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

You do not touch my daughter infront of me. you may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep you eyes of hands off my daughter's body, I will remover them.

I am aware that it is considered fashionablefor boys your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I peopose this compromise: you may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes to big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take  my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

I'm sure you have 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 is 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 into my house,and the only word I need from you on this subect is: "early."

I have doubt that you are a popular fellow with many oppoetunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay 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.

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and/or fidget. If you want to be on time for a movie, you should not be dating, My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like change the oil in my car?

Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool, places where there is darkness, places where there is dancing, holding hands or happiness, places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to introduce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka- zippered up to her throat, and movies with a strong romantic and/or sexual theme are ALL to be avoided. However, movies witch feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay, but old folks homes are even better.

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot bellied, balding, middle-aged, imwitted has-been, but on issues related to my daughter, I am all-knowing, merciless god of you 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, don't trifle with me.

Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of you car in the driveway for a chopper coming in for rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns and 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 plan sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safe and early, then return to your car- there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflage face in the window is mine.