Dear Murray

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.

Dear Murray -

overly jealous

Well, damn. Why don’t you just keep him in a pet cage? Ain’t it possible for women and men to just be friends? You think dudes would just bang their women friends? HELL YES THEY WOULD!

What keeps it from happening? WELL QUITE OBVIOUSLY it’s the women! No doubt the vast majority of male/female friendships haven’t crossed that line because the WOMAN hasn’t said YES. Yet.

So how do you keep it from happening? You’re doing the right thing. Make friends with the female friends. Get to know them, make them adore you. If that don’t make ya feel secure, instill a general sense of GREAT INSTABILITY. Scare the fuck outta them. Carry a switchblade comb. Hell, carry a switchblade, too. Accidentally pull out the blade and start to comb your hair with it.

I always liked to befriend the female friends of girls I dated. Know why? NOBODY TALKS SHIT LIKE A PISSED OFF BEST GIRLFRIEND! No need to go searching for what went wrong! Sooner or later, she’s gonna piss off her best girlfriend and you’re gonna get a fuckin’ earful! You’re gonna learn that bitch wears false teeth ’cause she’s lost all of her teeth but FOUR! You’re gonna get so disgusted, you’re not gonna even give a shit about why she dumped you anymore.

If they are making you so jealous, yo’ ass must be feeling insecure. So just what you feeling so goddamned insecure about? One of them hoochies got a better car? Better job? Bigger tits? Better at oral sex? None of those really mean that fucking much. (With the exception of that last one, which commands universal consideration).

Maybe your ass has been through hell and back, but what really matters is does it feel right? That shit is unexplainable, but it trumps everything. Can we have just as much fun watching goddamned antenna tv as we can going to fuckin Disneyland? We just want this shit to be as easy as possible. That’s what matters to us. That and a killer BJ, and we’re yours forever. Oh, and we don’t wanna hear any bitching about our friends.

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,

Why do so many strangers think I look like someone they know? Is the gene pool slipping so much that we are all looking alike? Should I just become a body double?

Signed,
No, I’m not that guy.

You know it’s a sad state of society when one of the first questions potential datees ask you is “what celebrity do people tell you you look like?” Fuck, they even put that question on internet dating sites. I always answered the question as honestly as I could. (I look like Nipsy Russell, mothafucka!)

I think it has more to do with the fact that we all feel so lost in this fucking world and need a point of reference for everything. Anything new is SCARY. Shit, it fucks up associations, too. You look like some chick’s best friend from high school, therefore, YOU WILL NEVER TASTE OF HER SWEETNESS. Get plastic surgery, or give it up, DUCKY! Your ass’ll never get the pussy!

That shit can come in handy, too, though. When I split with one of my exes ya know what the first thing I did was? I found some girl who looked just fucking like her. We banged a few times, and then I never talked to her again. It sure the fuck made me feel better!

It’s true that the gene pool has become shallow and infested with sharks, but I think this shit has more to do with the fact that people are boring. We’ve got nothing to talk about, so we rely on a few tried and true favorites to start a conversation. “Do you like sushi?” “Do you like anal sex?” and “Man, you know, you reaally look like my 10th grade chemistry partner!”

What the fuck can you say to that? “So, did ya fuck him?”

That response seems to work wonders, no matter who the fuck they tell ya that you look like (my ex-boyfriend, my bible school teacher, my father…)

Shuts them up faster than anything.

Now leave me the fuck alone.