Dear Prudence,
An individual with the same name as mine has recently been in the news. A lot. For some not very nice things. It's not simply the supposedly "just joking" jibes from friends and co-workers I'm enduring. I'm not looking forward to going through the rest of my life guilty by association. Besides growing rhino skin or changing my name, how do I deal with this, other than repeating over and over that I am ...
—Not That Mark Foley
Dear Judge A Book By It's Pages, Not It's Title:
A tattoo on the forehead, dude. That's what it took for Adolph P. Hitler. Really though, the typical method is to add a middle initial to your moniker. Hopefully, your middle names are not Ignatius Matthew. It's unfortunate that you were not coincidentally named for an assassin. In those cases, it's the assassin who has to add his middle name to distinguish him from all the legit John Booths, Harvey Oswalds, and Mark Chapmans.
Mostly though, you just have to wait until it, er, blows over. You won't be mistaken for the randy rep of the GOP, but you will be, forever, associated with that scandal. The association won't be more than a crude comment by the insensitive and perhaps a slight facial tick by the more discreet, but no matter what, whenever you're introduced, illicit teen/man sex is going to flash, however briefly, in the mind of your new acquaintance. Just ask John Warren Gacy.
Dear Prudie,
Although I was raised in a Jerry Springer-type family, I have had the opportunity in my life to go to college and get a good job. Through a lot of luck, you could call me middle class now. My humble start has created some problems for me. Over time, I have tried hard to learn better manners and social skills, but I always feel uncomfortable and inadequate socially when I am with my colleagues and peers. However, I also don't feel I can entirely relate to people from my background and I feel terrible when I realize that I'm probably a snob. It's a conflict that extends not only professionally, but socially, romantically. I would probably be more comfortable with a simple small-town man, but I want someone who can fit in to my world. I believe I have the right to live my dreams, but I often feel that in pursuing them, I have moved into a life that is isolated and uncomfortable. I can learn many things, but I don't know how to learn the social skills I need, or how to be more comfortable or relate to people who were raised in such a different way, and I am tired of feeling like a fake.
—Torn Between Two Cultures
Dear Urban Miss:
You mean "white trash drunkards" instead of Jerry Springer-type", since it's a sure bet you weren't raised by promiscuous and abusive transsexuals being constantly separated by large bald men before a mob of hooting yokels. It seems that you are bemoaning the fate of the coolatto—"half cool/half blotto"—in which you don't fit anywhere.* But it's all b.s.—since everybody is a unique and flowering individual, everybody fits, sorta. Humanity is a collage, not a mosaic.
It may be that the main difference between your condo mouse friends and trailer mouse relatives is that the trailer mice already understand that. That's why they let it all hang out and dang the consequences—as opposed to the condo mice who judge, sneer, discriminate and segregate. It's not completely an accident that one group is always bailing out of jail and the other bailing out on you.
Or else, you're the only one fixated on this because you are so insecure you assume that you're being judged and sneered upon. That's most likely of all, since even condo mice generally turn out to be nice folks once you make the cut. But either way, you nailed it in the last part—you have a right to your dreams. Problem is, the achievement of dreams is normally an isolated and uncomfortable experience—it's a path you've selected that's frought with obstacles and almost always traveled alone. You can't have it both ways, otherwise everybody would be pursuing their dreams instead of getting drunk and watching t.v. on couch, like you-know-who.
-------------------------------------
* Warning: using the term "coolatto" in Mexican neighborhoods will be interpreted as a reference to your or someone's ass.
Dear Prudence,
I am a college freshman staying in a triple dorm room. My first few weeks have been fun, hanging out with my roommates and the friends we've made doing our respective activities. All was well until a mutual friend came to me and told me that my roommates had started coming up with schemes and ruses to ditch me when they do activities. I have since verified this through other means, including overhearing one of these planning sessions when they thought I was asleep. I'm confused and wondering what my next move should be; I'm in this room for the remainder of the year, since the university barely has enough housing to accommodate everyone in triples, so I can't switch rooms. My roommates both seem like good people who are fun to be around and I would want to continue hanging out with, a feeling that is apparently not shared. The nature of communal living means I can't just ignore them, a course of action I might otherwise have taken. Should I confront them, pretend to be aloof, or do something else?
—Confused in College
Dear Pariah Prep:
Talk about a Don Knotts moment! Why does it seem that the sound track of your life is mostly done in oboe and violin? Well, the correct answer here is hard to tell because of missing facts. Are you obnoxious in some sort of way? Are they a-holes deluxe? It's just not clear. If only MTC had a clue as to how heinous you or they may be!
If it be you, you could back off and modify that behavior until they start inviting you back. If it be they, then don't worry about haning out with them because, well, they're a-holes deluxe. Duh.
So, all's there is to say is take whatever you do around them-- talk, tic, twitch, bitch, preen or proselytize-- take it down a couple notches and alway have other plans. If they don't come around and be nicer after a few months, turn it back up and be yourself.
Dear Prudie,
I have a wonderful husband, but here's my problem: I'm high-strung and he has all sorts of nervous tics. When he reads or watches TV, he wiggles his leg or scratches his hair or eyebrows or picks at his cuticles or hums under his breath. We are in a completely negative dynamic where I'm always saying, "Please don't … [whatever]." He says that I won't let him breathe. I say that I can't relax with all this activity going on. I've tried hard to just to ignore it. I've suggested that he might ask his doctor whether these tics have a medical basis, but that just incenses him. Any advice on how to end this negative spiral?
—Want To Relax
Dear Tic or Bleat:
Meds. Lots of meds. Booze helps. Lots of booze. If you're constitution won't bear it, then get a bigger house with two bedrooms, two baths, extra kitchenette, and so on. If you're weak, and can't afford a big house, it'll have to be pistols at ten paces.
Lady, he's incensed not by asking the doctor, which just makes you look like an high strung shrew. It's the inference that, if you could, you'd drug him like some character in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Dayum. If doodahman had Nurse Rached for a wife, he'd be a kaleidoscope of tics, too. Anyways….
The only way to change negative dynamics is, whenever you feel the urge to berate him, to envision the end of the cycle, much the way a drunkard or coke fiend will envision his wasted, penniless, craving carcass before falling off the wagon. You know how it usually ends-- with you, white knuckled and waiving a frying pan over his twitching head as he lays fetally on the floor of the utility closet, sucking his de-cuticled thumb. Then, you replace that initial urge to berate him with a automated, positive behavior that you have trained yourself, much like an attack dog, to perform under the same conditions. Like, oh, blow him. That'll take the tic right out of him.
October 28, 2006
My Two Cents: let go, fahcrissakes, ed.
I am a 21-year-old woman who married four months ago. I have been with my husband for six years and in that time grew to love him more and more each day. At this point, I couldn't imagine my life without him. But he insists that we make love every day, and we have been doing that for years. I now regret that the passion I once had isn't there. I feel like I am doing it just for him and don't know how to approach him (it is a very sensitive situation). I don't want to hurt him and I know something like this would. He loves our sexual relationship. What should I do?
—Feeling Bad
Dear Detour L'Amour:
It takes dynamite to get me upI Need A Miracle
Too much of everything is just enough
One more thing I just got to say
I need a miracle every day.
Madam, if every man became like your husband, the market price of double 'A' batteries would collapse. Bravo.
Well, this certainly is a sticky problem. On the one hand, your husband loves having sex with you and, by custom, he's limited to glutting his lust in your loins and your loins alone. On the other, he's hiked you up the side of Boogie Mountain so many times, you don't even notice the view any more. That's sad and entirely unnecessary. Damn the Puritans and their mindless prejudice against free range whoopee. No wonder they thought they were in the hands of an angry God—screw up something as straightforward fun as sex and you better expect the inventor to be pissed.
Since Asian style sex services are probably uncomfortable to you as a solution, the next best answer is to impart a life lesson on Cyrano de Beaverschmack. Namely, "less is more." That's true in just about everything except Wax Lips. You can never get enough Wax Lips. In addition, the process of taking no for an answer will learn him a little self control and appreciation for you personal autonomy. Now, don't go abusing your autonomy by going polar on him—surely you can negotiate a reasonable access to your Treasure Palace; don't go turning it into the Holy of Holies. And when you do have to take the field, play to win so he can see the up side of giving you room to breath and/or swallow. Oh, and if he starts spending a lot of time in the bathroom now, meaning like hours at a time, don't go bothering him, ya hear?
Dear Prudie,
My extended family lives one state away from me. On my 40th wedding anniversary, a few months ago, no one phoned or sent a card. I have made several phone calls to my sisters-in-law and left messages asking them to return my call. I specifically stated that I had something important to discuss with them. No one called me back. Should I phone, write, or e-mail my sisters-in-law and ask them why they completely forgot this important date? I assumed they were smart enough to remember and didn't remind them that an important date was arriving soon. Or do I just forget this mess and forget them?
—40th Snub
Dear Snubmariner:
Apparently, you have a history of being an a-hole about this stuff so they don't even want to return your calls. Nice job tipping them off that you were going to bitch at them with the "something important." Don't you think they have you pegged by now? It's been four freaking decades, fahcrissakes.
Why not surprise them by being cool about it? How about throwing a party just for the fuck of it, invite them, and then bootstrap your anniversary celebration to it. If they don't bring gifts, who cares? Surely after forty years your husband is beyond any caring whatsoever.
This may redeem you somewhat and they might then feel more inclined to give a rat's ass about your anniversary, birthday, or wake. But don't count on it. Chances are, this path is well worn and it's going to take a lot more than one incident of being cool to get your 41st anniversary "remembered".
Dear Prudie,
I am thrilled to be expecting my first child and have just started to really show. I have been fortunate to not have experienced any morning sickness, but have developed a slightly irritable personality for the first time in my life. I can rein it in most of the time. However, I face one increasingly recurring problem that causes me to be instinctively rude almost immediately. I can't stand people, especially mere acquaintances, touching my stomach without invitation. The only person I like rubbing my belly is my sweet husband. I like people, just not having their hands all over me. I don't chop off fingers, but I do jump back and remove the offending hands and tell them not to touch. This results in aghast faces, but I think it's awful for people to assume they can touch a pregnant woman's belly at will and expect it to be welcome. As I still have months to go, I just need some suggestions on how to politely tell people that I am not the Pillsbury Doughgirl. Also, can I get a plug in here for a public service announcement letting people know that they should always ask before reaching for a pregnant belly?
—Hands Off, Please
Dear Mother Bear:
Actually, the public service announcement ought to feature the late Steve Irwin telling folks how dangerous it is to even approach a pregnant She-Beast, even in the early stages of gestation. "Back away slowly, don't run, don't look into their eyes and try to make yourself look as big as possible by waiving your hands over your head and shouting. Hopefully, they'll lose interest and go back to feeding." It is not widely known that while you can outrun a pregnant woman going uphill, you almost never can going downhill. doodahman won't touch a pregnant woman's belly unless invited. Of course, if you break water and go into labor, he won't touch you unless you train a loaded pistol on him.
Surely the baby industry must have some appallingly cutesy ass maternity clothes with an appropriate messages. Those rapacious bastards don't miss a trick. Find an outfit with a "touch and die" message that you can pass off as either a joke or deadly serious if you're groped. Even "keep your filthy hands off me and my fetus you presumptuous shit" comes off less nasty when it's printed in colorful block letters on balloons held by a smiling teddy bear. Well, less nasty than when it comes out of your spittle flecked maw in between shovels of pistachio/ mocha ice cream.
Dear Prudie,
Three years ago I met a beautiful girl. We fell deeply in love immediately. I proposed to her eight months ago, and she said yes. She repeatedly indicated that she wanted to get married and have children. We were both very happy and started planning a wedding. However, in recent weeks, I noticed that my fiancee seemed withdrawn and wouldn't respond to my inquiries as to why. Just a couple of months before our wedding date, she informed me by e-mail that "we have serious problems" and asked me to give her some space to think about our relationship. As far as I could tell, we had no problems whatsoever—we never even had so much as a single argument or fight. A few days later, she canceled the wedding without consulting me first. Her explanations ranged from "you have changed" to "it's not you, it's me." I strongly suspect it's a case of prewedding jitters and that she will eventually calm down and realize her feelings for me, but she keeps repeating that she doesn't think she can ever feel the same way about me. My heart is breaking. She insists that I give her space and leave her alone, but I don't want to lose her. She says there's nobody else in her life. How can I make sure she doesn't break up with me because of temporary wedding stress?
—Jittered Out
Dear Bridle Groom :
This reminds MTC of Charlton Heston in "Earthquake" at the end when he's got a chance to get out of the flooding sewer and shack up with Genevieve Bujould but instead gets killed trying to save his wife, Ava Gardner. Remember, this is 1974 Ava Gardner, not Sinatra-era Ava Gardner. Specifically, your fiancée reminds MTC of Heston, only in her movie, she let's you slip down the storm pipe. "Turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream…" as the Beatles say.
You have "control freak" written all over you—even your query which is, basically, "how can I force this person to be mine, mine…ALL MINE!" She keeps giving you different reasons because, fool, you won't take a hint and back off. You've already decided that it's only wedding jitters when there is no way in hell that you can be sure of that. Frankly, it's downright disrespectful to disregard the reasons she gives. That's the sign of some serious problems, alright. And what was she supposed to "consult" about? Both parties have the right, even after the freaking wedding, to call things off. That's the funny thing about personal autonomy—you'd better look it up.
The only path forward is to suck it up, accept getting screwed, and back off. If you can show that much strength and that much deference and respect for her wishes, you might be able to get something going again in the future. One thing's for sure, the more you try to demand, scheme, cajole or whatever, the sooner you'll be meeting some sheriff's with court papers that are embarrassing and which put you one phone call away from jail. This woman's just about to teach you some kind of major lesson—the question is only whether you want to learn the easy way or the hard way.
My Two Cents: Resolution No. 9, ed.
Dear Prudence,
I am a twentysomething American musician living in Europe. Part of my job is meeting new people—musicians with whom I play, sponsors, and the audience after a concert. I've been here about a year, and I repeatedly run into the same situation. I'll meet a group of people, we'll chat about two minutes, and someone will make some comment about how my president should be killed (really!) and seems to want to know how much I agree. I don't bring up politics before this happens. Regardless of my political views, I find it offensive to have anyone bring up the subject of how someone else should be killed. I'm still not sure what the best response is to this statement. I don't want to share my politics with a complete stranger, and I don't want to do anything to further any American stereotypes they already have. However, I want to convey how this statement is inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable.
—Speechless in Europe
Dear Yankee Doodle Doofus:
That's the problem with those damn Europeans. All talk, no action.
Look at it this way—if your dad got drunk every night and started firing off a pistol at folks in the neighborhood without coherent justification, you'd expect to catch a ration of shit from the neighbors. There would sure to be talk, at least, of bringing around the dudes in the white coats who ride in the truck with the bell on the side. We made this Procrustean bed, so lie in it you must. Oh, hey, did you hear that while you were gone, "your president" decided that our ancient birthright of habeas corpus and the Constitutional prohibition against torture were now as "quaint" as the Geneva Conventions? You might want to consider staying out there, if they'll have you, liebchen.
As distasteful as it is to contemplate, every single day, somewhere on this planet we all share, people, most likely children or women, are slaughtered by the application of US-sponsored violence, or with a U.S.-provided weapon. Imagine how offended their relatives must feel, digging their charred and dismembered remains out of the rubble. Chances are they didn't bring up politics before being flattened by a drone fired cruise missile, either. Well, we all have our crosses to bear, don't we? Yours is hearing rather normal reactions to a leader that has violated the most simple, basic rules of civilized behavior that we were all taught in kindergarten: don't make up stories; keep your hands to yourself; don't take what doesn't belong to you; clean up after yourself; follow the rules that apply to everyone else—you know, simple basic stuff. As any German or Japanese person can tell you, when a leader gets out of hand like that, our friends and neighbors are, at the least, going to say something about it.
So, what's the appropriate response when civilized people express entirely natural condemnation of the uncivilized behavior of our out-of-control leader? If you don't have the good sense and manners to apologize on our behalf, pretend you're Canadian and appreciate the fact that they're only talking about killing Dear Leader and not the rest of us.
Sic Semper Tyrannis, baby.
Dear Prudence,
I have two terrific grandchildren, ages 12 and 10. They are well-behaved, intelligent, and funny as all get out. My problem is that when they are here for dinner, their table manners are terrible. The 10-year-old eats like a 3-year-old. Food all over her face. She eats with her hands, her head is always hung low so her hair is in her food. The 12-year-old has his head next to his plate and shovels the food in like he was a starving refugee. They talk with food in their mouths and I'm not sure they even chew before swallowing. I'm always correcting them, but I don't want to seem like a nagging grandma. I can't figure out why my daughter hasn't taught them better manners. I couldn't take them to a restaurant because I would be embarrassed. Am I overreacting? Or should I continue to correct this problem? They are here a lot and I like dinner to be relaxed so we can talk about their day.
—Puzzled Grandma
Dear A Shaming Graze:
Man, only a WASP granny would be worried about how food gets in her grandchildren's mouth rather than just the frequency and volume. And well you should. As the above letter sorta relates, civilization has to be taught or it can evaporate faster than you can say, "286 electoral votes for George Bush".
With the insane schedules and work requirements in most families these days, it may be that you're the first adult these kids have ever eaten with. Not only that, but this is the juice box/Lunchables™ generation—most of their diet is either wrapped in a crispy deep fried shell, inserted between sesame seed buns or sucked directly out of a plastic container. They simply don't know any better. Don't despair-- behind every civilized and cultured person has groused a nag. Nagging is a pillar of Western culture—even Plato needed a reminder to wash behind his ears when he was a kid.
Assuming you first instruct them on what are acceptable table manners, you can apply the "carrot-stick" approach. Literally. That is, until they learn to use their utensils and eat with some grace, the only thing they get to eat is carrot sticks (or any raw vegetable, really, like broccoli, cauliflower, green beans and such) like any other barbarian. They can eat them any way they want—with their hands, shoveled into their mouths, slurped through a crazy straw, all they want. Put a whole heaping bowl of celery, carrots and broccoli, peeled, cut and washed, in the center of the table while you have a normal meal, preferably something they really like. Then, when they want what you've got, make each serving dependent on how properly they consume the prior serving. If they regress, back to the carrot sticks. Tell them not to take it personally; you simply can't waste civilized food on uncivilized eaters.
Dear Prudie,
I am in a wonderful live-in relationship with a man I adore. We have one problem that keeps recurring. Occasionally, when we are either engaged in a conversation or watching something on television, I'll make a comment with which he takes personal offense, and he either leaves the room in a huff without saying why, or simply explodes in anger. Most of the time, I'm completely taken aback by this behavior and am unaware that I have said anything "offensive" until he reacts to it, and then I must try to figure out what set him off. My comments usually have nothing to do with him personally, but are merely about what we're watching on television or something he's said in conversation. He feels I'm being overly sarcastic and therefore hostile, and I feel he is excessively sensitive. Many of his friends and relatives feel that he tends to be excessively sensitive and has a tendency to see personal offense where none is intended. He thinks I should be more careful about what I say, but I feel he should be more thick-skinned. I am constantly walking on eggshells to avoid saying something that will unexpectedly set him off. When this has happened in the past, we've discussed it at length afterward, and he usually ends up apologizing for his behavior. Then everything is fine until the next time it happens. And it always does. Should I try to be more aware of sarcastic remarks I may make about something that often has nothing to do with him, or is he simply overreacting?
—Eggshell Walker
Dear Sarcastigated:
MTC has been in a lot of relationships with the "touchy subject" problem. Once it was the issue of Palestinian statehood—the Oslo Accords cost Yitzhak Rabin his life and doodahman some really hot orthodox nookie. In another relationship, it was making any sort of joke about renegade Mormons and their harems of under-aged wives (oh, it's too damn tragic to joke about, apparently). Now who the hell can pass up a wisecrack about an old guy with seven teenage wives? Not this boy.
In those cases, and in most, the subjects are known and predictable—mothers, career choices, former lovers, the goddamn freaking White Sox aaargh—you can avoid those explosive topics if you choose. Or, go straight to them when you want to push a button. But you, madam, are living in a field of land mines—any innocent step and you're Fallujah'd. That's a lot of stress. Unfortunately, the UN will not clear his head for you, so you've got to become your own mine clearing squad. He's biting your head off out of habit, most likely because that's how he releases internal stress or strikes back at an unfair world—with lucky you standing in as the world. It is a sadly common expression of personal impotence for which there is no blue pill to stiffen his… upper lip.
A two-pronged approach is required. First, he's got to deal with the stress more constructively by learning good reduction techniques and/or scoring prescriptions for some mellow-cations (chlonazepam™ and xanax™ work great, if you can get 'em; be sure to consult with a doctor or college sophomore before taking them). Hopefully, a little running, racquetball or more frequent masturbation ought to bring down his ambient stress level. Second, when he does go off the deep end, you have to respond the same way as the world—spin around and completely ignore him. Once he realizes you aren't any more willing to pay his tantrums any mind than humanity as a whole, his outbursts should dwindle to the bi-monthly hissy fit. If they don't, he's got serious problems and you ought to consider blasting off Planet Pissyboy.
Dear Prudence,
How do I inform a co-worker that I don't really appreciate receiving clothes that she no longer wears? This individual has lost a good deal of weight recently, and because I'm rather plump, she has decided that I should be the recipient of her too-large wardrobe. The clothes are nice, and I'm sure she could either sell them through a consignment shop or give them to a charity, but instead she's been bringing them to me. It's as if she's saying, "I'm not fat anymore, but you are, so have some fat clothes." The first time it happened, I was caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond. I just said, "Thanks," and ended up taking the item to a local charity. Since then, I come back from lunch to find neatly folded items on my desk. I don't think the intention is to be insulting, but it's really starting to wear on my self-esteem.
—Thanks, But No Thanks
Dear Spare Attire:
No good deed goes unpunished, huh? Any hand out, be it clothes or canned goods, can be construed as a put down if you look at it that way. Usually, the recipient is silently steaming because he's been made to look like a bum, not a behemoth. MTC watched a friend leave a White Hen one night in the city and automatically hand a dollar to the black dude standing outside. In this case, however, the black dude was waiting for a cab and his rather well dressed female companion was not at all happy that he was mistaken for a bum. Worse yet, the genuine bum, standing on the other side of the door, got violent because his dollar got jacked by the faux bum. It was the first time anyone ever fled the scene of a donation.
There's nothing constructive to be said to her; if the size 11 shoes fit, wear 'em. As you astutely point out, you are "rather" plump and the woman is not doing this with bad intent. Hell, it's not like she's leaving surplus bags of Purina Cow Chow on your desk. There's no future in trying to teach people how to guess what will set you off. There is one, however, in making yourself as happy and healthy as you can be. This is not a condemnation of being fat. Fat happens. Fat people are entitled to feel good about themselves, unless they happen to be sitting on either side of us in an airliner, in which case may they be melted over Satan's hibachi until they no longer spill over the arm rests and envelop us like a thin-person sandwich on blubber bread. This, rather, is a condemnation of projecting your own personal dissatisfaction on somebody who is trying to do something nice, albeit in a somewhat gauche way. If you didn't already have a weight related self esteem problem, you wouldn't have an issue.
So, keep passing on your fashion gravy train to the obese poor, whose self esteem is trumped by their neediness, as always. Then, think about the person on the outside who you really want to be, and go for it. Inside that plump body is a skinny person dying to give their fat clothes to somebody else.
I am a twentysomething American musician living in Europe. Part of my job is meeting new people—musicians with whom I play, sponsors, and the audience after a concert. I've been here about a year, and I repeatedly run into the same situation. I'll meet a group of people, we'll chat about two minutes, and someone will make some comment about how my president should be killed (really!) and seems to want to know how much I agree. I don't bring up politics before this happens. Regardless of my political views, I find it offensive to have anyone bring up the subject of how someone else should be killed. I'm still not sure what the best response is to this statement. I don't want to share my politics with a complete stranger, and I don't want to do anything to further any American stereotypes they already have. However, I want to convey how this statement is inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable.
—Speechless in Europe
Dear Yankee Doodle Doofus:
That's the problem with those damn Europeans. All talk, no action.
Look at it this way—if your dad got drunk every night and started firing off a pistol at folks in the neighborhood without coherent justification, you'd expect to catch a ration of shit from the neighbors. There would sure to be talk, at least, of bringing around the dudes in the white coats who ride in the truck with the bell on the side. We made this Procrustean bed, so lie in it you must. Oh, hey, did you hear that while you were gone, "your president" decided that our ancient birthright of habeas corpus and the Constitutional prohibition against torture were now as "quaint" as the Geneva Conventions? You might want to consider staying out there, if they'll have you, liebchen.
As distasteful as it is to contemplate, every single day, somewhere on this planet we all share, people, most likely children or women, are slaughtered by the application of US-sponsored violence, or with a U.S.-provided weapon. Imagine how offended their relatives must feel, digging their charred and dismembered remains out of the rubble. Chances are they didn't bring up politics before being flattened by a drone fired cruise missile, either. Well, we all have our crosses to bear, don't we? Yours is hearing rather normal reactions to a leader that has violated the most simple, basic rules of civilized behavior that we were all taught in kindergarten: don't make up stories; keep your hands to yourself; don't take what doesn't belong to you; clean up after yourself; follow the rules that apply to everyone else—you know, simple basic stuff. As any German or Japanese person can tell you, when a leader gets out of hand like that, our friends and neighbors are, at the least, going to say something about it.
So, what's the appropriate response when civilized people express entirely natural condemnation of the uncivilized behavior of our out-of-control leader? If you don't have the good sense and manners to apologize on our behalf, pretend you're Canadian and appreciate the fact that they're only talking about killing Dear Leader and not the rest of us.
Sic Semper Tyrannis, baby.
Dear Prudence,
I have two terrific grandchildren, ages 12 and 10. They are well-behaved, intelligent, and funny as all get out. My problem is that when they are here for dinner, their table manners are terrible. The 10-year-old eats like a 3-year-old. Food all over her face. She eats with her hands, her head is always hung low so her hair is in her food. The 12-year-old has his head next to his plate and shovels the food in like he was a starving refugee. They talk with food in their mouths and I'm not sure they even chew before swallowing. I'm always correcting them, but I don't want to seem like a nagging grandma. I can't figure out why my daughter hasn't taught them better manners. I couldn't take them to a restaurant because I would be embarrassed. Am I overreacting? Or should I continue to correct this problem? They are here a lot and I like dinner to be relaxed so we can talk about their day.
—Puzzled Grandma
Dear A Shaming Graze:
Man, only a WASP granny would be worried about how food gets in her grandchildren's mouth rather than just the frequency and volume. And well you should. As the above letter sorta relates, civilization has to be taught or it can evaporate faster than you can say, "286 electoral votes for George Bush".
With the insane schedules and work requirements in most families these days, it may be that you're the first adult these kids have ever eaten with. Not only that, but this is the juice box/Lunchables™ generation—most of their diet is either wrapped in a crispy deep fried shell, inserted between sesame seed buns or sucked directly out of a plastic container. They simply don't know any better. Don't despair-- behind every civilized and cultured person has groused a nag. Nagging is a pillar of Western culture—even Plato needed a reminder to wash behind his ears when he was a kid.
Assuming you first instruct them on what are acceptable table manners, you can apply the "carrot-stick" approach. Literally. That is, until they learn to use their utensils and eat with some grace, the only thing they get to eat is carrot sticks (or any raw vegetable, really, like broccoli, cauliflower, green beans and such) like any other barbarian. They can eat them any way they want—with their hands, shoveled into their mouths, slurped through a crazy straw, all they want. Put a whole heaping bowl of celery, carrots and broccoli, peeled, cut and washed, in the center of the table while you have a normal meal, preferably something they really like. Then, when they want what you've got, make each serving dependent on how properly they consume the prior serving. If they regress, back to the carrot sticks. Tell them not to take it personally; you simply can't waste civilized food on uncivilized eaters.
Dear Prudie,
I am in a wonderful live-in relationship with a man I adore. We have one problem that keeps recurring. Occasionally, when we are either engaged in a conversation or watching something on television, I'll make a comment with which he takes personal offense, and he either leaves the room in a huff without saying why, or simply explodes in anger. Most of the time, I'm completely taken aback by this behavior and am unaware that I have said anything "offensive" until he reacts to it, and then I must try to figure out what set him off. My comments usually have nothing to do with him personally, but are merely about what we're watching on television or something he's said in conversation. He feels I'm being overly sarcastic and therefore hostile, and I feel he is excessively sensitive. Many of his friends and relatives feel that he tends to be excessively sensitive and has a tendency to see personal offense where none is intended. He thinks I should be more careful about what I say, but I feel he should be more thick-skinned. I am constantly walking on eggshells to avoid saying something that will unexpectedly set him off. When this has happened in the past, we've discussed it at length afterward, and he usually ends up apologizing for his behavior. Then everything is fine until the next time it happens. And it always does. Should I try to be more aware of sarcastic remarks I may make about something that often has nothing to do with him, or is he simply overreacting?
—Eggshell Walker
Dear Sarcastigated:
MTC has been in a lot of relationships with the "touchy subject" problem. Once it was the issue of Palestinian statehood—the Oslo Accords cost Yitzhak Rabin his life and doodahman some really hot orthodox nookie. In another relationship, it was making any sort of joke about renegade Mormons and their harems of under-aged wives (oh, it's too damn tragic to joke about, apparently). Now who the hell can pass up a wisecrack about an old guy with seven teenage wives? Not this boy.
In those cases, and in most, the subjects are known and predictable—mothers, career choices, former lovers, the goddamn freaking White Sox aaargh—you can avoid those explosive topics if you choose. Or, go straight to them when you want to push a button. But you, madam, are living in a field of land mines—any innocent step and you're Fallujah'd. That's a lot of stress. Unfortunately, the UN will not clear his head for you, so you've got to become your own mine clearing squad. He's biting your head off out of habit, most likely because that's how he releases internal stress or strikes back at an unfair world—with lucky you standing in as the world. It is a sadly common expression of personal impotence for which there is no blue pill to stiffen his… upper lip.
A two-pronged approach is required. First, he's got to deal with the stress more constructively by learning good reduction techniques and/or scoring prescriptions for some mellow-cations (chlonazepam™ and xanax™ work great, if you can get 'em; be sure to consult with a doctor or college sophomore before taking them). Hopefully, a little running, racquetball or more frequent masturbation ought to bring down his ambient stress level. Second, when he does go off the deep end, you have to respond the same way as the world—spin around and completely ignore him. Once he realizes you aren't any more willing to pay his tantrums any mind than humanity as a whole, his outbursts should dwindle to the bi-monthly hissy fit. If they don't, he's got serious problems and you ought to consider blasting off Planet Pissyboy.
Dear Prudence,
How do I inform a co-worker that I don't really appreciate receiving clothes that she no longer wears? This individual has lost a good deal of weight recently, and because I'm rather plump, she has decided that I should be the recipient of her too-large wardrobe. The clothes are nice, and I'm sure she could either sell them through a consignment shop or give them to a charity, but instead she's been bringing them to me. It's as if she's saying, "I'm not fat anymore, but you are, so have some fat clothes." The first time it happened, I was caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond. I just said, "Thanks," and ended up taking the item to a local charity. Since then, I come back from lunch to find neatly folded items on my desk. I don't think the intention is to be insulting, but it's really starting to wear on my self-esteem.
—Thanks, But No Thanks
Dear Spare Attire:
No good deed goes unpunished, huh? Any hand out, be it clothes or canned goods, can be construed as a put down if you look at it that way. Usually, the recipient is silently steaming because he's been made to look like a bum, not a behemoth. MTC watched a friend leave a White Hen one night in the city and automatically hand a dollar to the black dude standing outside. In this case, however, the black dude was waiting for a cab and his rather well dressed female companion was not at all happy that he was mistaken for a bum. Worse yet, the genuine bum, standing on the other side of the door, got violent because his dollar got jacked by the faux bum. It was the first time anyone ever fled the scene of a donation.
There's nothing constructive to be said to her; if the size 11 shoes fit, wear 'em. As you astutely point out, you are "rather" plump and the woman is not doing this with bad intent. Hell, it's not like she's leaving surplus bags of Purina Cow Chow on your desk. There's no future in trying to teach people how to guess what will set you off. There is one, however, in making yourself as happy and healthy as you can be. This is not a condemnation of being fat. Fat happens. Fat people are entitled to feel good about themselves, unless they happen to be sitting on either side of us in an airliner, in which case may they be melted over Satan's hibachi until they no longer spill over the arm rests and envelop us like a thin-person sandwich on blubber bread. This, rather, is a condemnation of projecting your own personal dissatisfaction on somebody who is trying to do something nice, albeit in a somewhat gauche way. If you didn't already have a weight related self esteem problem, you wouldn't have an issue.
So, keep passing on your fashion gravy train to the obese poor, whose self esteem is trumped by their neediness, as always. Then, think about the person on the outside who you really want to be, and go for it. Inside that plump body is a skinny person dying to give their fat clothes to somebody else.
My Two Cents: one for the books, ed.
Dear Doodahman,
Recently, my grandmother has been ill. I am only sad as of late because she is suffering so. She was healthy as a horse a month ago, and then suddenly decided she didn't want to be of this world anymore. She said "I won't eat or drink or take my pills, and you can't make me. " and that was it. Should I feel guilty that I am happy for my grandma that she will see my grandpa again? My family respects her wishes and no one has forced her to do anything. Now she is in the final stages of death and we are all practically holding our breath until it happens. I am happy for her though, that she can get out of this sad lonely existence and be with the one she loves again. A lot of people say that I am sick and demented and that I should make her eat. They say there is no reason for her to die. I think those people are selfish, wanting me to keep her here so I can enjoy her company. I want people to be happy for and with themselves. Not to rely upon the presence of another for their happiness. I would never force anyone to do what they didn't want, even if it would kill me to lose them. What do you think?
Signed,
Grandma's Little Helper
Dear Shoo Na-Na:
First off, she did leave a signed, witnessed and notarized statement confirming she's making this decision voluntarily, without duress and coercion, didn't she? See, whenever the county carries out the emaciated, medication-deprived remains of a dependent old relative, it raises a lot of, oh, legal questions. Frankly, letting her do all the work is what's selfish. If you really want to be supportive, hand her an AARP pamphlet on seppuku and a Ginsu. Then be ready to decapitate the dear old sweet should she become confused while disemboweling herself—you know how geezers can be. Too bad grandparents aren't like cats, huh? They won't just crawl under the front porch to die.
Although you're all bravely determined to unselfishly shuffle Mima into the Void, you might want to consider the possibility that's she's merely clinically depressed—a condition easily relieved with simple medications and some therapy. Sorry, but there's no call to put the old girl down just yet. Severe, even dangerous depression often descends on the elderly following the death of their beloved spouse (or in my grandmother's case, Perry Como). Things here seem to have gotten out of hand. Actually starving oneself to death seems a tad extreme. You happily watching her starve seems downright creepy. Letting it happen to a person with whom you have a caretaker relationship seems kinda criminal. So, laudable as your laissez faire, somewhat Nietzsche-inspired attitude might be in some quarters (oh, like the Third Reich), you'll just have to pass on this opportunity to euthanize her just because she's in the dumps.
Call her doctor immediately (assuming his name isn't Kevorkian) and if necessary, get her committed until her mental condition can be assessed by professionals. If she's really serious about doing herself in, she can jump out of her psych ward window; it not only takes place outside your hands, but has the added benefit of allowing you to collect on their insurance. Oh, and you might want to reflect, briefly, on the fact that your grandmother would rather starve and die than stay with you, her loving family.
Dear Doodahman,
I have a friend who poses the following ethical dilemma: On a recent company trip, he was the victim of a theft. Personal items stolen included a sleeping bag, a tent, a backpack and a sleeping pad. The items will be replaced by his employer's insurer. My friend will make a claim for a tent and sleeping pad comparable to those that were stolen, but the backpack he had is no longer being manufactured. He's thinking of claiming for a better model of pack, as well as a more expensive sleeping bag.What are the implications of this? What do you think he should do, and why?
Signed,
Merely One Friendly Observer
Dear Scam Bag:
Some outlaw! If this claim was made by MTC's "friend" (wink wink), that backpack would have been holding jewelry, a laptop, stereo equipment, skis, snow tires …whatever kinda crap he could dig up receipts for. The bogus upgrade on the ol' backpack is so bush league, it's perfect. It would cost the insurance company more to dispute the claim than it would to pay it.
Well, the straight answer is fraud is fraud, even if the plan's foolproof. But let's examine the so-called logic behind this knee jerk goody two shoe-ism. First off, the alleged victim is a huge corporation that is itself re-insured for the loss. It's not a person—it's an impersonal behemoth that maximizes profit by any means it can get away with. You don't get down to an actual human being victimized until you hit the shareholders, who, being rich mo' fo's to start with, couldn't possibly give a flying monkey turd about the .0000004¢ this "sting" theoretically costs each of them as individuals. Would you?
Sure, the Dudley Do-rights will argue that, individuals aside, society has to pay for "your friend's" (heh heh) perfidy because the cost of fraud is built into the premium—in fact, fraud and stealing is built into the price of all goods and services. Exactly! That means that your "friends" (hah) employer, and all other purchasers of their policies, already paid the insurance company to allow you to defraud them. The bottom line is, just about everyone is ethically justified in some minor fraud in these situations because the cost of all the fraud in every transaction is passed on to them whether they commit fraud or not in the price. How is that fair? Only if you do some cheating at least once in a while. Great system, ain't it?
Dear Doodahman,
I am in a long distance relationship with a graduate student. Do you get caught up in life to the point you start pushing loved ones away? Is graduate school really this taxing? I ask because I don't know, never being a graduate student myself. I am being told that an exam is lasting two weeks. I suppose I have my doubts, obviously. There are 1000s of miles between us and we haven't talked for two weeks. This person is ill now and trying to finish this 14 day exam. I try to understand, but am having a hard time understanding why it is so taxing to just send a short note, or make a short call. Yeah I know, blow off is possible. Trust me I've thought of this. I'm trying to give this person more time to go through what they need to go through before I just throw in the towel, but I'm losing my patience because in my mind, like plants, relationships need water and I feel it doesn't take too much to pour some water on a plant.What do you think I should do?
Signed,Subject of a Lesser Degree
Dear Dis' Irritation:
Ah, if only you could get a PhD in Love like Barry White— you've earned about twelve credits in lab work with Blowoff McSmartypants and you can pay off your tuition in tears. Cue violin.
Some say "absence makes the heart grow fonder." However, the oft forgotten second line goes, "for about a semester, then forget it." Academia is a relationship centrifuge in which separations are induced by the studious application of cheap sex and free flowing booze. Or was that free flowing sex and cheap booze? No matter…the long distance thang (i.e. any distance farther than seven exits) rarely lasts. The distractions and competition on campus are simply too great for almost any relationship to endure.
Sadly, it appears that your cross-country beau already Masters in mind games. Sure, he might have been scholastically "taxed" into blowing you off, but logic argues against it. Logic says that he'd make time for you if he really wanted to, even during a 14 day medical school dissect-a-thon. Here's the formula: A. He can find time to take a crap; B. cell phones work in the john, therefore, C. he's had time to call. He just didn't. Thus, ipso facto (that's a grad school word), you're getting dumped or at best, severely blown off. Given that logical proof, there's no point in waiting to throw in the towel, washcloth, loofah or even that soap suds thingy. Give them all a hearty toss and start moving on. Oh, and don't pass this off as being hoodwinked by some evil genius. You should have anticipated this happening when he left you to go "1000s of miles away" for school. Dang, even somebody with a GED coulda seen this coming.
Dear Doodahman,
Is there any way to keep my moms dogs from barking all night?!?!?!?(That doesn't violate animal cruelty laws)
Signed,Please, Eliminate That Animal
Dear Ruff Nights:
MTC doesn't give animal training tips. doodahman can't keep even keep his cat from barking. Frankly, if MTC could silence anything, the dog would be far down the list, after most of his relatives and everyone to the political right of Neil Young. Try writing Siegfried and Roy (now known informally as Siegfried and Claude). Since you apparently don't rank alpha in the pooch-ocracy, let ma deal with her barkers. If she doesn't seem to notice the racket that the dog is making, check her hearing aid. If the hearing aid is working, check her pulse. Otherwise, only one other solution comes to mind—try moving out and getting your own place. Maybe that's what your mom got the dog for in the first place.
Dear Doodahman,
We have a "kid" who is legally an adult, but is in his last year of high school. He's always had insomnia, which medications have helped somewhat in the past, but he no longer is willing to take much in the way of medications. I, too, have insomnia, so his being up tends to wake me.He now will stay up till 2, 3, 5, in the morning. He has trouble, obviously, waking up for school and staying awake at school and at work. However, that isn't bothersome enough for him to go to bed, especially when he thinks he won't sleep, anyway.I have taken away his computer password, so he can only get on when we log him in. This means he can actually have a life at home instead of staring at the monitor all evening, but there are also TVs, video games, and books in the house to keep him occupied, unless we want to stay up all night to baby sit him.I can eliminate the videogames and TVs, but any ideas how to make going to bed a more attractive option to this kid? We live several miles from school via dangerous roads, and he doesn't drive, so letting him miss the bus isn't really an option.We've reminded him we won't be able to tell him to get up in college. I'm NOT calling long distance to wake him, even if he'd hear the phone! I want him to be able to be responsible for himself, and can't be home and awake enough to coerce him to bed so his body gets used to a schedule.
Signed,
Physically Exhausted Parent
Dear Unable to Raise Cain:
"…any ideas how to make going to bed a more attractive option to this kid?" Ahem. Let's take another approach as there might be children present. Unfortunately, it would be reckless to suggest the one thing that would probably work easiest—three bongs at bed time chased with warm brandy (bet he won't turn down that medication). You might have to subsidize his stash, and that's probably not covered by Blue Cross. If you find out different, make sure to write back, hear?
Lots of teenagers go through an "insomnia" stage, which usually stems from a common phenomenon of teenage brain chemistry: an unhinged craving to live without nagging, judgmental parents. Kinda like Children of the Corn, without the horrible acting and farm implements. At three a.m., he's got the run of the house. Weighed against such glorious solitude are no consequences of any significance, yet. As long as you treat this as a medical condition and not a self-discipline issue, it'll never change. Well, until something really bad happens. He hasn't been flunked out or fired for missing classes or sleeping at work. Hopefully it won't take him nodding into the fry vat to straighten the kid out.
Such a condition is usually cured by intense, in-house counseling which aggressively employs the screaming dad/screeching mom technique. Eventually, if he's driven by the sheer force of your bitching and screaming to get up and moving when he's supposed to, he'll have to start falling asleep early. Or die. It works for the Marine Corps. Yes, it's harsh, but raising teenagers isn't a job for weaklings. If he does manage to graduate and get into a college, forget managing his sleeping habits. You might as well try to stop him from cheating on exams and jerking off. He'll just have to major in "medieval woodcraft" or some other idiotic major so he only needs to sign up for afternoon or evening classes. Then, when he can only find work as a 7/11 night clerk, insomnia will be part of his skill set.
Recently, my grandmother has been ill. I am only sad as of late because she is suffering so. She was healthy as a horse a month ago, and then suddenly decided she didn't want to be of this world anymore. She said "I won't eat or drink or take my pills, and you can't make me. " and that was it. Should I feel guilty that I am happy for my grandma that she will see my grandpa again? My family respects her wishes and no one has forced her to do anything. Now she is in the final stages of death and we are all practically holding our breath until it happens. I am happy for her though, that she can get out of this sad lonely existence and be with the one she loves again. A lot of people say that I am sick and demented and that I should make her eat. They say there is no reason for her to die. I think those people are selfish, wanting me to keep her here so I can enjoy her company. I want people to be happy for and with themselves. Not to rely upon the presence of another for their happiness. I would never force anyone to do what they didn't want, even if it would kill me to lose them. What do you think?
Signed,
Grandma's Little Helper
Dear Shoo Na-Na:
First off, she did leave a signed, witnessed and notarized statement confirming she's making this decision voluntarily, without duress and coercion, didn't she? See, whenever the county carries out the emaciated, medication-deprived remains of a dependent old relative, it raises a lot of, oh, legal questions. Frankly, letting her do all the work is what's selfish. If you really want to be supportive, hand her an AARP pamphlet on seppuku and a Ginsu. Then be ready to decapitate the dear old sweet should she become confused while disemboweling herself—you know how geezers can be. Too bad grandparents aren't like cats, huh? They won't just crawl under the front porch to die.
Although you're all bravely determined to unselfishly shuffle Mima into the Void, you might want to consider the possibility that's she's merely clinically depressed—a condition easily relieved with simple medications and some therapy. Sorry, but there's no call to put the old girl down just yet. Severe, even dangerous depression often descends on the elderly following the death of their beloved spouse (or in my grandmother's case, Perry Como). Things here seem to have gotten out of hand. Actually starving oneself to death seems a tad extreme. You happily watching her starve seems downright creepy. Letting it happen to a person with whom you have a caretaker relationship seems kinda criminal. So, laudable as your laissez faire, somewhat Nietzsche-inspired attitude might be in some quarters (oh, like the Third Reich), you'll just have to pass on this opportunity to euthanize her just because she's in the dumps.
Call her doctor immediately (assuming his name isn't Kevorkian) and if necessary, get her committed until her mental condition can be assessed by professionals. If she's really serious about doing herself in, she can jump out of her psych ward window; it not only takes place outside your hands, but has the added benefit of allowing you to collect on their insurance. Oh, and you might want to reflect, briefly, on the fact that your grandmother would rather starve and die than stay with you, her loving family.
Dear Doodahman,
I have a friend who poses the following ethical dilemma: On a recent company trip, he was the victim of a theft. Personal items stolen included a sleeping bag, a tent, a backpack and a sleeping pad. The items will be replaced by his employer's insurer. My friend will make a claim for a tent and sleeping pad comparable to those that were stolen, but the backpack he had is no longer being manufactured. He's thinking of claiming for a better model of pack, as well as a more expensive sleeping bag.What are the implications of this? What do you think he should do, and why?
Signed,
Merely One Friendly Observer
Dear Scam Bag:
Some outlaw! If this claim was made by MTC's "friend" (wink wink), that backpack would have been holding jewelry, a laptop, stereo equipment, skis, snow tires …whatever kinda crap he could dig up receipts for. The bogus upgrade on the ol' backpack is so bush league, it's perfect. It would cost the insurance company more to dispute the claim than it would to pay it.
Well, the straight answer is fraud is fraud, even if the plan's foolproof. But let's examine the so-called logic behind this knee jerk goody two shoe-ism. First off, the alleged victim is a huge corporation that is itself re-insured for the loss. It's not a person—it's an impersonal behemoth that maximizes profit by any means it can get away with. You don't get down to an actual human being victimized until you hit the shareholders, who, being rich mo' fo's to start with, couldn't possibly give a flying monkey turd about the .0000004¢ this "sting" theoretically costs each of them as individuals. Would you?
Sure, the Dudley Do-rights will argue that, individuals aside, society has to pay for "your friend's" (heh heh) perfidy because the cost of fraud is built into the premium—in fact, fraud and stealing is built into the price of all goods and services. Exactly! That means that your "friends" (hah) employer, and all other purchasers of their policies, already paid the insurance company to allow you to defraud them. The bottom line is, just about everyone is ethically justified in some minor fraud in these situations because the cost of all the fraud in every transaction is passed on to them whether they commit fraud or not in the price. How is that fair? Only if you do some cheating at least once in a while. Great system, ain't it?
Dear Doodahman,
I am in a long distance relationship with a graduate student. Do you get caught up in life to the point you start pushing loved ones away? Is graduate school really this taxing? I ask because I don't know, never being a graduate student myself. I am being told that an exam is lasting two weeks. I suppose I have my doubts, obviously. There are 1000s of miles between us and we haven't talked for two weeks. This person is ill now and trying to finish this 14 day exam. I try to understand, but am having a hard time understanding why it is so taxing to just send a short note, or make a short call. Yeah I know, blow off is possible. Trust me I've thought of this. I'm trying to give this person more time to go through what they need to go through before I just throw in the towel, but I'm losing my patience because in my mind, like plants, relationships need water and I feel it doesn't take too much to pour some water on a plant.What do you think I should do?
Signed,Subject of a Lesser Degree
Dear Dis' Irritation:
Ah, if only you could get a PhD in Love like Barry White— you've earned about twelve credits in lab work with Blowoff McSmartypants and you can pay off your tuition in tears. Cue violin.
Some say "absence makes the heart grow fonder." However, the oft forgotten second line goes, "for about a semester, then forget it." Academia is a relationship centrifuge in which separations are induced by the studious application of cheap sex and free flowing booze. Or was that free flowing sex and cheap booze? No matter…the long distance thang (i.e. any distance farther than seven exits) rarely lasts. The distractions and competition on campus are simply too great for almost any relationship to endure.
Sadly, it appears that your cross-country beau already Masters in mind games. Sure, he might have been scholastically "taxed" into blowing you off, but logic argues against it. Logic says that he'd make time for you if he really wanted to, even during a 14 day medical school dissect-a-thon. Here's the formula: A. He can find time to take a crap; B. cell phones work in the john, therefore, C. he's had time to call. He just didn't. Thus, ipso facto (that's a grad school word), you're getting dumped or at best, severely blown off. Given that logical proof, there's no point in waiting to throw in the towel, washcloth, loofah or even that soap suds thingy. Give them all a hearty toss and start moving on. Oh, and don't pass this off as being hoodwinked by some evil genius. You should have anticipated this happening when he left you to go "1000s of miles away" for school. Dang, even somebody with a GED coulda seen this coming.
Dear Doodahman,
Is there any way to keep my moms dogs from barking all night?!?!?!?(That doesn't violate animal cruelty laws)
Signed,Please, Eliminate That Animal
Dear Ruff Nights:
MTC doesn't give animal training tips. doodahman can't keep even keep his cat from barking. Frankly, if MTC could silence anything, the dog would be far down the list, after most of his relatives and everyone to the political right of Neil Young. Try writing Siegfried and Roy (now known informally as Siegfried and Claude). Since you apparently don't rank alpha in the pooch-ocracy, let ma deal with her barkers. If she doesn't seem to notice the racket that the dog is making, check her hearing aid. If the hearing aid is working, check her pulse. Otherwise, only one other solution comes to mind—try moving out and getting your own place. Maybe that's what your mom got the dog for in the first place.
Dear Doodahman,
We have a "kid" who is legally an adult, but is in his last year of high school. He's always had insomnia, which medications have helped somewhat in the past, but he no longer is willing to take much in the way of medications. I, too, have insomnia, so his being up tends to wake me.He now will stay up till 2, 3, 5, in the morning. He has trouble, obviously, waking up for school and staying awake at school and at work. However, that isn't bothersome enough for him to go to bed, especially when he thinks he won't sleep, anyway.I have taken away his computer password, so he can only get on when we log him in. This means he can actually have a life at home instead of staring at the monitor all evening, but there are also TVs, video games, and books in the house to keep him occupied, unless we want to stay up all night to baby sit him.I can eliminate the videogames and TVs, but any ideas how to make going to bed a more attractive option to this kid? We live several miles from school via dangerous roads, and he doesn't drive, so letting him miss the bus isn't really an option.We've reminded him we won't be able to tell him to get up in college. I'm NOT calling long distance to wake him, even if he'd hear the phone! I want him to be able to be responsible for himself, and can't be home and awake enough to coerce him to bed so his body gets used to a schedule.
Signed,
Physically Exhausted Parent
Dear Unable to Raise Cain:
"…any ideas how to make going to bed a more attractive option to this kid?" Ahem. Let's take another approach as there might be children present. Unfortunately, it would be reckless to suggest the one thing that would probably work easiest—three bongs at bed time chased with warm brandy (bet he won't turn down that medication). You might have to subsidize his stash, and that's probably not covered by Blue Cross. If you find out different, make sure to write back, hear?
Lots of teenagers go through an "insomnia" stage, which usually stems from a common phenomenon of teenage brain chemistry: an unhinged craving to live without nagging, judgmental parents. Kinda like Children of the Corn, without the horrible acting and farm implements. At three a.m., he's got the run of the house. Weighed against such glorious solitude are no consequences of any significance, yet. As long as you treat this as a medical condition and not a self-discipline issue, it'll never change. Well, until something really bad happens. He hasn't been flunked out or fired for missing classes or sleeping at work. Hopefully it won't take him nodding into the fry vat to straighten the kid out.
Such a condition is usually cured by intense, in-house counseling which aggressively employs the screaming dad/screeching mom technique. Eventually, if he's driven by the sheer force of your bitching and screaming to get up and moving when he's supposed to, he'll have to start falling asleep early. Or die. It works for the Marine Corps. Yes, it's harsh, but raising teenagers isn't a job for weaklings. If he does manage to graduate and get into a college, forget managing his sleeping habits. You might as well try to stop him from cheating on exams and jerking off. He'll just have to major in "medieval woodcraft" or some other idiotic major so he only needs to sign up for afternoon or evening classes. Then, when he can only find work as a 7/11 night clerk, insomnia will be part of his skill set.
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