More Dr.Dukes? More Dr.Dukes.

So, yeah.

This was supposed to be a regularly, maybe even weekly thing. So much for that; life and laziness caught up with me and have been aggressively tag-teaming me ever since.

Nevertheless....

I'll have some new Doc Duke's up sooner or later. Actually, sooner, which is why I'm posting this. I actually HAVEN'T been doing nothing--I've been working a few more-serious, less-profanity-laced legit literary projects this fall.

But those are done, on hiatus, or simmering on the back burner. Which means my latent creative energies are thirsting for something more...exciting.

Which means Duke.

I'll put up a few 'lost Dukes' in a few days; new stuff w/ in two weeks, though potentially within one week. The 'lost Dukes' will be all the half-done stuff I was working on back in April 08: a few draft letters for Duke # 3, and a few 'mini-Dukes'--shorter, but still just as scathing, attempts at condensing the Doc's spite (you can judge the results yourself).

Cheers, everybody. Stay tuned for more Duke in the upcoming days.

Just Some Thoughts On Dr.Duke

Some Dr.Duke thoughts; I'll post these occasionally (as myself, not Dr.Duke). It's kind of like the extra's on a DVD, only for Dr.Duke. So if you read this on my myspace, too, this is now the place to read Dr.Duke if you want the full experience (I'm not putting up these 'extras' on myspace).

And before I get started...YEAH. I know. There's a LOT of mistakes in Dr.Duke usually. This is because I just write them and put them up. Starting with Duke #3, I'm going to try putting in a little more editing (I do edit them once they're online though, so odds are what you're reading is a lot cleaner than what I first posted.) You could point out my mistakes in a comment, but odds are I've already seen them and have noted/fixed them in the original draft, and will do so soon online.

Okay. On to the meat of my post.

First: For anyone who doesn't realize, I'm not Dr.Duke. I'm not even anything like him; I'm actually pretty sympathetic to everybody's problem and would probably be embarassingly nice if I were to ever write an advice column. Dr.Duke is a character I created for a school newspaper (a one time deal) we did for a project in high school. I forgot about him for a while, but just remembered, and was so amused that I decided to revive Dr.Duke.

Second:With that being said, don't take Dr.Duke too seriously. If something seems really harsh in the letters, odds are I felt bad about even writing it, but wanted to put it in to build Dr.Duke's character.

Third: No, I do not eat my meals of cereal on the toilet watching pirated Simpsons on a PSP. Yes, I shower every day. Yes, I actually do laundry. I am NOT Dr.Duke, and as such, all the ridiculous things he says aren't applicable to me at all.

Fourth: All the letters are real; there's 2 or 3 various teen help forums I go to to find them. I'll (sometimes) edit the grammar if it's really bad, and I DO make up the names at the end (Worried in Wisconsin, that whole deal...and yes, I alliterate nearly every time on purpose), but other than that these are real letters posted by real people. I'm considering opening a "Dr.Duke" account on the teen forums and posting my replies. How fast do you think I'd get banned?

Fifth: Like I say in the articles, if you have a great letter (or even one that you think could be great), just send it my way; I'm like a lion on a wildebeast when it comes to shitty teen advice letters. Just keep 'em coming.

Sixth: Yup, I draw the Duke pictures. First one took me about 5 minutes; the second one about 20. I'm thinking of doing a new one every week, and I really want to, but I'm not 100% set on that yet. If you want to contribute guest art (I don't care how shitty it is; the shittier the better in fact), send it my way.

blaydcor@yahoo.com or blaydcor@gmail.com, just for future reference.

Till next time
-Later

Dr.Duke #2-Robbery, A.D.D, and Philosophy

DR.DUKE

#2

A weekly advice column.

This week’s letters courtesy of teenhelp.org. All letters are real problems from real teens from the sites forums. They just weren’t, eh, written to Dr.Duke. But whatever. Enjoy; Dr.Duke will appear every Tuesday.

Want to send in a letter? Blaydcor@yahoo.com

A weekly advice column.

This week’s letters courtesy of teenhelp.org. All letters are real problems from real teens from the sites forums. They just weren’t, eh, written to Dr.Duke. But whatever. Enjoy; Dr.Duke will appear every Tuesday.

Want to send in a letter? Blaydcor@yahoo.com

Dear Dr.Duke,

Okay long story short I had to go get money on the laundry card since my family lives in an apartment. I have to go to the office in the front of my big apartment building 'complex' thingy. I got money on the card and as I was leaving I turned the corner and I get slammed up against the wall and in my face is someone with a Burger King mask. He got 5 bucks my mom gave to me for taking out the card and the laundry card ... who the fuck steals a laundry card? He had a gun and it looked pretty fake but I wasn't taking any chances. It was kind of terrifying and now I’m not sure if I want to even go outside anymore; what if next time I get shot or actually lose money? This has me really worried please tell me what I should do.

-Burger-King Burgled in Alabama

Dear Burgled,

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh my god, I just laughed so hard that I sprayed cereal all over your letter (which means I can’t really read it, so I’ll just kind of guess). Alright. You said that you got held up and robbed by a guy in a Burger King mask....

HA.HA.HA.Hahahahahahahahahaha. Ahahahahahahahahahahahaha. That is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard the president of my high school’s chess club give a speech on how more students should participate in sports (like chess, presumably).

Every time I start to seriously answer your letter (well, let’s be honest, to write a few paragraphs of bullshit so that I get my weekly paycheck, which will then probably go towards videogames, beer, and lots of Doritos), I get this image of some obese 13 year old (just the image your letter gave off, sorry) sweating and panting on their way back from the laundromat and...BHAM! Some goofy plastic goateed motherfucker slams you up against the wall. I mean, come on, Burger King??? What the hell is next, a guy in an Elmo suit holding up a bank? A few kids dressed up as the Teletubbies breaking into a store?

You asked what you should do about this. Well, my first response would be nothing. Get real. You lost 5 fucking bucks and a laundry card. That’s kind of like forgetting your speedo when you go to the pool; you’re probably better off without. Think about it.

Your mom (also undoubtedly obese) was probably going to just use the $5 on some sort of deep-fried food that would bring her just one step closer to tipping 400. That criminal was basically like a weight loss support group rolled into one ironically Burger King masked package.

And the laundry card. Come on, who does laundry? I don’t. I’ve been wearing the same damn shirt and bathrobe for about 3 weeks now, though I have switched underwear once (maybe twice). Doing laundry is kind of like pressing a red emergency button, punching a bouncer in the face, or showering: only do it when there’s no other option.

Here’s a little peek into Dr.Duke’s life. Want to know how I do laundry? I dig through the huge pile of dirty clothes in my room until I find something that doesn’t smell too bad. Wa-la. Laundry. (This works especially well with pants; I haven’t washed any of my pants since May 2002).

At this point I’d like to step aside from the main letter just to insult you. What kind of scum of the earth loser gets robbed by a guy in a Burger King mask? I mean, I guess if you were laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe, maybe that would have done it. But come on. I mean, did he really want $5 and a laundry card? I would have told him he was worthless, kneed him in the groin, and walked away.

Either that, or clapped him on the back, told him he was the man, and happily handed over my wallet. Because, god damn it, robbing people in a Burger King mask takes style. It would make you feel happy, to be robbed; he just looks so jolly. Whoever that thief is, hats off. You, sir, get 10/10 points for style, grace, and ass-kickery.

But back to you. Oh man, what a lost cause. I’ve been to farms and seen pigs that have more of a chance of doing something worthwhile with their lives. You spend your afternoon running bitch errands for your parents, letting yourself get robbed by a Burger King, and then crying about it online.

There should be a myspace quiz called “Are You A Loser?”, 4 questions long: it
would go like this:

1)Do you do bitch errands for your parents?

2)Have you ever been robbed by a Burger King?

3)Do you ask imaginary online friends what to do when you’re worried?

4)Do you think Donkey Kong is even cooler than Vanilla Ice was in the early 90’s?

The results, of course: For 1-3, add a point for each yes. Number 4 is a trick question, Vanilla Ice was never cool (And for the record, nobody is more cool than Donkey Kong. Donkey Kong kicks monumental ass; he's a large gorilla who plays tennis, drives carts and communicates with creepy grunting noises. Plus, he's named "Donkey" for no damn reason other than it sounds violent. Donkey Kong: A true hero).

Obviously you would get a 4 on this quiz: The results? “4-You’re truly pitiful. You make Peewee Herman look like a charming, sophisticated aristocrat. You probably listen to Panic at the Disco too much, and you also probably eat way too much McDonalds. You’re pretty much a hopeless loser who should go dig a hole, jump in, and bury themselves.”

By the way, that wasn’t just results from the quiz, that’s my advice to you: Go bury yourself alive. I’d rather play hot potato with a live porcupine than think about your meaningless existence for another minute. I’m done with your letter, and I’m done with you.

Although....hahaha. Burger King. And he stole your laundry card. Wow, you really are a fucking loser. You really, really, suck.

Enjoy being unpopular all through high school, college, and the rest of your life.

Dear Dr.Duke,

I can't concentrate on anything, my mind always seems to wonder off, I didn't used to be like this, but now that I am, a lot of people tell me my symptoms are probably ADD so I'm thinking wow this sucks, you see my mom doesn't believe in pharmaceutical drugs, and she doesn't really believe in ADD, I don't go to Public School, I am Homeschooled, so I can't find help, which sucks because I don't know where to go, I don't know what to do I wish I could tell my mom, but when i mentioned to her a scenario with a kid with ADD her response was "that poor kid, they are going to drug him because he is hyper" I really wish there was someone I could talk to about this...Can you help me?

--ADD’ed in---Oh look, a chicken!!!

Dear “Oh Look”,

First off, I—

Hang on, there’s something cool on TV. Okay. Sorry about that. What I was going to say---

Hahahaha, holy shit. That’s funny. Damn, I’m gonna go play videogames for a while.

Seriously. Sorry. I know that having ADD probably sucks; thought it’s pretty easy to deal with, just—

Oh, SHIT. This crazy looking bird just flew past my window!

Hey, was that the most annoying thing you’ve ever read? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Well guess what. That’s how people feel about you. That you’re fucking annoying. One minute paying attention, the next off doing some other stupid bullshit. I bet your teachers all talk about how much they hate you at faculty meetings.

Just look at your letter. You could have left out all references to ADD, and it would have still been obvious what your problem. Know why? Cause your letter makes no fucking sense. It jumps around like frog on cocaine. On minute it’s ‘’boo-hoo, I have ADD,” then it’s “Waaah, I’m homeschooled”, and after that, I don’t really know, because your letter was so damn terrible that I stopped reading it. Reading it was kind of like getting papercuts on your eyelids.

I would try to say something productive, but, come on, if somebody serves you asks if their mud pie tastes good, you’re going to tell them it’s horrible. That’s kind of like what your life is: a mudpie. It’s brown and shitty and nobody really cares about it. ADD is the least of your problems.

Homeschooled? Well, that’s just a synonym for “introverted and has no friends, and watches a lot of internet porn”. No doubt you also have roughly the same build as Frodo Baggins. Your heroes are probably white Michael Jackson and Justin Timberlake (why do I say this? Mainly because I hate them, and because I hate you too. You fit together like pieces of a shitty, hate-filled puzzle.).

So, ‘’homeschooled’’, I’ll say one thing. Thank god your mom has some sense. The last thing you need is drugs. Because we all know that your life is empty, depressing, and has nothing fulfilling in it. So what better way to fill the void than drugs?

Addiction, anyone? A few years down you’ll start to OD, but then forget because your ADD will kick in, so you’ll only half kill yourself. That’s basically failing at failing (more so than quitting soccer).

Just because I’m incredibly bored, I’m going to give one of my famous “better in 3 easy steps” pieces of advice to fix your ADD.

1)Read this line twice before reading step 2.

2)Go back to line 1, do as it says, then read this one again before moving on.

3)Congratulations, if you’re reading this line, your ADD is cured.

The only downside, of course, is that you’re still a sad, empty loser on par with the Sherminator from American Pie. The only difference is that nobody laughs at you, they just secretely fantasize about ripping your face off. If we lived in biblical times, you would have been stoned to death long ago; people from the bible days didn’t stand for pansy-assed wuss children like you. You’d be nothing but some shattered skeleton being sniffed at by wild dogs.

Actually, biblical times or no, that’s a pretty good idea. Go ask some of your ‘friends’ to stone you to death. I’d also advise you to remind them to bring sharp, heavy rocks, but I’m sure they’ll do that on their on.

Oh, wait. You have no friends. Scratch that one. So I guess instead you’ll just be spending a lot of time (read: all your time) alone in your room, crying yourself to sleep, hating your pitiful existence, and pretending that your stuffed animals are your friends.

Man, thank God I’m not you. You just achieved your greatest accomplishment of your worthless life: you make other people happier to be alive.

Have fun trying to be successful with ADD; no doubt you’ll end up dying alone and hungry in a gutter a few years from now. Cheers!

Dear Dr.Duke,

Hi I'm going to start a philosophy club at my school. Are there any good names for it? i think 'philosophy club' sounds boring. We basically talk about life, ethics, future, and all that other good stuff in my club. Any kind of suggestion will be appreciated.

Also a few kids were saying it was a dumb idea...I dont know why though because i told one of my teachers about it and he told me he was sure that plenty of kids would join...i don’t know i think its a good idea. i just need a good name

-Plato Junior in Pennsylvania

Here’s a good one; how about the “Ultimate Loser’s Club”. Or maybe “Kid’s with no Social Life United”. That sounds like the worst fucking idea for a club ever. The “Let’s All Stand Around And Make Farting Noises With Our Cheeks Club” would be a better idea. Actually, that would be a damn awesome idea.

But not the philosophy club. That’s just embarassing. If you were my kid I’d be ashamed to take you in public, much less admit that you had my genes in you. Hey, when was the last time somebody said they loved you? Damn right you can’t remember, because nobody does love you. They all think you’re pond scum. You’re the equivalent of that crusty green slime that forms in toilet bowls when you don’t scrub them.

So your teacher said he "was sure" other kids would join. Here’s some life advice: when people say “I’m sure”, what they really mean is “No fucking chance. Take a few examples.

Grandma:“Oh, honey, I’m sure you’ll do fine” (Translation: “Oh, honey, you have no fucking chance.”)

Friend: “Just ask her man, I’m sure she won’t laugh in your face or anything. Just try.”(Translation: “Get ready to have that chick laugh in your face, loser”)

Get the point? Your teacher was really saying “Yeah, great fucking idea, too bad we don’t live in Narnia or Hogwarts though. Seeing as its reality it’s the most terrible idea in history.”

Wanna know why the other kids said it was dumb? Because they’re completely right, that’s why. Hey, want to go talk about ‘life, ethics, future’ and ‘all that other good stuff’? Yeah, excuse me if I go try to chew cement instead.

Speaking of, don’t you see the irony? You’d talk about life and future, but...oh wait, you don’t have a life. I mean, let’s get real. You want to start a philosophy club. And future? Clearly you don’t have one, especially after you've started a fucking philosophy club. I see a lot of locker room beatings, stolen lunch money, and after school pummelings in your futures. Don’t forget having your head flushed in a toilet pretty much every day and being turned down by every girl you have the audacity to approach.

Here’s a graph I made of your life:

Seriously. Shoot me now. If they came up with a “Stupid Pill” that was just a massive dose of pure, refined stupidity crammed into one tiny pill, I could pound a whole bottle of them and not feel as dumb as your I do after reading your worthless letter. Newsflash: philosophy went out of style about, oh, say, a dozen centuries ago.

I feel like getting my head run over by a steamroller just so I don’t have to think about your completely idiotic letter. There should be a law: if you want to start a philosophy club you must first be decapitated. Sounds good to me, and not only that; I bet it would pass through the Senate and the House like nothing.

There’s so many better things you could do with life. Well, not you, you’re a loser either way, but hypothetically speaking. Go to Mime School. Eat banana’s and chug Sprite. Contract as many STD’s as possible. All of those are a hell of a lot better than starting a ‘philosophy club.’

I was about to close by saying “fuck you, I hate you, I hope you trip over a rock and impale yourself on a fortuitously placed broadsword”, but I came up with the perfect name for the club: The “I’m Never Gonna Get Laid” club.

Have fun with that. And when you inevitably kill yourself, make sure to mention me in your letter as the guy who started it all.

Dr.Duke #1-Bullies, Prom Hair, and Nerdiness

DR.DUKE

A weekly advice column.

This week's letters courtesy of teenhelp.org. All letters are real problems from real teens from the sites forums. They just weren't, eh, written to Dr.Duke. But whatever. Enjoy; Dr.Duke will appear every Tuesday.

Want to send in a letter? Blaydcor@yahoo.com

D

Dear Dr.Duke,

Can some one please help me at least feel better? for the last few days i've been verbelly bullied by two fat twin brothers. they said things like "your whole generation is whores and strippers!" "fuck u u motherfukin son of a bitch! you whore you fuckin stripper! your parents are fuckin stupid! you all are fuckin abnormall retards! fuck you!" they also laughed and tried to spread rumours about me. They are trying to make the whole classroom hate me. and when ever they see me they make fun of me. so can some one please help and give me tips to deal with this situation?

Sincerely,

Bullied in Oklahoma

Dear Bullied,

Whoa, holy shit. There so much worthless garbage in your letter that I don’t even know where to a start. I feel like a denist would if a kid walked into his office with nothing but black stumps for teeth and asked “Can you help me? I have a toothache?”. Except I’m not a denist, I’m the man, and you don’t have a toothache, you have an empty, sad life.

So two fat twin brothers are abusing you. Before I even get started, I just want to say, damn. That’s awesome. I have never met fat twin brothers, but I have been dreaming that I will, someday, since I was about six. Fat twins brothers is probably the best thing I’ve ever heard of since I first learned what a blowjob was. That being said, if you’re seriously letting yourself get picked on by fat twin brothers then there’s not much I can do. That’s like getting called names by the Three Stooges or something. You must have the self esteem of a sea slug.

But for boredoms sake, if nothing else, let’s try to go on. So the insults. They called you a ‘whore’ a ‘fuckin’ stripper’, claimed you were ‘fuckin’ abnormal’, said that your parents wer ‘fuckin stupid’ and, best of all that your ‘whole generation is whores and strippers’.

If I could meet those brothers, I would buy them a beer. Well, considering they’re underage, I’d probably go with, say, a cheeseburger. Maybe two of them apiece, considering their aforementioned obesity. Whatever. Either way, those insults are just completely over the top.

Over the top awesome!! Usually a kid will go through a typical tyrade like “fuck you you fuckin faggot homo suck my balls i fucked your mom”. Not the most creative.

Not the Pillsbury twins. They took it to the next level. Stripper? Abnormal? Your whole generation is strippers? These kids are modern Van Goghs, and insulting losers is their medium. I politely applaud them; if I ever have kids I want to be demoralized, I know where to look.

That being said, what a pussy. Step it up. Are you fucking serious? You feel bad because you were called ‘abnormal’? Oh, boo hoo. My life is over. Some fat twins are calling me abnormal. I would be pumped to have fat twins call me anything. Though it is pretty impressive they’re trying to get the whole classroom to hate you; in my day kids never thought of that. Though to be honest, if your whole class hates you, I’ve got a sad secret to tell you: It’s not the Super Lardio Bros fault, it’s your own. You’re pitiful, snivelly, weak, all in all, a real-life Charlie brown. I bet your mom packs your lunch for you and leaves you notes. I also bet that you ‘used to play soccer when you were a kid, but don’t anymore’, which is basically saying you were so worthless you failed at failing.

Swift advice: Buy a razor and start cutting yourself. I heard that helps losers feel better. Either that or totally shatters their self-esteem, leads them to a life of bitter isolation, and often ends up in suicide. One or the other; I can’t be bothered to look it up.

Oh, and...Fat twins! That’s so awesome. Just so, so awesome.

Dear Dr.Duke,

Prom is May 17^th. Got a dress and even a hair band that matches it sorta.

I need help with a hairstyle. I’m up for anything basically. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

-Hairbrained in New Hampshire.

Dear Hairbrained,

Wow, great pun. “Hairbrained” instead of harebrained. At least you saved me the trouble of wondering if you had more the 3 functional brain cells.

Oh wait, you already did that. By writing a letter to an advice column asking about A FUCKING HAIRSTYLE FOR PROM. Honestly.

First: Who the fuck cares? Certainly not I. Not your friends. And I can sure as hell gaurantee that your date (poor bastard) doesn’t give a rat’s ass, or any other animal’s ass, what your hair is like. He is probably only worried about two things, which are (1)getting a boner during slow dances, and how to deal with it and, (2)if you are fat, hopefully he will not have to foot the bill for dinner.

Second: If you HAD to ask, was it really necessary to post it online? That’s a bigger fucking joke than the National Circus Clown convention. I mean, at least your Mom might pretend to care. Your shallow, self-interest friends might croon and praise whatever bullshit idea you regurgitate their way from People Teen™. But online? Come the fuck on. Get real. I already know what type of person you are. You think Ron Weasley is “cute”, think Fall Out Boy is “the best band everrrrr, and spend your free time posting bulletins on myspace begging for 'pic comments plz'.

Third: Look at me. Yes, that picture of that depressed looking guy at the beginning of the article. I want you look carefully at my hairstyle. What do you notice?

If your answer was not “it’s straight-up trash, it looks like you woke up after not showering for two days, ran your hand through it a few times, and then mussed it once or twice”, then you’re damn wrong. I would sooner braid my pubes than ‘style’ my hair. I am a grumpy advice columnist who eats most of his meals (which are usually Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Cookie Crisp) on the toilet while watching pirated copies of the Simpsons on my PSP. The only hair product I use is bodywash; if I’m out of that I use soap. Shampoo, Shmampoo. And don’t even speak to me of ‘conditioner.”.

Since you asked, though, I might as well throw out a few suggestions. Here’s my favorite:

1)Cornrows: It looks badass, and just gives off such a strong ‘Caribbean’ vibe that you should almost be embarrassed not to have cornrows. The greasier, the better. Sure, that may not be the look that teenaged prom girls are going for, but do I care? Cornrows kick ass

2)The Bro-hawk. This is like a mohawk, only it kicks more ass. Yes, it kicks more ass than a mohawk. Sit down and let that idea rape your mind for a few minutes. What is it? Two mohawks. Just stretch two strips of duct tape over your head, and shave. For gel, just lather some soap into your hair and let it dry. (Hint: It’s what I did for prom, and I was the hit of the prom. Either that or I wasn’t allowed in; my memories a little fuzzy, since I downed a beer or 15 beforehand. Also, I forgot to rent a tux so went with wife- beater and sweatpants. Did I mention I didn’t have a date?).

3)The Hippy. This one is the easiest, but you have to start now. Stop washing. Period. Hair, body, whatever. Stop shaving too. Let a nest or two of lice move into your hair. Spend all of your time with dumb fucking farm animals, climbing in trees, burning patchouli, having fierce debates about the Grateful Dead, and reading Walden and inappropriately quoting it at every given moment. I’m sure your prom would be thrilled for someone to go ‘’hippy’’; most schools haven’t seen one at Prom since ‘Nam. And I mean that literally.

In closing, I want to add one more thing: Prom isn’t awesome. You’re wearing a frumpy dress, going with a guy who’s only going because he’s barely 17 and pussy whipped by everybody with two X chromosomes, and will spend the night eating shitty food, listening to lame top 40 music, then riding home in awkward silence. Don’t forget the bill, though odds are you’ve got the poor guy to pay for the tickets. Poor bastard. Whatever you do with your hair, he has my condolences.

-Dr.Duke

PS-I bet somebody else has your same dress.

Dear Dr.Duke

I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my lifestyle lately.

I’m definitely a nerd, no question about it. I play video games and watch anime and am on the computer almost constantly. I only venture outside occasionally for a walk or to play frisbee.

I go to school, get good grades and all and have a career direction of sorts in computers...but I’m stuck...

I know that nerdiness is bad according to society, and I should go out there, smile constantly, do public service, be awesome and cool and friendly and be full of motivation and drive, and I have to just automatically know how to charm the ladies but that’s all just too daunting

I just feel...unaccomplished, I hate that all my hobbies don't accomplish anything or really benefit me or society in any way, all they do is keep me amused for hours on end xD
It's easy for people to tell me "Oh, get a job, or oh get a new hobby" but I can't just do that. I tutor at school for money and I can't just create a new hobby out of nowhere....
Grr! Why couldn't my hobby have been something like football, then I'd be a buff, lady winning-superstar.

But I dunno...I guess I want to do something about myself...I enjoy being a nerd but I feel like I wont be whole if I don't change something...
I dunno, any suggesitons?

-Goku_XVegetaX_Naruto of Georgia

Oh boy. This letter is like an explosive baseball. A disaster, right off the bat. I mean, seriously, I spent more time trying to read your ‘name’ then I did your letter. True, that might be because I just kind of read a few random sentences from your letter, but still. What the fuck is up with GokuXVegataXNarutoXXX? Or whatever. That’s not a name. That’s a clusterfuck of lameness. All because of that, I can easily say that you have no hope. The simplest solution to all your problems is to perform the following 3 steps:

1)Kill Yourself

2)Remain Dead

3)I Hate You.

The key one is the third one; yes, I really do hate you, just from your letter. Oh no! Dr.Duke tried to write a mean letter, but he only rolled a 12! My saving throw will protect me!

Nice fucking try, Walter (is it all right if I call you Walter? You sound like a Walter. Most losers do). Too bad Dungeons and Dragons is the saddest thing in the world short of an ancient, toothless man trying to gum his way through a piece of beef jerkey.

Yes, I know you didn’t say a word about Dungeons and Dragons in your, letter, but let’s get real: You watch anime, play videogames, and are afraid to speak to girls. And you are tentatively planning a career in computers.

Good Christ. Honestly. Why not just but a half dozen shirts with “I’M A FIRST CLASS LOSER!!” branded across them so people won’t have to bother talking you to realize how worthless you are. You’re about as cool as garbage soup. And for the record, garbage soup is what really desperate bums eat, so it’s the opposite of cool.

At least you stay inside most of the time. God forbid you blight the world with your pimpled pastiness more often than that. And frisbee? Get real. We all know that the only ‘frisbee’ you play is when you mournfully watch the normal kids playing frisbee. And you just stand there, sad and oily and obese, wishing they would invite you to play. Then one sees you and catches your eye.

And every fucking kid in sight laughs and insults you, throws stuff at you, and calls you the ‘’Dungeon Master” until you manage to wheeze your way away to a safe distance. Also, I bet you have a small penis, though that’s not really here nor there. Just like any ass you’re getting. Not here nor there, or anywhere, cause it doesn’t fucking exist. The last tit you saw was your mom’s, though to your credit that probably wasn’t too long ago. A worm-spined scum like you probably breast fed until you were about 4.

Oh, and the line about how you’d be a ‘’buff lady winning superstar’’ if you played football? Yeah, I don’t think so. You would be a bone-shattered, sidelined, sniveling punching bag for all the real men. You would get your frail ass twisted at ungodly angles every practice, get brutally crushed in every play, and generally experience a brutal reinforcement of just how unnecessary your existence is. You would be the broken-spirited outcast loser of the team. Even the coach would cast his eyes down in shame whenever you had to be on the field.

So, I’m not exactly suggesting this, but I’m just gonna throw this out there: suicide. No, that’s not a suggestion; like I said. Just throwing it out there. But seriously. Suicide. Just throwing it out there.

Anyway, I have more productive ways to spend my time than thinking about your pointless existence (shaving my balls, watching “Sanford and Son” in Spanish, banging my face against the pavement, etc), so I’m out. Have fun being a completely insignificant nobody.

Oh, by the way, good grades don’t equal friends, success, or even self esteem. And that was probably the only thing keeping you going, huh? I recommend a noose, it’s stylish. And it’s across the highway, if that’s your thing.

Just throwing that out there.