I was impressed with the evident way Fred loves his wife, Kim, and his children. His passion for the word of God and for Christ our Savior is evident. But Fred possesses a rich sense of humor, too.
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. 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. 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 too big, and I will not object.
However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrrier, and I will kill you. 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: 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. 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 getting ready, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden tool. 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. 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.
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 driveways 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.