MACK DADDY: Mastering Fatherhood Without Losing Your Style, Your Cool, or Your Mind (2006)
by Larry Bleidner
Per the back cover, Larry Bleidner is “a television producer and writer” who “lives in Los Angeles with his wife and young daughters.” He uses the term “MACK DADDY” as a compliment and he ALWAYS CAPITALIZES IT. The book cover proudly displays an expensive running stroller with fancy rims. So I guess I was on fair notice of what I should expect. Bleidner has certainly succeeded in writing the book on fatherhood that you would expect from an L.A.-based television producer who believes that not “losing your style” is appropriately of utmost concern for a new father.
Bleidner’s book covers the time from conception through the first six years of a child’s life, but doesn’t dwell on pregnancy or childbirth for long (Bleidner and his wife wrote a childbirth book published in 2002 and he apparently was out of bad material about that topic). Bleidner starts the book setting up a number of archetypes and giving faux quizzes to the reader to drive home the point that the archetypes all suck except one. The archetypes are: Daddy Distant, Mack Daddy, Lactating Daddy (beware the “man-o-pause” joke), Der Fuerher Daddy and Rubber-Stamp Daddy. I kept turning the pages trying to find the archetype that I wanted to be and ultimately had to check the front cover to remind myself what I was to meant to aspire to here. Bleidner then uses an informal, highly assured, cool guy, SoCal (and at times obnoxious, ranting and evangelistic) writing style, employing these archetypes periodically throughout the book in his attempt to provide fathers-to-be with practical and serious advice, with a comical touch. Thus, we have “Mackin’ Vacations” and “Mackalicious Dinin’ Out.” Etc. A heavy comical touch, I guess.
One major problem with MACK DADDY is the quality of the advice being given. Some of it is reasonable or even helpful, including an extended section on how to assemble / decorate a nursery, advice on buying a camera, a section on vacations with the kid, dropping them off at school. Certain of his pointers are nice: “Before you take a kid to task for bad behavior always consider first the two reasons to let bad behavior slide – fatigue and hunger." This is reasonable stuff.
But too much of Bleidner’s advice is hopelessly obvious: Libraries are good places for kids. Don’t leave a child with a stranger. When a doctor recommends surgery on your kid, get a second opinion. If you swear around your kids, the kids will start to swear. Wading through Bleidner’s many lengthy exhortations to the morons who might happen to have picked up his book gets a touch tedious.
This wouldn’t be so bad if you were wading through the tedium to get somewhere good, but most of the time you ultimately arrive at “advice” that’s just pathetic or wrongheaded. Bleidner describes a woman’s adoption and mocks the fact that she took “maternity leave” from work after the adoption (his quotation marks, not mine). Bleidner includes an extended anti-circumcision screed that compares it to female genital mutilation. Bleidner on women: “If [women] wrote the rules to baseball, anyone who stepped up to the plate would advance to second base just for having his shirt tucked in. Everyone would win, too (Except when it came to who had the biggest tits, best hair, nicest shoes/tennis bracelet/husband/boyfriend with the biggest wallet/job/cock … then they get competitive.)” So he’s clearly a real feminist. Bleidner rants about Ritalin in a section titled “When They Are Trying To Get Your Kid” and recommends that kids try yoga instead.
Even then, one piece of idiocy rises above the others. Early in the book Bleidner posits that there are two major pieces of advice that fathers need once they learn that their wife is pregnant, the second of which is “You are needed ... now more than ever.” Which is good and all, but he then explains that you are needed because your wife will be worried that motherhood will “ruin any possibility of [her] ever becoming a Laker Girl / Playmate / Victoria’s Secret model.” So at least we know that his wife had honest-to-god goals. Bleidner explains that your job as a father-to-be is to note to your wife all of the hot Hollywood models who have had kids (he actually names Cindy Crawford, Pamela Anderson and about 10 others). Bleidner concludes that these celebrities are “All moms. All smokin’. And of course, your wife is hotter than any of them.” And your job is to, apparently, assure your wife that these Hollywood actresses have blazed a trail that she too will follow.
What excellent advice. Mentioning to Daddyfesto’s wife – who of course is hotter than the hottest women in the world (how could anyone question that premise) – how Hollywood women have had kids and still look "smokin" is absolutely a winning strategy. There is nothing that a wife loves more than hearing about how hot Cindy Crawford is even though she has kids. MACK DADDY'S readers should let me know how this one works out for them.
But enough about advice.
There’s the comedic aspect as well. For example, there are at least 6 jokes about “Lactating Daddy” having breasts and/or breastmilk.
Per the back cover, Larry Bleidner is “a television producer and writer” who “lives in Los Angeles with his wife and young daughters.” He uses the term “MACK DADDY” as a compliment and he ALWAYS CAPITALIZES IT. The book cover proudly displays an expensive running stroller with fancy rims. So I guess I was on fair notice of what I should expect. Bleidner has certainly succeeded in writing the book on fatherhood that you would expect from an L.A.-based television producer who believes that not “losing your style” is appropriately of utmost concern for a new father.
Bleidner’s book covers the time from conception through the first six years of a child’s life, but doesn’t dwell on pregnancy or childbirth for long (Bleidner and his wife wrote a childbirth book published in 2002 and he apparently was out of bad material about that topic). Bleidner starts the book setting up a number of archetypes and giving faux quizzes to the reader to drive home the point that the archetypes all suck except one. The archetypes are: Daddy Distant, Mack Daddy, Lactating Daddy (beware the “man-o-pause” joke), Der Fuerher Daddy and Rubber-Stamp Daddy. I kept turning the pages trying to find the archetype that I wanted to be and ultimately had to check the front cover to remind myself what I was to meant to aspire to here. Bleidner then uses an informal, highly assured, cool guy, SoCal (and at times obnoxious, ranting and evangelistic) writing style, employing these archetypes periodically throughout the book in his attempt to provide fathers-to-be with practical and serious advice, with a comical touch. Thus, we have “Mackin’ Vacations” and “Mackalicious Dinin’ Out.” Etc. A heavy comical touch, I guess.
One major problem with MACK DADDY is the quality of the advice being given. Some of it is reasonable or even helpful, including an extended section on how to assemble / decorate a nursery, advice on buying a camera, a section on vacations with the kid, dropping them off at school. Certain of his pointers are nice: “Before you take a kid to task for bad behavior always consider first the two reasons to let bad behavior slide – fatigue and hunger." This is reasonable stuff.
But too much of Bleidner’s advice is hopelessly obvious: Libraries are good places for kids. Don’t leave a child with a stranger. When a doctor recommends surgery on your kid, get a second opinion. If you swear around your kids, the kids will start to swear. Wading through Bleidner’s many lengthy exhortations to the morons who might happen to have picked up his book gets a touch tedious.
This wouldn’t be so bad if you were wading through the tedium to get somewhere good, but most of the time you ultimately arrive at “advice” that’s just pathetic or wrongheaded. Bleidner describes a woman’s adoption and mocks the fact that she took “maternity leave” from work after the adoption (his quotation marks, not mine). Bleidner includes an extended anti-circumcision screed that compares it to female genital mutilation. Bleidner on women: “If [women] wrote the rules to baseball, anyone who stepped up to the plate would advance to second base just for having his shirt tucked in. Everyone would win, too (Except when it came to who had the biggest tits, best hair, nicest shoes/tennis bracelet/husband/boyfriend with the biggest wallet/job/cock … then they get competitive.)” So he’s clearly a real feminist. Bleidner rants about Ritalin in a section titled “When They Are Trying To Get Your Kid” and recommends that kids try yoga instead.
Even then, one piece of idiocy rises above the others. Early in the book Bleidner posits that there are two major pieces of advice that fathers need once they learn that their wife is pregnant, the second of which is “You are needed ... now more than ever.” Which is good and all, but he then explains that you are needed because your wife will be worried that motherhood will “ruin any possibility of [her] ever becoming a Laker Girl / Playmate / Victoria’s Secret model.” So at least we know that his wife had honest-to-god goals. Bleidner explains that your job as a father-to-be is to note to your wife all of the hot Hollywood models who have had kids (he actually names Cindy Crawford, Pamela Anderson and about 10 others). Bleidner concludes that these celebrities are “All moms. All smokin’. And of course, your wife is hotter than any of them.” And your job is to, apparently, assure your wife that these Hollywood actresses have blazed a trail that she too will follow.
What excellent advice. Mentioning to Daddyfesto’s wife – who of course is hotter than the hottest women in the world (how could anyone question that premise) – how Hollywood women have had kids and still look "smokin" is absolutely a winning strategy. There is nothing that a wife loves more than hearing about how hot Cindy Crawford is even though she has kids. MACK DADDY'S readers should let me know how this one works out for them.
But enough about advice.
There’s the comedic aspect as well. For example, there are at least 6 jokes about “Lactating Daddy” having breasts and/or breastmilk.
So comedy is covered.
Bleidner’s claim to live L.A. certainly seems confirmed in a number of ways. There is the use of certain terminology, including jing (money?), vines (clothes?), the “industry” (the movie/TV industry?), shredded (muscular?). Bleidner certainly complains like people from L.A., spending a little too much time on minor slights to fathers in the entertainment industry (i.e., Lifetime movies depict dads in a poor light! Boo hoo!) and playing the victim card in response (in light of Bleidner's claim on the back cover to be against "political correctness," the victim card is an odd choice).
Bleidner’s claim to live L.A. certainly seems confirmed in a number of ways. There is the use of certain terminology, including jing (money?), vines (clothes?), the “industry” (the movie/TV industry?), shredded (muscular?). Bleidner certainly complains like people from L.A., spending a little too much time on minor slights to fathers in the entertainment industry (i.e., Lifetime movies depict dads in a poor light! Boo hoo!) and playing the victim card in response (in light of Bleidner's claim on the back cover to be against "political correctness," the victim card is an odd choice).
Other things in the book are just odd. The book ends with a 4-page section that aspires to be a tear-jerker about giving your daughter away at a wedding. Per the back cover, Bleidner lives with his “young daughters” so I’m not sure what wellspring of experience he’s drawing upon there, unless he’s weekending in Utah and marrying off the little ones at age 11 or something.
Between Bleidner’s sheer idiocy, his ripping apart paper tigers and his seeing a mild annoyance, blowing it way out of proportion and wildly overreacting to it, he does have his moments. He shines in a few attacks on his Daddy Distant archetype. Bleidner’s love for his daughters truly and legitimately comes through in his writing, for example in an anecdote about treating a child’s knee-scrape at a park by filling your mouth at a drinking fountain and spraying the wound like an elephant. Bleidner implores the reader to help their kids “find their own bliss” and tells dads to introduce kids to all kinds of great stuff – and provides helpful examples of how to do it. Implicit (and sometimes explicit) in his advice is that all fathers need to give their children undivided and real attention (no radios in cars; don’t waste too much time on football) and truly engage them on their level with respect. In fact, in his finer moments, Bleidner moves you and starts to make you think that he knows what he’s talking about.
But not quite. Actually, fuck him. Bleidner got the opportunity to write a book and tell the world about his fatherhood experience and he used it to tell men to play I Spy with their kids and choose the next color by ogling the smallest miniskirt he passes in his car. Bleidner devotes several pages to implore fathers to work out and look good, so that the “hottie in marketing will take interest in you.” He devotes several pages whining about how women get baby showers and men get nothing and proposes the creation of a party for prospective fathers called the THUNDERSTORM (shower for women; thunderstorm for men, get it?).
This is what he thinks men want or need these days? A fucking baby shower for dads?
Look, ultimately, I don’t have much of a problem with Bleidner’s fathering techniques; when he focuses on interacting with his daughters, he doles out some decent advice. My problem is that when he relates to anyone in the world other than his daughters, he’s pretty clearly an obnoxious SOB that you wouldn’t want to spend 20 minutes with, much less 210 pages.
Between Bleidner’s sheer idiocy, his ripping apart paper tigers and his seeing a mild annoyance, blowing it way out of proportion and wildly overreacting to it, he does have his moments. He shines in a few attacks on his Daddy Distant archetype. Bleidner’s love for his daughters truly and legitimately comes through in his writing, for example in an anecdote about treating a child’s knee-scrape at a park by filling your mouth at a drinking fountain and spraying the wound like an elephant. Bleidner implores the reader to help their kids “find their own bliss” and tells dads to introduce kids to all kinds of great stuff – and provides helpful examples of how to do it. Implicit (and sometimes explicit) in his advice is that all fathers need to give their children undivided and real attention (no radios in cars; don’t waste too much time on football) and truly engage them on their level with respect. In fact, in his finer moments, Bleidner moves you and starts to make you think that he knows what he’s talking about.
But not quite. Actually, fuck him. Bleidner got the opportunity to write a book and tell the world about his fatherhood experience and he used it to tell men to play I Spy with their kids and choose the next color by ogling the smallest miniskirt he passes in his car. Bleidner devotes several pages to implore fathers to work out and look good, so that the “hottie in marketing will take interest in you.” He devotes several pages whining about how women get baby showers and men get nothing and proposes the creation of a party for prospective fathers called the THUNDERSTORM (shower for women; thunderstorm for men, get it?).
This is what he thinks men want or need these days? A fucking baby shower for dads?
Look, ultimately, I don’t have much of a problem with Bleidner’s fathering techniques; when he focuses on interacting with his daughters, he doles out some decent advice. My problem is that when he relates to anyone in the world other than his daughters, he’s pretty clearly an obnoxious SOB that you wouldn’t want to spend 20 minutes with, much less 210 pages.
So most of the time, you’ll want to be doing the opposite of MACK DADDY.
Be a Daddy Mack and Kris-Kross MACK DADDY off your reading list.
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1 Star (out of 7)
1 Star (out of 7)
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8 comments:
Nice post, but seriously, did I have to wade through all of that to get to
"Be a Daddy Mack and Kris-Kross MACK DADDY off your reading list."
Come on, we know you wrote the entire post after coming up with that sentence.
How can he be against Ritalin?
Isn't this the new nursery rhyme:
"I love you,
you love me,
every child has ADD."
Guy sounds like a real tool.
Chris: Dear God, the only reason I got the book out of the library is because I thought that line up first.
You sound like a typical frustrated writer who wishes he had thought of this book first! I read this book recently and found it helpful and also very funny. Obviously you have no sense of humor.
And you sound like you are Larry Bleidner, his wife or one of his friends!
"Anonymous"? That you are, but you are also from Los Angeles (home of Mr. Bleidner) and appear to have come to the site after doing a google search on the name "Larry Bleidner"
As far as fatherhood books go, reading this book did make me think that maybe I should write a book since clearly if crap like Mack Daddy could get published, I should have no problem finding a publisher. Then I read the many good fatherhood books out there (Poo Bomb, Daddy Needs a Drink, etc., reviews of which will be posted in due time) and realized that Mack Daddy was an aberration.
So I plan to stick to my day job and just write on here for fun, which is exactly what Bleidner should've done.
Yeah, I read this, too. Bleidner is the Guy Fieri of fatherhood books.
My lame great aunt bought me this book and it's been the source of scorn and mockery for months now. In fact, as a joke it is now making the rounds to all of my friends when they become new fathers.
Wow. No middle of the road here with you guys. Not the best of all books, but amusing read on a short-haul flight. The guy is simply trying to share his point of view and experience and probably wasn't trying to write the great american novel. I'm happy I took the time to read it.
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