- It could me a fantasy story about how Max (my monkey puppet) and Steed (my dummy) got up and went to great pains to make me my favorite breakfast. It should be cherry-stuffed French toast, but Max unilaterally made the decision to made banana-stuff French toast instead. Oh, that kooky monkey!
- It could be a paraphase of my favorite Bill Cosby story about how for Mother's Day he would make an effort and she would cry with joy, but for Father's Day would say, "Hey dad, happy Father's Day. Give me some money, I'll go get ya a pack of cigarettes."
- It would be a historical piece about how Candace Bergen felt a huge rivalry with Charlie McCarthy for the affections of ventriloquist father Edgar Bergen.
- It could be not about Father's day at all, because there's 43* days to go before Ventriloquists Down Under Week starts, and 43 is a prime number, thus and ergo and therefore I could have rightly done a promo piece for the upcoming web sensation being buzzed as "THE WEEK!"; or
- I could have, because I'm a father, just taken the day off from posting, which really isn't an option for a serious journalist. As a journalist, I'm obligated to provide complete information to be on my beat as long as the world keeps turning, right?
If I had one of those Groucho Marx dummies, Father's Day would be like New Year's at my house, just for the giddy anticipation of performing this schtick.
Right, kids? You'd humor me every year, right? Because I'm your dear old dad?