Dad Saw the Captain Phillips Movie

Once he got past the disappointment of not getting the lead role, Dad eagerly anticipated this film.  He figured it would validate his earlier assessment that Obama had doomed Phillips but somehow the guys sent to rescue him managed to overcome being sent there.  Okay, it doesn't make sense to me either.  But Dad finds validation for his Obama hatred in clouds, coffee grounds, and everything he sees or reads on any subject.  So yeah, he was pumped when I saw him after he went to the flick.  He told me a few times how gloriously correct he'd been (I don't know anyone else who quotes himself so reverentially), despite his prediction being totally wrong, and of course I nodded in agreement, not wanting another half-hour harangue.  His current wife is faking deafness in a vain attempt to get him to stop yapping about how wonderful he is and how horrible Obama is, but since he never waits for a response, he hasn't noticed yet.  It is a little troubling to hear him refer to himself as the President's "arch-nemesis," but someone whose grasp on reality is that tenuous is going to come out with the occasional comic book dialogue.  He shouts "Flame on!" every time he lights the grill.  As long as he doesn't flip out during a car sale he will keep his job.  People who lie with such enthusiasm are worth their weight in adamantium down at the dealership.

Dad's On Twitter,and He's Not Happy

My friend charvakan called my attention to a tweet from Dad (ExecutiveSuiteJesus, @ExecSuiteJesus ) that accuses me of being ungrateful.  Well, I'm not.  Dad gave me a home for twelve years and showed me as much love as he can show anyone.  (Okay, he has some issues, but who doesn't?)  While I don't share Dad's political views anymore, I respect him on a personal level and I love him.  (No, Dad, I won't buy a car from you.  Just kidding!  I can't get a driver's license yet anyway.)

On My Own

I did it!  I'm now out of Dad's house and living on my own (well, I do have roommates) in Cincinnati.  It wasn't hard to find a job (I'm not in the employee list yet, but I will be after three months).  I can do it remotely, which frankly makes life easier.  You would not believe the prejudice here against orangutans--people stare and point, and only quick reflexes saved me from taking a trank dart last week.

But my roommates are cool.  Jim works at a garage, Bruce is in construction, and Melanie is a waitress.  We play a lot of games.  I'm hopeless at poker, but I usually win at chess and no one can beat me at Twister.  Jim cracks us up with his constant joking.  He ought to do standup.

Politically, I'm seeing for the first time how wrong Dad and I were--and I guess he still is.  It's tough living on what employers pay today; this isn't 1958.  I don't blame the small employers.  They can't pay well or the big chains will kill them.  Forget trying to organize; unions are crushed wherever possible where they already exist, and no new locals can be formed.  We get what we're offered, under the conditions imposed, or we don't work.  OK, that's life in the USA--now.

Daddy Issues?

I suppose you can say I have a complicated relationship with my dad.  His relationship with my mom (holding sign) was brief but passionate; he still can't bring himself to speak of her even though she's been out of the picture since shortly after my first birthday.  I've been living with Dad ever since he opened the crate from Bangkok I was mailed to him in, and he has been good to me.  Okay, we did go through a phase in which he kept referring to me as his "helper monkey", but that lasted less than a decade.  I think he gained respect for me when I refused to continue picking pockets, and I gained respect for him when he discovered he could put to good use his talent for repeating outrageous lies with utter conviction, and make a good living selling cars to the undereducated rednecks that live in our area.

Like any teenager (since we grow up faster than humans, my adolescence began at six and ended at ten), I went through a rebellious phase.  Dad did not take kindly to my tolerant attitude towards people he called "socialists" and "traitors."  But I couldn't stop talking to everyone who didn't wear a flag pin, or harangue my teachers about union thugs and point out that my very existence was strong evidence against Darwin's ideas about speciation.  But his certitude and persistence won me over, and when a friend of his said that Breitbart's death "opened up a slot for another monkey at a keyboard", I started this blog to help him promulgate his political philosophy.  I do love him; he's my dad!

But with maturity comes independent thought (at least for me), and I have come to realize that "I hate Obama" leaves much to be desired as a philosophy.  I also have developed a sense of humor, something that Dad still does not suspect exists.  (The only time I've heard him laugh is when the news reports an execution, and it's more "Mua-ha-ha" than "Ha ha" even then.)  Dad's hinting I should find my own place.  I get along with his current wife (he goes through them pretty quickly--I've lost count), so that's not a problem.  He just can't deal with my refusal to toe the line he's drawn politically.  He lost it the other day when I questioned the need for photo IDs for voting, for instance.  Now I have to show my passport to get into the house.

As long as I have to move out, I may as well relocate to a place that's a little less, shall we say, butt-ignorant than the town we're in now.  That doesn't narrow my search much at all, but that's a good thing.  I'm open to suggestions.  The nice man who's helping me with this blog has offered to let me stay with him a while, but I was brought up to think that the DC area is Satan's orgy room and I don't know if I'm ready for such a dramatic repudiation of Dad's lifestyle.  Maybe someplace midway between my current town and DC on the liberal/conservative scale would be better, like Iowa.  Any thoughts?