It can be an interesting exercise in learning about people, to read how they react to others, their relationships with those closest to them through familial consanguinity. We imagine that there can be no closer emotional bonds that exist than between father and son, and sometimes that is true, and just as often it seems, it is not. Recently, a young arts journalist who writes for the National Post, posted a Father's Day tribute to his own father. Among the many that could be read in the news media this one certainly stood out. Here's what he wrote:

If you’re like most of us, you probably forget that your dad is still clinging to life, whiling away his twilight years gardening or complaining about Justin Trudeau or whatever it is dads do when they are not waist-deep in the business end of a luxury couch from a discount furniture warehouse. But then father’s day gift guides start popping up in lifestyle magazines, and you remember that, hey, the guy who gave up most of his dreams and his lower back to make sure you didn’t starve to death for the first 24 years of your life probably deserves some socks or something.

And then you forget, because your busy life – full of two-hour brunches and occasionally having to get off the couch to tell Netflix to “Resume” once every three episodes – gets in the way. Now, it’s Saturday, and you have to grab something, and he is once again telling you that a card will be just fine, but you don’t have one of those either.

So, you figure you’ll paper over the growing gap between you with a little bit of money. In that case, you should probably go get a Cosmo or something, because I’m sure they have a big, splashy page full of aprons that say “Daddy’s Cookin’!” among other expensive ways to pretend you still mean something to each other. 

If you’re not the pricey-gift-type, though, maybe you’ll find some last-minute inspiration in the gifts I have been last-minute considering for my dad. Really, it would be great if you could get something out of this, because there’s virtually no way he will.

A subscription to the Dollar Shave Club: Perhaps if you didn’t limit your feelings to History Channel programming that involves tank battles and that one time you met Dave Winfield while you were on a layover in Minneapolis, I would know something more about you than the fact you are a human male and, presumably, have to shave sometimes.

A home-brewing kit: Someone – I really can’t remember who – once told me that the only good things in life come from hard work. So, put down that “lite” lager and taste the bitter hops of poetic justice, Socrates. For your birthday I’m getting you a pour-over coffee maker.

A YouTube video of me winning the Stanley Cup in NHL 16 on Sony Playstation: Maybe if half my genetic material didn’t come from a stubby-legged goon whose body looks like a silverback gorilla ran out halfway through a waxing appointment, this could be a TSN highlight package. Anyway, choke on every time you told me to go outside and get some fresh air, which was often enough that I did not become the billionaire founder of a social network, but not so often that I can’t make Fake Connor McDavid do a wicked toe drag three times out of five.

A self-powered lawnmower: YOU GET OUTSIDE MORE.

A computer mouse shaped like a Corvette: Remember that time you were teaching me how to drive, and I pulled in a little too close to the curb, and I scratched the front bumper and one of the hubcaps, and then you were so mad you couldn’t get your seatbelt undone at first, and then you yelled at me when you saw it, and then gave me a lecture on how I was a lollygagger who needed to pay more attention to things while you drove us home, and then you wouldn’t take me out for two weeks after? Yeah, well, next time your wifi won’t connect, don’t call me until you’ve fit this thing all the way up your ass.

A VHS copy of Field of Dreams: I know you don’t have a VHS player, which means you will be able to watch this roughly as many times as we played catch when I was a boy.

A barbecue fork: Remember that time I let the gas on the BBQ run a little too long before you went to light it, and you got so mad you wouldn’t even let me have a burger, but it was kind of okay because it took two weeks for your eyebrows to look normal again? No, no reason to bring it up, it’s just a happy memory.

A copy of The Greatest: My Own Story, Muhammad Ali’s autobiography: A lot of your generation’s idols sure seem to be dying lately, huh? Bet that feels terrible.

A photo album consisting of every time I have been so drunk I threw up in a urinal: Just in case you want to pretend you have left a worthwhile legacy.

A grandson: Trust me, this would be a surprise for both of us.

A framed, signed photo of the Property Brothers: Which one do you think Mom fantasizes about more? Both? My money is on both.

A half-empty bottle of some bottom-shelf bourbon: If I had an inheritance to look forward to, I could probably afford scotch, and if I had a retirement to look forward to, I could probably keep it untouched in the time it takes to ride the bus from the liquor store to your four-bedroom in the suburbs.

My latest student loan statement and a self-addressed, stamped envelope: You just put in however much cash you think is fair, considering you are not getting any younger and I can probably find an online tutorial about taking power of attorney. No cheques, please, I prefer to do my banking online.

Some socks: It would be a shame to put an end to the family tradition.

A gift certificate to Red Lobster: I love you, dad.

This 'tribute' would win hands down in any competition some warped mind might elevate to the high art of 'letting it all hang out', about on a par with the competition for a winner in the 'ugliest dog in the world' contest. It ranks among the most despicably vicious vituperative exercises I've yet come across, and I hope never to read anything remotely like it again. 

I certainly feel for parents and children whose relationship is fraught with misunderstandings and an inability to see one another's perspective. This is not quite the meanest, nastiest relationship I know of, actually. But it does rank among the most publicly-aired of the category. Love such as this man made public to humiliate and slander his father in the most public of forums is love that anyone might wish to be spared. 

Oh, did I forget to place his name above for easy identification? Sorry about that. It's Dave Berry, a fairly confident young man, it seems who identifies his character as being "an otherwise nice guy". Reserving judgement, I yet disagree.