Lee Kohn at 70, or, if the world converted its primary energy source from petroleum to fart jokes there would be universal peace

On November 3rd, both the great fulgelhornist, Chuck Mangione and my father, Lee (short for Lee) Kohn will celebrate their birthdays. My father is a year older than Mr. Mangione and would have told him where to shove his flugelhorn if they had gone to high school together (answer: where the sun don't shine).

My father's influence has been vast. Andrew Richman probably would be half the man his is today if it weren't for my father. Ed Brant would have never learned the word "pisser." Rebekah Klipper would have far less jewelry. Berlin, NJ would still be receiving their gold purchases in brown paper bags.

My father has an active and inventive mind. I have hung around my fare share of dads over the years, and generally, they put their mental energies towards your typically fatherly obsessions- golf, piss-poor carpentry, pondering the best shortstops throughout the history of the Phillies franchise (answer: Dickie Thon). These were not activities that ever interested Lee Kohn. Instead, my father has spent much of his down time doing one of the following:
1. Napping: No man can match the athletic prowess that my father shows in his napping abilities. Even Cathy is outmatched.
2. Watching cooking shows: He can watch a mean cooking show. I have only really seen him "cook" boiled hot dogs, shrimp scampi, and an occasional bloody mary, but the amount of cooking he should have amassed over the years would put Emeril to shame.
3. Mediocre financial planning: My father is a champion average investor. Ask him for advice, he will give it to you.
4. Getting manicures: the man likes well-maintained nails, what can I say.
5. Coming up with jokes/stories/insults that would appeal to a 13 year old boy/Andrew Richman: Seriously, my father is king of the bathroom humor which makes him my hero.
This final (and most important) time-consumer leads me to one of my father's greatest inventions, and one of the true great ideas of the last century:

ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, SICK THING!

When we were young children, the Kohn family (Sherry, Lee, Rebekah, and yours truly) would take long and painful vacations to such educational destinations as Williamsburg, VA (I purchased a clay pipe, Bekah scowled), Bar Harbor (I purchased tadpoles, Bekah scowled) Niagara Falls (fresh peaches! Bekah scowled) and many a colonial military base (I purchased a fife, Bekah scowled). On these excruciatingly long car rides, my father had to come up with something, anything to keep Bekah from abusing her poor, innocent brother, and thus, the game "Animal, Vegetable Sick Thing" was born. The rules are as follows:

1. Basically, the game runs exactly like "Animal Vegetable, Mineral" but "Mineral" is replaced by "Sick Thing" since seriously, nobody wants to try to figure out that you are thinking of zinc.

2. You get 20 questions, or actually you get as many questions as you want since the Kohn's were never really that good at math.

3. Although the answer might be anything that falls under the three main catagories, the truth is, the answer is always:
1. Enema Bag
2. Diarrhea
3. Vomit
4. Fart
5. Poop (while you might think diarrhea and poop would be the same, they, in fact, warrant their own categories.

And that is the game. The key to winning the game is not getting the answer, but asking the grossest leading question to get to the answer.

Example round (answer is fart)

Bek: Does Josh smell like this?
Dad: yes
Josh: Did Bek just do this?
Dad: Yes
Bekah: When Josh trys to be cool, does this sometimes happen?
Dad: yes
Sherry: Is is a birthday cake?
Dad: no
Josh: Is it ugly like Bek's face
Dad: yes
Bek: Do you want to stay away from it like all of Josh's "friends"
Dad: yes
Bek: Is it a fart
Dad: YOU WIN.

As you can see, my father is a great man.

Happy 70th pop. I hope you eat a lot of meat and do not let one damn vegetable on your plate.