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Pop Quiz

The Pulitzer Prize winners will be announced Monday. I’m always amazed that men win awards for journalism. Because we make the absolute worst reporters — especially when it comes to domestic issues.

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Terrorist Twos

Until the administration clarifies its policy on drone strikes targeting American citizens, I would like to address the recent speculation regarding my son, Fox.

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Dad, Interrupted

Oh man. Have I seriously not blogged since October? Time to power up the defibrillator and revive Daddy Confidential – if only to satisfy the persistent pleadings of my loyal fan.

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MythBusters – Parenting Edition

At Gymboree last week a woman nodded in the direction of the cavorting toddlers, smiled at me and said, “Which one’s yours?” I shrugged and began to tell her, “No kids. I’m just some sketchball.”

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Get On The Bus

Mornings have seen a massive traffic increase on local roads. The congestion coincided with the start of the school year. A neighbor explained it’s because of parents driving their kids to school. Upon reflection, this is way more plausible than my pet theory – that the extra drivers are all psychoanalysts, back from August vacation.

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The Mothership Connection

Oh man. I’ve been lying low, mostly owing to intense media scrutiny over my alleged affair with Kristen Stewart. Sorry to disappoint any tabloid hacks looking for a sound bite, but I will neither confirm nor deny the affair.

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The Ties That Bind

Oh man. Tomorrow is Father’s Day. I propose a Hallmark truce. Let’s call a year’s moratorium on all holidays designed to make thoughtless people (namely: me) look bad. I guess that’s basically just Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day. We can check back in a year and see if there’s a popular outcry for the holidays’ restoration.

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Call Me Ishmael, Part Deux

Did you know the Social Security Administration tabulates data for the most popular names given to twins? People have a tendency to get cutesy with twins, as though the right names might clinch that audition for the Doublemint gum commercial.

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Call Me Ishmael

I freakin love baby names because new parents are super-sensitive, and everyone else is hyper-opinionated. It’s a perfect recipe for hurt feelings and resentment. The only thing people enjoy criticizing more than your baby name selection is your wedding.

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Please Be Kind And Rewind

Oh man. I’m feeling old. It’s not for the usual reasons, like when I start to sit and I pinch my pants at the knees and give them a little hike. Or when my wife (nine years my junior) catches me using a word like mimeograph when I mean Xerox.

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