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

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 and hands off my daughters body, I will remove them.

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 you.

It I 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 "early."

I have no doubt that you are a popular fellow with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me so long as it is OK 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.

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 themes are to be avoided. Hockey games are Okay. Old folks homes are better.

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has been; but on the issue related 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.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little of 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 the 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 in the window in mine.