Son, you're not old enough to know this, but I'll tell you anyway. You were absolutely a mistake. Not the worst mistake I've ever made, but close. Your mother was the worst mistake. Knocking her up was the worst mistake. You, I like. I just wish I hadn't had you. You understand, don't you, son? Don't get me wrong, I do like you. And truth be told, I wasn't much older than you when your grandpappy sat me down and gave me the talk just like I'm giving you now. He said I'd understand someday, and damned if he wasn't right. Son, you're going to do some stupid things in your life. Don't try to tell me otherwise- it's just going to happen. I won't say you were born with stupid genes, but they sure didn't help. And I sure didn't give you a good role model either. And, truth be told, I'm never going to get better. That's the way your grandpappy was with me, and I see no reason to change. Shoot, what I'm trying to say son, is that you're going to screw the pooch, pretty much your entire life. You're going to make a helluva lot of mistakes and I'm not going to stop you. I'm not even going to bother. You're going to do things, really stupid things from now until the day you die, falling off a roof with copper wire tied around your waist. Don't try and fight it, you'll only make it worse. You'll probably meet some girl, think she looks like an Asian Sofia Loren and chase her halfway around the country, until you knock her up in a shit town like this one, and settle down for a lost decade of your life. You're definitely going to drink on Sundays and root for a sadsack team like the Bengals. You're going to work with good, tough men and hate your job until the day you retire, then miss it like it was your own mother. You're going to see stupider men succeed and better men will come into your life only to shame you and gloat. You're going to lose a lot of fights. I mean a lot. Shit will rain on you, pretty much continuously. It's probably already started happening, and I won't be able to help you much. The best I can say, son, is that maybe every once and awhile, we'll get drunk and watch the Bengals lose together, and maybe laugh about all the shit that rains down on us, and how we only make it worse by fighting it. We'll drink and swap stories about all the times we screwed the pooch and how it's almost comforting to know that the natural law of the world still holds true. And maybe, just maybe, a lost decade after your two worst mistakes in a shit town with a fat Asian Sofia Loren you'll sit down with your son and give him the talk and you'll realize that it's not all your fault, and at least one thing might've turned out alright.