Hey, I get mail too!
Dear Duke of Coagulation: Based on your recognition of both poetry and prose, I have to say that you’re clearly a literary sort of guy. My question is this: Why do SBDs stink so much? Especially the ones that burn. Mookie Saluki
Dear MooSal: What—they don’t have a literature department there at SIU? Let them handle your question.
Dear Duke: You clearly know a lot of celebrities (e.g., Al Kaline, Ted Nugent, General Fester). Have you ever met Diffenbach? Old Doc Potter
Dear Sherm: Have I ever met Diffenbach? Does Millard Fillmore kick ass?
Dear Duke: Are these letters real or composed by you? Milt Laerton
Dear ML Junior or Senior (whichever one you are): Most are real. Yours, however, is one I made up.
Dear Duke: How about mine? Niel Loebig
Dear DUQB: Seems real to me.
Dear Duke: What kind of an idiot would waste his or her time reading your asinine blog? Man’s Man in
Dear Ma’ma’s Boi: The classification schema for idiocy is based on a number of parameters—intelligence, impulsiveness, and childishness, to name but a few. Those who frequent this site tend to be characterized by traits clustering within the alpha subclass of the factor butthead. Also guys who like to say “Ooga!” in high voice.
9 comments:
Dear Duke:
I have a question for you. Is it better to lance a festering boil or just have Oprah suck on it?
Dear PreTAr:
Real men take care of boils the same way they deliver babies: By ripping them out with their teeth.
Mega-dittos to a great American who has both panache and verve!
My question:
A 'friend' has recently found out that it is apparently considered 'wrong' to have sex with the dead (despite the fact they have been painstakingly preserved and hermetically sealed). After seeing way too many horror revenge movies, any suggestions on how to break it off? (for my 'friend', of course)
Dear duhfet:
This is always a tricky situation. As you imply, movies have taught us that zombies are powerful. Moreover, they can't be outrun. You can sprint like Carl Lewis while the corpse staggers awkwardly, yet somehow he always catches up.
Anyway, here's my advice to your friend (tee hee): Try to make the deceased break up with you. Say annoying things that will make him or her doubt you, but not get angry enough to rip out your pancreas. Example: "I used to tell dead jokes, but stopped when I met you. I have to admit, though, some of them were pretty funny." Or: "Being dead works for you and that's great. But for me, there's nothing like life." If done correctly, your buddy should be hearing the "let's be friends" speech in no time.
My goodness! I did a google search today for "diffenbach laerton's original loebig-smegma sauce as told by President Millard Fillmore" and didn't find the recipe, but did happen upon this site. Would you happen to have the recipe and share it with me?
Dear Chef Tom:
Unfortunately, no one has that recipe. When Fillmore began his speech with "Take 9 parts Larry Linville spleen juice..." the Tiger Stadium crowd began booing so loudly that the rest of the ingredients went unheard, and forever lost.
All right you little pr*** (I could flick you into oblivion with my left pec alone) here I am on the supposedly correct thread. I've read the bullshit 'douche-bag' stuff and I don't f***ing get it, and I'm the smartest guy I know. (In fact, my astrologer says that a 'once in a generation' genius was born at the exact time and place I was born. In fact, I share the same birthday with Jerry Lewis and Henny Youngman - 'nuff said)
PS: What the hell is coagulation?
Dear Ponch:
Y.A. Tittle never won a Pulitzer and, if he had, he may well have used it as an armrest.
Think about it.
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