The Budget of Paradox

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.

Sophia, I think it’s amazing that your mother still thinks, after all these years, that she’s been completely neutral between you and me. When you were eight years old, you told me you couldn’t visit me because I would kidnap you and wouldn’t let you go back to Lynhcburg. Amazingly, at eight years old, you had the same concerns as your “neutral” mother and her scumbag lawyer. And even her scumbag lawyer wasn’t concerned about kidnapping until we disagreed about money.

So, let’s recap. I’ve never threatened to kidnap anyone. I never suggested it, ever, not even as a joke. Your mother even offered to let me take you out of the country, unsupervised, back in 2013. But as soon as I disagreed with her lawyer over money, then suddenly, her lawyer had the idea that I was a kidnapper. She also had the idea that I was an arsonist and I burned down Papa Bear’s house. Another lie, but at least I could prove the fire idea was a lie.

Anyway, by some miracle, despite your mother claiming to be totally neutral and not “brainwashing” my kids, you – at age eight – came up with the same theory, all on your own, that I wanted to kidnap you.

I’ve said this before: your mother and her lawyer need to keep changing their story to fit the facts. My story never changed. I love my kids and I would certainly never hurt them.

And while you’re reading that e-mail from your mom, I need to remind you that it’s not the job of a therapist to affirm anything. I know your mom is terribly insecure and needs external validation. But that’s not a therapist’s job. You see a therapist because there’s something wrong. I’m on the side of you that wants to aim up. Am I going to affirm whatever you think? No, it’s not up to me to affirm anything. You don’t get a casual pat on the back from a therapist for your pre-existing axiomatic conclusions. That’s not therapy; that’s a rubber stamp.

And I’ve seen the way your mom picks therapists: she shops around until she finds one who will agree with her. She and I had a marriage counselor named Dr. Carol Marsh. Ask your mom about her. We saw her a few times, but when she disagreed with your mom, we never went back to her again.

Your mom prefers “therapists” like Genevieve Whittemore. Ever met her? She’s not even a doctor, and she practices medicine without a license in her kitchen. I’m sure that’s the kind of “therapist” your mom is referring to in her rant. Every story has two sides, kid.

Percy Willodean Galjour… wow, there’s a name that just rolls right off your tongue.

Percy, you’ll always be Morey to me. Your first name was one of the few things your mother and I agreed on. Do you even remember the story about your middle name?

Suddenly, Dagmar doesn’t sound so crazy, does it?

Sophia, as always, thinking of you today. I was watching one of my favorite YouTube chefs and caught this little video clip. This man actually went to chef’s school, but plays a character of a swearing, screaming, sloppy, careless, fat, tattooed, clueless cook. Very often, he improvises and guesses the ingredients to his meals. When it turns out okay, he praises himself for “landing the plane”.
http://black.blue/fl … s/LandedThePlane.m4v

Do you like to cook? I’d love to cook with you someday. Your mother is a great cook; surely you’ve learned something by now.

This same chef, he even offers advice to young men; that they’re guaranteed to have successful romantic campaigns if they learn to cook his style of lasagna: https://www.youtube. … n+guaranteed+lasagna (“if you don’t like lasagna, you’re probably an idiot.”)

The world is a carnival. It takes all kinds.

Sophia, when I was in Afghanistan, I discovered a movie called Chef. I think it’s a cute little story about a father re-connecting with his child after they’ve been slowly separated for a while. It reminded me of my children. In a way, I wanted this story to be mine. In the movie, the father finds himself depressed and lonely, doubting his skills, at one point saying, “I don’t even know if I have anything left to say.”

I think the premise of the film is true: That fathers add tremendous value to their children’s lives, to teach them, to guide them, to inspire them, to love them.

What’s really strange is that I sent a DVD of this movie to Morey, but she refused to watch it for some bizarre reason. The more I pressed her to watch it, the more she refused. Finally, she told me your mother watched the movie to be sure it’s appropriate and that I wasn’t sending Morey harmful material. What a joke. Being without a father is harmful, but your mother’s crazy suspicion won’t ever see that fact. Instead, she badly wants to believe I’m hurting my own kids even when I’m trying to do the opposite.

Anyway, I posted the movie here so you could watch it, right here, right now. Watching this on your phone won’t give you the same experience as watching on a big screen. But I hope you get the idea.

https://black.blue/flat/docs/chef888.m4v

p.s. I’m not a chef. But there is plenty I can teach you. I love you, kid.