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The Family Man Responds

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My friends and I grew up listening to Black Flag. A good number of my pals really idolised them for their ethos and work ethic and intensity or whatever. By age 14 we’d all read Get In The Van, and we chronically jammed the Damaged, My War and First Four Years records. I thought they were an incredible band but I never fell for the worship response that was typical in young males, I just really liked them. Yeah, I know I have a My War tattoo on my chest but I always felt there was a slight air of corniness to everything. Some of it I thought was intentional, but this feeling was mainly triggered by their last and longest tenured front man, Henry Rollins.

Take the Family Man record for instance. I remember around my 15th birthday going into a record store to buy a new Black Flag record since I’d worn out the ones previously stated. I flipped through the stock that was available and was immediately stunned at the cover of Family Man. It looks so fucking cool, a dude with a gun to his head and a dead wife and a bleeding kid. Easy decision. I completely overlooked the statement on the cover that specifically said that it was half instrumental and half spoken word, my money was spent the second I picked it up.

I wish there was a video of my initial reaction to that record. All I remember is putting it on and listening to the title poem, and doubling over in laughter. I had never laughed so hard in my life. My mother thought I was having a seizure. My first thought was “This is fucking ridiculous that he’d actually say this shit out loud, let alone put it on a Black Flag Record!” My second and more pertinent thought was “This is total bullshit”. My feelings have changed very little.

Now that I’m what some would call a prototypical family man with a wife, kids, mortgage and a decent job, I’d like to talk about some of my feelings on family and fatherhood in relation to some of Mr. Rollins’ issues. It was after all, one of the earliest memories I have of a dissenting view on the idea. At least one that had something to do with people I respected.

I can picture Rollins calling me on the phone all jacked-up and saying this shit to me.

Me: Hello.

Rollins: Do you want the family man or do you want the swingin’ man?

What? Family Man? Who is this?

You get the family man family man FAMILY man with your glances my way, takin’ no chance on the new day family man ,with your life all planned; your little sand castle built, smilin’ through your guilt, FAMILY MAN.

Oh, hi Henry. What’s up? You seem peeved. Are you talking about the beach yesterday? I wasn’t glancing at you. After I helped my son make the sand castle that you’re talking about, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the girl with the big boobies sitting across from you. I guess I was smiling “through my guilt” or whatever you said. I can’t believe you were worried about me instead of those things in front of your face. Don’t tell the old lady about that. I know it’s juvenile but I’m a red-blooded American male.

You know, I actually fucking hate the beach. I hate the summer, and I hate the sun. I just go because my wife and kids love it. It’s just something I do to keep everyone happy. Henry, a happy wife is a happy life, you know this shit!

I come to infect; I come to rape your women; I come to take your children into the street; I come for YOU FAMILY MAN!

Jesus Henry, chill the fuck out! What’s all this rape talk? Is this another one of your little poems? I hate when you call me and do this shit. Have you seen the Cornholio episode of Beavis and Butthead? They are clearly bagging you out, hard. “AND THEN MY FRIEND YOU DIE, MAN!!!!” That shit was funny.

Yeah it was, FAMILY MAN!

You really want to take my children into the street? Go ahead, my wife needs some peace and I work nights all this week. Good luck with that, though. I seriously think you have no fucking idea what you’re getting yourself into. First off my daughter is two months old. Do you know how boring and needy infants are? How you’ve got to rock her for a few hours to get her to sleep, only to put her down and have her wake the fuck up immediately. I love her with all my being, but sometimes after a long night of that shit I fantasise about kicking her through the goalposts of life. Actually lining her up in front of rugby uprights and giving it a boot. Who am I kidding? I’d whiff on that shit so hard. I couldn’t kick a cow in the guts. What are you gonna do, right?

With your Christmas lights already up, your such a MAN when you’re puttin’ up your Christmas lights, first on the block; FAMILY MAN.

Yo, I do not know what the fuck you’re going on about, I fucking hate Christmas and Christmas lights. People who take that shit too far are not called family men, they are called psychopaths. Christmas is just another thing I do for my kids that makes them happy.

You’re really starting to creep me out Hank, I’ve gotta say. You’re starting to sound like someone I fear daily. You know, I have these frequent morbid thoughts while I’m at work that someone is going to break into my house and decapitate my whole family and use their heads for dog food bowls. It’s seriously harrowing and really consuming some days. Some nights I can’t sleep because similarly shitty thoughts are loitering in my head and it drives me damn near insane.

Can I Rollins-out on you for a minute? I work as a security guard at a Government site in Canberra and I do a lot of graveyard shifts. After five or six nights in a row the nerves get kind of raw and my mind starts to pickle slightly. A crushing feeling of impending doom upon me and my family comes over me. It’s inescapable. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a mental sickness or chemical imbalance or just the simple lack of sleep but some nights I do patrols, walking around the site in tears. It’s like I’m just waiting for the axe to fall, not if but when. I know it’s irrational but it’s still what strikes me.

I’m finding this is more what it means to be a real family man than any of the things you’re suggesting. Crippling and paralyzing fears that you might lose the things that you love the most in life. I still wouldn’t change it for anything.

That’s heavy, bro.

For real. Sorry. Penis, tits, vagina, Better?

Yes. AnywayI wanna crucify you to your front door with the nails from your well stocked garage family man; family man; FAMILY MAN saint dad! Father on fire! I’ve come to incinerate you I’ve come home.

Ha, saint dad! I like that! Last father’s day my son got me a Philadelphia Eagles shirt that has a banner that said #1 Dad. It’s my new favorite shirt. Not that I’m claiming that I’m the best dad on earth, but I’m clearly no slouch in bed either. I could have more patience with my two year-old-son. He is a real terrorist, but I’d rather have a child full of life, energy and curiosity than a lump of shit child. Even if that energy is misguided sometimes. I’m getting better at not causing unnecessary conflicts with him over meaningless things like his shoes or pants. You don’t want to wear pants? Fucking fine.

I actually fucking hate dads who constantly talk about what great fathers they are or how hard is it to be a dad but they manage to pull it off. I meet a lot of dickheads these days at playgroups or McDonald’s play lands. Is this what the modern father is becoming, a pussy bragging about doing his job?  Most of these assholes usually only have one child under the age of 12 months. These people aren’t parents, they are pet owners. Shit not even, they are caretaking a fucking Chia Pet. You’re not a parent until your kid can take your glasses off of you and snap them in half while smiling right in front of your fucking face. When you don’t bury them alive bound in duct tape for stuff like that, that’s when you graduate to parenthood.

Also, don’t fucking judge me about the McDonald’s play land stuff. It’s seriously an oasis of sanity for parents. You buy a coffee and they give your kid a free “Babycino” to make them feel a part of the wankery that has become getting a coffee.

Babycino?

I know, right? Baby-fucking-cino. Fuck this generation is going to be so fucking soft. My intuition tells me that most of these young men are going to be very excited to dive headfirst into the Tori Amos back catalog.

Thanks for calling, Henry. I feel a lot better now that we’ve had a chance to hash-out some of these issues you and I both have about parenthood. I feel this has been a real growing experience for the both of us. You coming over for the Eagles game?

No.

Alright, Henry. Fuck you then. I’m gonna go listen to Bl’ast and then get some sleep. Goodnight.

Follow Sharkey on Twitter: @JSharkeyIII

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