“In life or death situations, my father has only been there once for me. So I'd like to tell him thanks for not pulling out when I needed him the most: conception.”

“Do I look like someone you know? Well you don’t know me, so why don’t you go bother my clone? And if you do see my clone, tell him I should have made an omelet out of him when I had the chance.”

“I really relate to you,” I said to my dad. “I can tell we’re in the same boat, because I’m rowing.” When I found out I was going to be a father, I wanted to meet a man I’d never met—my dad, who also just found out he was a father when I introduced myself. I never got to tell him I loved him before he died, but from the way I gently but forcefully held his head underwater, I think he could tell.”

“I moved my hand in and out of the shadow and pondered life and death. Then I put on my lipstick, pulled up my pants, and got back to work.”

“I couldn’t have pulled it off if you hadn’t have pulled out all those years ago. So thanks, dad.”

“Jarod Kintz was born in Salt Lake City to a family of five. One father, and four mothers. Jarod moved around a lot as a kid, but eventually ended up in the middle bedroom. Being an only child, Jarod has been known to tell people, “I’m genetically half non-existent, on my brother’s side.” Well, enough about me, let me tell you about my work. Actually, I'll let it speak for myself. So read it and find out what it says. Or, rather, what I say it says.”

“If you expect others to think for you, then you expect others to live your life for you. And I’m sorry, but the only person I’ll let live my life for me is my clone. He thinks like me, so I’m OK with him thinking for me.”