Men get shafted on Hallmark Holidays.  Not real holidays like Christmas, Thanksgiving, 4^th of July, but the made up holidays, like Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day.  Men get shafted.

This injustice never occurred to the Commish, until I became a father.  I then became keenly aware of the injustice of the Mother’s Day/Father’s Day gift giving season.  I cataloged the following gift suggestions for mom on Mother’s Day:  spa trips, diamonds, lots and lots of diamonds, perfume, brunch at fabulous restaurants, guilt trips from furniture stores daring dad to 'let mom redecorate this Mother’s Day'.   And Yes, I did keep a list of these masculine atrocities taped to my bathroom mirror in a perverse form of morning medication.

Then I noticed one month later when Father’s Day rolled around the gift suggestions.  I noted incredible disparity and lack of care for dear ol’ dad. Your suggested options were to get dad a tie, deodorant (really, your dad smells, buy him deodorant), anti-freeze (one place even offered a free gallon if you bought a quart of oil). I was discussing this blog with my lovely wife, while reading the morning paper, the Wednesday before Father's Day.  I kid you not, I opened up the paper, and there was an ad for Father's Day.  A new car? New golf clubs?  NO.  It was a 10% off coupon for a new fish at the local pet store.  I'm not kidding!  I have the ad. If I were more technologically savvy, I'd post it here, but alas, I'm the Beer Commissioner, not the IT Commissioner.

Besides the quart of oil, where is the comparative value to mom’s presents?  Diamonds? Spa trips? A new house full of furniture?  Oh hell no. Dad gets a tie, deodorant, anti-freeze, and a coupon for a goldfish.  Maybe if dad is really lucky he’ll get the Carvel Tie Cake.

Well, the Beer Commissioner is here to help, and to cure this horrific injustice.  The following are acceptable gifts to dad for Father’s Day: your wife gets a keg of beer, tells you to invite all your friends over, even the ones she hates, to watch the game. A new bag of charcoal is left by the grill, a few big packages of steaks, some baked potatoes in the oven, and then she leaves; or

Tickets to the ball game with your friends, and a hall pass for the night; or

If you are really lucky, and hit the wife/girlfriend/boyfriend (hey my friends --  the Beer Commissioner is progressive) lotto, imagine this:

You are lying on the couch, watching golf, the game, the race, or Godfather for the 9000^th time, your significant other comes in, pulls down your pants, takes care of business, then leaves, returning only briefly to bring you your blanket, a cold beer and a sandwich, and if God loves you and really wants you to be happy, a slice of that Carvel Tie Cake.

Now that my friends, is a present…