Horsefeathers and other weird things Dad said
In their “Dad’s Rule Book,” authors Ally Probst and Joel Willis discuss those goofy phrases that all dads are required by the U.S. Constitution, the laws of physics and riddles dug out of a Cracker Jacks box to utter.
Did you get a haircut? Dad’s gotta quip: “Looks like you got your ears lowered.”
When you make a simple observation such as “I’m hungry,” dear ol’ Pops is legally required to respond, “Hi, Hungry, I’m Dad.”
Does Dad run into an old friend at the store? “I guess they just let anybody in here now.”
My dad’s go-to when he saw someone he knew was, “Here comes trouble.”
I remember as a 4-year-old asking Mom which one of those guys was named Trouble because I couldn’t keep them straight. Dad called all of them Trouble. And did I need to address whichever one it was as Mr. Trouble?
Mom laughed. “Oh, that’s just your father. HE’S the one who’s trouble.”
Grownups — especially dads — were so confusing.
We don’t know why all dads do these things, or how they have time to learn these phrases while they’re so busy guarding the thermostat and keeping a death grip on the remote control. They just say weird things.
While we’d never lived outside of northeast Ohio, Dad used phrases that had the new neighbors thinking we came straight from the hills. Which hills, they could never figure out.
The strongest cuss word Dad ever used was horsefeathers. When a bolt snapped on a piece of farm equipment, Dad would snarl, “Ah, horsefeathers.”
If it was minor, he’d shake his head and mutter, “Great day in the morning” or “fiddlesticks.”
But when Dad fixed whatever broke, he’d smile and proclaim, “That’s finer that frog’s hair” or “That went on slicker that snot on a doorknob.”
If I tried to fix it, and inevitably fumbled, Dad would sigh and say, “You’ve got all the grace of a cub bear in boxing clubs.” Or if I was taking too long, he’d gripe, “You’re slower than molasses in January.”
If one of us fell off our bikes and whimpered, “That hurt,” Dad’s sympathy was, “Then whatchya do it for?”
I once tried to describe an ailment to my dad: “It hurts when I move my arm like this.”
“Then don’t move your arm like that.” His medical advice: “That’ll feel good when it stops hurting.”
Dad’s brother, my Uncle Tom, was even worse. He’d greet me with, “Hey, you “flop-eared, lame-brained, flat-headed, fuzzy-nosed, knock-kneed, pigeon-toed nincompoop.”
Or, if he was in a hurry, he’d just say, “Hullo, Uglier-Than-Me.”
This is how I grew up. Is it any wonder I had trouble with girls? Girlfriends — and worse, wives — don’t seem to find it amusing when you comment on their floppy ears, fuzzy noses or pigeon toes.
And you’d be a real nincompoop to crack wise, “If you had a brain, you’d be dangerous.” I was only kidding about the brain, but I can report that her right hook is nearly lethal.
Other Dad sayings:
When about to test a jerry-rigged repair on farm machinery: “If it doesn’t work, we’ll always figure it shoulda.”
Unloading the last bale off the hay wagon: “That’s the one we were looking for. Why didn’t you grab that one first?”
Asking Dad from the back seat if we were there yet: “Pert near.”
If we tried to slip one past Dad: “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.”
When we kids complained about chores being too hard: “It’s good for what ails you.”
One of my cousins learned this from his dad: “Did you always look this ugly, or did you have to practice?”
And of course, that all-time favorite of fathers everywhere: “Stop that crying right now or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Dad sayings are such balderdash, and ones that make sense are scarcer than hen’s teeth. They’re just a bunch of malarkey. How do you like them potatoes? They’re slicker than… never mind.
Send nonsense to Burt at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.