t dare define what a woman is. I think I know, but like some Supreme Court justices,  I’m afraid to say. I’ve been beaten up by the left for so long now that I wince involuntarily whenever they make quick hand movements, like some broken POW in an old Chuck Norris movie.

All I want to do is to avoid the beatings. They’ve been screaming “follow the science” for so long now that all I want to do is follow the science.

But they won’t follow the science, which makes it clear that biology is critically important. They’ve replaced science with their religion which is left wing politics.  Although you can’t make a child without equal parts man and a woman, I now think biology will be ripped from the pages of history by the Bolsheviks. I don’t care what the modern Pol Pots have to say, you can’t have a Father’s Day without a mother.

And as I sat outside in the yard, Betty was watering the roses and the basil in pots and the tomatoes  in the vegetable garden. I listened to a podcast.

The podcast was “Fearless” by Jason Whitlock, the conservative columnist. He’s a favorite of mine, as is conservative Dan Proft. They’re both Midwesterners, and both men have been bravely focusing on the blasphemous decision  by Major League Baseball to honor a vicious anti-Roman Catholic hate group that calls itself the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

I tweeted out this message: “On #Father’s Day, every father should think and pray on Major League Baseball & the Dodgers. From the shadows they laugh at you & your families like the demons. Is watching @MLB worth your immortal soul? No. #ReclaimtheRainbow.”

I hope the song becomes wildly popular. It is a song of hope, about reclaiming the rainbow symbol from the hate groups that spew vile blasphemies against Jesus Christ. There is a hashtag that goes with it #reclaimtherainbow. Long before the rainbow was a symbol of the militant drag queens and other hate groups, to be forced down the throats of Americans here and overseas, the rainbow belonged to God and was given to mankind after the Great Flood.

It challenges all of us, and especially Black people to wake up. Without them, there is no Democrat Party, and the leftist Democrats who dangle reparations as bribes to support the blasphemy know it.

Musician Bryson Gray @realbrysongray tweeted: “This  song is by Myself, @ShemekaMichelle and @JimmyLevyMusic with help from @WhitlockJason”