by The Believer
Bob
…
Dear Bob:
I recently moved to Chicago, a boring, useless heap of a city. I have three years of school left here. How do you suggest I pass my time without going utterly insane, and perhaps have fun every once in a while?
Best,
Isabelle
Chicago, IL
Dear IZZY:
There, I gave you an acronym-ish name. Try it on, see if it “works.” Have you ever been to a Cubs game? Try the deep-dish. Do you like white people playing the blues? How about white people listening to the blues? If “yes,” you’re all set. If “no,” you gotta go. I lived in Chicago and had some good times there. I also felt alienated by the “Da Bears” mentality. Sorry to bring up that Saturday Night Live sketch I helped write. Who invented the phrase “my bad”? That was “their bad” for sure.
Bob
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Dear Bob:
I’m a Jew who doesn’t agree with the politics in Israel. When I explain this to my Jewish friends, they say I’m a self-hating Jew and anti-Semitic. But isn’t that as absurd as calling somebody unpatriotic for not blindly supporting the Bush administration?
A Jew Without a Country
Dear Jew-ish Person:
What do you think about a professional indoor baseball league? You hit the ball over a certain mark on the wall and get a home run. We could call it the I.B.L. and play all winter. Sound good? I thought of it first, right here. Also, put cheese on your apple pie; you’ll thank me. Maybe. Then again, don’t. I believe the Jews need a homeland, and it is a struggle to establish one in the modern world. It’s always been a struggle to establish one. Someone always gets shafted. Do you consider yourself an American? Did anyone get screwed when this country was established? What’s that? An entire nation of peoples was wiped out? That sounds pretty bad. Oh well, who won American Idol? I’ll tell you who: everyone who watched.
Bob
John Oliver
Dear John:
The future is unknowable, the past is regrettable. How do you reconcile the present and get dinner on the table?
Mike Rose
Albuquerque, NM
Dear Mike:
First of all, you may be under the impression that you have blown my mind with that question. You would be wrong.
As a citizen of New Mexico, I’m not sure you should be concerning yourself too much with the future. Why? You people live in a desert. I would imagine that you are already in the process of preparing for your Mad Max–style existence, which will be taking place at some point in the next two to five years. When oil hits five dollars a barrel, make sure that you’ve got your spiky shoulder pads and face paint ready. It’s Thunderdome time.
As for putting dinner on the table—let’s not sugarcoat this. You’re going to be living on roadkill. My advice would be “Always remove the squirrel’s tail.” That’s a memory of cuteness you do not want to conjure up as you raise the stick toward your mouth.
All the best,
John
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Dear John:
I love my mom, don’t get me wrong. She birthed me and everything and I really appreciate that. But lately she’s been getting on my nerves. How the hell do you break up with your mom?
Jan D.
Barrington, RI
Dear Jan D.:
First of all, thank you for your letter. In this age of e-mail, it is refreshing to receive correspondence written in fine ink on parchment, rolled up in a ribbon, and dropped into my lap by a finely dressed pigeon. That’s not old-fashioned; that’s just good manners.
Now, to your question, which is a good one. Opinion is split as to how long you are in debt to your mother for forcing you through her birth canal in an exercise so painful it makes you doubt both intelligent design and evolution. Some say five years. Others say three hundred. Personally, I say that we live in an age of rampant capitalism, and if your mother is not performing, you are well within your rights to terminate your contract of affection and seek another maternal figure in your life. That’s just the system correcting itself. With luck, this will serve as a significant enough incentive to encourage your mother to up her game. Be warned, however; capitalism is a two-way canal. She is free to fire you if she feels that as a son you may be failing. And if this letter comes up at your performance review/tribunal, you are in serious trouble.
Good luck,
John
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Dear John:
Is there really a difference between Modern Romance Glamour and Mid-Century Architecture?
Paul M.
Chesapeake, VA
Dear Paul M.:
None whatsoever. They both come under the banner “Trump chic.”
John
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Dear John:
The last time I visited New York, I bought a pair of knockoff Ugg boots from a street vendor. Now my sister tells me they’re probably not made of sheepskin at all, and according to her they feel more like pug. This makes me sad, but I just love the way I look in my Uggs. What should I do?
Donna
Eau Claire, WI
Dear Donna:
Walk tall, and walk comfortably. There is absolutely nothing wrong with slipping your feet into “Ugg-inspired” shoewear, lined with purest, softest pug. You have to understand that Ugg boots are originally from Australia, where sheep are everywhere. You bought those boots in New York, where we have very few sheep, but thousands upon thousands of pugs. We have a supply-and-demand situation there. I believe the boots you bought are even officially called “pUggs.” Ugg boots are always made from animals native to the area; I believe in L.A. they are made from Chihuahuas and are called “chiwUggs.”
And if anyone criticizes you for your footwear of choice, merely invite them to try them on. Before they know it, they’ll be experiencing a full body shoegasm and booking a flight to New York.
Yours,
John
Dear John:
I’ve got about six pounds of grass cuttings in my garage and no clue what to do with it. Any ideas?
Dr. L. Harrison
Seattle, WA
Dear Dr. L. Harrison:
I will personally give you fifteen dollars if you cover yourself head to toe in glue, roll around in the grass cuttings, and go running down your street screaming, “Look at me; I’m a sticky wicket!” You may be jeopardizing your right to practice medicine, but I’m guessing that you’re one of those “I’m-a-doctor-of-Shakespeare-not-a-real-doctor” doctors. So you don’t really have much to lose.
I have two fives and five ones with your name on them. Your move.
John
Patton Oswalt
Dear Patton:
How does one make a Spanish tortilla? I keep trying, and somehow end up with scrambled eggs and home fries. Help!
Rick
Allentown, PA
Dear Rick:
If you focus on your destination, then the journey will betray you. Many a traveler has set off for El Dorado and wound up at a discount hotel. Do not start with ground corn, water, and spices. Depart them, wordlessly, and make the tortilla seek you out. There will break a dawn when you will find yourself on a street in Venice. A radio will play a song you’d forgotten you’d remembered. Turn around twice. Embrace your fear. That’s when the tortilla will hand you an umbrella.
Patton
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Dear Patton:
I have a really nice ass, but I don’t have a boyfriend. Why can’t I get someone to love me?
Hope
Denver, CO
Dear Hope:
’Cause it’s 2010, the year of the killer rack. 2009 was the year of the really nice ass. Wait till it cycles around again in 2015.
Patton
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Dear Patton:
My neck is super sore after a night of dancing. How can I find out why this is the case?
Harry
Houston, TX
Dear Harry:
A night of dancing? In Houston? Be happy it’s only your neck that’s sore.
Patton
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Dear Patton:
There’s a nice, small, family-run grocery store on my block. Recently I’ve been reading about the upsides of feeding your dog real food, not the cardboard that passes for “dog food.” Anyway, I fed him some carrots and beef from this grocery store and now my dog is dead. Do you think I could sue the grocery store, and is it possible to sue for a new dog?
Warm regards,
James David Lighton
Florence, SC
Dear Mr. Lighton:
“Carrots and beef”? I’m going to assume you served your dog sliced carrots and some sort of ground beef, possibly chuck. Quaint, tasty, and simple, yes? It’s clear your dog died not from any food-borne illness but from mortification. Any pairing of a root vegetable with “upper-half” meats (chuck, rib, short loin, the three sirloins, and round) should also include a dark, bitter vegetable to counteract the intensity of the beef and the sweet/starchy quality of the root vegetable. When your dog realized he was forever shackled to such a culinary philistine, he surely willed his bodily functions to cease.
I shudder to think of your idea of a wine pairing. The poor mutt probably died with the sad tang of an overpriced Nebbiolo on his tongue.
Patton
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Dear Patton:
When I moved into my house, the former occupants notified me that the trees in the backyard were lemon trees. However, the fruits so far have been small, green, and hard, and give all indications of actually being limes. Is there a way to determine whether these are undernourished lemons or impostors?
Thanks,
Margaux
Santa Clarita, CA
Dear Margaux:
Trying to taste the difference between a lemon and a lime? It’s the age-old conundrum, and also a swell XTC lyric! Hey, why doesn’t XTC tour anymore? Someone told me Andy Partridge was afflicted with crippling stage fright, but then someone else told me he’s kind of an asshole and doesn’t like his bandmates. Either way, it doesn’t stop Drums and Wires from being one of my favorite albums. And all that nonsense about Skylarking being overproduced makes me want to throw a tin toy at a policeman! “Another Satellite” is a perfect, soaking-in-a-hot-tub-at-the-end-of-a-hard-day groove. And don’t even get me started on “Summer’s Cauldron”!
Patton
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Dear Patton:
I have what I believe is an unnamed phobia and I’m looking for some insight. I can’t bear to see my “bite mark” or rather “teeth profile” left behind when a piece of food is set back upon a plate. This usually occurs after the first bite of, for example, a piece of toast. Cream cheese only makes it worse. I then respond by quickly nipping the corner or edge off of the offensive shape with another, smaller bite. Thoughts?
Rob
Spokane, WA
Dear Rob:
Oh. My. God. After all these years of searching, hoping to avenge the death of my sister. The Neatly Nibbled Morsel Killer, falling into my trap. Stay right where you are, fiend!
Patton
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Dear Patton:
Do you know of a full-body ergonomic sling I could drape myself in while typing? Something that could keep me suspended in a position of bliss and faux-zero G? Even now, as I type these words with one finger (it’s a quick finger!), I feel shooting pains lancing up my wrists and through my shoulders, causing a cascade of aches to shudder across my back. My lower back is a repository of pain. Also, I think my left leg is shorter than my right.
Un-ergonomic Ursula
Minneapolis, MN
Dear U. U.:
Huh. Besides the Belly-Down Typ-o-matic BlissCradle from WombCrave Office Furniture, I’m drawing a blank. Sorry.
Patton
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Dear Patton:
I’ve been feeling blue lately but I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the amount of rain we’ve had over the last few weeks. What are your thoughts on that?
Ms. Diller
Cary, NC
Dear Ms. Diller:
Rain can have a profound effect on someone inclined toward melancholy. I live in Los Angeles, and, as of this writing, we’ve just experienced three weeks of unending late-winter storms. The sky has been a limitless bowl of sludgy, hopeless gray. The ground, soaked and muddy, emits burbly, hissing spurts with every step, which sound like a scornful parent who sees no worth, hope, or value in their offspring. The morning light through my bedroom window promises nothing but a damp, unwelcoming day of thankless busywork and futile, doomed chores. My breakfast cereal tastes like being ostracized. My morning coffee fills my stomach with dread. What’s the point of even answering this question?
The rain—it will not stop. Even if I say something that will help you—which I won’t, because I’m such a useless piece of shit—you’ll eventually die and I’ll die and everyone we know will die and this book will turn to dust and the universe will run down and stop and dead dead dead dead dead.
Dead. Read Chicken Soup for the Soul, I guess. Dead. Dead dead.
Patton
Martha Plimpton
Dear Martha:
I really enjoy a nice peach, but I’ve been finding that they’re too embarrassing to eat in public. Do you have any tips on how this most mighty of fruits can be munched upon and my dignity remain intact?
Thanks,
Sophie
Ogden, UT
Dear Sophie:
I’m glad you asked this. Women should never do anything in public that will upset the gentle facade of femininity that makes them attractive to potential husbands. I keep telling women this, and they don’t listen, because they aren’t very bright. Eating, talking, moving the muscles in your face in any way other than to produce a visage of contented adoration, pooping: these are everyday common mistakes women make that keep them alone and ensure their solitude in old age. If you want to find a husband, eat a banana, seductively, using your tongue a lot, with no shirt on. Hope this helps!
Love,
Martha
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Dear Martha:
My aunt and uncle are filthy rich. They buy Jet Skis and imported Italian wine and Ferraris and Cohibas. They’re old and wrinkly and I’m young and hunky. But somehow, they’ve got all the material wealth and I’ve got squat. Any suggestions for sabotaging their lives and stealing their money?
Poor in Pottawatomie County, KS
Dear Poor in:
You’re a horrible person, but I like you, so I’m going to give you some advice: First of all, you’ve got it backward. If you sabotage your rich relatives’ lives before you steal their money, they won’t have any money to steal, because you will have already sabotaged their lives, which will lead to moneylessness. Are you following me? You have to understand certain things if you’re going to be a greedy bastard. Also, I need more information. You see, I have some diamond certificates tied up in a Nigerian bank account, and in order to withdraw them the bank requires a U.S. bank routing number and $50,000. For your help I will gladly reimburse you and your aunt, plus pay you 50 percent of my diamond wealth, which is roughly $8,397,432.27. What is your aunt’s e-mail address?
Warmest regards,
Martha
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Dear Martha:
My sister has alopecia, a disease that causes hair loss. The doctors have told her it’s incurable, so she’s invested in a realistic-looking wig. Unfortunately, her alopecia has also caused her eyebrows to disappear. She usually just draws her own with an eyebrow pencil, which is okay if she’s able to take her time and really do it right. But when she’s in a hurry, she can end up looking surprised or annoyed. How can I delicately tell her that her eyebrows scare me?
Lisa Lhormer
Raleigh, NC
Dear Lisa:
People who have no hair at all are the luckiest people in the world. They’re the human ver
sions of Wooly Willy, that novelty game with the cartoon guy’s head that you put hair on in different shapes with a magnet. What’s more fun than that?
Many impressive people are hairless, and proudly so. There is even a tiny movement of alopecics who encourage “Hairless Pride.” Some people have eyebrows implanted into the flesh on their foreheads. Tell your sister not to limit herself. There are plenty of places on Fourteenth Street in Manhattan where inexpensive fake eyebrows can be purchased. She can even pick up a fun rabbi beard! The point is: mix it up. New facial hair every day! Then, instead of scaring you, she can make you laugh. Everybody wins!
Martha
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Dear Martha:
Even though I eat multiple times a day, I still get hungry. No matter how much I eat, I’m always hungry again. I’ve started to skip meals because, really, what’s the difference? I’ll just be hungry again in a few hours. Do you have any advice for me?
Emmanuel Stevens
Miami, FL
Dear Emmanuel:
OMG, have you seen Lust, Caution? The movie is kind of so-so, but Tony Leung is so good in it! I’m completely obsessed with him now. Let’s not even discuss the sex scenes in that movie. Cannot even. He’s a huge star in Hong Kong, of course, and he’s been in a thousand movies and worked with every great Hong Kongese director ever in the history of Hong Kong. I swear to gawd, I think he’s one of the greatest actors in the world, ever, and I have to marry him immediately!
Martha
Harold Ramis
Dear Harold:
I recently signed up for a Jewish dating site on the Internet. I wrote in the “About Me” section that I enjoy reading The New Yorker. My friend told me that makes me seem like a pompous ass whom no one would ever want to date, much less come to love in the future. Is she right? What should I say instead?
Most sincerely,
Estella
St. Louis, MO
Dear Estella:
Jewish guys love a little pompous ass; we’re just afraid to ask for it. Let it be known that you also give head, and no Jewish guy will care what you read.
