My father never missed a drink in his life. Or a joint. Or a party. Or a chance to get laid. He also never missed a day of work, or a house payment, or a car payment. I never went hungry, although he did a couple of times so I wouldn't.

When you screw up, you got to pay the price. Shoot up a supermarket, you go to jail. Ride a motorcycle without a helmet, permanent brain damage and in California you're getting a ticket. Too chatty on a date with my dad, well, he'll push you in front of a cross town bus. Of course, you know, I'm speaking metaphorically. My dad will push you in front of any bus.

All of Dad's relationships ended exactly the same: subpoena, beep of a moving van backing up the driveway, pile of his clothes burning on the front lawn.

In a crisis, my family puts aside all its petty differences and hatreds... Because a crisis, is a perfect opportunity to create *new* petty differences and hatreds! My dad's from that era when you lived to 50, your heart exploded and that was that. You know when you cook bacon and you pour the grease into the can? My dad's the can!

The normal make a living. The deranged make history.

My parents' divorce settlement involved a bar tab.

My dad's full of encouragement and support. It just feels like abandonment and neglect.