My dad doesn't want to hear it. My dad doesn't want to hear any of it... ever. He constantly doesn't want to hear it. He perpetually doesn't want to hear it. When I was a kid he'd say like, "Wear your life jack when you go out in the canoe, because if you fall in and drown, I'll have to hear it." It was like... I don't give a shit if you drown, I just don't want to deal with all the hassle of a dead kid and your mother blubbering and crying. We'd be bugging my dad, "Take us camping! Take us camping!", and he'd go, "Alright, alright. I'll take you camping. Whatever it takes so I don't have to hear it." Mostly he didn't want to "hear it" from my mom... his wife. He'd say to me, "You better not get any Ds or Fs on your report card, because then I'll have to hear it." Like he didn't give a shit if I flunked or not, he just didn't want to hear my mom bitching about it. He also didn't want to "hear it" from anybody else either. "I'm going in to work early tomorrow and get some shit done so I don't have to hear it when the boss comes in." If the world ended tomorrow, my dad wouldn't give a shit... as long as he didn't have to hear it. I could never figure out why he didn't just stick ice picks in his ears. You'd figure the day he went deaf would be the greatest day of his life... he'd never have to "hear it" again. He's still alive and kicking, my dad. I'd call him up and ask him how he's doing, but he probably doesn't want to hear it.