Invariably at this time of year, questions come up about what kind of gift or present is appropriate for various people. For instance, should you give your letter carrier or trash collecting guy some cash? These are serious questions but that’s not what I want to talk about.
I want to talk about how to deal with… how should I say it?…illegitimate children. Over the years, I have collected a fair amount of “extra” children and always feel compelled to do something special for them for Christmas.
Let me be clear, I am not a deadbeat dad. I know most of these kids names and roughly what years they were born. There is Hermann, Mary, Shaniqua, Consuelo, Bubba, Ishmael (I was going through a Bob Dylan phase), Cadillac, and Stumpy. Stumpy was actually born with the name Delbert but since he has no feet, we call him Stumpy. (Apparently, his condition may be related to the fact that I slept with my 1st cousin. Man, was she hot).
Each year, I try to take care of these kids and send them gifts. The older ones are easy to shop for. Beer and tobacco products pretty much take care of them. As for the younger ones under 12, well, it gets a little more complicated. They need individual gifts like air rifles for the boys and mini stripper poles for the girls. (So they can grow up to be just like their mamas).
Another problem I have is how to sign the attached gift tag. Most of these kids have had several dads so just writing “dad” leaves them hopelessly confused. Sometimes I write “TL” but I have shared many of the same women with Tommy Lee and you can see how that is an issue. Sometimes I write “banged your mama in ’74” but I have trouble keeping the dates in order.
Now, before you judge me and tell me what a horrible person I am, know that I also have had 7 or 8 dads. So it should be no surprise that I learned to “share my love” at a young age with a variety of women. Look, if I had more room in my trailer, I might even would let some of these young ‘uns live with me but the lack of room makes it impossible. However, I faithfully play my lucky lotto number and when I hit it big these kids are going to share the wealth with me. (Except Stumpy. Honestly, I just can’t look at that kid without feeling a little queasy).
However, until the lucky lotto day comes, or they all end up in a federal penitentiary, I will keep trying to do the right thing by my children. If any of you that have used the Dewey Decimal system or are good with numbers and letters can help me with a better system to deliver these presents, I would appreciate hearing about it. Thanks, TL
Here’s a cute picture of me and little Hermann playing.