Kurt Russell
We all know the deal. When you don’t know your biological father, you might find out the hard way that he’s fucking Darth Vader.
If you’re like me though, you’re a creative type that doesn’t really give a shit that you don’t know where you got that rare blood type, or the tendency to earn 99,000 freckles and third degree burns the second sunlight meets your skin. It doesn’t matter to you where the reality lies when it comes to that 50% of your stellar good looks — because:
1. You’re good looking! Who cares!?
2. When you don’t know that probable asshole, you can imagine him as anyone, and that is undeniably infinitely more fun than scavenging the earth only to find that your real dad is some sweaty drunk guy named Chad that still works part-time at that pizzeria your mom met him at when she was 19. (No shade, pizzeria workers, you supply me with my favorite food — and for that I believe you to be a god damn national treasure. Unless your name is Chad. Maybe a little shade, there.)
In my world of potential papas, my dad is without a doubt, Kurt Russell.
You read that right. My world. My rules. My dad. And I say, he’s Kurt Russell, and you can’t do shit about that. Unless you’re Kurt Russell and you’re filing a restraining order and/or requesting a paternity test because you want me to stop spreading this around… in which case, OMG, DAD, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE READING THIS!
The longing for our true origins has always been one that baffles me — the blood is thicker than water rationale that determines our definition of what it means to have family and to belong. We, at times, seem to have this cavalier response to our personhood that allows us to convince ourselves that at the end of the day, we are merely the sum of two human beings that for whatever reason decided to fuck one day.
My “father” probably isn’t Darth Vader, but he never held my hand, looked into my eyes, or taught me anything but how to live without. He’s no more real than any piece of fiction that ever existed in the world.
And so, I’ll go with that. My father is fiction. My father is merely a dream.
