Posted on 06/07/2010 12:28:06 AM PDT by jerry557
Oh, quit whining. It could have been a knife, or pruning shears.
If it were my 17 year old daughter, the headline would have included a reference to a 12 gauge shotgun and rock salt.
Kids these days will just have to learn the hard way, I suppose. No cell phones or texting when I was a teenager, and that was only back in the early 90s.
I can hear the event now...
You think that’s funny...zap
If you ever send another picture like that...zaaap
Dont you so much as look at my daughter again....zaaaap
As much as it would scare the crap out of me, that’s the kind of father I’d want the girl I’m dating to have.
But with that, she’d at least be 21, as I’ll be 25 in October. No kids for me.
Why do I suddenly feel old
As the father of two daughters, where is the crime?
Justin Moore now known as Justin Less.
Though, really, making him get naked? Maybe we'll play a couple games of cards in the jury room, just to get the point across that the line might have been skirted just a little bit there.
i guess nobody ever explained to the dad how shoot, shovel, shut up works. The DA charged the wrong guy and should be ashamed of himself.
I think we are all pretty much in agreement here.
It was just a joke.
That’s something MY dad would have done, if a pic like that was sent to me!
Well done, Dad.
:)
bump
10 Rules For Dating My Daughter
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact,
come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilising a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot-bellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Funny - I was just thinking about the three S’s!
The crime is in the imagination of a weakened and irrelevant society. It sounds to me like this douche bag had it coming.
He could get an illegal immigrant jury, and even they would agree: NOT GUILTY!
Had he done that to my daughter, he’d be lucky if that’s all that had happened to him.
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