You're a Horrible Person, But I Like You: The Believer Book of Advice (16 page)

Now, as to why Jews and Muslims are still fighting when we have a common ancestor in Abraham. Go figure. It can’t just be about the British giving Palestine to the Jews without consulting the indigenous people who occupied the land continuously for the last nine hundred years after the diaspora. I think they just hate us because we’re superior. Or is it because we’re inferior? I can’t remember which. Either way, why can’t they just get over it already?

Harold

…

Dear Harold:

Do you ever hang out with other advice columnists? If so, what sorts of things do you do together? What do you talk about?

Joanna
San Francisco, CA

Dear Joanna:

Sometimes we do just hang out together, but the best is the annual conference of advice-givers held once a year in Las Vegas. What a blast! You might see Dan Savage of “Savage Love” talking to the guy from
Wine Spectator
about what Cabernet to drink with anal beads. Or Martha Stewart with the Playboy Advisor arguing about the best way to get cum stains out of a linen tablecloth. Or Suze Orman with Dr. Phil debating the wisdom of investing in anxiety futures. Or the gang from
Queer Eye
talking boxers vs. briefs with the
What Not to Wear
crew. After a few days you start to realize there’s only so much advice you can take. What’s that old saying? “Advice is like opinions. Everyone’s an asshole.”

Harold

Amy Sedaris

Dear Amy:

How should somebody go about bathing themselves? There are people on the street who smell horrible but you know they must shower. Is there some special inside thing we get that they don’t?

Courtney Ivo
Chicago, IL

Dear Courtney:

Take a visit to your local animal shelter and pick up any random cat. Now take a deep whiff. Pretty sweet, right? It’s called a tongue bath, and it’s not just for felines anymore. In this fast-paced world, you’d be surprised at how many people are taking advantage of this superior and convenient form of bathing. But from the self-righteous tone of your letter, I can only assume that you aren’t one of them. For shame, Courtney. Why are you so afraid of your own tongue?

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

I want to be a fireman someday. I already have a fireman’s uniform and it’s super cool. Also, I’ve been practicing with a garden hose. But my parents don’t think it’s a good idea because of my asthma. Should I listen to them?

Kevin, age 8
Ann Arbor, MI

Dear Kevin:

Why don’t you practice by setting a few rather large fires in your neighborhood? Find an abandoned warehouse and set it ablaze. Or better yet, burn down a coach house. Not only is it fun, but you can practice putting out the fires with the equipment you’ve started collecting. If you manage to save the buildings, then you’re probably cut out to be a fireman. If you go into an asthmatic fit and have to be hospitalized, or get covered in third-degree burns and end up spending the rest of your life being fed by a tube, then maybe your parents were right after all. But you’ll never know until you try.

Good luck and happy burning!

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

I’ve been single for about a year now, after a long-term relationship fizzled. All of a sudden, I’m starting to get those codependency urges
again. Should I suppress these unwanted feelings without the use of pills or alcohol?

Sincerely
,
Looking for an Out Without Slipping In

Dear Slippy:

What’s wrong with pills and alcohol? Are you judging me? Whatever helps me through the hard times is a-okay with me. It kills the pain. I hate it when people start spewing out bullshit like, “You’re going to have to deal with it sooner or later.” Well, not really, because by the time “later” comes, my problem will be over because of the booze and pills. I’m not stupid. You codependent people are all the same!

Are you selling any pills?

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

They say that the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. More specifically, what do you think is the best meal to serve my man to make sure he’ll never, ever leave me?

Dani Kando-Kaiser
Sacramento, CA

Dear Dani:

First of all, I’m a bit of an amateur coroner. Let’s just say I like to poke around. The fastest way to a man’s heart is definitely through the chest cavity. Yeah, it’s a bit of a bother sawing through all that bone, but trust me, it’s a straight shot.

To answer your question about serving a dish that will keep your man happy, I suggest a Honey Baked west vagina ham, or turkey cordon blow him. Or how about chicken snatchatori?

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

I have a lot of white friends. Is it okay for white people to celebrate Kwanzaa with me?

Shaka Freeman
Oakland, CA

Dear Shaka:

A lot of white friends? Are you counting coworkers? Because technically, these people are not your friends. It’s good politics to be friendly toward the people we work with. Remember that the next time you’re gathered around the watercooler exchanging wacky weekend anecdotes. Why is this person being nice to me? What are they after? I’m sure excluding coworkers significantly whittles down your list of white “friends.” But what about the white “friends” who are not coworkers? What’s their deal? Well, they may maintain this relationship with you just so they can claim, “I’ve got a lot of black friends.”

So you see, Shaka, you don’t have a lot of white friends. I hope this solves your problem.

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

I hope you might be able to settle a bet. One of my friends insists that his Border collie (Henry) is smarter than my German shepherd
(Fuzz Head). In my opinion, Henry happens to be pretty dumb. He eats his own poo and pees uncontrollably when someone new enters the house. Is there some kind of reliable dog IQ test that we can administer to get to the bottom of this?

James Shoemaker
San Francisco, CA

Dear James:

First of all, if we judged intelligence solely on how much bodily waste one ingested, then I must be an idiot. It’s called urine therapy. I drink all the urine I can get my hands on. Holy men in India have been doing it for thousands of years. Urine enhances beauty and cleanses the bowels. Mostly I drink the midstream of my morning pee. Occasionally I’ll drink it steaming hot but usually I mix it with juice or enjoy it over fruit parfait. Although there is zero scientific evidence that drinking urine is beneficial to one’s health, I choose to believe the opposite based on an uninformed whim. So now how stupid am I?

Getting back to your dog situation. Intelligence can be measured by problem-solving abilities; e.g., taking a regular swig of home brew to cure a malady. Create a problem for the dogs and see which one can solve it. Start a shed on fire, and then get inside and see which dog drags you to freedom. There is always the possibility that neither dog will come to your aid, but at least the world will be free of one more narrow-minded skeptic misjudging my prodigious intake of the precious salty nectar distilling between my loins.

Amy

…

Dear Amy:

I just lost $3,000 at an illegal cockfighting ring in Chiapas, Mexico. I want my money back, so naturally I’m going back in March. Are there any telltale signs of superior, aggressive, and more violent cocks?

Allan H
.
Amarillo, TX

Dear Allan:

Ah, the sawdust, the flying feathers, the spraying blood. I imagine those are the precious memories I’d cherish about cockfighting, if I had indeed spent the bulk of the eighties cheering on my feisty squad of slashing gamecocks in the sweaty, dank basement of a Filipino named Sabong. But I am a lady, and I was probably doing something else.

Look, Allan, I don’t know anything about the illegal and brutal sport of cockfighting, but I can tell you this: if you want to be a pit master when you return to Mexico, first gain some experience by attending the World Slasher Cup, an eight-cock derby held in a garage in Queens that any cocker worth his salt will be attending. Bet on the brood cocks because they are real glashers, often outfitted with Malaysian razor-sharp spurs or the Pakpak Langaw blade. They’re sure to make an under hack out of any Manok. I’ll see you there! Or rather, I won’t.

Amy

Sarah Silverman

Dear Sarah:

I came out to my family as a gay man nearly nine years ago. While they’ve become more accepting of me, they still hold out hope that I’ll meet “the right woman.” I’ve never seen a woman naked, let alone dated one. How can I avoid the “don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it” argument and convince my family that I’m just not into girls?

Nathan Yergler
Fort Wayne, IN

Dear Nathan:

First of all, did they not knock homosexuality before they tried it? Exactly. They’re asking you to be open-minded so they don’t have to. You can always lie and say, “Mom, I had sex with a woman and it was awful! Vaginas are gross! I’m glad I tried it but I’m gonna stick with penis. What’s for dinner?” Another idea is to adopt a baby. Once there’s a baby in the picture, they don’t care who you’re fucking. They just want to squeeze that little tushy!

Sarah

…

Dear Sarah:

I think saffron looks so attractive in its tiny plastic cage at the supermarket, but I really have no idea what one might do with it. Any ideas?

Sammy Chafos
New York, NY

Dear Sammy:

I had some saffron rice this very morning, and it looked so yellow and so yummy, but it tasted like a doodie flower. I kept eating it because after each bite, my eyes would glance back at the plate and I’d get seduced all over again. My advice is to enjoy it in the market. Awe in its pure yellow intensity the way you may take in a painting or a gossip rag at the checkout stand. Then walk away.

Sarah

…

Dear Sarah:

My mom always gives me a hard time for having the day off from school on Labor Day. She tells me, “I’m the one who went into labor to have you, and I don’t have the day off!” What would be a good comeback that I could say to her next year?

Jimmy Whealdon
Irvine, CA

Dear Jimmy:

Don’t say anything. Just kick her in the vagina. Then, as she keels over, point to her vagina and start to laugh, but then freeze, like you’re in the end credits of
Bob Newhart
or
CHiPs
or
Barney Miller
. If she doesn’t “get it,” then she’s not worth your time anyway.

Sarah

…

Dear Sarah:

I’m a happily married man, but lately one of my golfing buddies, Jerome (not his real name), has been acting a bit peculiar around me: holding the door open for me, picking up the bar tab, and looking at me in, well, a way that makes me feel kind of weird. Jerome isn’t married and hasn’t had a girlfriend since I can remember. I can tell sometimes that Jerome has something he wants to tell me. My question is, when Jerome and I have secret sex at the hourly motel, who should pay for the room?

Jim (not my real name)
Sonoma, CA

Dear Jim:

You are so lucky that I went to gay charm school. The top pays for the motel.

Sarah

…

Dear Sarah:

I’ve recently moved to New York City from California. Everything is great but I’m having trouble adjusting to my new habitat. I feel
as if I’m an animal on display but without a handful of feces to protect myself. What should I do?

Jordan Farray
New York, NY

Dear Jordan:

This is a tough one. I love New York, but you get more space in L.A., so it can be a pleasant experience just to hang in and be home. In New York, unless you’re rich, you live in a very small space, so your instinct is to get out until you have to come home to sleep. Try to nest. Make your apartment as homey and comfortable as possible—a little haven. Or just shit in your hand.

Sarah

…

Dear Sarah:

I’m a chronically depressed shut-in who doesn’t bathe much. My lifestyle has caused a testicular fragrance of vast proportions. What should I do?

Chris Heffernan
Long Island, NY

Dear Chris:

You may think you’re a shut-in and that therefore you don’t wash your balls. But I’m here to tell you that you are a shut-in
because
you don’t wash your balls. If you wake up and jump in the shower—or better yet, laze in a tub—by the time you get out and towel off, you are much more apt to feel like going out into the world. This is not a chicken-and-egg scenario. Trust me: balls first, and your life will follow.