The World Wide Rag
"If chimps are almost as smart as us, why do we never
see them riding goats?"
- Werner Herzog
Dear Shabby...
Having a problem? Life got you down? In a situation where you could just use a little good advice? Well, don't look for it here. Because our very own Dear Shabby is possibly the worst person on Earth to turn to for answers to even life's smallest dilemmas.
DEAR SHABBY: How can you force people to RSVP for an event you’re hosting? For years I’ve been miffed at the thoughtlessness of people who ignore my RSVP requests and then show up anyway. I’ve often been tempted to refuse entrance to these inconsiderate people. What’s your suggestion? — EVENT PLANNER
DEAR EVENT: I really wish you wouldn’t write your letters in code. I don’t know what it feels like to R-S-V-P, but if you’re trying to force people to do it you must be some kind of dominatrix or whatnot. That’s pretty cool. It’s like you’re forcing them but really they’re in charge, even when you’re beating the shit out of them.
Is there like a “safe word” they give you when they’re about to pass out? Do you keep going even after they say it, just to be a bitch? What do you wear when you make someone R-S-V-P? Is it made of rubber?
I could get into a party like that. My safe word would be “continue.” That way when I couldn’t take it anymore I’d yell “Continue!” and you’d just keep whipping the shit out of me because you forgot it meant stop. I’d be like, “Continue! Continue!” and you’d keep on thrashing my ass red ‘cause you’d think I liked it. And then I’d say, “Stop!” but that’s not the safe word so you’d really pour it on me, like I owed you money or something. Then I’d yell, “Continue! Please God continue!” and you’d just keep going until my ass bled.
That’s some funny shit, man. What was the question?
DEAR SHABBY: I come from a close-knit family. We love getting together for holidays and family events. Unfortunately, my wife just married a very rude man. I’ll call him “Jasper.” Jasper is crude, vulgar and makes constant sexual innuendos. He is also quick with the put-downs and “funny” insults. He’s even been known to belch and pass gas at the dinner table.
The rest of my family is now leery of taking part in family get-togethers for fear that Jasper might be there. Should we just tell my sister to leave him at home when she comes to see us? — OFFENDED IN OREGON
DEAR OFFENDED: Do you have Jasper’s phone number? That guy sounds pretty funny. We should hang out. Belching is actually considered a delicacy in the third world. It shows that the host’s food made you burp. I sometimes like to tip my chair back from the table and let one blast, too. You can get a pretty good noise if it’s a wooden chair. It’s like a sounding board. I can usually clear the room out. It’s like the buzzer going off at the end of a game. Meal’s over, you know?
Um … what was the question?
DEAR SHABBY: There are two cute guys who both like me. They’re both pushing me for attention and they both want to go farther in our relationships. What should I do? — CONFUSED
DEAR CONFUSED: Hey, what’s your phone number? You’re a chick, right? You sound pretty hot. I bet you could handle three boyfriends. Do the other guys have cars? As long as one of them has wheels, I can provide the smoke, you know what I’m saying? I’m not greedy. I’m not jealous, either. I’ll wait my turn. If I can watch, that’s cool.
So, problem solved, right?
DEAR SHABBY: My boyfriend won’t stop tickling me. I’ve told him how much I hate it but he does it every chance he gets. He just picks me and throws me down on the bed or the couch and tickles me mercilessly. He tickles my belly, my feet, my legs, my arms, my ribs, everywhere. I scream and cry and beg for mercy but he won’t stop until I’m out of breath and close to passing out. What’s wrong with him? How can I get him to stop? — TICKLED OUT
DEAR TICKLED: Whoa. My pants feel really tight … I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll just take this letter with me …
DEAR SHABBY: My friends and family are always afraid of telling me the truth. They always think it’s going to hurt my feelings or I’m going to be mad at them, but this is much more hurtful. All I want is for the people I care about to tell me the truth. What should I do? — CRYING IN CAROLINA
DEAR CRYING: You must have a really bad fuckin’ temper, man. Nobody will ever tell you the truth because they’re afraid of you? God, dude, you need to chill out and listen to what nature’s telling you, don’t worry about other people. The Earth is telling you to calm down and become one with nature. You’re part of everything, man. You’re part of the air, the wind, the sky. You’re the grass, the ground, the dirt. You’re shit, man. Check it out. You are a piece of shit. Can you feel it? You’re the little disgusting dung beetle that eats the shit. You’re the parasite that lives up the ass of the filthy animal that sprayed out that shit. Does that make you feel better?
This advice gig is easy. Can I come back next week?
