Why This Blog is Entitled, "TRIUMPH of A Man Called Da-da"

Someone who looked like the Ninth Dr. Who once asked Da-da why this blog is entitled, "Triumph of a Man Called Da-da."

First off, it's pronounced, "DAA-DAA." It's what Da-da's been hearing for a decade, so he responds to it. He's forgotten his own name.

Second, Da-da informed the inquirer, a young and unmarried, non-child-laden, early-release scaled model of Hugh Hefner, that the title on his business card is, "DA-DA," CEO to the small, the loud, the diaper-challenged. You've heard women say -- and Da-da will affirm -- that it's The Hardest Job in the World. It's also The Best Job... and the The Worst Job. Basically, it's somewhere between Christmas and a trip to the Emergency Room.

Third, and most importantly: Da-da is YOUR Da-da. He is, in plain fact, a kind of Meta-Da-da: parent to those who need one; leader of those who need one; student and educator of all; asker of difficult questions; truthsifter and speaker of unspeakable truths; and general naked-emperor pointer-outer.

Da-da does this free of charge. 

And YES, Da-da talks and writes in the Third Person, since Da-da has lost a couple Persons in this da-da dada transition. It happens. And YES, da-da is also dada, each indistinguishable from the other.

Finally, those born before 1979 may recall the movie, "A Man Called Horse," with a young (early) Dumbledore... er, Richard Harris, as well as its many sequels ("Triumph of A Man Called Horse," "Complete Flaccid Collapse of A Man Called Horse," "Radioactive Underpants of a Man Called Horse," etc.). Anyway, being a parent -- esp. a meta-parent -- is much like the Native American ritual featured in said film, where the supplicant, of his own free will, hangs painfully for hours and hours and hours and hours in a hot sweaty stinky room from a long sharpened horse bone inserted beneath the skin of the supplicant's chest until he either passes out or has an OOB experience and someone has to stab him in the back with a spear to wake him up. Ow. But in a GOOD way.

Being a parent is like that every single day... at least for Da-da.

Anyone who tells you different is rich and has 10 helpers. Or is selling something. Or is a Divine Being.

In truth, EVERY DAY you survive as a parent is a minor triumph. Every day you advance the tribe one step UP the near-infinite staircase of truth is a major triumph.


A Man Called Da-da said...

note: these earlier blog iterations were sans CAPITALIZATION as a kind of dumb stylistic wax that made the chicken DANCE. however, the chicken got bored, so... back to grammar.

Unknown said...

A man called horse. That movie stuck with from the time I watched it till the time I watched it again and again. Why is that? Mr Da-Da. I like your site. It is intelligent and hilarious and most likely beyond my brain capacity at this time LOL. I'm a big fan of psychic Focus and you post often like me.

A Man Called Da-da said...

That is the nicest thing anyone's said about Da-da in about a month. Just for that, Da-da's gonna post a link to what he hopes is all of our new positive timeline:


It's a little out there, but look who's talking. Basically, if you like Lynn, you'll love this post. And many thanks for the kind words.


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