Tag Archives: Mr. Know-It-All

Mr. Know-It-All: I’m OK, You’re an Ass

17 Jun

June 17, 2011

Mr. Know-It-All is rated D for “disgusting.”  And usually “drunk.”

Jeez, what is wrong with you people? Are you really so stupid that you need to write to some half-hobo a-hole on the internet or in the freakin’newspaper for help with your shitty lives? I mean, yeah, idiots like you keep me working, and that’s good because any day I make it in to work is a day I’m not getting fellated by a moose in the gutter.

So before all these pills I just dry-swallowed take me down let’s get to some letters.

Dear Dr. Tracy,
Age: 29 marital status: single, never married
Hello, was hoping to get some advice. I met a guy in college when I was 20. We talked a little bit here and there. I like him alot more than just a friend. I can’t seem to forget him. even though it has been almost 10 years. Since then I dropped out of college. I dont want to be with anyone else. I am convinced I am going to marry him one day and that he is the love of my life. He is now happily married to another girl now. I emailed him in February 2010. He said he didn’t think we should talk becuase he is married now and doesn’t live in this area anymore. What should I do about this situation? should I try to find someone else? I love him though.

Hello backatcha, turd.
Jeez, you give up too damn easy. Can’t you take a hint? He’s married and can’t sneak away, so you have to go to him. Yeah. Look, he can’t up and drive a couple of hours to see you without his wife getting wind of it so you need to do the heavy lifting. Drive out to him, get a hotel room, send him a key. Then find out where he works, show up there. If he says something like he can’t see you because he’s busy, wait in the parking lot by his car. Crouch down so he doesn’t see you until he’s right there. Don’t worry if he calls security, that’s just his cover so none of his coworkers catch on. Call him at home. If his wife picks up, hang up. Keep calling and hanging up until he answers the phone. He sounds like he needs a little confidence boost. Send him clumps of your hair. That’ll prove to him how much he means to you. Tell him you can’t live without him, then that you won’t live without him. Show up at his door, pretend to be from FedEx, give his wife a box of dead roses. She’ll see how serious you are too. Trust your friend Mr. Know-It All, this’ll work out just fine.

Call me when you get out of jail.

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Dear Mrs. Web,
My father and mother just asked me to take care of their dog, again. Toodles is a nasty, yappy, nippy small dog who I cannot stand. They even call this dog my “baby sister”. How can I get out of caring for Toodles?

Easy. Kill the dog. Toss it under a truck, call it an accident, problem solved. Fuck, even wasted as I am and shitting my pants as I type I figured that one out, what’s your excuse?

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Dear Mrs. Web,
I want to send flowers to a woman that I have recently met. What special day should I choose to do so, Easter or Mother’s Day? I am not sending for each occasion.

You’re a real Prince charming, you cheap jackoff. Is she your mother? Read my crusted lips- you send your M-O-T-H-whatever-R flowers on Mother’s Day. Unless you are some kind of freaky adult baby fetish asshole who wants this woman to diaper you don’t send them on Mother’s Day. You MUST send them on Easter, ‘cause Easter is the most romantic day of the year.

And by the way, trust Mr. Know-It-All when it comes to diapers: Fetish now, necessity later. I’ve been crapping into diapers since I lost half of my colon in Viet Nam. (That was 1998.)

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DEAR ABBY: I’m running out of energy to compassionately relate with all the addicts and mentally ill people in my family. My mother is an alcoholic. My aunt is bipolar and schizophrenic. She is addicted to and abusing prescription painkillers and anti-anxiety medicines. My husband is an alcoholic in denial who lies about his alcohol consumption, and my stepmother is mentally abusive and, I strongly suspect, also bipolar. These people are all retired, while I work a physically and mentally demanding full time job. I’m usually the one who is blamed when things don’t go right. Mother asked me to remove all alcohol from her home so
she could stop drinking. When I didn’t find it all, it was my fault she drank. I escorted my aunt on a cruise during which she abused drugs to the point she could barely walk, and I had to find her wheelchairs at every stop. Now I hear she is blaming me for her illness. When my husband drinks, he runs up our credit card to the tune of $20,000. My job with medical benefits allowed him to retire from his job. My stepmother no longer communicates with my brother and me and seems to be alienating my father from his family. I’m exhausted! I don’t think I can take much more. I know you’ll tell me to see a counselor, but I’m the one who has the full-time job and little vacation/sick time I can use. Short of “divorcing” all of them and starting a new life in an undisclosed location, what advice can you offer? — NEARLY SUCKED DRY

Alice? Is that you? How many times do I have to tell you that I DRINK BECAUSE OF YOU????? And keep my mother out of this! If I told you all the times I woke up with the crabs I got from your mother you’d be doing peyote too. God dammit, always the same old thing. You knew I was addicted to addiction when we got married, so shut up and …and ….. oh, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Alice, please… please don’t leave me…. I need you. The liquor store won’t cash my checks anymore.

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DEAR ABBY: What is the protocol when someone is asking to see his mother’s will while she is still in good health? — PONDERING IN PENNSYLVANIA

Heh heh heh, Mr. Know-It-All knows your game. He’s played it before. The protocol is to meet me at Broadway and Seventh at 3pm with an envelope full of unmarked bills. I’ll take care of it for you.

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DEAR ABBY: In our golfing circle there’s a single, 47-year-old professional woman with two children. We thought we knew her. Come to find out, she has been involved for the last five years with a married man who has a child. We’re uncomfortable having her around us now. None of us is perfect, but a woman who would take another’s man and wreck a home is one thing most women can’t stand. What, if anything, should we do? — TEE’D OFF IN ALABAMA

DEAR TEE’D OFF: Before deciding what to do, talk privately with the woman, tell her what you have learned and hear what she has to say about it. After that, you’ll know what (or what not) to do.

Wrong again, Dear Scabby! You know what they should do? NOTHING. It is none of their fucking business. Shut up and golf, Tiger Woods.

So, Alabama, huh? 47, professional, sleeps around. Bet she’s got a nice rack too. I need pictures, an address, and some ED pills. Get on it, would you toots? And hurry up while my syphilis is in remission.

Anyway, I’m done. Your pal Mr. Know-It-All just saw the cops pull up.

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Mr. Know-It-All: Leave Me Alone

12 May

May 12, 2011

Crap. I gotta write? Jeez, Mr. Know-It-All doesn’t write when you tell him to write, he writes when he’s sober enough, which ain’t too often. But I need the money so I’ll try to clear the fog in my brain and ignore the dull thudding ache in my balls long enough to come up with some shit.

And speaking of shit, here’s Dear Abby, who for the first time in her miserable life gets one right.

DEAR ABBY: My husband, “James,” constantly tells me he loves me, but I don’t think I love him. I’m sure most women would love having a man tell them he loves them all the time, but it drives me up a wall. If I walk into a room, James says he loves me. If I leave the room, he says it again. The words have lost their meaning for me, but if I don’t respond in kind, James thinks I’m mad at him. I am emotionally exhausted from having to constantly reassure him. If I try to discuss anything serious, he cries, and that just turns my stomach. I’m not an uncaring, unfeeling person. I’m very emotional, but when a man cries it makes me uncomfortable.

Please don’t suggest counseling. James is a pastor who would want to go to a Christian counselor. That makes me uneasy because he knows all the ones around here. We don’t have much money and no insurance. If I ask for a divorce, it will end his career.

Divorce is not an option for many people, but I don’t want to wake up one morning and realize I have lived my entire life putting myself second. Abby, when is it OK to say this isn’t working? — MISERABLE IN THE MIDWEST

DEAR MISERABLE: Say it now, while there may still be a chance to save your marriage. It is crucial that you find the money you need for nondenominational couples therapy with a licensed professional. Your husband needs to overcome insecurities that may stem from the fact that he feels you becoming increasingly distant, or that may have originated in his youth. And you need to control the impulse to shut down when your husband expresses emotions that make you uncomfortable.

HAH! Finally the old broad gets it! It is the wife’s fault! It is ALWAYS the wife’s fault! Damn pain-in-the-ass-never-cooks-a-decent-meal-always-hides-her-cash-never-willing-to-do-it-in-front-of-the-dog-never-shuts-up-keeps-fighting-with-the-pimp-can’t-stop-trying-to-get-me-to-stop-drinking-shooting-up-autoerotic-masturbating-or-I’ll-kill-myself-wife! Leave me alone bitch! If I wanted someone always on my back I’d have stayed in Cleveland with that tranny who sold me the bad pills. Damn straight I’m not paying for that! What did you put in those things, TNT? I was lying in that puddle for ten hours! Got freakin’ frostbite in my balls, it was so cold, you want me to pay you for that? And what about the crabs you gave me? Shit, maybe I only got one working kidney but I still know what the price of black tar is in Vietnam.

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DEAR ABBY: I am an over-50 “cougar” who has a boyfriend who’s not happy with my looks. He loves all the other aspects of our relationship, but he wants me thinner and prettier. I’ll never look 30 again. What do you think I should do? — BARB IN RENO

Barbarino, I think the problem here is that America doesn’t have a consistent, comprehensive cougar policy. Cougars are usually from about 28-40, 45 max. 50 is pushing it, and when a woman says she’s “over-50” she really means about 68. Give up. You’re not a cougar, you’re some sort of mangy prairie dog.

What I think you should do is shut up and leave me alone.

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DEAR ABBY: I’m a married woman with single and married male friends. I go out for lunches and dinners with all of them. Some live out of state and we email often. I also have outings with female pals, some of whom are lesbians. “Illinois” needs to figure out why he doesn’t trust his wife and his good friend. My husband socializes without me as well. He even goes to lunch sometimes with an old girlfriend. Either you trust your partner or you don’t. — SECURE AND HAPPY IN CALIFORNIA

WHOA WHOA WHOA! Married woman going out with her lesbian friends? Yeah, I’ve seen movies like that. You know why your husband trusts you? He doesn’t. He just says he does so you will trust him. Going out to lunch with an old girlfriend? He’s banging the shit out of her, you idiot.

Mr. Know-It-All would like to join your next “lunch.” I’ve got lube, a camcorder, and a penis pump. I know how to please a lesbian. They don’t call me Fish Fingers for nothing.

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DEAR ABBY: I had an affair a few years ago that lasted a lot longer than it should have. It ended when my lover, “John,” died unexpectedly. The kicker is I was — and still am — married. For the last two years I had wanted to end the relationship, but I couldn’t find the courage to do it on my own. My question is, should I feel guilty for feeling glad that John is dead? I’m glad the affair is finally over, but I feel guilty that death is what ended it and that I didn’t have the courage to end it myself. — CONFLICTED IN SANTA ROSA

What the fuck? Let me read that again.

You were married. You had an affair. You wanted to end the affair but didn’t. The guy died. You are happy but also guilty for feeling happy. Jeez, this is Doctor Phil shit. Unless you’re the one that killed the guy forget it. You are already going to Hell so who gives a crap how you feel? You’re going to burn for eternity anyway. End of conflict.

That’s it, Mr. Know-It-All has reached the end. Not the end of the column, the end of his bottle of gin and antifreeze. I can’t get through a single word of this column without it. I drink enough and I go blind for a couple of hours, pass out, and have no short term memory of writing any of this. OK, things are getting dim, I’m going to crawl under my desk and die.

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