Sunday, January 27, 2008

Dear Dick:

Advice? Yeah, we got that.

Much like my mommy dispensing Kaopectate to my unsettled tummy, such is the way with my dolling of nurturing guidance to troubled souls. For some time now, I've enjoyed an astonishingly successful side career giving out pipping hot servings of advice to the socially retarded via Dear Abby-esque writings, syndicated in PennySaver mailers across this great land of ours, under the guise of my pen name, Dick.

Since we've grown so close over the past year and a half, I decided that it was time to reveal with you, my valued readers, my true identity and impart some of my wisdom to you. My goal here is to not only share queries and my advice, but to also create a dialogue wherein we can freely express our feelings, have a good cry and ultimately end up in the sack. That being said, welcome to the world of "Dear Dick: Pearls of Wisdom for the Socially Inept."

DEAR DICK: I just love "Dutch Ovening" my girlfriend. For your readers who are not familiar with what this is, it is a little prank where, when in bed with my girlfriend, I fart and pull the covers over her head to create a cocoon that contains my gastric gift. Oh, I just laugh and laugh. She does not. Is there any way that I can make her more receptive to my affinity for this activity?


DEAR GASSY IN GAINESVILLE: Any way you slice it, Dutch Ovening is decidedly funny. The skill it takes to time your fart, gather your covers and encapsulate your significant other is genuinely admirable. My advice to you is to carry out other pranks that, by comparison, make "the Oven" seem hilarious. For instance, try duct taping her eyes shut while she's sleeping, so that when she wakes up she thinks she's blind. After that, she'll be begging you to fart and pull the covers over her head!


DEAR DICK: Everyone in my life is criticizing me for spending too much time on Facebook & MySpace and not interacting with real people. On average, I spend about seven hours a day stalking girls with large bottoms and leaving clever comments on friends' pages. My "friends" say this is unhealthy, but I don't think it is a problem. How do I get them to stop pestering me about it?


DEAR PLUGGED-IN IN PEORIA: I understand your plight, for I also enjoy girls with large bottoms. You just want to grab those bottoms and take a bite out of 'em. Am I right or am I right? Heh? Heh? Heh?

In any event, one of my college professor's once said, "you change others by changing yourself." Maybe this is true, I don't know. What I do know is thinly veiled, passive-aggressive statements like, "the internet doesn't give me a hard time like this" or "if I could set an option to approve your comments, I would, like, totally do it" or "if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to SuperPoke you right in the nose" are extremely effective. If this doesn't work, change your tactics from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive.


DEAR DICK: My boyfriend of two years recently broke up with me, and I am totally crushed. He told me that I had let myself go and was turning into a Wookiee. He specifically said that my nose hair had grown to "epic car wash proportions" and that my arm hair reminded him of his creepy uncle, Earl. After it happened, I was so devastated that I Nair'd my entire body, and now I closely resemble a Chinese Crested dog. After doing this, I rushed to him to show him how I had changed for him, and he asked if I was molting. HOW DO PEOPLE GO FROM BEING SO CLOSE TO BEING COMPLETE STRANGERS?


DEAR BARE IN BURLINGTON: How do people go from being so close to being complete strangers?!! I'll tell you how that happens. One of those two people poses bullshit, cliche questions like, "how do people go from being so close to being complete strangers," that's how. Oh, and the hairy bit may have had something to do with it. Better luck next time.


DEAR DICK: I have recently read many of your columns while clipping coupons for the seven 7's of Dial 7 Car & Limousine, and I have come to the conclusion that you are just a Negative Nancy and your advice is really unhelpful. Why so contrary? Growing up, my mom always said, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Maybe that would be some good advice for you?


DEAR WORRIED IN WESTCHESTER: Thank you for your genuine concern. The answer lies in my upbringing. You see when my parents, Sour Sal and Melancholy Mary, had me it was pretty much in the cards that I would end up a Negative Nancy. I'm sure growing up in Defeatism, Delaware probably didn't help things. Then there were the summers. Oh, the summers.... Having to do heavy manual labor under the unforgiving eyes of my grandparents, Hurtful Harold & Combative Carol, was no cakewalk either, believe you me. Luckily for me I've got helpful people like you, WORRIED IN WESTCHESTER, to give me crappy criticisms and snide swipes -'cause that totally helps. Thaaaaanks.


DEAR DICK: I have had rough time on the dating scene. I am fat-necked, have a sweat gland problem that makes me look like freshly misted produce at all times, and get so nervous around girls that I can't even speak. It's gotten to the point where I just want to give up on dating entirely. Any advice?


DEAR FAT-NECKED: Give up. Who needs a "real, living, breathing girl anyways?" Not me. Try my friend, Tim Minchin's solution:

Helpful? Of course, don't mention it.


So there it is. Who knew I was such a sage? I did. Now I open the floor. Let's let the conversation begin. Tell me your problems, your woes. I promise we can cuddle when it's all over.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Ramblin' Man

So often, when I'm invited to give blog readings at neighborhood Barnes & Nobles, people constantly comment, "Patrick, what I wouldn't give to get inside your head." I chuckle, and then charge them $25 for a children's book I wrote about tap dancing robot clowns which inevitably take over the world in 2017 because they're disarmingly talented.

You know what though? I like you -you've got an honest face. Today we're gonna do something different. Since the pursuit of Greatness takes many forms and I'm slap happy and nothing annoyed me enough this week to complain about, I'm just gonna write and stuff.

So c'mon, let's get ramblin':

"How do you do that?

Is it difficult to write something new every week? Yes, in fact, it is. The problem is I have a very short attention span. I think this harkens back to my youth. You see, I'm from Ohio. In Ohio we raised bunny rabbits for meat. Occasionally, killin' day came 'round where we would butcher 8 - 10 rabbits in one sitting. For that reason, I never took the time to get attached to them.

Speaking of getting attached, sometimes when I'm at the gym and trying my hardest to look cool, the cord to my earphones will get attached to some part of workout equipment. This inevitably pulls the little buds out of my ears. When this happens it is usually a bit painful. The most painful part is the bruised ego bit though. I mean everyone saw that the buds got pulled out of my ears and how I flinched when it happened. Oh, well let's do another set of curls.

When eating french fries, I will almost always opt for the curly fries. Especially curly fries at Arby's they have herbs and spices that I find delectable. There's a quote that says something is the spice of life. I wish I knew what that something was, but for the life of me I really can't remember maybe it's hugs. I doubt it is though -that's not very profound.

Being profound is waaaaay overrated. I've been there once or twice and if felt pretty good at the time, but later I think people thought that I stole the profoundness from someone else. I really don't think I that I did. Then I get all indignant and shit, when the fact of the matter is it is a very real possibility that I just regurgitated something from someone on TV or that article in Newsweek.

My buddy Erick gave me a subscription to Newsweek this year for Christmas. Pretty nice gift and I believe he saved like 40% off the cover price. So good for him for being the bargain shopper.

When I went to Syracuse there was a grocery store called Price Chopper which rhymes with shopper. The logo for this store was this hatchet looking thing stuck in what I always thought was a wheel of cheese. To this day, I don't know if that is what it was supposed to be or not.

It's like when you hear a turn of phrase like "case in point" and someone will repeat it as "case and point." Then you're like, "hmmm, I wonder which is correct." Ultimately though you won't waste much thought on cause, you don't really use that expression enough to really exert any more energy on it.

I feel like I'm a pretty energetic person. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I drink a lot of coffee. I used to make my coffee in a Mr. Coffee coffee maker but I stopped because I started to think that the coffee tasted like mold. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. I just didn't want to risk it. When that happened I started using a French press coffee maker which makes me feel tres cosmopolitan.

I've never understood the appeal of Cosmopolitan for the ladies out there. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that to me it always looks like it has the same cover stories on it every month. There's only so many times you can discover you significant other's erogenous zones before you've got it down pat.

When I was in high school, everyone used to call me Pat. I fucking hated that. Then I would have to do an impression of Pat from SNL which was just annoying and stupid. Remember, that was around the time when the folks at Saturday Night never knew how to end a skit and it would just fade out punctuated by courtesy laughter / applause from the studio audience.

I don't mind courtesy laughter, at least the person who is giving the courtesy laughter acknowledges that you were trying to make a joke. So, um, thanks for being a good listener.

Speaking of listening, do you remember when you were a kid an you used to have to take the hearing tests where you would put on the headphones and have to raise your hand to correspond with ear that the beep happened. I always thought that was kind of fun. Then you had to the scoliosis exam which always gave me the heebee jeebess. I mean really fucking freezing hands and it was always done in some abandoned storage closet. Shady.

I do enjoy shade in the literal sense. You see, I don't like to be hot. When it is cold out you can always put clothes on. But when it is balls hot, like it is in New York in August, it is downright oppressive and there's only so much clothing you can take off before your arrested. Or at least get a ticket. ...and nobody likes that. Unless it's a ticket to a movie.

I feel like I don't keep up with what is playing at the movies. So if people suggest a movie I will go. This isn't always a good thing to do, you know deferring to other people. Sometimes it is a nice thing to do, but just think about it: then your stuck watching some shit movie; when all you really had to do was go to Rotten Tomatoes and see what people are recommending.

Who knows, maybe you had a busy week. You know one of those days where you're constantly moving and you can kind of feel like the front of your brain is working harder than normal. That area just behind your hairline. Take a moment to feel for it, I'll wait. Okay you've taken far too long now it's getting creepy.

You know when it's not creepy? When you go to get your hair cut and they really take their time to work the shampoo into your scalp. I really like that. I find it really relaxing. I try not to get too relaxed when it is happening though or else I feel like I would just go to sleep. Which isn't all bad, but I would probably start drooling. ...and don't get me started on the mouth cheese. Which is just gross. Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up.

Sometimes shit just comes out, you know. Like the other day I went to a nicer party and in the course of conversation told a WASPy girl about this bar that has a large dildo behind the bar- I found this hilarious. She did not. Eh, if they can't take a joke. Tell another one. Or just go grab another drink and find someone else to talk to. Odds are at any given party there's bound to be someone who you can get along with. Maybe not. If that's the case I would leave that party and go get some street meat. Street meat, while delicious, can be a little hit or miss. So choose your vendors well. And make sure you get plenty of both red and white sauce.

Blue skies. Nothing but blue skies from now on. That's a pretty good song, but I feel like it has been over used in too many commercials. I feel the same way about that Don't Hold Back song, you know, the Chemical Bros. one. Great song, it ends up in a Budweiser commercial. I'm like I really don't want to hear that again if I can avoid it. Good commercial, just kinda ruins the legitimacy of the song.

It's very funny, I have opinions about just about everything. Many of them are opinions about things that I know either nothing or very little about. But I'd like to learn about stuff if the option presents itself. The problem is so many people express their opinions as fact that you never can tell if what they're saying is true or just something THEY read in Newsweek."

Well, that was weird and fun. See you next week kids.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Decision 2008: Department of Religious InTolerance

All of those near and dear to me know that I am what the kids call "fucking obsessed" with the D.C. political site, Wonkette. They are funny. I like to steal from them.

The other day they posted a delightful little piece about an anti-Mormon video on GodTube that I found positively hysterical -so much so I that I have opted kick my feet up, enjoy a citrus coolata and simply repost their bit in it's entirety.

What do you know about Mormons? Not much? Well, luckily for you this creepy ass cartoon explains it all! 3 Cheers for the Mormon Jesus & Squanto! Please enjoy the following:

Evangelicals Don't Like Mormons -Wonkette

"So, we’re pretty sure that this video is being disseminated to warn against Mormonism, but it actually makes it sound cool and New Age-y! According to the (scary-voiced) narrator, Mormonism is sort of like Greek mythology, Battlestar Gallactica and Superman all rolled into one with epic battles, space aliens, celestial polygamous sex orgies and weird guys from upstate New York all rolled into one. The narrators also informs us that Mary wasn’t a virgin when she had Jesus because God fucked her; Jesus himself had three wives; and black people have dark skin not because of any crazy science thing like melanin but because their celestial ancestors weren’t mean enough to Satan. Hey, do you think we can get the fundies to ramp up their attacks on Mormons and leave us other godless heathens who smoke, drink and have sex outside of marriage alone? Or can we at least get Romney and Huckabee to debate this shit? Because that would be totally cool."

Religious Infighting: Evangelicals Don't Like Mormons [Wonkette]

Sunday, January 06, 2008

SPECIAL REPORT: An Enormous Caucus

Man! Was that a hot, throbbing caucus on Thursday or what?

That's right kids, the election calendar has kicked off and we are now in the midst of presidential magic. Who will get to fly around in the green helicopter? Who will get their very own museum? And most importantly, who will get to pose for pictures in that really pretty rose garden? In the coming year we will learn the answers to all these questions.

I am a political savant. Not in the sense that I study politics or directly participate in the political process. Rather, I watch a lot of TV and comment on how the colors & patterns of the politicians' ties make me feel. (ex. Ron Paul's backgammon themed tie made me feel itchy).

With all this TV watchin', I hear lotsa speeches. Most of them are pretty predictable, "don't kill unborn babies," "if gay people get married, then people will start marrying river otters because of their inherent cuteness," or "on day one everyone will get free Cinnabons*" -you know, the usual. Tired of the same old rhetoric, I have taken it upon myself to craft some original stump speeches for a few of the Democratic and Republican candidates, and with your kind permission, I would like to share them with you now.


"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for having me here today. It means so much to me to have the opportunity to share some of my thoughts with you, the wonderful people of Child Care Providers Local 127. On 9/11 we were attacked by Islamofascists. These are ruthless radicals whose sole desire is to bring harm to this Great Nation. Since 9/11, I have worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of not only New York City, but other high-value terrorist targets, like here in Derry, NH.

In my pursuits, I found that normal food did not give me enough energy that I needed to fight Osama bin Laden and the terrorists that attacked us on 9/11. I tried beef. I tried PowerBars. I even tried falafel. On a foreign policy fact-finding mission to Abadajeheen, I discovered babies. I found their meaty legs & arms gave me the life force needed to root out terrorists where ever they dwelled. Since then I've been on a strict baby only diet.

The problem is here in America the liberal elites and activist judges won't let good, hardworking people like you and me eat babies. And by doing so, they embolden the enemy. Today, I look to you. Not just for your vote, but your near unrestricted access to the delicious bambinos that provide me with the elan needed to bring the evil doers that attacked us on 9/11 to their knees. If you don't, the terrorists win. Think about it.

Thank you again for having me. Enjoy the chicken salad.


People of Iowa! The world is a very unstable place, and we need a president with real foreign policy experience. Today, I make you this promise. When elected I will personally end North Korea's nuclear weapons program! I have a special rapport with Kim Jong Il. He says I remind him of his cousin, Stew.


I want to thank the AARP for providing this remarkable platform to discuss the issues. You know, throughout this campaign, a lot of the other candidates have been talking about health coverage. You are very fortunate to have some of the greatest health care professionals in the world right here in Des Moines.

As governor of Massachusetts, I created coverage opportunities for all of my constituents and personally oversaw an awareness program focused on prevention. Treating illness before it becomes a problem. Which brings me to my point today.

Prostate exams. I will never forget my very first prostate exam. I was 30 years old. I remember sitting in the cold, sterile exam room as I studied charts detailing the interconnectedness of the ear, nose & throat. After about 20 minutes, Dr. Jimbles entered the room. He was a nice enough man with a cheery demeanor and remarkable knowledge of Milwaukee Brewers stats. After a short bit of chit chat Dr. Jimbles perkily squeeked, "well let's get to business, shall we?" He instructed me to drop my drawers and bend over. "This will be a little uncomfortable," he sheepishly apologized. And with that, he went to town on my cornhole. Involuntarily I bleated out "eeeeeeeeech." And as soon as it had begun, it was over.

I learned some important lessons that day. Prevention is key. Prostate exams are decidedly uncomfortable & vulnerable. Why do I tell this story? I don't know. Frankly, sometimes I black out and wake up dressed up as Ethel Merman. Anyway, dontchu go dyin' on me before election day! Good evening!


A lot of people thought that this moment would never happen. Who would ever have thought that an attractive, charismatic, rich, well-educated politician would ever win a caucus. Or any election ever, for that matter. Am I right? Of course I'm right. How did we get here? The answer lies in the fact that America is hungry for CHANGE.

Change is the word of the day. Change has (6) letters in it. And the people of Iowa know this.

If you jumble the letters in the word Change you get 'Canghe' and 'Nagche.' Neither of which mean anything, but today the voters of Iowa -both Democrats and Independents
headed the call of Nagche, and embraced Canghe, because they're tired of politics as usual.

In my travels I've met a lot of people who Change things. I met Phyllis in Ames, who Changes hear sheets once a week -sometimes more if they're visibly dirty. I met Hal, a maintenance worker from Bettendorf, who Changes his tires when the treads wear down which is a good practice that keeps the steering better aligned. Or Claire, a single mother from Popejoy, who much like Mr. Rodgers, Changes from her shoes into house slippers when she returns home from work. These people inspire me.

Today Iowa has proclaimed that Change is all around us. Why, in my very own pocket I have Change. As a matter of fact, I have (3) quarters, (1) nickel and (4) pennies. I do not know why we even make pennies anymore. When I become president, I will get rid of pennies. Because while I love Change, I hate pennies.

Thank you all so much for your support of both me and Change. Without Change things are the same. Which as the people of this great state know is fine for a while, but after a while, you know, it becomes boring and stuff.



Faith has always informed every decision in my life. It is but through the grace of God that I find myself in this truly blessed position today.

I remember once speaking with God back in 2003. And He said to me, "Mikey 'ol boy, you are a fat piece of shit. It looks like your neck is slowly eating your head. And between you and me, I know you haven't seen your penis in years. If you are going to serve the people you need to staple your stomach or some shit cause no one likes a fatty." It is from this moment that I decided to lose weight.

Losing weight quickly isn't easy. It involves drinking nutrients out of a tube for, like, a buncha weeks and walking around and such. But it has granted me the opportunity to serve the people of Arkansas all skinny-like. Okay sure, some may say my "serving" was completely forgettable and I don't know dick about anything, but I'm skinny. And God digs the skinny. Amen.

Maybe I do have something to contribute to the political landscape after all. I'm Patrick Garrigan and I endorse this message.

*Cinnabon is the official cinnamon roll of Patrick Garrigan.


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