For my son’s seventh birthday, I wanted to write him a little note, something to let him know how much I enjoy watching him grow as a person and how precious his milestones are to me, no matter how fleeting or insignificant they may seem. I couldn’t fit all that inside a farting Phineas and Ferb birthday card, but here it is anyway:

Dear Son,

I can’t believe you’re seven already! It seems like just yesterday we were bringing you home from the hospital. Wow, time flies. Before I know it, you’ll be a teenager, with friends and interests all your own. Then you’ll be driving (yikes!). Next thing I know, you’ll be eighteen, a man, searching for truth and love and adventure. I don’t know what you’ll find, but maybe along the way you’ll meet that special someone. The next thing I know, you’ll be married! Then work, and kids, a house–before I know it you’ll be my age now, busy with responsibilities, but still finding time to share a beer with your old man. Then “The Troubles” will begin in America. Before I know it, you’ll be a slave in the Occupied Forces labor camps. Then you’ll be the leader of a small rebel group that overthrows the local provisional authority. Then you’ll be freeing the entire nation. Before long, you’ll be a revered statesman, beating out your rivals to become president and bringing peace and prosperity to all the land. Then you’ll survive your first coup attempt. Before I know it, you’ll have blossomed into a tyrannical dictator and stolen the riches and rights of all beneath you. In the blink of an eye, you’ll have consolidated your power base and declared yourself Supreme Chancellor of the Western Hemisphere. Then you’ll go to your twentieth high school reunion. Then I’ll get really sick and die, and you’ll throw a lavish state funeral for me and force the peasants to cry for me. But before I know it, you’ll be forcing the peasants to stop crying because you brought me back with cryogenic reanimation technology. Between executing dissidents and maintaining a harem, you’ll still find time to have a beer with your old man and ponder this thing we call life. Then I’ll betray you and stab you to death with your own laser cutlass so that I may alone rule the empire. Then I’ll destroy all the cryogenics so you can’t come back to reclaim your throne. Like, two days later, I’ll rebuild all the cryogenics and bring you back because you’re the only one who knows the passwords to the computers. Then we’ll reconcile and be rulers ruling with iron fists literally made out of iron because we’ll be so badass and part-cyborg by that point. Then you’ll be forty and have to get your prostate checked (double yikes!). Before I know it, we’ll have discovered the fabled sword of Cudahy and be wielding the gruesome power of a thousand ancient warlocks over Man and Machine without pity! Then the sun will explode, killing us all instantly.

Enjoy the iTunes gift card, kiddo!



The Higgs Weldon is a humor website with funny stories, articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was started by the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes!


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