I used to be a semi-professional standup comic. While I don’t regret abandoning the all-consuming career pursuit that is telling jokes to strangers, there are many aspects of the standup world that I dearly miss.
One example: joke writing involves constantly coming up with half-baked premises that are subsequently worked out on stage. Sometimes, a premise takes dozens, maybe even over 100 times to fully unlock. (TikTok and instagram have changed this for the worse, but that’s another article for another day).
My mind has been so conditioned to think in this way that even after being out of standup for almost 3 years, I still churn these out constantly. As a parent, I assume this is some sort of emotional coping mechanism to help me deal with the all-consuming mental state that is caring for young children.
With that said, here are 4 “Dad Jokes”.
As a stay at home dad, I am now largely uncancellable. There is however, one major exception.
Nanit could end me anytime they want.
For the uninitiated, Nanit is the company that makes the fancy wifi baby monitors that everyone now needs, despite the fact that human history has continued for millennia prior to the its founding in 2014.
If they so pleased, Nanit could easily make an hours-long compilation of me cursing at my infant while holding her throughout the night, telling her to shut up and worse; making me look like the utter monster that all parents turn into on 2 hours of sleep.
These are moments I’m not proud of, but they are sort of necessary for preserving yourself. If this newsletter ever crosses the threshold of success where random people don’t think I deserve it, I’ll always remember that Nanit’s four red camera dots know who I really am.
For Alex Honnold’s next act, he should try to “Solo” care for a colicky baby for an entire week.
No help from anyone else the entire time. I imagine this would finally satisfy his thirst for extreme challenges.
It is certainly true that on average, dads today are way, way, more involved than previous generations when it comes to caretaking, dealing with the family mental load, and doing anything other than just sitting in a recliner and inhaling whiskey.
But the bar is still pretty low.
Sometimes when I’m out in public with my two girls, people stop me in the street and tip their hat to me, as if the President is walking by. Other times, they’ll burst out into song, usually to the tune of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.
A few weeks ago someone jumped in front of our stroller, loudly whistled, and then all of a sudden a marching band appeared and started following us. Dozens of people then started trailing the band, and we found ourselves leading a parade. They had to close down the streets, and at the end, the mayor gave me the keys to the city as confetti rained from the sky. I was bestowed this honor for pushing a stroller with my children.
When my wife takes our kids out in public, people usually reprimand her as to why the girls aren’t wearing warmer clothes. (Even though it’s 75 degrees.)
There’s that old electoral adage “as Ohio goes, so goes the nation.” That’s no longer true. But what’s definitely true in our household is: as my infants nap go, so goes my entire sense of self worth.
If my 10 month old naps well, everything is right in the world. Famine, disease, and social media addiction have all been eradicated. The COVID-19 pandemic never happened. Universal Basic Income has successfully been implemented while free market capitalism reigns simultaneously. People who love AI get to have it revolutionize the world, but it has no effect on those who hate it. 22 year-old men get to eat all of their meals exclusively from Fat Sal’s in Westwood, California.
But if she doesn’t nap? A dark cloud descends over our house, following me around a-la how Colin Creevey used to tail Harry Potter. I instantly question my self worth not as just a parent, but as a human being. I begin to replay the hits of my worst moments with the full understanding that I deserved all of them, and am in many cases lucky that their aftershocks haven’t been more substantial. For the 1,000th time, I replay back the MIT Invitational Quiz Bowl tournament in 2008, when we were in a sudden death playoff and I knew the answer as to which emperor split Rome (Diocletian), but waited a split second to make sure there wasn’t any curveball in the question and then lost our team a spot in the playoffs. I wonder why my wife hasn’t left me.
Alright, that’s my time. Did you like these? Smash the like, leave a comment, or email-reply to this post.
If this went over better than most dad jokes typically do, I’ll make it a recurring thing. If not, remember that dad jokes are innately terrible. As always, thanks for reading.