Sometimes a domesticated dad has to display his family values in a concrete way…  has to to participate in family activities he might rather take a pass on, were he still the single and autonomous ogre he was before signing the dotted line of that particular social contract. Activities like, say, joining the family at the multi-plex, donning dorky 3D glasses, and enduring yet another rendition of Shrek.

Now there was a guy who knew his own nature and owned it, no enhancements sought or desired. He’s an ogre, dammit, and he’s not about to apologize for acting like one.  We’ve seen this story before, many times. Frank Capra meets Dr. Faustus meets Pixar, and comes around in the end.  They all live happily ever after.

But it was a techni-color marvel, of course, with a strong message of acceptance and gratitude. You don’t have to be hyperthymic to appreciate your blessings, even if that entails a bit less autonomy and dignity than you might have enjoyed as a free agent.  Real dads don’t live in the past. There’s no place like home, there’s no time like the present, except for their future.

Here comes the sun. It’s alright.


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