Last week, New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg announced he was naming an official in charge of fatherhood. Not content with telling people how to eat, drink or smoke, New York's nanny-in-chief is now showing men how to parent in the form of a "daddy czar."
Memo to Mike: I don't need some bureaucrat to tell me how to be a good father. Anyone who knows me knows I dote on my three, illegitimate, daughters: Laqueefa, Lunesta and David.
I don't actually have a current photo of Laqueefa but, from what her mother-whose-name-escapes-me says, she's a looker.
Anyway, I don't need some father figurehead to tell me when my princesses need their weekly baths. And I always make sure their trough is full of fresh scraps, while the communal slop bucket is consistently full of the finest slop money can buy. (David's actually allergic to slop, but she powers through, anyway.)
Yes, Mr. Daddy Czar, I already know that when Lunesta's mouth hole smells like barf, she should brush her damn tooth. Or when Laqueefa make-makes in her diap-diaps — well, I actually make her mom change the little runt, when that happens. Daddies don't do diapers.
If anything, Mayor Bloomberg, your policies hurt responsible parenting, rather than help it. Your recent $1.60 cigarette tax has cost me a fortune when it comes to my daughters' menthol rations.
I'd force the runts to quit altogether, were it not for the fact that smoking keeps them busy when I'm at the OTB.
Stop taxing the poor, Bloomie — i.e. me.
And if you disagree with me, you're worse than Greg Gutfeld.