FATHER KNOWS BEST

I like to tell people that my father taught me to swim by taking me a few miles offshore into the Gulf of Mexico, tying a piece of bloody steak around my neck and throwing me in the water. It's not that I hate Dad and am trying to cobble together a vengeful mob against him. It's just that that kind of parenting appeals to me.

So it's probably a good thing that I have no children. I mean, would a good father read his children Edgar Allen Poe bedtime stories, such as The Telltale Heart? And then stand outside their bedroom doors making heartbeat sounds?

Sure, I might go for more traditional bedtime fare, such as Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, just to show that I can be the Mike Brady kind of a dad. But I've always wanted to tell a different version of the tale. Let's say that the wicked stepmother's poisoned apple really does the trick and kills Snow White but leaves her body in an uncorrupted state. The dwarves aren't too put out by this because they hated Snow White's singing and New Agey sermons about not polluting their bodies with meat, tobacco and alcohol. But they figure if millions go to look at Lenin in a glass coffin, they might make a buck or two, and so they follow the commies' example. Well, lo and behold, one day the prince, whom the dwarves despise because of his frat boy taunts and sense of entitlement, shows up and is ensnared by Snow White's beauty. The dwarves, who know full well that Snow White is dead because they use her as a scarecrow when tourism is slow, tell the prince that she is "in an enchanted sleep, and only love's kiss will awaken her." So the prince kisses her. Nothing happens. He kisses her again. Still nothing. Then one of the dwarves says, "You know, your highness, I guess a kiss just won't do it. I guess you're going to have to REALLY wake her up, if you know what I mean. I guess you're going to have to ... " and here the dwarf whispers into the prince's ear and the prince registers complete shock. But his desire for Snow White gets the better of him, and so he climbs on top of her and begins to vigorously express his love for Snow White. Meanwhile, the dwarves are hooting encouragement and videotaping the disturbing spectacle. When at the end of it Snow White is still dead, the dwarves triumphantly tell the prince that he is now on video as a necrophiliac. The disgraced prince kills himself and the dwarves sell the tape for millions and live happily everafter. The End.

And, of course, there would be fun father-child outings. Let's say I have two kids, one 6 years old and one 4. I could teach one how to steer a car and one how to work the pedals. That way when I take them to a strip bar and get too drunk to drive, they could do so instead. And they would probably thrive from taking on such trust and responsibility at an early age.

Should the children prove adept at chauffeuring, I would move them on to more demanding tasks. Let's face it, we all have people in our lives that we want to get rid of, but we don't want to risk getting convicted of murder. But suppose from a young age, children are trained to be ninja assassins. And suppose that some forward-thinking father plays an audio tape for the children while they sleep that says, "A good child kills his daddy's enemies" over and over. Sure, their mother may object to the live-fire exercises in the back yard, but she'll do nothing that would put her on the enemies list. And then by the time they are 14 or so, they will be more than ready to avenge any insults to dear, old dad. No beer at your house when I come a-calling? The kids would like to talk to you, pal.

Does this seem a little extreme? Well, parenting has gone a little over the top lately, making everything about nurturing the kids. That's pretty much a one-way street. My way allows kids to give back to their parents, directly and indirectly. It prepares them for a strange and difficult world. And it makes sure that I never go beerless at friends' homes. I call that a win-win.