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Health & Fitness

Musings by Moss Advice Column

Dear Scotty,

After years of looking at the paper every morning I find my self drawn to the advice columns. Why? Well let me tell you. Some of the questions people ask remind me how little common sense there truly is in the world. I am amazed that people actually ask these kinds of questions. I also wonder how people like Dear Abby actually are able to type a response when you know they’re laughing so hard that they’re about to pass out.

So I’ve decided that New Lenox needs its own advice columnist. I would like to break into the advice column business but with a twist. I will start with some questions I have seen over the years and offer my own special kind of advice to the letter writer. Dear Abby is kind and tries to offer advice that won’t offend or upset the writer.  I on the other hand can’t believe people can be this goofy. So my answers will reflect that incredible lack of common sense.  So here’s question one:

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Dear Scotty,

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My husband works very hard during the week and works very long hours. He’s never home to enjoy our Million Dollar Home and doesn’t get to drive around town in our new Mercedes Benz SUV with the kids and I. The people at the country club are beginning to talk. How can I get my husband to spend more time with us and less time at work?

Signed,

Suffering in the Burbs

 

Dear Suffering,

Your husband works so much to pay for your lifestyle. I’m sure you accidently forgot to mention the private daily yoga class you take, the 38 DD implants you got for Christmas, and the trips to Europe with your friends that “Daddy” pays for. Here’s an idea, drop dead.

Love and Kisses,

Scotty

 

Dear Scotty,

I’m writing you from the trailer park where my husband and I live with our five kids. My husband doesn’t know, but none of the kids are his. He also drinks every day from the time he gets up till he passes out on the couch. This makes me upset. It’s like he doesn’t appreciate me. One of my children is his brothers’ kid, and one is his fathers, two are my old boyfriends, and I’m not sure who the father of my daughter is. She looks a little like Bill Clinton though, and I must say I don’t remember much about that weekend in Washington, DC.  How do I convince him that I’m a good woman and will love him forever?

Signed,

Trailer Park Woman (The Rodeo Princess)

 

Dear Mrs. Trailer Park,

I’m really surprised that you haven’t been voted “Mother of the Year” or at least “Mrs. America”. This man drinks because you are around. You are polluting the gene pool. Please get out of the pool and towel off. Stand up on the top of your trailer in a lightning storm and point at the sky with your garden weasel you bought on the “Home Shopping Network” God will take care of the rest.

Love and Kisses,

Scotty

 

Dear Scotty,

I am writing you for advice about my boyfriend. He’s a good man who works whenever his unemployment runs out. He can sometimes have a job for 3 to 4 weeks. I stay home with the cat because it has a bladder problem. Sometimes when my boyfriend comes home after he drinks he likes to beat me and the cat up. I don’t want to leave him because I love him. He only beats me 2 or 3 times a week and the swelling on my face is usually gone in a day or two. I don’t want to loose him and the cat feels the same way. What should I do? My Face Hurts.

 

Sincerely,

Tired of the Emergency Room and Phil the Cat.

 

Dear Phil,

I’m talking to you Phil the cat. Don’t show this letter to your owner, although I’m pretty sure she can’t read or write because there was Frisky’s cat food all over the letter she (or you) wrote. Is this woman really this stupid? Whenever a man hits a woman he automatically becomes a dirt bag. I would use stronger language, but I don’t know if you are one of those “Religious Cats”. Any man that hits a woman becomes the lowest of human beings. Next time he falls asleep on the couch after his 12 shot of Jack Daniels, tie him up, bring him out to the highway in front of the trailer park and let the semi trucks use him as a speed bump. That’s about all he’s worth.

Good luck with the bladder problem, Phil.

Love and Kisses,

Scotty

P.S. If he continues to beat you, call me. I’ll send some of my favorite thugs over to beat him senseless.

 

Dear Scotty Signing off.

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