Worst advice columnist ever: Dear Blabby

dear-blabbyI probably should have mentioned this earlier but, yes, in addition to my mad skills as a highly paid, semi-professional op-ed pundit, I am also (seek counseling) a certified advice columnist.

However, due to my late start in this time-honored profession, I am quite possibly one of the worst advice columnists of all time.

First some important guidelines: Please limit all questions to 25,000 words or less. And please refrain from any queries involving cough medicine, gnomes or three-wheeled bicycles.

Also a disclaimer: The advice offered herein is for entertainment purposes only. We are in no way legally or morally responsible for any person, personage or corporate entity who acts on aforementioned advice only to have it blow up in their face. There, that ought to cover it. Oh wait, the following advice is void where prohibited.

Dear Blabby,

I’m a longtime senior citizen. When I park in certain areas of downtown Portsmouth, pigeons sometimes poop on my car. Should I divorce my husband?

— Angry at Birds

Actually, most people tend to separate minor everyday annoyances from their careful consideration of such immensely important life decisions as whether to maintain a partnership with a spouse or significant other.

But something tells me you are not “most people,” are you? No, I think the message those pigeons are actually sending you is that you should stay inside and never, ever drive anywhere ever again.

Dear Blabby,

A friend of mine — yes, that’s it a friend; I’m definitely not referring to myself — is concerned he may have become addicted to sniffing glue and drinking vanilla extract. I think he’s also hooked on crack. What should I do?

— Edgy in Exeter

What you want to do is sit your “friend” down and calmly explain that those behaviors are not healthy and that he or she should stop doing them. This never fails.

If this fails, simply orchestrate a ghastly “intervention” and unconditionally humiliate the offending person into compliance.

Dear Blabby,

When President Obama’s socialist minions come to confiscate my guns, is it OK to shoot them with a bow and arrow? Or should I keep moving on plans for the piranha-filled moat?

— Ye Olde Parrot Avenue Militia Company, 15th Regiment Unusuals

Definitely keep digging the moat. I can’t imagine a more positive outlet for your ignorant paranoia about jack-booted government gun takers. Also, keep watching those right-wing media outlets. They’ll keep you posted with other swell ways to hate on the president.

Dear Blabby,

As a longtime Portsmouth resident I get confused when my City Council keeps jacking up parking fees and slapping on new regulations. Should I be concerned that its immense powers have driven my City Council into madness?

— Parking Insanity

In these troubled times it is not unusual for city councils — or even national-level legislative bodies — to “act out,” or exhibit behavior that doesn’t always make sense. In fact, most elected officials are secretly frustrated that they don’t possess more power to mess with people’s lives, so they find it exhilarating to hit everybody up for extra quarters and dimes.

Fortunately, sources tell me your City Council has appointed a blue-ribbon panel to implement a new color-coded parking system that is sure to revolutionize the way municipal boards confuse and aggravate the citizenry! Also, to help ensure compliance, if you don’t pay a citation within 30 days they will assess a late fee of $14,000.

Dear Blabby,

Lately I have had the vague sense of a diminution in my quality of life. Should I start popping pills? What kind?

— Rx from Rye

Yes, fortunately nowadays there is a pill for practically everything. I might suggest starting with a small white one, then working your way up to something in a powder blue, perhaps in an oblong shape. If that fails, take two Bayer children’s chewable aspirin and write me in the morning.

Dear Blabby,

I am — how do I put this delicately? — a congressperson. There, I said it. I am an elected member, God help me, of the U.S. House of Representatives. Lately I have become morose, troubled by the notion that only 9 percent of Americans like me.

Don’t get me wrong — protecting corporate interests over the public good pays really well. But I just don’t get as much joy out of fleecing the little guy as I used to. Is it too late to get my soul back?

— Phil A. Buster

They say that admitting you are a congressperson is the first step toward recovery. So this is a good start. Next, you must resign from Congress and connect with a reputable 12-step program such as Politicians Anonymous.

However, I wouldn’t get my hopes up about your soul. The boys in corporate have a strict no-refunds policy.

Dear Blabby,

I’m sad. What should I do?

— Cheap Whine

Wow. First off, if you weren’t wasting your life wallowing in your own self-pity, you might have enough sense to offer a couple details about your boring sob story, you stupid crybaby.

Alright, try taking your insipid frown and turning it, yes, upside down. There — all better? If not, just go ahead and fill that pesky emotional void by gorging yourself on pretzels and fluffy, frosted cakes.

— John Breneman


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