We Amazing Fathers Who Blog (And Those Sad, Unfortunate Dads Who Need Us)

Sometimes I look at the thousands of dads out there who are blogging and I have to admit that I don’t know what our readers would do without us. We fathers who blog are an overwhelmingly wise and witty bunch who are (let’s face it) writing some of the world’s greatest prose on fatherhood. As grueling as it may be for us, we struggle to find just the right words for all the issues of fatherhood, baring our souls and our problems, telling our incredibly embarrassing stories, because we know that our readers – and especially all those other unfortunate fathers who don’t blog - would not be able to face another day if we were not there to guide and educate them. Sometimes we fathers who blog get together in an undisclosed location (so we won’t be mobbed by our fans) and when we are finished laughing and crying over the profound statements we’ve made about fatherhood and brotherhood and manhood (as well as many other types of ‘hoods’), we hug each other and whisper in each other’s ears, “We really are national treasures, aren’t we?”

You may ask, why we offer our advice and tell our problems to hundreds or thousands of strangers who never asked for it in the first place. Well what if we didn’t? What if Picasso didn’t paint … if Shakespeare didn’t write … if Phil Collins didn’t sing? The truth is we blog because we must – because our readers need us as much as they need beauty, as much as they need truth, as much as they need to hear a mediocre, electronically-enhanced singing voice backed up by a heavy-handed, amateurish drum beat. It really is an awesome responsibility we have (and to tell you the truth it really helps me relate to Pablo, Bill and Phil a whole lot better).

The problem is that sometimes our readers need us a little too much. Some of them even go so far as to send us emails and IMs begging us to address their problems. “Dear Dad Man Talking, Please address my problem,” they write. “I won’t know how to handle my child or my wife until I hear from you.” Personally I have a very hard time keeping up my correspondence with this clamoring throng of readers.

And frankly - after months of doing this - I’m getting a little tired of being the voice for my generation of fathers. I also personally know that all the other fathers out there who blog are getting just as tired of it. I mean how much can one group of men give to another group of men who won’t face or fix their problems in the honest and soul searching ways that we do. We write giving our tips on how to become the world’s sexiest dad and - even though we dads who blog will be unbelievably sexual and fully potent well into our 80s and 90s - those non-blogging fathers out there still fail to fulfill their wives. Over and over and over again we give our personal top 10 rules for being a great father and a real man’s man but still there are millions of children out there laughing at their fathers who don’t blog and wishing that we blogging fathers were their dads (I can’t say I blame them, back in the 60s and 70s my own father never blogged and I still resent him for it to this day). Day in and day out we fathers who blog tell the stories of our newborns, our teenagers, of the fights we have with our wives and the hidden and incredibly personal secrets that really should stay private. And even though we have no shame or dignity, is that good enough for our readers? No. Do they listen to us? No. Do they fix their problems? No. They go on expecting us to do it all for them. We’ll I’ll tell you something, we dad’s who blog can’t continue to take on these issues by ourselves – it’s just too much to ask. We are just men after all, no matter how extraordinarily sexy, powerful and wise we may be.

So that’s why starting today, I only want fathers and other readers who are seriously considering becoming bloggers themselves to read my blogs. That’s right, all the rest of you have to stop reading now. Go on, go away – yes, you with the tear in your eye, I mean you too.

Okay, I know, I’m being tough on you. But that’s the kind of dad I am. If you were able to continue reading my blog you’d know that. But you can’t any more, can you, because you’re just a sad little man who doesn’t blog and who will never be able to really face yourself until you do.

You see, we dads who blog care for you our readers. And we know what’s best for you. More than that, we know what’s best for the world. Each day we father’s who blog turn our backs on real people to give our valuable insights to a group of cyber-people who we will never meet, and we do it unselfishly because we know that people (real or not) will never truly be safe and secure – wars won’t be stopped, poverty won’t be ended, the energy crisis won’t be solved - until the whole world becomes a virtual community who can only touch and feel each other through the perfect computers that will set us free.