Dear Murray

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 Murray,
I’m six years younger than him, but already I can tell I’ve been through so much more Life. He sounds so naive sometimes, and I haven’t even told him. Oh Murray, I just couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

What am I to do?
-Wise Beyond My Years

You have a duty to break that mothafucka in right. There’s no room for naivety in this goddamned world. Ya gotta have street smarts if you’re gonna survive.

It’s gonna happen sooner or later. Someone’s gonna do something shitty, and it’s gonna click. PEOPLE ARE MEAN. PEOPLE ARE BAD. PEOPLE ARE SHITTY. Suck it up, mothafucka, ’cause there’s a whole lot more where that came from.

It might be cute for awhile, but that shit gets old faster than anything. You wanna have to lead someone through life by the goddamned hand? You’ll end up strung out on whatever the closest pill is that you can find. It’s hard enough to worry about your own damned self, pay rent, keep your integrity and all that bullshit. BUT YOU WANNA GO and try to protect some Forrest Gump from the bad things in the world?

I can save your ass some trouble and Mapquest the shortest route to the looney bin for ya now.

I’m not in the business of getting kittens out of trees. If they don’t find their own way down, then they must like being up there. I’m not gonna let ‘em pull me up with ‘em.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray:

Okay, here’s the story:

We’ve been apart on and off for about 4 months now. You probably remember me from a situation that happened here with him a month and a half ago..the whole thing was a bunch of crap and he lied big time about us not being together..but anyway, He’s been online meeting other females, took them out when we weren’t together for a day or two..and he doesn’t consider that cheating..whatever! 2 days ain’t shit, feel me..anyway..after all this time he keeps coming back to me telling me to work things out and stuff but I dont’ know if I can trust him anymore. I feel that if he was sneaky before like this then he’ll do it again right..anyway..my main question is, he wants me to go with him to AC this weekend but I’m not sure if I should go. I dont’ want to get used for some weekend sex and then when we get back from Atlantic City, he acts up again. The last time we had sex was a month ago, so I know he’s a horny toad and I dont’ want to give in and be hurt in the long run. What should I do? He’s constantly calling now and looks for me, something which he never really does, so it’s making me think maybe he does wanna work things out, but I dont’ know if I should or just let him go completely. Help!

-On Again, Off Again

It’s times like these that makes a man wish he was pro-gun and kept an arsenal of automatic weapons at his disposal. Why the fuck do you people look for advice? Do you expect a mothafucka to say “Oh, dearie, hang in there. He’ll see the light!”

What should you do? Per this situation, or in general? I’d suggest sipping on a cocktail of roofies with a twist of lime. There’s no fucking hope for you. You’ll cling onto any motherfucker who gives you the time of day. It’s not even about this particular guy. ‘Cause it’s pretty fucking obvious that his interest in you is about as limited as my chances of finding any good new porn starring Dana Plato.

So, what the fuck is your problem? Is it pure and rampant stupidity? Did your father keep pawning your Barbie collection to buy hookers and crack? How does someone get as fucking whiny and codependent as you?

So, this raises the question. Why the fuck are we so afraid to dump a motherfucker? He says he can change! I owe him, ’cause when I was down and out, he bought me breakfast at Jack in the Box! You will consistently meet fuckers like this who will not really be interested in you, and you’ll be convinced every single one of them is “the one.”

Think for a minute about all those middle aged whores you see who have been married 16752664561654 times and fucking hate everyone. I’ve never met one of those, but do keep in touch, because that’s gonna be you.

Thank you for ensuring the token middle aged tramp on valium population isn’t going to skip a generation.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray

I admit that I have a few mental issues that probably stem from poor childhood nutrition, and rampant adolescent drug use.

Sucks at Stalking

I’m not sure if I’m buying that people are creepier online. There’s a whole fucking lot of creepy people in this world, and many of them can’t afford computers. The odds are probably just as good that the dude who lives next to you is watching through his peephole while you’re going into your apartment, and jerking it.

Here are some pretty fucking safe things to stay away from before you meet someone: marriage, love.. you know what? you can pretty fuckin much blanket all the heart-related bullshit. The first time you meet someone is just that. The first fucking time you meet someone. I don’t really give a fuck. If I don’t click with someone, I don’t click with someone, and you will never fucking hear from me again. Don’t fucking go bitching about people or cooing about people in your blog, forgetting that they can fucking read that shit. “Oh, it’s 4:30 and Murray is doing such-and-such right now…” You can mark me off your fucking little daydreaming planner right fucking now if you’re gonna pull that shit.

Keep the conversations simple, and don’t talk about your taxidermy hobby just fucking yet. While I’ve never had to get a restraining order, I have had plenty of freaky phone calls. I do get sort of a sick joy out of them, though. I think I’m gonna start saving them, and start a website to share this shit with the rest of the world.

I will also accept submissions. Oh, and maybe your ass will have better luck with the women here. Now leave me the fuck alone.

Dear Murray

So, My boyfriend whom i met online 2 years ago, and I just spent a wonderful long weekend together in Seattle. He is from California. I live in Washington. This is the third time we’ve met in 2 years…NOt alot, but we are just now getting to the point where we have money to travel. We talk to eachother every day online and on the phone, and when we’ve spent time together, its been nothing less than perfect. He agree’s and i agree that we are perfect and fit well together. THe problem is, Coming back from this past weekend, im depressed because i dont want to talk to him online anymore. im tired of the online bit. Id rather have him here in person, but we cant move to be with eachother yet. So, what do we do? do we move on? because it hurts too much being apart? Or do we tough it out and make more plans to see eachother? Help…
-Smitten in Seattle

ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME? This can’t be real. Someone please tell me this shit is not real. It’s real, isn’t it? Someone actually thought this up and wrote this shit out. Instead of fucking bashing their pathetic face in with a copy of Sleepless in Seattle, they wrote this fucking letter.

You’ve hung out THREE times in two years and… BOYFRIEND? He is not your fucking boyfriend! He’s just an occasional internet bang that you’re investing a whole lot of time and energy into. 3. three. THREE FUCKING TIMES!!!!!!!!! I’m assuming that’s weekends, and we’ll round up on the number of days in the weekend. 3. 3×3 = 9. In the last 730 days, you have spent NINE days with this motherfucka and you think he’s your boyfriend? I’ve spent more time than that with motherfucking Thai Elvis, but if he starts getting fresh with me, I’m gonna pop him in his goddamned eyeball.

THREE TIMES THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! This is everything that is wrong with the fucking internet. I read stories like this one all the time on losers.org. Guy and girl meet online, guy and girl fall in love, guy and girl get engaged jan. 7, 1999, guy and girl meet in person for the first time june 23, 1999. girl dumps guy july 27, 1999, guy decapitates himself with a chainsaw on girl’s lawn…

If any of you ever try pulling shit like that with Murray, I’m fucking outta here. I will destroy the internet from within, with the help of Al Gore, just so none of you can pull creepy shit like this on anyone ever again.

Give up on the “boyfriend” bullshit. Go bang 23 dudes in 21 days. Get this shit out of your system.

 Now leave me the fuck alone.