Ace Boobtoucher
Founder and Captain of the Douchepatrol
My Dad was involved in a traffic accident earlier today in Florida. He suffered a few broken vertebrae; spinal injuries; brain injuries; they had to drain his lungs. My brother Sam called to let me know that my father has no brain activity and it won't be long until he expires.
Despite many inter personal clashes I have had with my Dad over the years, I've always loved him.
My favorite story from childhood happened after a high school district championship tournament in Urbandale, Iowa about 36 years ago. My brother George dominated, as did the rest of Dowling's team. So we went for pizza with a bunch of other wrestlers' families.
GJ Clothier, and a bunch of other kids and I were jacking around in the parking lot, being 11 year olds. A two tone Nova pulled into the lot and I tapped the rear quarter panel and fell to the ground, pretending to be hit. I was hilarious.
The driver, some guy with red hair in a perm, jumped out of the car, cussing at me. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the restaurant and demanded that the police be called. From behind I heard my father's booming voice "LET THE BOY GO!"
The guy turned around and started to ask "What are you gonna...." before he could finish, my Dad straight up blasted him with a hard right.
The guy shook it off but released his grip and I scurried to the other families and let them know what happened. Mr DeCarlo, Mr Guthrie, Mr DiMarco, Mr Clothier and Mr Leonard jumped into the fray and helped grab the guy and took him to the parking lot. The guy kept fighting all of them. They mashed his face onto the hood of the car Mr DiMarco was driving, leaving a pretty big dent (it was his brother's car).
The guy clawed at my Dad's face, leaving five distinct temporary marks. The cops arrived and took statements and the guy went to jail.
On the way back home, in Dad's Caprice station wagon, he turned to me and said "Don't tell your mother. "
I didn't for more than 30 years.
At that time, sitting next to him, face bloodied and wearing a tattered shirt, my Dad became my hero.
I'll always remember him in that light.
Two of my brothers and one of my sisters are heading down there to make sure his living will is honored and to make arrangements.
I love you, Dad.
May the burdens of this world rest lightly upon your shoulders.
I'm the handsome fella in the middle of the front row. Check out my Dad's sideburns.
Despite many inter personal clashes I have had with my Dad over the years, I've always loved him.
My favorite story from childhood happened after a high school district championship tournament in Urbandale, Iowa about 36 years ago. My brother George dominated, as did the rest of Dowling's team. So we went for pizza with a bunch of other wrestlers' families.
GJ Clothier, and a bunch of other kids and I were jacking around in the parking lot, being 11 year olds. A two tone Nova pulled into the lot and I tapped the rear quarter panel and fell to the ground, pretending to be hit. I was hilarious.
The driver, some guy with red hair in a perm, jumped out of the car, cussing at me. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the restaurant and demanded that the police be called. From behind I heard my father's booming voice "LET THE BOY GO!"
The guy turned around and started to ask "What are you gonna...." before he could finish, my Dad straight up blasted him with a hard right.
The guy shook it off but released his grip and I scurried to the other families and let them know what happened. Mr DeCarlo, Mr Guthrie, Mr DiMarco, Mr Clothier and Mr Leonard jumped into the fray and helped grab the guy and took him to the parking lot. The guy kept fighting all of them. They mashed his face onto the hood of the car Mr DiMarco was driving, leaving a pretty big dent (it was his brother's car).
The guy clawed at my Dad's face, leaving five distinct temporary marks. The cops arrived and took statements and the guy went to jail.
On the way back home, in Dad's Caprice station wagon, he turned to me and said "Don't tell your mother. "
I didn't for more than 30 years.
At that time, sitting next to him, face bloodied and wearing a tattered shirt, my Dad became my hero.
I'll always remember him in that light.
Two of my brothers and one of my sisters are heading down there to make sure his living will is honored and to make arrangements.
I love you, Dad.
May the burdens of this world rest lightly upon your shoulders.
I'm the handsome fella in the middle of the front row. Check out my Dad's sideburns.
