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Ask the Death Adder
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5.08.2001
Dear Death Adder,
I live under a bridge just outside town.
Recently, a new hobo named Fred moved in. At first I was overjoyed,
but lately we haven't been getting along. When I'm sleeping he
doesn't keep the fire burning like I do for him. When new
cardboard boxes blow our way, he always takes the choice ones for
himself. And when we make Hobo-Stew, I always add carrots and
beans, but he only adds tree bark and old shoes.
On one hand I like the
companionship--it's no fun to slowly waste away by yourself--but I have
to think there is someone better out there for me. I know beggars
can't be choosers, but (as I beggar) do I have a right to choose my
life-partner?
Sincerely,
Hobo Jim
Dear Hobo Jim,
Fred is testing your limits. Like a
child, he wants to see what he can get away with. And as with a
child, you are going to have to set rules and consequences for breaking
those rules. So the next time he puts garbage in the stew, explain
to him that it makes your stomach ache - then simulate this with a heavy
blow to his gut. When he deprives you of cardboard, help him
understand by burning his box shanty to the ground. Once he learns
to empathize with you, your situation should improve.
Sincerely,
The Death Adder
5.07.2001
Dear Death Adder,
My son was caught shop-lifting this
weekend at the local drugstore. He stole a Kit Kat candy bar, a
potato peeler, three pornographic magazines, and a Yahtzee! game.
When I asked him why he did it, he said, "I don't know."
Death Adder, this truly stresses me as a parent. For 14 years I
raised him to the absolute best of my ability, but then I turn around
for one moment and this is what happens?!?
I can't believe he would risk his future for such trivial things.
The store is filled with priceless prescription narcotics, any of which
would triple their value on the street, and he steals candy bars and
pornography! What can I do?
Sincerely,
Mother Sticky Fingers
Dear Mother Sticky Fingers,
There are three problems here:
1) Your son is shoplifting. As a
teenager, he ought to be practicing breaking into secure buildings, not
wasting time palming items - he should have mastered that by the time he
was 7.
2) He was caught in the act. He will
never establish a successful career in theft if he cannot even pocket
small items unobserved.
3) Given these facts, you choose to fret
about what he steals rather than his pathetic lack of skills.
Obviously you have failed as an instructor, and ensured your son's
failure as well.
Take two cyanide pills and call me in the
morning,
The Death Adder
5.04.2001
Dear Death Adder,
I am a large man. I eat plenty.
When it's dinner time, I cram in the food without regards to the other
members of my family. I am truly a disgusting site.
This morning, as I tried to find clothes for work, I noticed nothing fit
any more. I couldn't even squeeze one of my enormous toes into an
oversized sock. Can you believe it? So, as I lay exhausted
in bed, Jesus descended from heaven and said, "Jack," (even
though my name is Stewart) "you big disgusting blob, I can't
believe I died for your sins. You'll never make it to heaven so
don't even try."
Now Death Adder, I was never a spiritual
man, but this moment touched me. On one hand, I could take this as
a warning and try to make something better of myself. On the other
hand, Jesus did tell me that it wasn't worth my time. What should
I do?
Sincerely,
Big Stewert
Dear Big Stewert,
I wouldn't bother if I were you. I
don't believe in Heaven, only Hell on Earth. So I think you should
continue on your famously frenetic fattening way until you get there.
And the next time you see this Jesus person, send him my way. I
have a few things to discuss with him.
Sincerely,
The Death Adder
5.03.2001
Dear Death Adder,
There is a room in our house that my
husband forbids me from going into. I hear him inside the room
working, sometimes all through the night. I hear chains rattling,
muffled thuds, the buzzing of a chain saw, and the door of a large ice
chest opening and closing. When he comes out of the room his
clothes are torn and he appears to be covered in blood that is not his
own. Sometimes when we argue, he mumbles to himself, "One of
these days it will be HER head in that freezer." I'm really
not sure what all this means.
Our anniversary is coming up and I would
like to get him something special. I really want to buy him a DVD
player, but he also needs a new pair of work boots because his current
ones are caked with entrails. Should I be practical or
extravagant?
Sincerely,
Confused Wife
Dear Confused Wife,
Are you insane? I've never seen anyone as blind as you are.
Your husband is working hard every night to pay your bills and all you
can think about is spending his hard-earned money? Either one of
these gifts would only be an insult of wastefulness. Instead, show
your appreciation by being thrifty. At your anniversary meal,
serve him a plate of nice, cheap dirt. Your husband will
gratefully reward you.
Sincerely,
The Death Adder
5.02.2001
Dear Death Adder,
I'm no mathematician, but here's what
I've figured out so far: My newborn child weighs 7.5 pounds.
A large brick I found weighs 11.3 pounds. The brick, therefore, is
151% more valuable than the baby. So, when I traded my baby for a
whole truckload of bricks, my worth increased over 100 times. My
wife doesn't see it this way. What can I do to make her
understand?
Sincerely,
Ton o' Trouble
Dear Ton o' Trouble
It's all quite relative. For
instance, if you are using the bricks to build yourself a new castle
then you were wise. They will provide you with excellent defense,
whereas a baby is soft and easily penetrated by arrows and spears, so it
is relatively valueless. However, if you have plenty of resources
on hand but lack the labor to build, then you made a poor choice; extra
bricks cannot move on their own, but a baby will quickly grow into a
child which is easily motivated by whips, hunger, or any number of
other factors.
Sincerely,
The Death Adder
5.01.2001
Dear Death Adder,
Usually on weekday evenings I roam the
neighborhood and root through other people's trash containers. I
like to keep the wonderful things I find and I like to try on the old
clothes that other people have discarded. A few things are
bothering me, though. Sometimes I find one shoe but not the other.
Or there will be a half-eaten sandwich. Why are people so
inconsiderate? Don't they know I want that other half a sandwich
or the matching shoe?
Anyway, a rash which started on my hands
and arms has spread to my neck, head, back, buttocks, legs, and feet.
The rash also appears inside my mouth, nostrils, and under my
fingernails. The rash is red and peels and sometimes causes white
bumps to appear. I am fainting more often. It also seems
that I am more ticklish than before.
I wonder what it is?!?
Sincerely,
Midnight Lurker
Dear Midnight Lurker,
Originally I was going to construct a
helpful response to your plight. But I can see from your symptoms
that you will probably be dead by the time you come to read this, so
I'll save myself the ink. Better luck in the next life.
Regrets,
The Death Adder
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