Father’s Day is thoughtful, appreciated and — without resorting to the kind of hyperbole I’ve been accused of using by every single person in the universe — the single most unfair thing about fatherhood ever. Mother’s Day takes place during the school year, so moms quite rightfully enjoy fridges full of hand-scribbed art projects and reverent tone poems written in English classes. Father’s Day is in midsummer, when school is well out, so it’s like having your birthday on Christmas Day, or sharing it with a “cousin” or “twin” or whatever. We get objects we already own, re-wrapped and delivered with a crayon index card that says, “School’s out, it’s 87 outside and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit in the kitchen drawing some stupid picture.”
Yet repackaged paperweights are leagues better than actual store-bought products for Father’s Day, all of which assume every man on Earth is a leather-skinned flannel-shirted Man’s Man who spends exactly all of his free time knocking back Glenlivet on the hoods of rusted-out pickup hulls. All Father’s Day catalogs are written in the voice of someone who’s spent years studying human males but has yet to approach one in person, so screw it, we wrote our own, and used lots of all-caps for extra growly masculinity. Send this to your wife/children/partner/hangers-on at once, and watch the joy roll in. Happy shopping!
Give Dad the experience of coming downstairs and opening a beautifully wrapped package of old meat, which is a sentence we cannot think of a joke about. The Bouquet of Salami comes with five delicious samples of 8-oz. chub, which we also cannot think of a joke about.
Help your dad surf the web, read news and store pictures — though never do any online banking because you can’t trust those websites — with a computer mouse that resembles the sweet sweet 88 of Dale Jr. This is an especially practical option, since everyone uses mice these days.
Not all men like shopping, and not all men like gift cards, but all men like HAMMERS and VIOLENCE and faux-rock objects that say SMASH ME. The Smash and Grab gift card is like a regular gift card, except you access it by channeling all the confusing feelings you have about your dad. Comes with goggles, when smashing open a faux-brick containing a small card, safety first!
Help dad celebrate Father’s Day by blessing him with the ability to apparently cook an entire animal at once? There is no reason for this object to be this large, unless he’s going woolly mammoth hunting with his friend Glunk.
[HUGE ASSORTMENT OF CHECKOUT-AISLE CANDY:]
(http://www.fromyouflowers.com/products/super_sweet_snack_gift_basket.htm?refcode=11G2&CAWELAID=751260406&CAGPSPN=pla&CAAGID=13891791315&CATCI=pla-124157174475&gclid=CJe7yPueu9QCFQiFaQoddpUJXA) Why assemble a last-minute hastily grabbed collection of Twizzlers, M&Ms and a bunch of nuts, when you can buy one already pre-half assed? Comes with the bad puffy generic Chee-Tos, which have never been put in the mouth of someone who wasn’t immediately disappointed.
CHOKE ON THIS, SNOWFLAKES. Combine Dad’s love of music and murdering faceless enemy soldiers with a gift that literally only works when you’re playing the first four Black Sabbath albums. If you try to dial up ANY John Mayer at this, it will sprout arms, punch you in the face and call you buttercup and it’ll be right.
WHISKEY IS A MANLY LIQUOR, consumed by manly people in fancy glasses that are also manly, so whiskey will make Dad feel rustic, powerful and Hemingwayian, for the 40 to 45 minutes until he passes out in a lawn chair at 6 p.m. listening to “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.”
It’s like a bouquet, except instead of flowers it’s JAMMED TO THE WALLS WITH BEER, and popcorn, so Dad can enjoy his special day trying to extract one of those goddamn molecule-thin slivers of popcorn-shell with his tongue. But wait, you’re saying, can’t I go buy like ten cases of real beer for the price of this thing? NO, and by no we mean YES, but then you wouldn’t get the bucket, or the badass ribbon.
Fun fact: Before he was a screechy right-wing maniac, Pippi Longstocking-haired former Metallica employee Dave Mustaine had a rock band that was primarily depicted on the shirts of high school kids who were trying way too hard. And where better to pick up their 1986 thrash-metal classic about the horrors of a military-industrial/capitalistic hellscape than a place that sells wine glasses at $59 a pop? While you’re there, grab a Blind Melon, which they’re also selling for some reason. (OK, real talk, C&B has a pretty solid summer clearance on vinyl right now, which is the most suburban-guy sentence I’ve ever written in my life.)
Who doesn’t love ties, a gift that says “I remembered this yesterday afternoon at 3 p.m. when I was looking for sunscreen at Walmart?” And with more and more guys working in traditional offices with strict dress codes, ties have never been more in-demand. Commemorate the loving, caring alpha male in your family with the most afterthoughtty present in America that isn’t a heart-shaped object from CVS.