(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . "Dear Addled . . . I have a problem." [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2023-12-26 Dear Addled is a shameless rip-off of the Dear Abby column that still runs in some newspapers. Abby fields letters from her readers and dispenses advice on a range of subjects. Newspapers, overall, have gone the way of decency. However, there are some out there that do still publish, such as the New York Times, which basically runs those sneaky advertisements made to look like real news stories, which in their case are ads for Red America Today — Russian Suburb Tomorrow. Dear Addled, Hi my name is Bridget and my husband’s name is Christian, like the religion, but without the pesky adherence part. We’re in a quandary. We’re both heavily involved in our Republican organization down here in Florida and support their efforts against LGBT+ and all those bad books in libraries. Both of which have been going really swell down here in Florida. Some of our children can’t read, but they sure can right. Our problem is we also really like doing threesomes. Do you see a rub with that, considering our stand on LGBT+ and the banning of books? What’s a mother to do? Signed, Bridget Dear Bridget, Interesting choice of wording there, “rub.” Was that a Freudian slip or were you writing with something that’s loaded with C-cell batteries? Anyway, there’s a little bit to unpack here. Look, there isn’t any problem with enjoying the sexual activities. You’re adults, enjoy it to its fullest, that’s what it is there for. But, you are Republicans, so as long as it doesn’t become public in your community or other locales, such as the greater United States of America or maybe the International Space Station at the furthest, you’re fine. However, there’s a landmine here. You can’t be against the LGBT+ community and be a fringe player. As I already mentioned for the threesome itself, that’s between you and your Christian values, and since he’s all in, who the hell am I to judge? But, as for that other stuff . . . Whoa! Wait! Time out! You know Bridget, I just realized who you are. I recognize the handwriting, it’s the same one that’s written all over the “Don’t Say Gay” law. You’re one of those Moms. Yep, give me “Liberty or Give Me Beth.” Which again is fine, except, again, you don’t have the liberty to squash people for doing the same thing you do. That’s the rub. Party over. As for that little book banning thing, at the rate you guys are going it’s a good thing books aren’t something like pancakes, you could’t even get a short stack at IHOP. And those poor libraries and kids, I haven’t seen shelves so bare since that Soviet supermarket chain, Nyet Foods, closed down. You know, it’s time you and your hubby turned in your library cards and get a different hobby. Let me suggest Solitaire. Addled Dear Addled, My name is Mike and lately God has been talking to me. He says I am the one to bring our country out of its moral lapse and march it on a course to its Aryan destiny where men are men, women’s uteri are equipped with VIN numbers, retrackable leashes and a law library, and Black people will always have the freedom of movement to Africa. He says I am like a modern day Aaron or Moses. What do you make of this? Signed, Mike Dear Mike, Really, you’re talking directly to God? Mike, are you saying magic mushrooms are legal in your state?! I sincerely hope so. Because it sounds like you’re shopping in the fresh vegetable section at a Whole Foods For Fascists store a lot of us old hippies weren’t aware of. Smoking a little weed is cool, but it sounds like you have been stocking up on salads with some interesting fungi toppings. What goes best with them, Russian salad dressing or Italian Trains Run On Time? By the way, God . . . sandals or no sandals. I mean, He’s in Heaven and I would expect you’re not stepping on broken promises and somebody’s sex toys up there like you do in Congress. Could you ask the next time He’s whispering sweet nothings-better-than-hallucinations in your ear? Oh, oh, oh, ask him where my car keys are, too. I haven’t been able to drive in two weeks now. Anyway, that Aryan destiny thing. Really Mike? I know it is trying to make a comeback, but that thing had its biggest heyday in the 1930s and 1940s. Turned out a lot of people weren’t down with it, ended up seeing an autobahn system used as an Allied racetrack at the end of it. Admit it, Mike, am I Reich? I say you should tiki torch your brownshirts — eh, not with the guys still in them, just the shirts — calm down on the God-ear worming thing, and for that I’m recommending a good nasal spray of napalm and Febreze to help dry out the sinuses, and try to keep a steady job, the Gaetz of good fortune don’t always stay open. On the other hand, MTG’s mouth does. It’s been open 24/7 since her tongue was equipped with range of motion and Trac-ll razors. By the way, that last letter of yours, how did my advice about resisting your porn intake work out? Remember, the hands are cuffed behind the back, not in the front, otherwise it’s too tempting to cheat and start surfing the net for the no-no stuff. Don’t want your son’s phone blowing up like someone’s dialed in the correct coordinates on some Russian armor. Addled Dear Addled, I’m really hacked off. I live in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and the town council just enacted a law that bans gas-powered leaf blowers starting in 2028. First they were after my gas stove and now they want to take away my blower. This really woke me up as to how my freedoms are being squashed. What can I do? Blowhard Bob Dear BB, Did you just use the word, “woke” to describe yourself, Bobbie? Hmmm, now the shoe is on the other foot, and with your foot in your mouth you’ll have Dashiell Hammett Disease: Gumshoe. BTW, could you give MTG a dozen sticks of it? I had to think long and hard about a solution for you Bobby, and please stay with me on this one. Eat a five-gallon pail of extra spicy hot chili, a gallon of Beelzebub’s Spit Original Hot Sauce and then suck down a chicken coop of eggs. Next, sit in a Tilt-A-World, put it on the spin cycle for heavy loads and churn it all up real good. Now, wait a few hours. Then backside those leaves and blow them, and a quarter of Ann Arbor, to Mar-a-Lago, because, and this is not any George Santos level BS, you’ll be doing F6-level tornado winds, baby. And those have only been achieved a couple of times before, you little record setter. Oh, also, this calls for a double-evacuation maneuver, and you gotta get the sequence just right: evacuate the people before you evacuate your piping. Otherwise, you’ll turn Walking Dead into a six-part documentary we’ll most certainly binge watch on the weekends. Oh, Bobby, wait, wait, wait! Got a better idea. Get one of those long-stemmed lighters we all use for stoking up the grill. Reach down with it, release a good amount of product and flick the flame. After your launch we’ll all wave to you as you’re spinning around earth as our own low-orbit black hole. Toot your hind horn when you drive by to get our attention and wave back, ok? Side benefit: you’ll turn those leaves, and your whole neighborhood, into pure ash, no crumbs. Clean up is a breeze. Addled. Well, that’s all the space we have to answer our readers’ letters for right now, folks. Oh, wait, actually there is one last thing. Vladimir, sweetie, we will get to your letter about that allergic reaction you had with that Chicken Kiev next time. Sorry we didn’t have an open window of opportunity this time around. Trust me, dear, I’m really bummed by that. And remember everyone, if you acted on advice from Addled, you’re probably not still in the saddle. 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