Some of my brothers and sisters have chips on their shoulders. They sit around saying things like, “Daddy didn’t spend enough time with me.” And I’m thinking, “Daddy had three jobs to raise ten kids. You think he enjoyed himself, being away from home all that time?” I say be happy you’re alive and be grateful you had a daddy who stuck around and didn’t run away from his responsibilities. If my kids ever say that to me, I’ll kill ‘em. Kid: You didn’t spend enough time with me, Daddy. Me: POW! Good. Now I don’t miss you. I spend a lot of time on the road, doing standup or doing TV work or on-location for films. I have a feeling there’s going to be a point in my life when one of my kids is going to tell me he doesn’t think I was a good father. In anticipation of that, I bought me a video camera and I videotaped my kids. I don’t go around doing what everyone else does—I don’t tape my kids doing cute stuff like playing at the beach or blowing out birthday candles.
