Even

My father died on June 12, 1996. On the scale of things that's a pretty even number.

6-12-1996.

Casanova died on June 4, 1798.

6-4-1798

It's strange how things crop up like that. Especially even numbers. I avoid the even numbers as much as possible. Give me a one or a three or a five any day. Keep the sixes and twelves and eights to yourself.

666 - I don't need to explain the significance.

Casanova slept with 122 women.

He wrote his memoirs in 12 volumes.

He died on June 4, 1798.

Of course it's possible he didn't sleep with 122 women, in fact it's probable that he didn't. So then why 122?  Why 12 volumes? Too tired to write the 13th? Not happy with the way the eleventh volume ended?

It doesn't matter, my father still died on June 12, 1996.
You can't change that.  I've tried.  
I could write this sentence one thousand times:

My father did not die on June 12, 1996.

It doesn't change anything, does it? Did you feel the Earth move? Did the stars rotate wildy around, reversing the order of the universe? No, I didn't think so.