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.
No comments:
Post a Comment