There’s a lot of buzz out there on the web about ‘Father Jokes,’ but my Dad, contrary to paternal stereotypes, is a wellspring of jokeage far beyond the rather weak groaners that fall under the label of typical “Dad” humor. My father not only told me my first joke, he taught me how to tell a joke, and bestowed genetically the ability to retain an endless supply of jokes on any subject, and, worse, the predisposition to tell them.
Yeah, thanks, Dad.
So, in honor of Father’s Day, here’s one of my favorites, of which I’m sure the old man has about three better versions.
A man comes into the talent agent’s office with the obligatory big, shaggy dog. At first, the talent agent is reluctant; he’s not booking too many animal acts these days, but the man is adamant: “you’ve got to see this dog! This is not any ordinary animal act, my friend. First, the dog starts with a tap dance – all four feet, moving neatly in rhythm. Then he sings a song – a Stephen Foster classic, something pretty for the gals, ya know – then, he jumps through a flaming hoop, and then, for the finale, he juggles a dozen milk-bones while balancing on a ball and barking the national anthem! I guarantee ya, the pup’s gonna be a hit!”
Well, the agent has to see the act now, and the man turns to the dog to give the command to start his routine. But before the pooch can lace up his tap shoes, an even bigger, even shaggier dog bursts into the room, grabs the little mutt by the collar, and drags him out, all of this happening faster than the men can protest.
Once the dust has cleared, the agent turns to the man, deeply confused. “What the heck was that all about?”
The man shrugs. “That’s his mother; she wants him to be a doctor.”