THE WHOLE DAY FOR THE OLD MAN: Happy Father’s Day to my dad. It’s been great to be home, albeit a short visit. Lots of laffs, sandwiches, hard times dealt out and lofty stories. Don’t want to go back to Portland. Fuck.

For his gift, I dragged him downtown to Golden’s Shoes and we outfitted him a couple new pairs of Sperry Topsider shoes. The kind he’s been wearing since like 1958 or some shit. Take that, hipster assholes so easily led by whatever ironic style’s cleaning out your bank account this month. Yawn. My dad’s been in these shoes since I can remember. The classic dark brown model. Don’t fuck with the originator. Don’t.

We went to a Beach Bums game this afternoon, meeting up with 44 representative from the McKolay Family Enterprise, and watched nine innings of jaw-yawning baseball at the hands of the Washington Wild Things (Pennsylvania, or something) and the game went into extra innings, and a wild pitch in the bottom of the 11th brought a Beach Bum home, and they won. It was just nice to be slammed up against Dad for four hours, alongside Leigh, and a seat away from Mom. Family stuff. Oh yeah, plus all 57 McKolay specimens. There’s a lot of them. Good lookin’ bunch.

Here’s what it looks like when my dad is working on a project, and I leave the DDC Mobile Command Unit to head outside to fuck with him. He was painting some little birdhouse or something, and I whipped a seat cushion thing at him. Just keeping the old man on his toes. Speaking of his toes, you should see his feet. Gross!