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
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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 17th. 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.
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