By the time you read this, I’ll either be neck-deep in a pit of familial obligations or chilling in a lawn chair in a baked haze, contemplating the absurdity of it all. Father’s Day, that circus of Daddy Love and barbecue rituals has rolled around again and I’m here to tell you, it’s a goddamn trip.
The day began with the pillowed civility: breakfast in bed, a Hallmark card scribbled with the innocence of youth, a lovely gift, and the family photo. But beneath the surface, the gears of a different kind of celebration were grinding into motion. I had procured a fine strain of Sativa. A fitting companion for our journey.
Picture this: a backyard barbecue, the in-laws, children running amok, wives gossiping over potato salad, and me, the CrackedPot observer, passing a joint to the old man, my father-in-law. He takes a drag, his eyes widening in surprise before settling into a blissful glaze. Our laughter comes next, deep and hearty, the sound that we both buried under years of work, stress, and responsibility. This, my friends, is the true essence of Father’s Day – a moment of liberation, we take a break from the societal “norms”.
As the weed works its magic, conversations take on a new dimension. We dive into the past, reminiscing about old adventures and the lessons we’ve learned along the way. The weed acts as a bridge, connecting generations in a shared experience of altered consciousness. It’s a bonding agent more potent than any Hallmark card or overpriced gadget.
The beauty of weed on Father’s Day is its ability to strip away the pretense. In a society that demands fathers be stoic providers, weed offers a moment of vulnerability, a chance to let the guard down and just be. It’s a reminder that beneath the tough exteriors, there’s a human craving connection and understanding.
So, as the sun sets on this Father’s Day, and the last of the burgers get devoured, let us raise a glass to the fathers who dare to break free, if only for an afternoon. Let’s celebrate their courage to embrace the unconventional and find joy in the shared experience of being wonderfully, unapologetically human.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a joint and a lawn chair. Happy Father’s Day, you magnificent bastards.
Keep it weird,
