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Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a
package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her,
so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot
keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to
wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off
their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of
your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open
minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come
to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too
big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your
clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with
my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers
securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without
utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me
elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each
other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the
day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you
is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back
at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to
date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my
daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you
will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you.
If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear,
and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want
to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter
is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than
painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why
don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden
stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within
eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is
dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient
temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank
tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater,
and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a
strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which
features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes
are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding,
middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my
daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I
ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell
me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a
shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle
with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake
the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a
rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the
voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for
you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway
you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the
perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought
my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is
no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is

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