“Sure thing, Fred. Your car not running today?”

“Car’s fine. My wife has it today. She’s driving my daughter to her new private school.”

“You’re sending your daughter away to school?”

“Had to. All summer long she’s been dressing like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, showing her navel to every boy that comes along.”

“And you think private school is the answer?”

“Not just a private school Harry. It’s a girls school, located in the Northern Yukon. A few days in sub zero weather surrounded by Canadians should teach her something about modesty and decency.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on her, Fred? After all, she’s only seventeen.”

“It’s a sick world out there, Harry. Every day our children are exposed to near-naked bodies gyrating to the latest tunes by Pantera and Project Logic with DJ Logic on MTV. The government won’t do anything about it, so a father has to put his foot down if he wants to raise his kids right.”

“Uh, uh. Say, Fred, are you coming to the yearly “boys night out” at my mountain cabin this Labor Day Weekend? All the guys will be there. We’ll fish all day, and maybe catch some of the shows playing nearby at night. Ray Charles will be playing the local amphitheatre, and I think Agents Of Good Roots and The Alarm 2000 will both be within driving distance.”

“I’d like to, Harry, but I already made plans to go to Nevada.”

“Las Vegas? Reno?”

“No, Burning Man.”

“Isn’t that the yearly gathering in the desert, where 30,000 or more people create an “instant community,” with no rules or regulations? They won’t have any concerts like Sting or Don Henley, but they’ll have their own newspaper, radio station, even their own television station.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, Harry. I’m going for the nude mudbathing. Of course, if you run into my wife this week, mum’s the word. She thinks I’m going to your cabin while she spends the weekend with her girlfriends seeing The Bouncing Souls and Mike Watt.”

“Let me see if I understand this. You’re sending your daughter to a private girls school because she dresses like the latest teeny-bop sex symbols, yet you’re going to spend the weekend in the desert running around naked with strangers while your wife thinks you’re at my cabin.”

“That’s about the gist of it.”

“I gotta hand it to you, Fred. You’re one in a million.”

“What can I say? It’s not easy being a father, you know.”