All posts by Roosh

You Better Be Sorry

I noticed there is a special breed of girls out there who when they return your call, say, “I’m sorry I missed your call.” This isn’t a line or move; they truly feel apologetic for not being able to pick up the phone when you called.

When I’m going through numbers in my phone, thinking about which girl I want to give attention to, I hesitate on the ones that I know won’t pick up their phone or call back promptly. Unlike postal mail, the telephone is an instant medium, so unless you are in a movie theater there is no reason I should wait for more than 30 minutes. Once that cursor comes across a nice girl who has historically been good to me with the phone, I go ahead and hit send and find out what she’s up to. Just to chat, or maybe more.

The girls who put up less access barriers, all things being equal, will be contacted first. I’m confident that the guys who do reward girls that put up barriers eventually come around as they age and realize that they aren’t worth the effort.

Beta Husband

It was impossible for me to resist an article titled Why I Left My Beta Husband. It’s about a woman who got fed up with her stay-at-home life partner.

I stayed home with our daughter for six months after she was born while Mark continued, yes, looking for a job. In 18 months, he got just two calls. Meanwhile, I was being pursued by headhunters. Eventually, I took an editing job at a health magazine.

A man’s role changes with time. When you’re just dating it’s about satisfying a woman sexually and providing her with nice company that keeps the good bedroom times rolling. In a relationship it moves to protection and comfort and then in a marriage with children it’s about being an able provider. Having an interesting and witty personality will not cut it when your kids are hungry and need new clothes, which is why you don’t have kids unless you are prepared to work until death.

The truth is, I wasn’t attracted to [Mark] anymore. It wasn’t that he’d changed—he still had the same floppy brown hair, bright green eyes, and long freckled limbs that had literally made me quiver when I first met him. But in my head, I’d neutralized him as a sexual being. I wanted to be overwhelmed by the sheer power of his masculinity in the bedroom, but I wasn’t. Because I felt like the man in our relationship.

So she wised up, dumped Mark, and found her alpha stud, right? Of course not. You can never listen to a woman’s words because women have no idea what they want. This one simply went and found a Mark-clone who also likes poetry.

So nobody was more surprised than I was when I went ahead and fell for another stay-at-home dad.

Here’s the difference, though: Jason knows what he wants—and it’s not a corner office. He wants to have his afternoons free to hit the park with my daughter or paint or translate the writings of Pablo Neruda. There’s nothing thwarted or self-pitying about him. When we’re cooking dinner together on Friday nights in a kitchen fragrant with curry, or trying to drink coffee in bed on Sunday mornings while my daughter dances around us, I’m so attracted to him that it’s all I can do not to rip his clothes off then and there.

So Jason is much better because he knows he wants to be a bum. Hey I guess that gives me hope.

A Run

You decide to go for five mile run. No mp3 player or pedometer or stop watch, just your shoes and your clothes.

An 8 minute mile pace is not fast but not slow either. That’s a 24 minute 5K, a time your doctor would appreciate. Five miles is a warm-up to a marathon runner, but to 99% of the population it’s difficult. Forty minutes of legs moving.

The first mile is easy. Your breathing doesn’t fall into a cadence yet and you just enjoy the breeze. It’s surprising, though, that there aren’t scores of other people running outside like you. It’s a nice day and these suburbs are dense. Maybe they have treadmills at home or are at the gym.

Your breathing starts to sync up to your steps. Blood flow is being diverted to your muscles. You’re tired now after two miles and would prefer to stop. This needless work is using up precious resources, your body says. You notice your first cramp.

You’re halfway through and this hill is really getting you. Your legs burn like bee stings and your breathing becomes more rapid. Stopping seems so nice, but you can’t stop—you will collapse before you stop. But you need to slow down. You’re doing a 10 minute mile now, but at least your legs are still moving. There’s a lamp post over there, just reach that and you can think about stopping. No, you can keep going; try for that bus stop.

Your body is weak, it wants you to stop. But your mind is strong. Trick your body with your mind. Your body must not know you will finish, or it will punish you with more cramps and more pain.

It’s just you out here. The cars fly by as you smell that plain suburban air. The sidewalk is covered with blades of cut grass and sticks and twigs from past storms. Does anyone actually walk on these things anymore? This landscape is sad, isolated; you can’t see any human beings outside, just people in moving pods, in a hurry to go somewhere, nowhere. This is better than the landscape at a gym at least, better than running next to someone who just put on floral perfume.

You feel like you can run a 10 minute mile all day. What a difference those two minutes are, from body breakdown to breath catching. Back to the 8 minute mile. You’re at mile four now, just one more to go. There is no one holding you hand. There are no words of encouragement or support. You are your encouragement and you are your support. No one else can do for your what you can’t do for yourself.

Nevermind. Another half mile and you’re back on the 10 minute mile. It’s just too hard and it hurts too much. Your arms are barely moving now, gimp-like, they just hang there. Your hands flop around, to conserve energy maybe. You see the end though, a yield sign you started at over thirty minutes ago. You can see the end of pain. Your body can see it too.

Your legs start moving much faster now, faster than it’s moved all day. Your body wants to end this. Your body, that son of a bitch, could have moved like this earlier, since maybe that lamp post. It lied to you.

You don’t feel right, but here’s the end. Welcome to yield. A few large stomps to slow down. There’s your heartbeat, in your head and in your neck, pounding. Walk it off and breathe, it’s over. You did it, on your own, and no one held your hand. Because no one will ever hold your hand, not even you.

Hung Up On The Opener

Guys always ask me the same question when I return from approaching a girl.

What did you say?

Specifically, they want to know what my opening line was. I ask the same question to other guys too actually, and it’s because the nature of the game dictates that the opener is the hardest part. You always want to know how this guy started an interaction with a cute girl.

This isn’t a bad question to ask because it can give you ideas, but understand that what you say is less important than if you actually say it. When it comes to approaching, doing is far more important than doing right. And I know this because my off-the-cuff openers are usually pretty retarded. The last opener in a coffee shop that resulted in at least a number was, “You look like you are having a hard time studying,” and at night it was, “You should have given him your number” (referring to some random dude who walked away). These aren’t even worthy of being copied because they are just average, but the fact that these casual lines got me in meant that the better parts of my game could now take over. The lack of an award-winning opener should never prevent you from talking to a girl you like.

After sharing an opener with a guy that resulted in some type of number or fluid exchange, you’d think he would want to immediately try it out. But he doesn’t—he just stands there, wondering how that could have possibly “worked” as cute girls walk by. Guys hung on words are waiting for the perfect line to deliver on the hottest girl. That’s not game—that’s playing the lottery, waiting for the one in a million jackpot to bring you riches. Approaching is more like the poker grind, where you lose a majority of your hands dealt but can still go home a big winner.

The Problem

I read through the comments on Solutions For Girls and I’m just pretty surprised that a lot of girls are denying that there’s even a problem, that their lifestyle does not need changing. I first talked about this two years ago (Brooke Shields Is Jealous) and the female shrieking then and now hasn’t really changed. Same comments but a different crowd.

I’m still confident that my advice to women is sound and will help them if they want to be helped. It’s advice I give to my sister, someone whose happiness and future I deeply care about. There’s a reason the title wasn’t “Solutions For Roosh.” In the end if you don’t think a problem exists, then you are probably part of the problem.

Re: Overly Experienced Mind-fuckers

From a reader…

Don’t forget one huge important point — fucking misery loves company. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen some stupid washed-up broad do everything in her power to destroy her girlfriends’ otherwise happy relationships with their boyfriends. I’ve seen this pattern over and over, particularly in this DC shit-hole of a city: dumb bird in her mid/late 30′s is queen bee/mentor to girls in their 20′s; one girl in her 20′s has minor tiff with boyfriend, who she otherwise loves, but talks to queen bee about it all for help; queen bee offers staggeringly intelligent feedback, usually something along the lines of “Fuck him, you don’t need him, dump his ass, stick with me sister”; girl in 20′s takes this brilliant advice and dumps boyfriend impulsively; now queen bee and girl in 20′s are happy to troll U Street and talk about their shoes, their periods, Grey’s Anatomy, and how much they hate men and don’t need them.

This really is a big problem — I am convinced that uppity professional women, once they realize that their facile head-game ways have doomed them to a life of being used sexually, wake up one day and start destroying everything happy around them for sport.

When I’m in the initial stages of getting to know a girl now, I do everything i can to stay away from her friends and remain a mystery to her social circle. If i ever decide to have a serious relationship, you can bet that I’m going to be the Snuffleupagus of boyfriends, appearing to her friends purely through her stories about me, until i determine that i have cemented enough of a place in her life that she’ll look past queen bee’s horse-shit arm-chair psychology and pathology.

Very good observation, and excellent use of Snuffleupagus.

Solutions For Girls

It’s very easy for me to give advice to a guy: work on your game, have many experiences, and commit to a quality woman on your terms, not hers. Once a guy has game, he will have options into his late 30′s and probably beyond. His biggest enemy is himself. His fear, complacency, and insecurities all work to prevent him from getting what he is capable of getting.

It’s different for a woman. All the game in the world won’t matter when she is passed her physical peak and less attractive than younger counterparts. A woman’s biggest enemy is time. The clock is ticking right after college and doubles pace after year 30 is crossed. While many single women at 40 are cultured, intelligent, and make for excellent company, they have missed the marriage boat and will be reduced to competing for the attention of rich players who don’t mind flying these overly experienced mind-fuckers out to some exotic locale for a “romantic” dinner, assuming these women have the means and motivation to keep up their looks. They will die not next to loved ones, but to a pile of money that was her only remaining purpose to strive.

When a woman graduates from college at the age of 22, she thinks she has all the time in the world. She builds up her social circle to prepare for years of drinking and partying. She gets some twangs of doubt after 25, but the partying continues, now at more expensive clubs where more money needs to be spent on the clothing and accessories that go with the lifestyle. Some even go the extra mile by purchasing Mercedes Benz automobiles, an act that used to belong to the exclusive domain of men.

Then 28 and 29 passes and all she has to show for the previous near-decade is a cell phone filled with numbers of guys she “dated.” She hits day spas, gets botox, and then cruises the internet and clubs with a renewed vigor. But it doesn’t work, and 35 is here before you know it. You see her out and it appears she is having a fun time but the developing wrinkles and glassy eyes shows her abject failure at reproduction. She finds new meaning through her career and the massive amounts of subsequent disposable income that allows her to enjoy the finer things in life like luxury condominiums and designer shoes the celebrities wear. But every time she sees a child in a stroller, she wonders what happened.

Women have less time than they think. How long does it take to find a quality man? How long does it take to weed out incompatible men and enter a relationship with one that is worthy? How many relationships fail before the one-year mark? How long does a relationship have to last to make engagement possible? How long is the average engagement? How many engagements fail before the altar is reached? Every now and then you hear a story of someone meeting and then getting married after a few months, but this is the exception. A woman needs to give herself at least five years from that moment she concludes she wants to get married. This means a girl needs to start finding a husband immediately after graduating from college. You’ve arrived way too late in the game if you don’t even think about marriage until you’ve approached 30, when your reproductive peak has passed and your appearance is not what it used to be.

I have three pieces of advice for women who don’t want to end up as a spinster. First, use high school and college as a period to work on your game and fuck around. Find out what men like and improve yourself to be the type of woman that men like. Whether this includes getting rid of your neediness and drama or growing out your hair, figure it out before you start your career. If you are not sure where to start, copy the girls who seem to get all the guys.

One thing you should focus on is being sexy, exuding a certain je ne sais pas that guys find themselves inexplicably drawn into. Go tell a girl raised on Real World to show you what sexy is and she will put on pricey clothing and accessories and search for the nearest watering hole to down enough drinks until she feels comfortable in her own skin. Sexy is body language, tone, subtle movements and details —the way she does things, the way she is. This cannot be purchased at Nordstrom, but only learned with time and through effort.

Second, as soon as you graduate from college, have in your mind the notion that you want to get married soon. Be open to it and think about it daily. Reward men who put time and energy into you instead of the players who just want to fuck you. Fuck all the players you want in college, but after that buy a vibrator and don’t waste your time with them because they will not marry you. Sacrifice wild sex and roller coaster emotions for something more stable that results in a family (which is what you want, right?).

Hold off on putting out as long as possible. If I have sex with a girl on the second date and it was just okay, I’ll be more likely to drop her since I have invested very little in her. But if sex happens on date ten, the psychology of previous investment says I will most likely continue, at least for one more date. Understand: your vagina is the most powerful thing you have. To potential suitors, it should be like the El Dorado, a magical land they will die trying to gain access to. But when you partake in casual sex like one-night stands, your vagina becomes more like the 24-hour convenience store.

Lastly, don’t go to bars and clubs often. Once a week is enough. These are horrible places to meet a quality man who wants to commit, and the drinking and smoke will age you more rapidly. Focus on doing more community driven events that don’t have the immediate one-night payoff that a bar has. Maybe it’s volunteering, jogging clubs, spinning class, or book clubs. You’ll have to get creative. I’m not an expert with regard to meeting men, but even at a coffee shop I get to meet and know girls on a different, more intelligent, more meaningful level than I do with girls at bars. A good rule-of-thumb is that the reason you meet has to be something other than the result of drinking alcohol.

It’s easy to make fun of the current generation of spinsters, but I do feel bad for them because there was no way for them to know that their lifestyle would prove to be so detrimental to forming a family. But we’ve observed and studied them and they’ve been written about in the mainstream media enough to the point where there are no excuses for not avoiding their fate. If you are a girl under the age of 25, I will have no sympathy for you in the next decade when you whine to me that you’ve always wanted a family but for whatever reason couldn’t find a man. It starts now.

I Left My Wallet At Home

I didn’t used to mind paying for the 1-3 dates it took to get sex. Spending money on dating is part of the game and getting laid, kind of like how the sky is blue. It just is. But lately I’ve had serious doubts about this model, in part because I have been short-changing my value. It’s a lot higher than I think.

This is how I see it: I give a girl much more than she gives me; my stories, my vibe, my game, my sex. Their stories tend to be of the complaint nature and their humor cannot come close to competing with a man’s. It’s nice that she has a lubricated hole that brings me pleasure, but I have observed that these girls seem to enjoy getting fucked more than I enjoy fucking them. And this is not an insult to the girls—it’s just a fact that I value sex less than they value it with me.

Now I know how this is coming off, and I know what you are thinking, but I think my value as a man is at a point where a woman should be paying for my company. When a girl meets me, I honestly believe she is lucky to have done so; and I hope that most of you guys reading this believe that too when you meet a girl. Because I’m giving more pleasure and enjoyment than I’m receiving, it doesn’t make a lot of sense that I should have to pull my wallet out when the bill comes.

I understand that I live in a society with deeply entrenched dating norms—one that I do not have the power to change—so I will make a compromise to ease a girl’s introduction into my world. I’ll pay for the first date. I don’t mind too much, especially since the first date venue is my choice. After that though, it’s all her.

It’s still very early but my cost per notch so far this year is $77, not much more than the cost of a first date. I’m all about putting my ideas and beliefs into practice. In fact, my beliefs do become reality.

Language

For the last month, I’ve been asked the same question at least a dozen times.

Are you going to South America for the girls?

No, I’m not. And I’ll tell you why.

There are two types of connection: physical and emotional. Physical connection is good enough for the first couple of dates until you get in bed with someone, but to continue after that, there has to be some type of emotional connection. Getting with girls abroad is not that difficult; alcohol and physical attraction without many words are enough to fuel a good time that lasts several days or so, until the novelty of staring at each other in near silence and drawing funny pictures wears off. It is very difficult to establish an emotional connection without language.

In college I knew this kid who would play and sing the latest rock ballads on his guitar. Girls would sometimes cry during his performances. I’d think, “Give me a break,” while mentally calculating how many hours of practice it would take me to get to his skill level. I did not learn how to play the guitar, but I did look at communication in a different way.

The importance of language, specifically words, did not hit me until I met this one Eastern European girl. She was the same age as me, with short blonde hair, and a type of nonstop laugh that makes you think you have a really good sense of humor. She was fluent in English. She wanted to hear a story, so I told her a story, a personal “love” story that did not have a happy ending. A story for another day.

Telling her this story caused me to relive it once more; relive not so much pain but a disappointed sadness, and I looked in this girl’s eyes, who I met three hours prior, and saw tears. She must have experienced something similar, I thought. I looked away as she wiped the tears away to give her a private moment, so she can feel what she wants to feel without someone maybe judging her.

At the time I didn’t remember doing that before, making a girl cry from a story; and it’s not power I felt, but a sort of humanity where we our experiences, what makes us who we are, is able to affect other people, whether happy or sad, positive or negative. Music is one way of doing this, language the other. Out of all the tricks I know to increase a girl’s physical arousal, none can touch the power that mere words have, that a story has.

Will I take advantage of sexual opportunities in South America? Yes. Will I be on the lookout for a serious relationship, for a girl I can import into the United States? No. If you can’t make it work with your own people, the idea of romantic love in a faraway land is more fantasy than reality. Unless, of course, you are trying to become fluent in the place you are going to.

American Stereotypes Are So Hurtful

A German David Hasselhoff lover recently wrote 10 Common German Prejudices About The USA. I am deeply offended as an American and would like to take some time to clear the air.

“What’s with all the fast food?”

We are BUSY people. Have you looked at our GDP lately? It’s the highest in the world. You think we got there by taking the to time to cook boring meals at home? Give me animal fat and give it to me NOW. Maybe you’d be rich too if you spent your time working instead of making thick sausage or whatever it is you eat over there.

“Americans are war mongers”

The recent military operations in Iraq (both of them), Afghanistan, Panama, Kosovo, Somalia, and Grenada were all ACCIDENTS of history. We do not have imperial notions on this great Earth, and if you give honest examination to the periods between 1891 and 1897, you will see that we are a very peaceful people.

“Americans are extremely superficial…celebrity culture”

Wrong. We follow celebrities because they have achieved a level of enlightenment that commoners like you and I can only dream about. I’m talking about sex, clubbing, drugs, tell-all books, gotcha photography featuring nipples and shaved vaginas, and most importantly, FASHION. Quick: name a German-born celebrity. I thought so. If you had celebrities then you would be obsessing over their god-like status as well.

“Americans don’t give a shit about their poor people”

Now you’ve went too far. Look in any American city and you will see an area of very fine buildings that we have built EXCLUSIVELY for the poor. We give them schooling, food, and police protection, and make sure that they live far far away from the middle and upper classes, who may interfere with their admirable way of life. Poverty in the United States will be relegated to the history books as soon as we win the war on terror.

“Everything needs to be XXL (houses, cars, refrigerators, Burgers, breast implants,…)”

How’s that 300 square feet of living space in Germany doing for you? Other than the breast implants, which can be explained by evolution, we need large because our founding fathers, God rest their souls, want us to settle in a vast frontier of rich, bountiful land. Ever heard of the Homestead Act? Otherwise this land would just go to waste, and what’s the point of that? As for automobiles, I’d like to see you drive one of your fuel-efficient scooter smart cars on a real highway and see how long you survive as SUV monsters of American pride block your puny visual field.

As an American citizen, I just can’t stand by and watch as foreigners trash the country I’ve grown up in. Instead of acting out in a pointless jealous rage, I think this German should get a J-O-B so he can afford to buy one of our state-of-the-art plasma televisions. Just don’t forget to budget for the necessary Monster cables.

5 Washington DC Bars For Men

If you are a man who doesn’t need top 40 hip hop, I have five places that are worth your time. This list is a result of six years of drinking and banging.

Busboys & Poets map

An artsy/yuppie cafe that has food, drink, and coffee. Prices aren’t cheap but there is free wireless internet if you like nerding it up in public. This is more of a date spot than a pick-up place, but there are usually sets of cute girls hanging out by the bar after 8PM. Several of the waitresses are also cute. If you are looking to meet someone educated and well-read in their mid-20′s to early-30′s, this would be a good option. Start a conversation about something existential.

Dragonfly map

This is a house club with an international crowd. The white girls here are more open to dating hairy men than the white girls at, say, an Irish pub or NASCAR race. You’ll also run into a lot of Russian and South American girls. Downstairs is a little more quiet while upstairs is crowded with uptempo music. The people here can be pretentious (you will see girls dancing on tables), but it’s nowhere near as bad at places like Spank, Indebleu, Fly, Blue Gin, K-Street Lounge, and Play. Come here if you want to meet someone who has used their passport. Their sushi is decent (get the Dragon roll). Update: Dragonfly has closed. Go to Grand Central in Adams Morgan instead, which has less international girls but a better girl to guy ratio before midnight.

Front Page map

Out of all the lame white-people bars I’ve been to, this one has the highest amount of cute American girls. While they are harder to pick up for me than at a place like Dragonfly, their sheer numbers means I’ll have opportunities throughout the night. This is a good place if you are broke and on a budget (their Thursday night happy hour is very competitive). Come here if you want to meet stupid, easy American sluts under the age of 30.

Rouge map

Rouge is a pretty bar in the Rouge hotel. This has been my date bar for several years running becuase it is deadly effective at panty wetting, making the outrageous drink prices worth it during a time when I cared about getting laid. If you are a man who has a job and doesn’t buy the bullshit idea of dinner dates, take your date here and thank me later. Some nights are crowded and suitable for picking up older women or business travelers, but it can be hit or miss. Similar to Rouge is Topaz, which has a blue design instead of red.

Science Club map

This is like a more expensive Front Page for people who think they are too cool for Front Page. It’s a cross between Busboys & Poets and Dragonfly, with house music but little dancing. Don’t immediately leave if you show up and it sucks: since this venue is more of a launching point than a final destination, you will find that the crowd can change in your favor if you stick around. Science Club also makes a good date bar.

You can run your first 3 or 4 dates from these venues. For example, you meet a girl at Science Club and take her to Rouge for a first date, where you make-out with her and do some groping. Then you do a Dragonfly date two on a weekend night where you seal the deal. Then do a chill date three at Busboys & Poets. The possibilities are infinite!—especially since you can meet girls at any one of these venues.

You’ll notice that these venues are not too mainstream. There is no Dream, Fur, Ultrabar, Tony & Joes, Local 16, Tom Toms, and Platinum. I believe that if you go to a mainstream bar, you will meet a mainstream girl, and if you are not mainstream and cookie-cutter yourself then it’s going to be a waste of your time.

Honorable Mentions

- 18th Street Lounge – If it wasn’t for their $10 cover charge, I would go here more often. It’s like a more chill Dragonfly. (map)
- Lima – A more Middle Eastern Dragonfly. Very good house music on Saturday nights. Drinks are weak though and you need to be with a girl to get in. (map)
- Gazuza – Has a lot of potential, but most of the girls are sitting down. Similar vibe to Science Club. (map)
- Reef – Similar to Front Page. Wide selection of beers. (map)

Newsletter No. 5

It’s newsletter time. The edition I’m sending this weekend will describe a coffee shop game experience I had with some girl from North Carolina. I talk about how you know if a girl is interested or not. Sign-up to the right, or go here. If you just signed up and want to take a look at the newsletters you’ve missed, send me an email.

I Would Make An Excellent Father

My 3-year-old brother thinks he’s slick. Every time he comes into my room he brings a toy but doesn’t take it out when he leaves. My room now has Spongebob Squarepants, colorful trains from Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends, Laa-Laa, and a very naked Ken doll. As long as it looks like he’s not about to break anything expensive, I let him do whatever he wants. The idea of applying discipline is not compatible with someone who has a problem with authority; I think a better model is rewarding positive behaviors and ignoring negative ones. Of course raising kids is a lot more complicated than that, but it’s a ideal start.

Once a week I make a large batch of tuna salad to feed me for lunch. My 10-year-old brother was watching me and remarked how disgusting tuna is. “Have you ever had tuna salad before?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “but it looks gross.”

I made him taste it through threat of big brother violence. I told him if he doesn’t like it then he never has to eat it again, but he needs to try things before he makes up his mind. He tasted it and said it was “Okay,” but a couple days later I noticed a large can of tuna on the kitchen counter. Turns out he liked the tuna salad so much that he asked my dad to make some. I decided to keep it real so I took him to eat sushi with me at Tono Sushi in Woodley Park. I told him that, yes, technically sushi is raw fish, but it doesn’t taste like fish at all. “It tastes less like fish than tuna, which you already tried.” He was down.

I wish I took a picture the moment that first piece of tuna and avocado roll went into his mouth. It looked like someone nailed him in the stomach; pain, fear, and confusion was painted on his face right after the first chew. He wanted to bring it back out, but I encouraged him like only an older brother knows how: “Chew! Eat it! Close your mouth! You better finish that!” He ate only a few more pieces but I was very proud of him, like a parent would be after watching a child’s first step. After all, I didn’t try sushi until I was 21, and let him know that he is far ahead of me in becoming a real man. I stressed real man one more time, adding that you need to try new things even if you fear it. How else will you find out about things you could like?

My dad spends hours a day with the boys, teaching, talking, and playing, but there are so many parents who drop the ball at being a positive influence on a child’s life. And you wonder why so many adults are messed up. From what I see, the key to raising a decent human being is to treat them with respect and give them attention and affection. Sound familiar? Don’t dumb things down and don’t push away their concerns or questions. Don’t let the television compete with them for your attention. Don’t tell them “Because I said so.” The only reason I would make a good dad is because I’d copy what my parents did to me, which, except for my mother’s occasional broom beating, seemed to work out pretty well. The last thing I will do is buy a parenting book from a writer/expert/businessman who has no investment in me or my family.

“So what do you think of sushi?” I asked.

“It didn’t have a lot of taste. But it was really cool!”

Yes, little brother, it is cool. Now when you turn 20 or so, there is this book I want you to read…