Dear Murray

Dear Murray:

Being a girl that like girls is really fucking hard because girls really can suck. Well, I got dumped about five months ago but we have remained friends. I haven’t talked to her in about a month. Now, I really miss her but she is pressing for me to “get over her”. So yeah, I really want to be mean to her cause she really has no idea what I have been going through. Well, basically my question is this; How the fuck do you get over someone when they insist you be there for them and be there friend even when it kills you to be around them. Should I just say fuck it, I mean if she can’t stop to think about what I need then there is no point, right?! She has changed so much and I don’t even want to be with the person that she has become. I just miss how wonderful I felt when we were together. Why do I need someone else to make me feel good? I never used to. How do I get back to that point?

What timing. I’ve watched this about 26 times already today: www.rathergood.com/hedgehogs/

Sheeit. It’s interesting seeing this shit coming from a lesbian ’cause it’s the same goddamned bullshit ALL of us gotta deal with. No matter what slot we’re putting in what hole, it looks like we’re all full of the same exact motherfucking bullshit.

People are motherfucking selfish. COME HERE NO GO AWAY. I never was any good playing with yo yos when I was a kid and I sure the fuck haven’t learned anything about them now.

How do you get over them? YOU OPEN YOUR DAMNED MOUTH and tell them to just fucking leave you the fuck alone (getting any ideas why this is my favorite phrase yet?), otherwise they’ll lure your ass back into their little web over and over and over and over and… too late. Your self-respect is out the window around the third OVER. That’s why yo ass just can’t say no. You’ve got nothing left until you just fucking say FUCK YOU!

Shit. That’s cool and all if someone wants to end a thing. No big fucking deal. Just keep your motherfuckin word. If it’s over, it’s fuckin over. You got all new honeypots to dip into. ’cause lemme tell ya, right now yo’ ass might be all OH MY GOD I LOVED HER SOOOOO MUCH AND I WILL NEVER EVER RECOVER FROM THIS SHIT, then one fuckin day you wake up and go WOW. That really was a lame bitch that I let get my ass all knotted up, wasn’t it?

Today’s goddess is tomorrow’s toofless hag. Maybe she always was a hag, but it’s all in perspective, any goddamned way.

Maybe I just have a soft spot for toofless hags.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray,
I volunteer at Much Love Animal Shelter, I am a devout vegan and I don’t believe in the death penalty, but something happened tonight that shook me to the bone. I don’t know what happened. I think my feral animal nature over-rode my animal-loving nature, but today I saw a mouse crawl into my recycling bin and I didn’t rescue him from the lake of stale beer at the bottom. Not only did I allow him to nearly drown, but I let him get inebriated to the point where he was unable to run from my pit bull terrier. Fortunately, i was cooking bacon and my dog was distracted to the point where her natural mousing instinct was scrambled…
do I save the bacon grease? Or the drunken mouse?

Christ. Does this ever remind me of something that happened to me. I was a vegetarian for 16 fucking years, and I was living in this house on a hill with a buncha people. So, we got this mouse coming around. Took over like the fucking place was his own. Running to and fro, and all the housemates could do was fret about it. So we had the discussion, and they were all “i dunno… i don’t wanna kill the guy. i don’t want the bad karma…” HERE I AM the only motherfucking vegetarian in the household, screaming “KILL IT! KILL THE MOTHERFUCKER! KIIIIILLL IIIIT!”

Finally, we killed it, and were all happier for having done so.

Yeah, I gave up the vegetarianism. For what? Bacon. It was the gateway meat to sausage and pepperoni and chicken. It was only a matter of time. Lots of people told me I was a fucking hypocrite for being a vegetarian and wearing leather, but so fucking what? Of the many rights I have as a human being, the right to be a hypocrite is one that I hold very fucking dear. So kiss my motherfucking ass.

So, who gives a fuck? You’re cooking bacon for your dog but won’t let him eat a fucking mouse? That’s in fucking direct defiance of nature. Dogs may catch and eat a mouse, but when do you see a dog pull down a fucking pig and start gnawing on it looking for its pork rinds?

Just let the dog have the mouse and keep the bacon for yourself.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray:

Do you have much knowledge or thoughts on 12 step programs?

One of my questions, can you recover from addiction to crack cocaine but be able to drink socially at some point?

You know Murray ain’t never needed any 12-step program. The first step would be them telling me how to live my life, and the next 11 steps would be my feet on their face and tit. HOP-SHUFFLE-STEP. HOP-SHUFFLE-STEP.

I did once bang someone in a 12-step, though, which makes me infinitely qualified to make fun of it.

There is nothing better to talk about on St. Patrick’s Day. If you plan on drinking green beer tonight, 12 steps aren’t enough. Bitch, you’re like 1/100th Irish, twice removed by adoption. Save it for May 5, when you go down to the old wing bar to celebrate Mexican Independence Day with all the other assholes. Mexican Independence Day is in September, by the way.

AA ain’t nothing but another DRUG. Some people are hooked on meth. Some people are hooked on dirty martinis. Them bitches are hooked on healin’. I’ve got a tip for ya. If you don’t feel like you can muster the self-control to ever live life for two weeks without attending a meeting, you’re STILL A FUCKIN’ ADDICT. Different day, different drug.

I know you may feel like if you pop open a beer, it will be like opening the box in Hellraiser. Pinhead is going to pop out and say CHOOSE YOUR FATE, and you’ll wake up 37 hours later, with no clue where you are, and bleeding from the anus. I only have one thing to say about that. What the hell are YOU drinking? I gotta get me some of that!

So you can forget all that bullshit. If you wanna join up with that shit, you might as well go all out and sign up for one of those cults where you castrate yourself and let the leader bang your wife and daughter, because, well, he plays GUITAR.

Murray’s gonna help you out. I’ve devised a 12 step program, guaranteed to help you break the addiction. Here we go.

Step 1: Don’t be a dick. No, really. Don’t be a fuckin’ dick. Look in the mirror and ask yourself: “do I look like a dick?” If the answer is no, ask someone else. If they say no, come ask me. The answer is ALWAYS yes.

Step 2: Floppy Dong Hat. Yeah, you could go apologize to whoever you were a dick to, BUT THEY ALREADY KNOW. So you need to let the world know that you’re a dick. The floppy dong hat works just like a dunce cap, but have you ever tried creating spreadsheets with a big rubber frenelum smacking you in the face? I have, and the truth is that it’s less of a soul-killer than doing them without the dong.

Step 3: The Hair of the Dick. By this, I don’t mean sucking dicks in an alley. We’re not to that step, yet. What I mean is that if you can’t drink without being a dick, the goal is to fucking drink without being a dick. So, give it a go. If it fails, hey, everyone already thinks you’re a dick, so nothing’s lost.

Step 4: The Sober Roast. You’re just not getting it. Time to let everyone else show you. Get a bunch of people together who hate your ass, and they get to make fun of you, smashed off their asses. The only catch is that YOU can’t drink a drop. No, your ass is gonna feel what it’s like to babysit a whole room full of drunken assholes, MUCH LIKE YOURSELF.

Step 5: Waterworks. No, I’m not talking about a sequel to that shitty movie Waterworld, unless Kevin Costner’s vision included your sorry ass sobbing uncontrollably in the shower, cupping your balls with one hand, whilst wiping snot bubbles from your nose with the other. Come to think of it, if you’ve ever seen Waterworld, that’s probably exactly the fucking sequel he had in mind. Take that shit into the shower. We don’t need to see that shit.

Step 6: Man the fuck up. You feel better after your little cryabout? Well, it’s time to buck up, because now you’re not only an asshole, but you’re a crybaby asshole. Is it still illegal to abort in the 163rd trimester?

Step 7: The Lucky Step. Hey, I was gonna charge your ass for this step, but it’s your lucky day. You’re getting this one for free. What? You want advice? I’m already giving you this one for FREE. Goddamn. Want. Want. Want.

Step 8: Use Your Forces for Good. Hell, you’ve worn the dong hat, you’ve been made fun of, you’ve even cried, and you’re still an asshole. Donate some of that to charity. You’re a legendary asshole in your town. Volunteer to man the old “Throw a mallet at the asshole” booth at a local fundraiser. You’ll bring in millions.

Step 9: Drink something else, for piss’ sake. So, when you drink whiskey, you’re a total asshole. When you drink wine spritzers, you just start bitching about everyone’s fashion choices. Better yet, go for something harder than whiskey that will knock your ass out even FASTER. The faster you go unconscious, the less time you’re spending being a DICK. Everyone wins.

Step 10: The Lockjaw. Wire that shit shut. You’ve been given too much free will, and you can’t handle it. So close that mouth up, for good. You’ll still be able to drink all you want, through your little sippy straw, but none of us will have to listen to your bullshit!

Step 11: The ‘Don’t Daddy, it Hurts!’ Remember when you used to get all drunk and beat on your kids? Well, that kid is 6′3″ now, and your jaw is wired shut, so nobody will even hear you scream.

Step 12: Just accept it. Face it, dude. You’ve tried it all, and you’re still a dick. Water finds its own level, and your level is underground, in an outhouse. You always have, and always will be, a total dick. It’s ok. The world needs dicks to make the rest of us look better. Keep on keepin’ on.

YOU’RE CURED.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Sarah Palin:

Let’s face it. You’re not that hot. It’s all perspective. Sure, in a shotgun to my head game of Fuck, Marry, Kill with you, Libby Dole, and Diane Feinstein, I’d be throwing it in you faster than you could say “Caribou.” Compared to the rest of the population, though, you’re pretty average.

If only Olympia Snowe were younger…

she’d be the VPILF, and you’d still be eating Mooseburgers with the First Dude.

Anyway, enough about my dick.

I know your first debate is coming up, and you’ve had a hard time lately, every time you open your mouth. First, there was the clip where Katie Couric asked you a question about the economy, and your response, where you just started grabbing every word that had something to do with the economy out of the air, like magnetic poetry pieces falling from the refrigerator and shattering on the kitchen floor.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m sure McCain bitched your ass out good Sunday morning after you made him look like a total dipshit on the TAY-VAY.

I understand. McCain can be a real cocksucker before he has his glass of Ensure.

But now, we hear that there’s more to Couricgate, and it’s getting worse. When old Katie (who I could’t ever take serious after I knew what the inside of her colon looked like) asked you to discuss Supreme court cases, you said Roe v. Wade, then went silent.

Whoever the fuck is coaching you, it ain’t working. That’s where I can help. Murray’s about to tell you everything you need to know for the debate.

Let’s break it down, and relate it to some shit that you can hopefully remember. Your kids. We’re gonna assign different aspects of governing the whole USA to each of your five kids, Trigg, Track, Alternator, Snowplow, Brick, whatever the fuck their names are.

The economy = Baby Trigg The economy is exactly like your retarded baby. The economy has been eating, shitting its pants, and puking all over the place. And no matter what you do, it’s still going to be retarded. So all you can do is follow it around and smell its diaper. Just picture yourself sniffing Ben Bernanke and Hank Paulson’s asses, and you’ll know as much about the economy as our current President.

The war in Iraq = your soldier boy Track Much like naming your son Track, it’s one of the dumbest things this country has even gotten itself into. You know how you made Track join the Army so he couldn’t knock up some Eskimo girl? That’s how we got into Iraq. Bush was all “oh noooes. Iran and Al Qaeda are coming at Iraq with the double-ended dong. We gotta stop that shit!” And, five years later, we’re still stuck there guarding Iraq’s sweet little pussy.

Welfare = your knocked up daughter, Bristol Just when you thought Bristol was gonna get a job, and get outta your damned house, she shits out a pup. Now, she’s going to be stuck around the governor’s mansion another five years, eating your moose burgers and stealing from your purse. Now picture all the black and brown people of the planet doing that, and you have the official Republican Party platform.

Atheists and Homosexuals (aka the Democrats) – your other daughter, Willow Seriously, you named your daughter after a lesbian witch on Buffy. You don’t know which way Willow is going to go yet. She could already be working on getting knocked up out of God-fearing wedlock, like Bristol, or she could still enter the convent. ALL YOU NEED TO DO is beat the everloving shit out of her with a Bible. It works like that on gay people, too. If you don’t believe me, just ask Ted Haggard.

Education = your daughter Piper There’s still some hope for Piper. All she needs to do is spend enough time around Bristol’s “fuckin redneck” boyfriend, and you’ll scare that child into reading a motherfuckin book. If you don’t do something quick, though, you can just forget all about that shit. Piper will be the last best hope. Which probably means that she’ll end up a broke, lesbian, welfare mama, who wants to join the Army.

I hope this helps in your preparations. Fuck only knows you couldn’t possibly sound like more of an idiot than you did last week.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray:

-Disgruntled worker

Damn, this is exactly the kind of big brotha motherfuckin bullshit I try to avoid in my life. Mothafuckas think that because they give you a paycheck they got every right to be in your business.

Yes, a paycheck is a little difficult to come by in the Bush regime, but mothafuck. What next? They gonna start following you around with a piss cup? Shit, I once went to apply for a fuckin job working at a Village Pantry fucking convenience store and they wanted me to piss in a cup. You can’t sell smokes and scratch’em lotto tickets if you’re takin’ the pot!

I’m about to go absolute apeshit today. There are fewer and fewer areas of life that are safe from our motherfuckin’ government and/or motherfuckin employers digging into. It makes me wanna find some company that monitors your internet usage and start browsing on how to build pipebombs and how to kidnap your boss for ransom and shit.

Why do we stand back and take this shit? Why do we motherfuckin say “sure, i’ll piss in your cup!”???? Are we this fuckin’ desperate for money?

I’ll piss in your motherfuckin candy dish motherfucker! Shitdamn motherfucka. This shit is bursting a vessel in my forehead. Quit those motherfuckas a.s.a.p. Walk the fuck out if you gotta. Otherwise, you’re just perpetuating the constant bullshit from the MAN.

Now leave me the fuck alone.