TRIGGER WARNING: This post is going to piss some people off. If you're weak of mind, body, and soul, just keep scrolling because this will likely hurt your feelings.

"Haha, whatever Beard Dad, I don't get offended! I'm no snowflake."

Fair enough. If you’re still reading, buckle up.

Most Americans aren't patriotic, even though they’re entirely convinced they are. I am a patriotic person, but I don't confuse the word patriotism with blind loyalty. So, if you're one of those Americans sporting improperly displayed, tattered flags year-round, getting outraged over football players kneeling for the anthem, and thinking anyone left of center is a communist, this post is for you. You aren't a patriot. You just play one on the internet.

"Whoa, pump the brakes, Beard Dad! That's a mighty bold statement. I love America!"

It is bold, and I don't care. I've been to 44 out of 50 states, and I pay attention. One of the most glaring patterns across this country is the loose definition of "patriot" that people hide behind. Merriam-Webster defines a patriot as "one who loves and supports their country." Seems obvious, right? It isn't.

Let's explore this. We hear the word nationalism thrown around a lot lately. What's the difference? Merriam-Webster defines nationalism as "an ideology that elevates one nation or nationality above all others and that places primary emphasis on promotion of its culture and interests."

Patriotism and nationalism are not synonyms, and therein lies the problem for most self-proclaimed "patriots."

And before you start whining that I’m painting with too broad a brush or unfairly lumping "patriots" in with extremists—save your breath. I know exactly what I'm looking at.

We are living in an era where the line between "mainstream political rhetoric" and "white nationalist manifesto" has been completely erased. When the people you vote for are openly peddling the "Great Replacement" theory, when the government strips domestic terrorism classifications from white supremacist groups, and when politicians use literal neo-Nazi talking points as campaign slogans, you don't get to hide behind the American flag anymore. You aren't just "conservative." You are actively participating in an ideology built by fascists, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

This revelation hit me hard while driving through impoverished, rural communities in the Northeast and my home state of Ohio. It is a surreal experience to drive through obvious American squalor and simultaneously see massive, blatant displays of this exact brand of "patriotism" screaming from the porches. You see a similar phenomenon in affluent, predominantly white suburbs—they share the exact same ideology as their rural cousins, just wrapped in a more polite, expensive presentation (usually omitting the rebel flag, for example).

It is a sea of American flags, accompanied by the classic "Don't Tread on Me" banners, Confederate flags, and aging Trump signs. Let's call it what it is: at best, they are nationalists, which isn't a title to be proud of.

"So, what's wrong with being a nationalist? I love America!"

There is nothing wrong with being proud of your country and your heritage (provided your "heritage" isn't just a thinly veiled excuse for bigotry, white supremacy, or some other dumbshit hate group). But the real rot is the idea of American exceptionalism. Are we, as a people, inherently exceptional? No.

It only takes one interaction with a card-carrying MAGA diehard to know that Americans are not exceptional. What is exceptional is the system that was put in place 250 years ago and enshrined in our Constitution. That unique system of government is the only American exceptionalism I will argue for—and even that borrows heavily from the Romans, Greeks, and Venetians. So, get off your high horse. You ain't that special.

So, what is the point of this rant?

The point is that most of these loud, self-proclaimed patriots have done absolutely nothing to better our country. Sure, you buy a flag made in China, go to a 4th of July parade, and vote. But what has the average citizen actually sacrificed for the greater good? Usually, nothing.

Have you served in the nation's military? Have you peacefully dissented against government overreach? Have you held public office? Are you a good neighbor and a decent human being? That is patriotism.

Unless you are actively serving your neighbors out of love for them and the country you live in, you are just a nationalist. And if that's the case, take a real look in the mirror and ask yourself, "Am I really a patriot?" I would wager that you can't truthfully answer that question. So, let's get back to building the country I actually fought for—that shining beacon on a hill—instead of the literal deteriorating swamp on Capitol Hill.

Dad out.

I'm so sorry I've been gone. I hope everyone has gotten along without me as we embarked on the greatest of all American vacations: the Great American Road Trip. That's right, we packed our little 24' camper and car to the brim with all kinds of "shit that we would need," effectively used about 50% of that "needed shit," and embarked on a nearly 2,000-mile journey across the Northeast United States with our little family and home-on-wheels in tow.

I have... some thoughts.

First off, we had a great time. We really did. But like any environment, when you put people in close quarters, there will be emotions, and let's just say, interesting exchanges. Just think back to college and remember the Stanford Prison Experiment. In this experiment, I'm the prisoner and my kids, are the guards. BUT, we made it through this adventure with our marriage intact and both kids still alive... mostly. Our youngest looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame coming home. One eye was literally swollen shut from a bug bite, and she meandered about mumbling inaudible phrases that no one but us could decipher. "The bells!"

There are many things to observe while traveling across the United States, and being the observant person that I am, I noticed a few patterns starting to emerge.

Our journey started in Pennsylvania, specifically Presque Isle. It was lovely. We stayed in a private campground that appeared to offer peaceful tranquility on its website. Part of that tranquility was because it was surrounded by a large industrial complex! Awesome. I have to offer a short backstory: we typically stay in state or federal parks, which are usually spectacular. This trip, we were staying solely in private campgrounds due to a lack of public availability. With that being said, I believe this was our first experience staying in a private campground. Regardless of the interesting surroundings, the campground itself was nice and predominantly quiet. Our site was right on a bay that was part of Lake Erie. It had a lovely view.

Nice, right?

I caught this majestic bastard mid-flight. Who knew Lake Erie could look so... nice? Weird.

And it was nice. Despite the insane location, we had a predominantly good experience—regardless of the tornado sirens and an incredibly strong storm that rolled through an hour after we pulled in.

Next, we made our way to Mount Morris, NY, to adventure through Letchworth State Park. This was another mom-and-pop, family-owned campground nestled in the hills of New York, not far from the park and a short drive away from the Finger Lakes region. Our campsite was, again, absolutely charming. It overlooked a valley, and we were surrounded by things for the kids to do.

How pleasant.

Holding true to the current theme, it was pleasant, and this is when I started to see a pattern emerge. Private campgrounds all have their own "vibe," meaning no two are quite alike. In contrast to the previous spot, this one seemed to be more of a party destination. The camp store was festooned with magnets and tchotchkes, blatantly bragging about the copious amounts of alcohol one might drink, or espousing the opinion that booze makes everything better. The wife and I kept musing that this place must be wild on the weekends, because during our stay, it was quiet and somewhat dead. I even recall that their webpage advertised a "campground crawl" weekend. What better way to go camping than to get hammered and meander through a campsite with a bunch of strangers? I can think of a million other things I would rather do.

Regardless, this campground really was great, and the ownership was warm and accommodating. Also, Letchworth State Park was astonishing! Copious waterfalls and vistas were found throughout, and this hidden gem touts itself as "The Grand Canyon of the East." It really was. I would highly recommend taking a day here if you ever find yourself in the area.

Marvelous.

Our next stop brought us to the Green Mountains of Vermont. What can I say about the Green Mountains? They are green, and they are mountains. They are also beautiful! Verdant, rolling peaks with wide-open skies that make the heart sing.

WOW!

This campground was one of a kind. A true family-owned and operated spot. The interesting part was that it wasn't commercialized at all. The owner communicates solely through email, which, at first, I found quite odd. After arriving, I figured out why. He and maybe a few of his immediate family members were the only staff on hand. It makes sense to keep a form of communication that isn't immediate but allows you to be responsive based on precedence. Smart.

The other part of this campground's overall vibe was that rules were few and met only the very basic requirements to keep the place functioning. It was refreshing not to have to worry about all the tiny nuances of typical campground rules. This was the only place where the owner didn't care if I flew a drone. Worth every second, just for that.

I also have to be transparent and say that we drove six hours through high winds and fierce storms to get to this site. When we finally arrived, the poor owner was working hard to clear debris and trees that hadn't survived the weather, but he didn't fail to offer us his very best hospitality. A real personal touch. There was also an abundance of ramshackle buildings, which made the area even more fun to explore, and some of the more colorful permanent campers gave off a mountain-hippy vibe, adding to the overall motif. This was one of our favorite sites; it was entirely unique, offered beautiful mountain views, and was run by friendly, interesting people.

Woo!

We continued to the White Mountains of New Hampshire, our furthest destination. I know why they call it the White Mountains: quartz, snow-capped peaks, whatever. These mountains aren't remotely white this time of year. False advertising!

We stayed at another private campsite, which was probably the busiest of our entire trip. Our time here happened to fall on Father's Day weekend, which explained the volume of people. Yay. I absolutely love being around people. (I don't).

A beautiful overlook.

Regardless of everything else, this was another lovely spot. We were tucked into a thicket of white pines, offering remarkable seclusion and forested beauty. The owners were very nice, even when they double-charged us for firewood. Oops! We also arrived during one of the rainiest parts of the year, so everything was soaked. That's OK, we're camping. We stayed at this site the longest—three nights—which I think was just enough time to hit all the highlights of the area. I have a few stories involving this leg of the trip that, in retrospect, would be funny now, but certainly weren't then. I'll save those for another time. I'll just say it involves me backpacking our youngest, 40+ pound child, up "an easy, family-friendly trail." HA!

One of the highlights was riding a 100+ year-old train up to the summit of Mount Washington. A memorable experience for sure. The train to the top.

The top. "We ain't found shit."

As you can see, it was a memorable experience for everyone, even though you couldn't see past your nose. My father-in-law was gracious enough to send me a picture of what the summit looks like on a clear day so I could see what we were missing. It looked impressive. This was on Father's Day, and the wife and kids had marked their bodies—specifically their hands—with temporary tattoos of my face. That way, when they inevitably got lost, the authorities would know who to return them to.

Without boring you with even more detail of our activities, we departed for our final destination: the Finger Lakes of New York. My wife and I have been to the Finger Lakes previously without kids. That excursion was much more fun than with kids, but we made the best of it.

This final campground, I will admit, was chosen because of its proximity to the highway. Did this make it a terrible campground? No, it was still quite nice, but not without its quirks. One interesting part was the abundance of seasonal campers. This means someone pays for an entire season of camping, and in return, they get to park their camper there in perpetuity. Not for us, but good on you if that's your thing. Every campground we stayed at had a permanent population, if you will, but not at the scale and volume of this one. The place was completely dead except for a few fellow transient campers and a handful of perma-campers.

So, you're probably thinking... "So what, Beard-Dad? I'm bored and don't care about your stupid vacation." Fair point, but this is where things got ridiculous.

Our first night, there was a gaggle of campers carousing about 200–300 yards away from us. They played loud music into the evening and were of a colorful nature. If you're thinking, "Colorful nature? Does he mean white trash?" you would be correct. OK, we can weather one bad set of neighbors, considering this is typically aberrant behavior among campers. We were relieved that they were packed up and gone by the time we returned to our site the next day from our adventures. Great, peace for us!

Nope.

The next evening, we were treated to a playlist of country-western and smokin' oldies blaring loudly out of a slow-rolling golf cart carrying a few geriatrics and their presumed grandkids. Really? Now, I don't typically judge a book by its cover, but their campsite had no fewer than 5 American flags split between traditional stars and stripes and the tackiest America 250 merch, not to mention the two flags sadly flapping behind a golf cart that would've been proudly owned by any rapper in the game. So that explains it. What's more American than being rude and annoying the shit out of your neighbors? Absolutely nothing. It sums us up perfectly these days.

The most insane part of this divergence was that they were located at a wholly different part of the campsite but made it a point to slow-roll by us and innocently wave at every pass, as if taunting me to say something. I didn't, mostly because my wife is already embarrassed by me enough as it is. But this entire, plodding process went on for literal hours before they probably got tired of their passive, drive-by tauntings and had to get their daily allowance of Ensure just to pass out to the sounds of a CPAP machine.

Despite the tranquil river flowing behind us, this was our least favorite campground. Seneca Lake was still looking good, though!

From there, we made the final six-and-a-half-hour trip home, downloaded all of our gear, and crashed out.

So, after regaling you with the mundane details of every campground, what have we learned?

• Paved roads are a myth in private campgrounds. My back has a problem with this one.
• Private campgrounds are like a box of chocolates: sometimes great, sometimes overpriced, and disappointing.
• Weird people enjoy camping. Yes, we're weird too.
• Most of these places are owned and operated by families that really do want you to have the best experience possible.
• Each campground has a vibe that can't be replicated. They may have similarities but are distinctively unique.

So, that's the long-winded overview of our vacation and the reason for my prolonged absence. I have a few more stories and commentaries to share, but like I said, I was gathering content and don't want to vomit it out all at once. Thanks for reading!

Dad out.

I'll be out for a few, collecting material for future posts.

Dad out.

Why Social Media is a Swamp (and Why I Started a Blog in 2026)

Social media is a swamp. I have had several people ask me why I started a blog in 2026. To me, the answer is obvious, but to others, it might look like a lapse into a bygone era. Engaging with modern social media is akin to intentionally dumping Miracle-Gro on mosquito eggs. Harmless at first, but over time, it breeds a relentless swarm of distractions that just leave you angry and itching.

I was an early adopter of social media. Yes, me. This grumpy, bearded man trapped in a 70-year-old woman's body could once be considered cool. I'm still trying to confirm my actual account creation on Facebook, but I have posts going back to 2005, which means I would be considered an "early adopter" of the platform. I don't know how old anyone is reading this, but I even had a short stint on MySpace, and before that, I used AOL Instant Messenger. Not only that, but I even have a memory of using bulletin board services (BBSs) during the early rapid expansion of the Internet. Yeah, I guess I am getting old.

Why am I telling you this? It's called establishing credibility. I have been using social media so long that I have become a de facto expert on the topic, and that is precisely why I can tell you how horrible it is.

In the early days, it started out innocent enough. It was a fun way to keep up with friends and share stupid Internet content. A far cry from what it is today. But, in watching its evolution, it's become something else entirely, and it's not great, not great at all.

I don't specifically know when that transition occurred. Maybe it was when I started to get old. You know the saying: "If the music is too loud, you're too old." Well, the social media machine is deafening, and I absolutely hate it. Do I continue to use it? Yep!

Why do I continue to use something that I absolutely detest? I don't really know anymore, and that's the worst part. I, and I'm sure many like me, continue to use the excuse, "It's the only way I can stay in touch with friends and family, of course." That's bullshit. For the most part, the people I want to keep up with, I do, and everyone else, meh.

Why Social Media is Trash

I could list a plethora of reasons why social media today sucks, but I'm going to give you just three simple reasons:

1. The User Base. In the early days of Facebook, it was strictly college students that could use it. You couldn't have access unless you had a .edu account. What was the reason for this? It was a simple way of gatekeeping to ensure that you kept the population of users that they desired. That's back when Facebook was fun and new, and you could take great joy in sending someone "a poke". It was an easy, indirect way to flirt with people and post all the dumb shit you were doing because, let's face it, college students are the stupidest group of people on earth, and Facebook provided an outlet for their (our) antics.

Since then, the platform has been opened up to all people, and that's part of the problem. When it was all college students, you had a predominantly like-minded body using it: stupid f*****g college students. But since everyone now has access, it has become a place for everyone to be shitty to one another. Just look at all the trash on Facebook these days. Damn it, even governmental organizations are posting things that belong in the movie Idiocracy. Everyone has a voice, but that doesn't mean they should always use it. Sometimes it's best just to STFU. Facebook should've stayed with the college students...because they're stupid like social media.

2. Monetization. Money ruins everything. Correction: the American way of capitalism ruins everything. Facebook gave rise to "The Influencer" and the world has been worse for it since then. So you may be asking, what about all the other platforms, "like TikTok!" or "Snapchat," or "Instagram", or whatever other ridiculous, mind-destroying platform there is out there. You may also think that, "Wow, I really love all of those platforms!" No, they propagate stupidity, and you are dumber for it. Stop using them immediately, and it doesn't really matter what the platform is because they all function the same way.

All of these platforms make money off advertising revenue and capturing your data to better sell you shit you don't need. So, the monetization of social media has vastly deteriorated the welfare of everyone that uses it.

3. Mental Health. Social media doesn't make you feel good about yourself or others. Frankly, it has an inverse effect. I don't know anyone who feels better after wasting time on social media. If you do, you're a sociopath. It has been proven repeatedly that the use of it increases rates of depression and potentially contributes to increased suicide among youth. The worst part is all of these companies know what they're doing to people, and they don't care. The only solution to reining them in is government intervention, and because of lobbying, they don't do anything about it. Our politicians just keep gargling the balls of all of these tech bros.

The Real Alternative

In getting back to my original point, I started a simple, unadulterated blog to avoid the pitfalls of the aforementioned blight of mankind. I know people are looking for real connection and something that is real. Not the filtered, monetized garbage that you get everywhere else.

The other reason I write is purely because I want to, and if people read it, great! If not, that's OK too because you still have that freedom to choose without the nagging thought that some AI may be forcing you into it. So, help me help you. Read something real. And maybe, just maybe, someday you can throw a little cash my way to support the effort. I mean, I hate the monetization of the internet, but a dad's still gotta buy pepperoni pizza and camper fuel. Kidding... mostly.

Dad out.

I Might Be Autistic.

That's a pretty bold statement from Beard-Dad! That "might" also might be doing a lot of heavy lifting because I probably am autistic.

When our youngest was born, she seemed relatively typical, if not overly subdued. Pretty nice, right? Nice to have a baby that rarely cries and isn't overly stimulated... except for the occasional instance where she would just start crying at random and would go on for prolonged periods of time without any sign of a trigger.

That's normal, right?

That should have been the first red flag, but as parents, how would you know anything is a little different without it being apparent?

The "Different" Track

By the time she was one, we came to the difficult realization that she was exceptionally delayed. Not crawling, not babbling, not responding to her name... she just wasn't doing much of anything. So, we contacted a local county organization that helps kids with delays get on the right track... or a different track. (I could probably make a whole other post about what "right" actually is or isn't).

Anyway, early in this process, my wife and I came to the conclusion that we should probably have her evaluated. What we really thought was: she needs to be evaluated for autism. If your memory is better than mine—which I'm betting it is—remember my wife is a pediatric occupational therapist. She knows.

So, being the good parents that we are, we got an appointment with our local children's hospital neurology department. The wait times for the autism clinic were over a year to be seen (read my take on healthcare in The Burden of Care). These insanely long wait times prompted us to get into neurology because we had potential concerns for other neurological deficits. I believe the wait time for that clinic was a "short" 6 months. Oh boy!

Without further boring you with the mundane details, she was subsequently diagnosed with autism and global developmental delay, which often go hand in hand.

The Light-Bulb Moment

You might be wondering why I'm going into the long, drawn-out backstory about my daughter and her diagnosis. It's because, being the overly curious person that I am, I began to notice a pattern in all the related educational materials about autism.

Most of what I was reading painted a picture of my own life and the things that I've experienced. Imagine, if you will, me sitting at my computer, digesting all of this information, and a light-bulb instantly pops over my head! (Or an exclamation point for all of you weird nerds out there).

"Ah ha!" I thought, "I might be autistic." And, as my wife can attest to, I am almost always right. If you're reading this, honey, I love you, and you're always right.

So with my newfound revelation, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery. Just kidding, I opened up Dr. Google and went to work. There are many great resources for individuals looking for answers in their own lives. Specifically, Embrace Autism has amazing screening tools that you can use (for free) to see if you have the potential of being on the spectrum.

Disclaimer: No, they are not paying me for this bump, and I have no affiliation... but I'm open to it! (wink, wink) Ironically, my wife sent this site to me somewhat as a gaffe because she had received it through work channels. Well, the joke's on you, babe; I took those tests and scored so well that I would put Trump's cognitive scores to shame.

Putting It to the Test

In reality, test after test strongly suggested that I'm probably autistic. Recently, I again took three surveys: the AQ, RAADS-R, and the CAT-Q. I'll share the most recent results with you now.

1. The AQ (Autism Spectrum Quotient) According to Embrace Autism, this is "A general overview of autistic traits across communication, social interaction, attention, and thinking style." Neat. I thought I blew this out of the water. I took it intending to prove how non-autistic I am. Wrong. You would think higher scores are good, right? I learned as early as kindergarten to always do my best and get a high score. Shoot, games are also based on the premise of getting high scores. Also, wrong.

Huh.

Must be an anomaly. Let's take another one.

2. The RAADS-R Next on the autism train of self-discovery, I took the Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale Revised. That one is not fun to type out. Once again, Embrace Autism explains, "A detailed look at autistic patterns across your life. This test was developed to identify high-masking autistics as well." Surely, you don't hide your perceived autism, Beard-Dad, you're so "normal." Well, I might be autistic, and don't call me Shirley. Double "huh." Let's see what my score says.

Well, shit. Could just be a coincidence, right?

Wrong again!

3. The CAT-Q The third test I took today was the Camouflaging Autistic Traits Questionnaire. What does Embrace Autism say about this one? "Explore how you adapt or mask/camouflage autistic traits in daily social situations." Pfffft. Get outta here, I'm not "masking" anything. Let's see the score.

Oh. Maybe this one is inverse, and higher means lower?

...Well, shit. There ya have it.

Connecting the Dots

I took all of these tests and more previously and just so happened to be in therapy at the time. What providence! Remember, I was diagnosed with a chronic illness, had a major life change with retirement, and shortly after that, had a profoundly autistic child. So you could say it was good for me to talk to someone.

I approached my therapist about it, and she also felt like this revelation wasn't so unfounded, although it was beyond her scope of practice to officially diagnose autism.

You may be curious if I've sought out a diagnosis. I haven't because, as stated previously, I'm cheap and this is one of those things insurance doesn't cover. Maybe someday...

I haven't taken this many tests since college, so that's all the personal insight I'm giving you today, but I think we have a major takeaway: I might be a little neuro spicy! This explains a lot in my life. This also confirms a hunch that I've had for some time: the Army is autistic. (I'll elaborate more in a future post).

More importantly, all of this gives me a little bit better perspective of my daughter and what she may be experiencing, especially because she can't voice it. It's important to remember that we're all different in different ways, and we all bring gifts to the table no matter how apparent or hidden they may be. We just have to look.

Dad Out.

It's come to my attention that a few of my posts have disappeared! My sincerest apologies. Unfortunately, this is part of the experience with a single-point developer, writer, and manager of an unpopular blog page. I'm still living in the early 2000s, baby! Please peruse the restored and NEW posts below, as I had recently transitioned to a new framework and something was "lost in the sauce." Again, my apologies, and enjoy the unfortunate machinations of my life.

Dad out.

Beard-Dad: What Do You Do Every Day?

Seriously, without work, what do you do? My wife can definitely tell you, as she is relentless in her quest to fill every minute of time to the max. Which leads me to my question for other people: what do you do all day?

Every time this question comes up, I'm often reminded of the line from Office Space, "What would you say you do here?" I love "The Bobs." Seriously though, this is a true curiosity of mine. This is also a question I continuously ask myself as it pertains to my own situation.

Like I've said before, I am an Army Veteran. While in the service, I was constantly busy; workdays would often span out into all seven days of the week. When I had just a moment's free time, I wouldn't want to fill it with chores or additional work. I wanted to relax. Reasonable, right? Wrong. According to my wife, relaxation is a myth.

Now, I could get away with the proverbial lazy day now and again before marriage, but after, my days of quiet relaxation were quickly gone. Since kids entered the mix, relaxation really has become a mythic endeavor. This sounds like a dig on marriage, my kids, and my wife. It's not, and I'll tell you why. Being the way she is makes me a better person; I get more done, and I like to think I do the same for her.

I believe there are several different types of people in the world when it comes to rest, relaxation, and filling time—and all of them can complement each other. Let's explore.

The Lazy POS (LPOS) This one might be the most obvious. Some people we know are just lazy pieces of shit. There's no working around it. Now, I think there is some value in learning what makes someone a Lazy POS. Do they have a mental or chronic disease? Are they allergic to work and activities? I hear work allergies become really strong in the summer. But we've all come across someone in our work or social lives that's just plain lazy. In the work environment, these people are horrid to work with because they always take the path of least resistance, even if it's a path to nowhere.

In social circles, this individual may be a little harder to spot, but often you can tell (at least in dad-world) by the state of their lawn. Yes, dads love a well-manicured lawn. Our partners might believe we take lawn care so seriously because we love it. Not true. We love lawn care because of the solitude. What I've learned over time is that most kids fit into the "Lazy POS" category. Those little turds will find every excuse not to do something, even when it's to their benefit. There aren't a whole lot of kids that want to do lawn work, hence the solitude.

There are a few exceptions to the lawn rule: the elderly, the indigent, and the overly busy individual. I could go on about those subcategories, but I think you get the point. These individuals can be incredibly hard to identify as they have become masters at doing nothing but making it look like they do. I'm not going to name names, but if you're reading this, you know who you are.

The Party Animal (PA) The Party Animal is someone who loves to be around other people, and when they aren't at work (around other people), they fill their free time with... other people. I understand this one the least, as I absolutely do not like being around people. I already know what you're thinking: "Oh, wow, Beard-Dad is a curmudgeonly old curmudgeon."

False. I am not. What I am is probably an extreme introvert. It's not that I dislike people. Quite the contrary, I like most people I meet. The only issue here is that being around people saps all of my energy, quickly. Think of me as a car battery in -30 degree weather. I still want to work, but I'll fade fast.

Despite my inappropriate desire to be by myself, I still recognize that other people don't like to be hermits. So, what are the hallmarks of the Party Animal? First, it is the complete inability to be alone. These folks absolutely can't function by themselves. I know that's an exaggeration, but their mental and physical well-being quickly deteriorates if they aren't around at least one other person. Does this mean that every Party Animal likes to party? Nope, but they absolutely thrive in that environment and actually get energy from being around others. It's insanity.

The second hallmark of the Party Animal is that, much like the Busy Body, they always have to be doing something—but with one major difference. The Party Animal only engages in activities that involve being around other people. If you need a perfect example, think of escape rooms. Talk about a nightmare for me: being locked in a room with others whom you may or may not know or like. Torture. But not for the Party Animal! Again, I think most kids fall into this category because they are always up my ass.

The Busy Body (BB) These people are weird, but I've been surrounded by them for most of my life, so I have some insight. Both my wife and brother fall into this category in the truest sense. These individuals thrive on to-do lists and constantly need something to do, even when it isn't fun.

I don't know why, but in my conversations with Busy Bodies, they have alluded that being this way brings no satisfaction. It's more of a compulsion, and when they complete a task, they have a very short-lived feeling of happiness, but only in the fact that they finished something. For them, it is more about the destination instead of the journey. They are never satisfied.

Other traits of the Busy Body include a lack of hobbies. They don't have hobbies because they "don't have time for hobbies." Which is BS, because their hobby is being busy. These people tend to be incredibly successful in their chosen endeavors because they doggedly pursue them, often to their own detriment. But hey, at least they get some shit done.

I do love this category, probably because I'm not one and it creates a little jealousy. Kids are also Busy Bodies, because they are always giving me stuff to do. You might be asking why. It's because their lack of ability makes me do their desired tasks for them.

"Daddy, can you open this for me?" "Daddy, can you play with me?" "Daddy..."

The list goes on forever.

The No Work All Play (NWAP) These are some unique individuals. Contrary to the Busy Body, these folks only want to engage in leisure activities, with or without people, which separates them from Party Animals. Gamers—which I am—definitely fall into this category. These folks just want to do fun things or things that interest them. It doesn't always involve screens, but can also translate to outdoor activities or pseudo-academic pursuits.

Think of professional rock climbers, cyclists, or willful participants in any sport; they will typically fall into the NWAP category. Does this mean that they are also Lazy POSs? No, because these individuals work exceptionally hard at playing. Unlike Lazy POSs, their pursuits are met with the same energy as the Busy Body completing tasks. There is a high probability that these individuals fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. They are usually quite passionate about their interests and won't waste an opportunity to tell you about them in great detail, regardless of your feigned interest or lack thereof. I am definitely a NWAP. Infer what you will, because I don't really care what you think.

Kids are also NWAPs, as their pursuits tend to lean toward what they consider fun. Unfortunately, things that they most often consider fun, I don't.

Borings (Bs) This is somewhat of an unfair title, but unfortunately, it is very accurate. The Boring is simply that: boring. This is the personality type that I interact with the least, but not intentionally. I find that this is the rarest of all categories. Is everyone boring to someone else? Absolutely, because not everyone shares the same interests. But the Boring just doesn't do much or have any interests. These individuals just kind of exist.

One of the biggest identifiers of a Boring is that they don't have anything to talk about, ever, because they don't engage in anything. Oftentimes they are toted along to events by Party Animals simply because of their proximity or out of pity.

The really odd thing about the Boring is that they don't care either way. Think of this person as indifferent to everything. It's not that they're Lazy POSs, because they usually find an occupation and do well enough, but their occupations tend to be pretty mundane and then they don't pursue much outside of it. My description of the Boring might be a little harsh, but in my interactions with them, they fully comprehend and identify as being... boring. It's just totally foreign to me.

I think kids are super boring, but I don't believe they predominantly fall into this category. They are always doing things that kids definitely don't think are boring by any means.

"But Beard-Dad, you've incorporated kids into every category, why not this one?!"

Why? Because I'm fair and objective, unlike Fox News; get off my case!

The Wrap-Up This was a fun excursion into the intricacies of differing personalities! Much like a Myers-Briggs test, I even broke these down into acronyms so you can code people based on their personality types! I'm an LPOSNWAP. What's yours?

As always, I know that I say a lot of this in jest, but I have a few points.

I think it's important to try and understand the ones you love. What are their motivations? Why do they do the things they do, even when it drives you crazy? I think we often struggle to get along because we are so absorbed with ourselves that we fail to understand the very real and important traits of others. Try to discover who they really are.

Kids are all of these things because they haven't been fully developed into their ultimate persona yet. Tabula rasa, if you will (blank slate). It's a really cool thing to see different personality traits emerge, but I think it's even cooler that these little monsters are so open to all of the wonders of the world without self-imposed limits yet.

I'm done melting your brains for the day, so I'll leave you with this: Just because we're all different doesn't mean we don't have to be kind to one another. In the future, before jumping to conclusions, try and think about the personality type you're dealing with and the struggles they may be experiencing because of it.

Dad out.

Take the BeardDad Personality Test here

I’m sorry for my absence. We were away undertaking one of America's finest family traditions: the family camping trip. We bought a 24-foot travel trailer about three years ago and have made it a point to actually use it. We strictly go "glamping" because I'm a diva and I need that 30-amp service to run my AC! Unfortunately, we also have to take our kids, which I suppose is the entire point of a "family camping trip." I've camped both with and without children, and I have to say the latter is a much better experience, but we persevere regardless.

Based on our experience camping with children—one of whom has a rather significant disability—I feel like it's my duty to offer some friendly advice for anyone considering such an endeavor.

Tip 1: Remember your chargers. Reaching many of our favorite campsites requires towing the camper, which slows down travel significantly. Thus, you need a constant stream of entertainment to occupy those active little minds. If you don't, they quickly turn feral, and your car will soon devolve into a very bad screamo concert. And unless it’s Wage War or Lorna Shore, that’s a concert you didn't want to attend—nor pay for, because let's face it, just having kids around costs money. Therefore, it is IMPERATIVE that you remember to bring chargers for all the devices that keep those wannabe vocalists busy for the duration of the trip.

How do I know this? We forgot to bring the charger for literally three iPads that we use in beautiful harmony to bring us the only peace we'll have on our vacation. It's a quiet bliss only penetrated by the soft dueling of different kids' shows being played at the exact same time. You know what I don't hear during this time? Whining, complaining, "How much longer?" and "Can we have a snack?" The answer will always be "no!" to all of those things, including requests for time, as you can clearly see it on the dashboard screen. Open your flipping eyes!

We started with only one iPad that had an 80% charge, so I eventually caved and bought an overpriced charging cable from a gas station. Not my finest moment, but you have to do what you can to survive. In the future, just remember your chargers.

Tip 2: Wear your kids out. Our youngest child can be kind of a pain in the ass. She's non-verbal autistic with a global developmental delay. What does that mean to you? Absolutely nothing, because she isn't yours. But for us, it means lots of experimental parenting. I say "experimental" because typical styles of parenting just don't work on this kid. For example, when we tell our oldest daughter it's time for bed, you know what she does? She goes the f*** to sleep. You know what our youngest does? She throws a rave in the camper while we are just trying to get some much-needed downtime around a cozy fire.

It's not that she isn't tired, oh no. It's that she's so excited about camping that she physically can't sleep. Yelling doesn't work, gentle pats on the butt don't work, and laying down with her doesn't work. Nothing works except waiting her out... or does it?

No, it doesn't. You know what we made these kids do the next day after a night of waking up to "ga ga ga, da, eyes, wook!"? We took a two-mile hike through some hilly woods, followed by more walking, and an afternoon in the pool. It all sounds fun, right? Yes, but fun isn't the only goal here. The primary objective is to exhaust those tiny parasites so they go to sleep. And it worked; that night and every subsequent night, they went right down. Other acceptable forms of "wearing your kids out" include forced ruck marches, running laps until you get tired (your kids are the ones running the laps), and burpees until, again, you get tired. All proven methods.

Tip 3: Bring reinforcements. My in-laws also enjoy camping and, much to our surprise and joy, they also like our kids (their grandkids). I'm still trying to figure out why. Anyway, the one trip where we all went camping together was amazing. When you inevitably get tired of your kids—which typically happens in the first five minutes—you just send them to grandma and grandpa's camper! Often, when we go to retrieve our human luggage, they're having a grand ol' time without Mom and Dad. It makes me think they conspire to make us miserable on purpose, as we always get glowing reports about their behavior from the grandparents. Hmm.

I know it sounds like a no-brainer, but bring someone to watch your kids while you do absolutely nothing, read a book, or even take a nap. The only caveat here is that you want to bring someone who actually likes your kids; otherwise, you're just adding another whining voice to the cacophony of misery.

Tip 4: Give them ice cream daily. I know what you're thinking: "Ice cream every day? That's horrible, we should call CPS on Beard-Dad!" First off, no. Second, hear me out. Who is ever sad when eating ice cream? The answer is no one (at least, no one you ever want to be around). Even the mere thought of getting ice cream puts kids into a trance-like euphoria where they'll pretty much do whatever you tell them.

"Go clean up or we can't get ice cream." "OK, Daddy!"

It works absolute wonders, and the best part is, you get to have ice cream too. Everyone wins. If you're lactose intolerant, your toilet won't, but it's worth it.

Those are all the tips I'm willing to share for free. Any more and I'm going to have to start a premium tier to give you the real tricks of the trade. Kidding... for now.

I know I say a lot of silly things and gripe a lot about the frustrations that come with child-rearing. But, in the end, it's all incredibly worth it to witness firsthand the core memories the girls are creating with us. There is a special kind of magic that comes with family trips, regardless of the headaches. So, my last tip is simple: cherish these moments and memories, for they are fleeting and can only be captured once in a lifetime.

Dad out.

I'm currently sitting in a doctor's office. This isn't a new occurrence. In fact, if waiting rooms offered loyalty points like a credit card, I’d be in the titanium high-roller tier. This is often the theme with chronic illness: time and burden.

It's a burden for me; it's a burden for my loved ones, as it often takes me away from them and the many happenings in their lives. It's a burden for the caregivers and the system as a whole because of the financial cost and the fact that our healthcare system is extremely overwhelmed. Not only that, but it is all just... a burden.

We are very fortunate in the sense that we have insanely good healthcare. Like, really good. If we had to pay for my annual care out of pocket, it would be close to half a million dollars, and that's just for regular treatments and checkups. But we only have to pay a maximum of $3,000 annually. Woohoo!

I’ve had over 21 personal doctor visits in the past year alone. That doesn’t include the ER or urgent care runs. That’s nearly two a month. Two a month might not sound terrible, but keep that schedule for eight years continuously and tell me how it feels.

You might be thinking that I'm completely full of it, and you know, that's a fair assumption. "Oh, so just because you see a lot of doctors, you're an expert?" Yes. Damn right!

It is exhausting for all the reasons I listed above, AND I'm still sick! Bobby Brokearm gets to go to the doctor for an acute injury, get some physical therapy, and actually get better. That doesn't happen for me. I don't get better, and I am excellent at following orders. All of this is just to stymie a rapid descent into disability.

So, yeah, I'm an expert. Said in Keanu Reeves' best John Wick voice. Let me tell you why.

I am a casual observer of all the systemic problems in health care. I often hear people say, "I'm glad we don't have socialized healthcare! America is the best!" First off, pull your head out of your ass and do a little research and traveling. Our healthcare is NOT the best. Sure, we attract plenty of top doctors because of capitalism. Most people like to be compensated well, and if the opportunity is there, they will take it. Does that mean that everyone gets to see those doctors? Nope! Be prepared for months-long wait times all while you gradually sink into medical despair. This point is exceptionally ironic because "wait times" is one of the largest reasons people are against socialized medicine.

Now, I'm not saying that other doctors are bad. Quite the contrary, in my vast experience, most doctors I've dealt with have been excellent. Most. BUT, you'll still experience insanely long scheduling times to see them too. Why? Because, as I've stated before, the healthcare system is overburdened. Is this the fault of the doctors? Absolutely not. It's the fault of the capitalist system that's invaded healthcare.

"OMG, Beard-Dad, are you a commie bastard?!" First off, kindly direct your head to the nearest garbage disposal. Second, no. I just don't think profiteering belongs anywhere near healthcare. It muddies the waters and provides poor patient experience and high physician burnout.

What is one of the first questions someone is asked when seeing the doctor? "Do you have insurance, and what insurance do you have?" Why TF does it matter? (I'm well aware they need to know who to bill... besides me.) Help me without my quality of care being affected by the insurance I carry. Many people will tell me that it doesn't matter. Those people are called liars, as I've witnessed this repeatedly firsthand. The extent of my care is based specifically on what my insurance "covers". Which, lucky for me, is just about everything!

Which leads me to the crux of this specific observation. I'm on socialized healthcare. It's true! The government has set prices on my behalf, negotiated drug costs to almost nothing for me, and carries the brunt of the financial burden.

The VA is the truest version of socialized medicine in the country, and ya know what? I get the same level of care there that I do in the civilian systems.

One of the weirdest reasons I'm an expert on healthcare is that I usually know more about my disease than many of the doctors I see. I get it; unless you're a neurologist or someone specializing in MS, you probably aren't going to be too knowledgeable on it. Here's the problem with that. Oftentimes, my MS overlaps with other ailments that are written off by doctors under the umbrella of having MS.

• "Numbness and tingling? Probably the MS."
• "Gastrointestinal issues? MS."
• "Your body hurts? Just part of the MS."

It drives me crazy when I see a specialist and this is their default conclusion without even giving me a proper exam. I will concede that most of the time they will do appropriate testing, but their initial inclination is always, "Oh yeah bro, MS. Duh."

Well. That's about it. I'm going to continue waiting to see this doctor as I have been waiting for the last two hours. And I'm not counting the four months it took to get this appointment. Why? Because I'll continue to take care of myself the best way I can, even when the system is as broken as my body. I also want to offer a sincere thank you to all the doctors, nurses, and professionals that have helped me and continue to do so because they're good people. Thank you for consistent work in trying to make me feel better. Your efforts are noticed and appreciated. Just stop telling me, "It's the MS."

Dad out.