Actually, a VERY happy Father's Day to my friends and family who are good fathers.
To my own Dad, well, you'd be getting a card if a) I knew where to send it -- you haven't called since moving to the East Coast (remember when you called me up to tell me you were moving? Good times, Dad!), and b) they made cards that said things like:
Happy Father's Day to the guy who weaseled out of most of his court-mandated child support,
declined to help pay for my orthodontia ("She doesn't need braces." Wow! I had no idea you were an orthodontist on the side!),
has usually lived hundreds if not thousands of miles away,
has pictures of his wife's grandkids all over the house but not one photo of my child or my brother's sons,
breezes through town expecting me to drop everything, sometimes on literally a few minutes' notice, to accomodate him for meals or even a place to stay,
has missed my daughter's birthdays (all four of them so far; you are 4 and 0! Keep up the good work!),
shot my grandmother's emotionally traumatized rescued poodle dog to death rather than take it to a vet and get it some tranquilizers when it was distraught because she was gone for a few days,
tried to fob his own horrible evil little dog off on Grandma when he decided to move away and were worried he wouldn't tolerate the trip well (why didn't you just shoot him too?),
drove up from San Diego to visit other relatives but failed to mention it to me, despite the fact that I hadn't seen you in a couple of years (I retaliated in kind a few years later when I flew to Washington DC for a week and never told you, because I didn't feel like blowing one or more nights on having dinner with you and your awful wife),
gave my brother a gun for Christmas but gave me nothing,
and still occasionally has the nerve to complain that nobody calls him.
As soon as they start making that card, Dad, you'll get one from me.