Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride

from July 8, 2007

Mr. Know-It-All is back, baby, and I ain’t writing about a monkey movie. (What was that shit anyway?) I was away for a while because my “family” decided that I was drinking too much and they sent me to some rehab place. Turns out it was the same one Lindsey Lohan was sent to, and you know how well it turned out for her. So here I am with my all-new advice. (My first advice is to you, the readers- don’t read this shit.)

This first question really struck a chord with your ol’ pal:

 DEAR ABBY: I am being married this summer. It will be a fairly large wedding with 185 guests. My fiance’s parents and grandparents are very supportive. The problem is my mother. She’s an alcoholic.

When she drinks she can’t stop, and usually becomes angry and belligerent. She will cause a scene and beg people for money. If she doesn’t get exactly what she wants when she wants, she throws temper tantrums and has been known to become violent.

Mom has promised me she’ll refrain from drinking at my reception, but neither my fiance nor I believe her. What are my options at this point? Should I allow her to come, with the risk that she’ll ruin our big day? Or should I bar her from the reception?

Keep in mind that Mother was drunk during my entire high school graduation party. My friends and teachers who were there could see her bloodshot eyes and smell the alcohol on her breath. She was rude to everyone. I had a collage of their pictures on display, and she spent most of her time at the party coloring over their faces. It was the most embarrassing experience of my life. I am terrified of what she’ll do at my reception. — BRIDE IN THE MIDWEST

Change “she” to “he” and “mother” to “Mr. Know-It-All” and you have a pretty good picture of my life. My advice? Let her come. Let her drink all she wants. In fact, do what they did to Mr. T on the A-Team whenever they wanted him to fly- spike her drink. After the first drink she’ll fall asleep and then the party can continue. I have missed a ton of boring family events because of this, and I can’t tell you how happy I am. If you ever want to torture Mr. K-I-A just stick him at a family affair.

I was at my cousin’s high school graduation party last month. It was a pool party and all of her college-age friends were there, along with two of her hot young teachers. Everything went great until I woke up in the pool with somebody’s bra on my head. God I hope that wasn’t my cousin’s.

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DEAR ABBY: My husband, “Jack,” and I have been together for 14 years. We were married for seven years, then divorced and got back together six months after we split. We remarried three-and-a-half years ago.

We have two beautiful children and are happily married this time around — except for one thing. Jack says he wants me to go out and find a boyfriend. He says he wants me to be happy, that I am his entire world and he loves me so much he can’t envision his life without me.

I have told Jack over and over that this wouldn’t make me happy, that I’m happy just being with him. He continues to say the offer is there if I decide to take him up on it. He doesn’t seem to get that this is HIS fantasy — not mine. I am deeply hurt that he would want to put me out there like that. I feel as though he doesn’t really care about me and that he’s only concerned about how he feels and what turns him on.

Why would he want me to be with other men if he feels the way he says he does about me? — CONFUSED AND HURT IN FLORIDA

Lady, face it- your husband is gay. Gay! He wants you to have boyfriend so HE can have a boyfriend. But what do you care as long as they fill your holes? DO IT! (My phone number is 555-8705. You sound very vulnerable. I’ll take care of you.)

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DEAR ABBY: I don’t know what to do. My friend “Joe” and I are in sixth grade. We have been friends since the beginning of this year. His friend, “Sierra,” and her friends go to parties where everyone drinks and smokes.

I’m really worried about Sierra, especially because she doesn’t listen to Joe when he asks her to stop. How can I get her and her friends to stop going to these parties? What should I do? — UPSET IN EUGENE, ORE.

No. No no no. You should NOT stop her from going, You should START going! Those parties are great! Sixth grade was where I first tried crystal meth, and look where I am now- an advice columnist! Let me tell you about some other advice columnists. Dear Abby? A hooker. Ann Landers? Busted for dealing pot to minors in a school yard. Harriette Cole? Gave Bill Clinton a hummer in the Oval Office. Sierra does not have a problem, YOU have a problem. Start drinking now! I can’t stress the importance of drinking enough.

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DEAR ABBY: This is in response to “Young Mom in Oklahoma” (May 7), who wrote asking if it was OK to discipline her 4-year-old by smashing his toys with a hammer. Your response was appropriate. However, that mother should be encouraged to attend parenting classes or speak to her son’s pediatrician regarding her problem with how to discipline her son. I am very concerned for the child’s well-being if she even has to ask if it’s OK to smash his toys with a hammer. — A MOM WHO CARES

“A MOM WHO CARES”? Ah, who cares? Ha ha, a little joke. Of course you can smash his toys with a hammer. Smash his race cars, his robots, whatever. Violence is always the best answer to a situation like this. Toughen that little shit up. Teach him right from wrong, that might is right, and that it is a cruel cold world. That’s what happened to me, and that is the reason I am such a masochist today. Just last night I paid a hooker to smash my face with a frying pan and crack eggs on my ass. But that might also be because I have food issues too.

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DEAR ABBY: I am a former junior high and high school teacher. I do not agree with your advice to “Deflowered in Pennsylvania” (May 2), the 28-year-old who made some “poor choices” as a teenager and is no longer a virgin. She is dating “Chris,” a 26-year-old man who is saving himself for marriage and wants to marry a virgin. You told her that because Chris needs time to think about this discrepancy, she should move on.

Abby, the young woman explained that after a religious conversion, she is now saving future sexual activity for marriage. She should not feel devalued. Chris’ response was honest. She needs to allow him to grow and reassess how he treats the value they both agree on — that sex is for marriage.

Remember, Chris said he still likes her and wants to continue dating her. That makes him the one who has opted for no change in the relationship. “Deflowered” should stress to him that she has become that “sweet old-fashioned girl” who upholds traditional values, and that her conversion has helped her to understand the consequences of uncommitted sex. If Chris can broaden his thinking, they might make a great couple. — SWEET OLD GIRL

GAH! The old “saving myself for marriage myth.” This is the god’s honest truth- every woman is a whore. No woman over the age of 16 is going to save herself for marriage (except my mother- she was a saint.) All they want is man-meat! And if they say they’re saving themselves, they are really saving their candy land for a guy with more money or a flashier car or a bigger rod. If this Chris loser still wants to date her then he must be the most desperate tool ever. This girl is playing him! (NOTE- The editors of Mr. Blog’s Tepid Ride wish to stress that Mr. Know-It-All does not reflect any official editorial policy. In other words, don’t complain to bmj2k.)

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DEAR ABBY: I am a professional costume wearer. By that, I mean I have been an elf, a giraffe, a moose, T-Rex and a character for a major hamburger chain. I am presently a character for a major cereal company. Once I am in costume, I am not allowed to speak.

Adults and older children think nothing of hitting me, kicking me, pulling at parts of my costume, and trying to knock me down. One 12-year-old even tried to “head butt” me while his father looked on and encouraged him!

I am in costume for about an hour or so before I can take breaks. It gets hot and sweaty inside these costumes. I have a limited field of vision and can’t see many of the oncoming attacks. Even if I saw each one, I would not be able to say anything to stop or deflect these random attacks. What I do is have a paid “helper” walk beside me. This is now discouraging such actions by adults and children.

I would ask parents to please remember that there are real people inside these costumes, which are not heavily padded. I feel each and every hit and kick as if I were wearing street clothes. Thanks for printing this. — H.S. IN COLORADO

Oh man this is hysterical. Ha! A grown man wearing an elf suit for a living. What a riot! Here is a list of real man jobs- lumberjack, pro wrestler, porn star. Here is a list of not real man jobs- wearing an elf suit, waitress, English teacher. Look feeb, when you put on one of those silly suits you are putting a target on your back. Just go to the real man handbook and look it up- mascots are there to be terrorized, taunted, torn, wedgied, whacked, sodomized, shit on, whatever. Guys who wear those suits are too puny to make it on the team but still want to hang around the locker room, if you know what I mean. Stop being such a cry baby and carry a knife, or better yet a gun. Fire a warning shot over some little kid’s head and he’ll think twice about ripping your tail off.

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Well, I’m out of drugs, out of booze, out of time. Some I’m out of here.

Tags: advice, bad advice, bmj2k, Mr. Blog, Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride, Mr. BTR, Mr. Know-It-All

from November 14, 2006

Time again for Mr. Know-It-All’s favorite column: Mr. Know-It-All.

Once again, I’ll give advice  to those poor souls stupid enough to pour their pathetic hearts out in a national forum. My one regret is that these are anonymous letters. Otherwise they’d get the public shame and humiliation these tools deserve. (Is Mr. Know-It-All harsh? Of course he is. That’s what makes him charming.)

Let’s start it off with my favorite senile throwback to the good old days, the 1950’s. (You remember the 1950’s: When suburbia meant no black people, Jews were kept out of country clubs, women kept house and wore pearls, and McCarthyism ran wild, but damn if everyone didn’t write thank you notes with beautiful calligraphy.) Take it, Ms. Manners.

Dear Miss Manners:

Every morning, I come into work and the woman in the next office says “Good morning,” and I say “Good morning” back. Actually, I’m just not in the mood for good mornings in the morning, but I don’t want to be rude. So, okay, I’m not a very friendly person first thing in the morning. I admit it. Does this ever reach a point where this woman risks being just a tad rude, or at least passive-aggressive, by continuing to say “Good morning”? I never say “Good morning” first and she must have noticed that.

Mr. Know-It-All has often wondered the same thing. Many’s the time when Mr. K would stumble into the office, half-baked after an evening of peyote and Cleveland Steamers, when some tool would have the nerve to come up to him and say “Good  morning.” This aggressive and obnoxious behavior has, more than once, given Mr. Know-It-All pause. “Should I just kill this turd now, or save it for later, when I can put on a mask and possibly get away with it?” Inevitably, Mr. Know-It-All stumbles to his office, falls asleep behind the bookcase, and awakes long after dark when the offender has already left. One must wonder- who actually pays Mr. Know-it-All for that?

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OK, hopefully this next bit will a tad more helpful. From Harriette Cole’s column.

DEAR HARRIETTE: I have just starting dating again after s-o-o-o-o long that I’ve forgotten the basics (or maybe they’ve changed!). I met a girl I really like her and don’t want to louse things up. The first time we went out I wanted to take her hand but didn’t, because I didn’t know if it was acceptable to do so. We did, however, kiss goodbye.

I am meeting her again tomorrow and would like your advice on whether hand-holding is acceptable, expected, a no-no or whatever on a second date. Thanks in advance.

Lawrence, Greenville, Miss

Dear Lawrence. I have taken the liberty of forwarding your letter to AARP. Here is your response from Mortimer Thaddeus Prescott, a spry young gent of 97.

Hello sonny. Holding hands, eh? Back in my day, 1925, we didn’t hold hands until after the wedding night. Back them we didn’t see any skin of the opposite gender until nigh about the fifth anniversary. Ah, I remember my anniversary well. It was 1932 and I had just married my young sweetie Agatha Philbrick, a comely lass from Nantucket whose father was in the whale-oil trade. She came from fine stock, ah yes, and her skin was of the milkiest white and oh her ankles. Many’s the long winter night I was warmed by the thought of her dainty ankle. It kept me moving during the Great War. Now I’m reminded of a scandal back in 1931, when Ebenezer Krumfeld’s dog accidentally got a hold my aunts’ corset. Oh, what a lark we had, chasing the cur hither and dale through the country-wide. Oh, those youthful days of thistle and thyme.

I hope that helps.

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Next, astrology with Eugenia Last. Before we go on, I cannot say more strongly that I do not make up any letters. This letter was actually published. You can find the link from nydailynews.com. This is a real letter. I pray that the letter writer is not serious. (He’s stolen Mr. Know-It-All’s gimmick.)

Q: Dear Eugenia,
Well on Sept 19th my fiancé of 2 years was tragically murdered over a dog that he had nothing to do with. They caught the guy, and charged him with premeditated 1st degree murder. Well after that just last week our next-door neighbor molested my 4-year-old son. I lost my job due to a sickness on Friday. My car broke down and I had to give it back. Is all this going to get better? ????? Am I going to be able to love again? Is my son ever going to forget about this .. Will I be blessed with a job with benefits? I need major help???? Why is this all happening at the same time? Why is this happening to my family and me? Has someone put a curse on us? I DO BELIEVE IN JESUS CHRIST and I do talk to him. I go to church on Sundays. What am I doing wrong????????PLEASE HELP ME???????US???????????
Scorpio

Dear Scorpio. God hates you. You are a loser. You will never be happy. And stop writing to me. Like geez, I get letters like this every damn day! What the hell do you want me to do? Gah! No wonder you have no luck- you are just so damn annoying.

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Well, I’ll give it another shot. It can only get better from here. PET ADVICE!

Name: Melanie Jones
Subject: Anal Sacks
Comments: I have a wonderful dog named Hercules who I adopted from the pound (he is 2.5 years old). We think he is mixed Rottweiler/German Shepard. He is the sweetest dog in the world, but unfortunately has several health problems. Among these are seizures, which are now “under control” thanks to Phenobarbital, and constant tail biting. After taking him to my vet, it was determined that his anal sacks were full and the vet took care of that (ouch!!). One month later, he is not as bad, but I can tell is still very uncomfortable and still bites his tail once or twice per day. It appears that his hind-end may be swollen. The vet suggested that if he continued having problems that they would most likely remove his anal sacks. I was just wondering if anyone knew anything about this problem, the various procedures involved or if anyone has any ideas on how I can make my dog feel better.
Thanks,
Melanie Jones

Heh heh heh- anal sacks! That’s funny! Take it from Mr. Know-It-All, anal sacks are funny. Look at the following example:

“Hi Bob. What’s wrong? You seem a little blue today.”
“Oh, hi Jill. I’m OK. It’s just my darn anal sacks. They feel all swollen again.”
“That’s too bad. I know a dog who had to have his removed.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Say, are we still on for our date tonight?”
“Oh no! I’d never go out with a man with swollen anal sacks!”

And another example:

“Henderson, I need those TPS reports by noon or you’re fired!”
“But sir! I have a doctor’s appointment. I’m having my anal sacks checked.”
“Unless you get those TPS reports done you’ll be out on your anal sacks!”

I could go on forever! Anal sacks! Cracks up Mr. Know-It-All every time!

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Lastly, here is Dear Abbey.

DEAR ABBY: There’s a boy in my class I have known since I was 2. He’s a great athlete, but is a tad bit full of himself. He is always playing mean pranks on me and hitting me up for money, and if I don’t give him money he hits me.

I ask him to stop, but he still does it. Abby, what do you think I should do? — 11 AND FRUSTRATED

I think you should smack him right in the anal sacks.

That’s all. I thank you. And don’t forget- get those anal sacks checked every 6 months. Nothing is more important than your health.

Tags: advice, bad advice, bmj2k, Mr. Blog, Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride, Mr. BTR, Mr. Know-It-All