Dating my daughter could be hazardous to your life

About eleven years ago, my daughter's Christmas present was a trip to Arizona to watch the Cubs spring training. Arrangements were made for my daughter to stay with a friend who lives there.

This would be the first time for her traveling alone. As the time came for her departure, her mother was concerned about some degenerate pervert weirdo on the plane. She called to ask what we can tell my daughter to say to anyone who tried to bother her.

My response was, "Look, my father is a notorious hit man for the Chicago Mob. If you put your hands on me, he will kill everything you love. Your wife, your kids, your mother and mother-in-law, your dogs, cats, birds, chickens, snakes, ferrets, gerbils, iguanas and any other living thing you really care for. After that, he will come after you. He will take three days to kill you."


"My father is old and crazy and carries guns. All his friends are old and crazy and carry guns." (Peter V. Bella)

Her mother did not think that was an appropriate response for a nine year old.

After tossing around other variations on the theme, her mother came up with the perfect response.

Since I was a 25 plus year veteran cop at the time and my daughter knew many of my friends, this was decided upon, "My father is old and crazy and carries guns. All his friends are old and crazy and carry guns."

I wanted to make a black tee shirt with that saying for my daughter to wear on the plane. Her mother thought that was going a bit too far. Go figure.


I came across this image on Facebook. It asked for a comment. I responded, "WARNING. If you date my daughter. I am old and crazy and carry guns. All my friends are old and crazy and carry guns. Proceed at your own risk."

Dads who have daughters are like that.

Dads who are or were cops are worse.

A cop friend with daughters used to tell her suitors, "If you even make her cry I will kill you. They will find your body in the trunk of a car. The cause of death will be blunt trauma to the head from multiple blows from a ball peen hammer. The manner of death will be suicide."

Dating my daughter could be hazardous to your life. I am very comfortable knowing I am not alone feeling like this. Since others in my circle of friends hold similar opinions, I do not feel like a raging lunatic. I feel almost normal.

One of the best things on the subject of dating daughters has been floating around the internet and email chains for quite sometime:

Ten Simple Rules for Dating my Daughter

Rule One :

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two :

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three :

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys your age to wear their trousers so loose that they appear to be falling off. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during your date with my daughter, I will use my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely to your waist.

Rule Four :

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five :

In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six :

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven :

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight :

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough for my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine :

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten :

Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy in Viet Nam. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car--there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face watching you from the window is mine.


Filed under: Uncategorized

Leave a comment