In my 32 years of life, I have sampled my Dad's cooking only once. I guess it was with good reason. His first attempt to cook was a nutritionist's nightmare--and he was just cooking hotdogs.
If you think no one can flub pan-frying hotdogs, you're wrong. My Dad did. He fried them with the individual plastic wrapper still intact. And served the blackened, plastic-wrapped hotdogs to us, his precious children! The funny thing was that he insisted that plastic had nutritional value.
His second attempt to cook last Saturday literally crashed and burned. He was frying tapa, which is tasty dried beef, and had a senior moment. He left the tapa cooking in the pan while he went to his room to watch Harold and Kumar with my brother!
Good thing my brother went out and smelled something burning. He immediately ran to the kitchen to see the it almost half-filled with smoke and turned off the stove. When my Mom learned about it, she was livid and ignored my Dad the whole night.
My Dad officially has AAADD (Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder). And I think he's entitled to it as long as he stays away from the kitchen.