My family likes to tease my dad and say he’s perky. And if you’re reading this and thinking that’s nothing to tease someone over, you’re certainly correct, because what’s wrong with being a happy, cheerful person? (I guess unless you’re referring to a female’s surgically enhanced body part? And even then you’d probably want them to be perky, but I suppose you could still tease ‘em about it?)

Sorry. Back to the family fare. Though you know, if popular culture is to be believed, Father’s Day is all about masculinity gone wild, it’s like a late night DVD for drills, grills, and pieces of meat. Even Google is all tied up over this holiday today:

So really, my dad isn’t a marketer’s dream because he’s an actual human, not a just cardboard cutout, beer holding, steak grilling maniac who shops at Sears, though on occasion I’m sure he has done one or more of those things. Instead, he’s my dad, and he deserves praise¬†everyday. Not just because he is sometimes told he looks like this guy:

And not just because he really loves chocolate.

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