This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2014, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

We held our last family fireside of the year Saturday night. The entire clan — eight adults, nine hyperactive kids and four of the dumbest dogs in the world — gathered in the backyard.

When the stars came out, we built a fire. The dogs fought, the grandkids ran about and the adults sat wrapped in blankets staring into the flickering marvel of the world's first primitive video game.

Few things make a person more contemplative than staring into a fire. That's when the trouble started. My youngest daughter suddenly confessed to being terrified.

On Thursday, she and her two sisters will stand on a stage at The Depot and roast their father (me) before hundreds of people.

Note: This is the shameless self-promotion part. Tickets for "An Evening with Robert Kirby" are still available at http://bit.ly/1yvKcoK.

"I don't know what to tell them," my daughter said. "Will they want to know the really rude stuff?"

Her sisters reminded her that except for moments of serious injury, this would be a moment when I was completely at their mercy. They should make the most of it.

"Remember when Dad was a cop and he handcuffed that door-to-door magazine salesman to our porch?"

"Yeah, and don't forget when we were little and he would hang us by our feet off that bridge in the canyon."

"Wait! How about the time he tried to get rid of ants in the garden with a bomb and blew himself up?"

The stage fright was suddenly gone and they were now looking forward to telling everyone the top 10 reasons why it bites to be the daughters of a humor columnist.

It could be worse. In fact, it will be worse. My wife will also have her say about appearing in my column. She knows even worse stuff about me. By the time she finishes, I'll probably go drown myself.

My next-door neighbors get a chance for some payback. Geoff Short is my LDS Church bishop. I'm not too worried about him. I stopped telling ecclesiastical leaders my sins a long time ago. His wife Karly is another matter. I suspect she has a darker agenda involving her dogs and my cannons.

There is a bit of a bright spot. Sonny was scheduled to give me a spin over the coals as well, but his mom needed surgery. He's in New Mexico taking care of her.

The Tribune is trying to figure out a way to Skype him into the proceedings. If that happens, I'm truly toast. The statutes of limitations aren't up on some of the stuff he knows about me.

There will probably be others, hopefully none of them former police co-workers, missionary companions, Tavaputs cowboys, and anyone else who's seen me at my absolute worst.

They should be calling this thing "Getting Even with Robert Kirby." Makes more sense. People might actually pay for the privilege.

One thing that everyone should keep in mind, though: Newspaper columnists always have the last word.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley. —

'Evening with Robert Kirby'

I You're invited to "An Evening with Robert Kirby," a celebration of his 20 years at The Salt Lake Tribune and the release of his latest book, "The Essential Kirby Canon." Kirby and The Tribune's Jennifer Napier-Pearce will chat about his life as a columnist and his cheeky observations about all things Utah. You can also expect a cannon video and a bit of roasting.

Join us Thursday, Nov. 13, at 7 p.m. at The Depot, 13 N. 400 West, Salt Lake City. Admission to this family-friendly event is $5 per person. Find ticket information at http://bit.ly/1yvKcoK.