Piece Dee Resistance.

My son will soon return to the unfunny side of Ontario; London; that place where the sun shines last of all on a happy day. I felt that he would need to be given some joyous memories to cleve unto his heart during the less clement of days to come.
So it was that I wracked my brain to come up with that special stuff that only a father and sun can share.
The usual spa day? relaxing under heaps of mud and cucumber face packs. Been done. I thought about picnicking on the eastern slopes of Vanier but both of us are scarred after the last time.
We could go buffalo fart hunting? I always get so squeamish when it comes to skinning a captive fart. It came to me then in a blinding flash of light and I knew it would be good.
I called to he that named himself son and explained that we could rush out to the bay sing ribald songs, exchange tall tales of the vapid and the vanquished then, the Piece Dee Resistance, squat and enjoy a damn good shit together. What more could a son ask? what more could a father give? I have not seen junior since.
I dont understand.