Tuesday, July 8, 2014

On Bullying

Dear Aunt Slugger,

I am a fourteen-year-old high school student, and I am being bullied at school. I am wondering if you have any advice for me?

Sincerely,
Randy
Hampton, VA


Dear Randy,

Randy, I'm glad to see that you are reading my column since I have been trying to re-brand this column as "family friendly," a label that is in dispute for reasons that I do not fucking understand.

Now, bullying is a hot item in the news these days, and your Aunt Slugger is glad it is getting some attention. Your Aunt Slugger was herself bullied in her youth, so it is important for me to pass along some advice to my young readers who are suffering the same fate.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was heavy into the Looney Tunes. I had kind of moved past the cartoons, but I DUG those characters. I collected the stuffed animals, I wore Looney Tunes shirts, and best of all, I had about ten pairs of Looney Tunes shoes. I had one pair of red high-top Keds with a carrot print on the inside of the shoe and an embroidered Bugs Bunny on the outside of the shoe. When I tell you, Randy, that these shoes were dope as hell, I am not exaggerating. I felt like ten million bucks in those kicks.

This may not be immediately obvious to you, Randy, since this is a generational thing, but the Looney Tunes were not universally adored among the general high-school-going population when I was your age. Looney Tunes were kind of, you know, juvenile. In retrospect, they were no more juvenile than tight-rolling your jeans or being obsessed with Boyz II Men, but they were considered mostly uncool by those who wished to appear sophisticated, to the extent that this was possible in '94 in Indiana.

Anyway, never having been much of a fashion plate and being the sort of person who marched awkwardly to the beat of her own trombone,* I did not really recognize that my Looney Tunes shoes were uncool, so I sported those sons-o-bitches on a regular basis.

During my freshman year, my locker was located near this piece of dog shit who seemed to have friends despite having the same general disposition of Kim Jong Un.** I called this guy "The Rat" to my friends and family because I didn't know his name and because he had a rat-like hairstyle.

Early in the school year, The Rat noticed my red high-top Bugs Bunny sneakers (in addition to my weight, lack of style, bad hair, and nerdy interests), and it was all over. His kickoff insult ("Did you get those shoes out of a cereal box?") is, in hindsight, embarrassingly unimaginative, but at the time, it was a devastating blow. He spent the remainder of the year harassing me. I hated going to my locker. He and another of his rat-like friends even followed me part of the way home one day, and I remember being absolutely terrified, even though today it seems borderline comical.

I am not of the opinion that being bullied builds character. I do not look back on my years of torment with nostalgia. In fact, your Aunt Slugger is a high school dropout. High school was so painful that I took some summer school classes, got my diploma, and skipped town.

However, Randy. However. That is not the end. I went away to college. I finished college. I got a job. I went back to college for graduate school. I got another job. Then I became an advice columnist.*** Somewhere in that time span - I don't remember when - I realized something that will be hard for you to hear but which will ultimately make your life easier: There are always bullies. They take different forms, and they are harder to spot when you get older. But they are always there. The difference between you and them is that you are a good person. You are better than they are. And at some point, they just become background noise.

I actually still like the Looney Tunes. I won a Foghorn Leghorn in a stuffed animal claw machine just last year.  I collect those souvenir pennies from tourist attractions even though I'm 34. I'm still overweight. I'm still weird. I found a weird dude who I love and who decided he wanted to marry me. My best friends are people who are weird. We're all weird together. My people, they like me for me.

You'll find your place, Randy, and you'll find your people. Don't try to be something you're not. Because one day you'll wake up and wish you had never thrown out your red Bugs Bunny high tops.

Fuck the haters, Randy, and wear your metaphorical Looney Tunes shoes with pride.****

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger


*This is not a typo - I was into Looney Tunes and I played the trombone. I was also overweight and a high-achiever academically. This was a social death sentence.

**Side note, Randy: Know your megalomaniac dictators. You will find this helpful later in life when you need to describe your bullying peers.

*** "Advice columnist." Air quotes.

****But seriously, Randy, if you find a pair, let me know. I wear a size 8.5. I'll pay you back.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Richard Sherman and People Who Complain Too Much

Dear Aunt Slugger,

I was thinking that perhaps you might offer some advice to Richard Sherman, the football player who ranted to a sports reporter after a football game. He is so not classy.

Sincerely,
Britney Heather Clark
Muncie, Indiana


Dear Britney,

Well you know there's nothing your Aunt Slugger likes more than sports. And by "nothing," I mean, "everything." Your Aunt Slugger hates sports, sports fans, sporting events, and sports players. All of them. My parents are heavily into football and attempted to get me and my older brother interested in watching it. When football failed, they tried basketball, since that is a very popular sport in my home state. Baseball was also a huge bust because it was not clear to us how baseball is a sport. Then they got desperate, finally installing a tetherball in back yard. This, my brother and I enjoyed. We played a lot of tetherball. We excelled at tetherball. But none of the other sports took. We are a huge disappointment to our parents.

So I am finding it somewhat difficult to weigh in on the Richard Sherman thing. Prior to this incident, I had never heard of Richard Sherman. When Facebook blew up over him, I assumed that he had murdered someone on live television. I Googled him. I watched the interview.

I will grant you that it was weird. What the fuck is a "corner?" And who is "Crabtree?" So it was weird. He yelled. He ranted. He came across as arrogant if not slightly schizophrenic.

However. HOWEVER. I a.) do not understand what all the fuss is about, and b.) think all you people complaining about what a dick Richard Sherman is need to stop it with your double standards.

First of all, what Richard Sherman did in that interview is exactly what Lewis Black does every single time he opens his mouth. And people routinely exchange cash for tickets to see Lewis Black scream about something nonsensical. Your Aunt Slugger owns all his albums.

Second, and more important, let's stop for a moment and take a look at what happens when white people do the same thing.

First, we've got the wife of the New England Patriots quarterback pissing about why the Patriots lost a game. People were surprised, but no one called her a "thug" and she didn't have to draft a goddamn treatise explaining her actions. 

And on the subject of cocky douchebags, how about Adam Levine? The white frontman for Maroon 5 has run circles around Richard Sherman in the cocky quotes department. Yet people love him, except for your Aunt Slugger, who hates him. Facebook doesn't explode with anger or call him a thug when Adam Levine opens his mouth. Instead, people weep as though they have heard the voice of an angel.

Then there are of course the 65,098 political shows that air on news networks in which (mostly) white men scream at the camera about [insert some political issue]. So for those of you complaining that Richard Sherman had a chance to cool down before his interview (thus inferring that he should've sounded like Alan Greenspan reading an encyclopedia on camera), why aren't you saying the same thing about any political commentator who has ever appeared on "Meet the Press?" I mean, those folks have time to put on MAKEUP before they get in front of the camera and they STILL end up in fisticuffs on stage.

So I feel bad for Richard Sherman. I do. Yeah, the interview was weird, but no weirder than anything that's been said in the halls of Congress. He's also a pro athlete. Since when do we expect pro football players to be refined, aristocratic gentlemen? These are folks who get paid to voluntarily jump on a pile of wriggling, 300 pound men who are all fighting over a ball. I don't know what a "corner" is, but I am fairly certain (though don't quote me on this) that the corner's function is not to wear toe shoes and a tutu on the 50 yard line and perform "The Nutcracker."

Though I would actually pay to see that. Are you listening, NFL? Boom. Two advice columns in one. 



Thursday, December 5, 2013

An Open Plea to Woody Allen

As many of you are aware, your Aunt Slugger is getting married. I don't really understand how this is happening, but here at Aunt Slugger HQ, we never look a gift horse in the mouth.

Anyway, it turns out that planning a wedding is among the most painful things a person can do, and I include surgery without anesthesia and shaking hands with Rush Limbaugh in that statement. My original plan to elope in Vegas was quickly nixed and now the wedding has turned into a big affair where I will most likely be prohibited from wearing cutoff jean shorts.

My mother has taken over the bulk of the wedding planning ever since I very sincerely proposed having Taco Bell cater the event. She has left only a few things up to me, like selecting the color scheme and the groom. This is fine with me, since left to my own devices I would most likely put something together at the last minute that is only marginally more interesting than a Bible study.

I have also taken a keen interest in the invitations. There is nothing I hate more than a wedding invitation that takes itself too seriously. I found some invitations online that look as though a color printer has vomited flowers and birds onto fine linen paper. I filled out the form with all the usual shit, and then on the back, I added the following quote from Woody Allen:

"I was nauseous and tingly all over. I was either in love or I had smallpox."

I like this quote because it combines both love and smallpox, which is surprisingly difficult to do. And I thought it would set the tone for the wedding so that no one shows up thinking they can't make an infectious disease joke on the dance floor.

Anyway, I ordered a sample of this invitation and didn't think about it any more until I received the following email from the printer:

"Design contains text or image that is in violation of an individual’s rights of celebrity/publicity."

So I called them for clarification, and they sent me this email:

"In this instance, your order contained products with a Woody Allen quote on back, which [we are] unable to produce on merchandise as it would be a violation of their rights of celebrity/publicity."

True to form, I emailed an asshole response about how stupid their rationale was. They were unamused.

So that is why I am here today. I am here to ask you, my loyal readers, to help me find Woody Allen and ask him if I can use his quote on my wedding invitations.

Mr. Allen, if you're reading this, can I quote you on my wedding invitation? I have always been a huge fan, and I can't see the name "J. Edgar Hoover" without thinking about the movie "Bananas." In exchange for your support, you are welcome to attend my wedding, since I assume there is nothing you would enjoy more than spending a summer weekend in Fort Wayne, Indiana.*

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

*I can actually think of about 75,000 things that sound better than that, but I won't mention them here in an effort to make the offer sound more attractive.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Securing Yourself a Man

I must say that the timing of my engagement was very serendipitous, since I snagged a man just before this helpful op-ed piece on foxnews.com created a run on husbands. In this op-ed piece, women are scolded for their efforts to be financially independent from men and encouraged to go find a man to support them, while being reminded that it will be difficult to find a supportive man because a generation of financially independent women have offended men.

Your Aunt Slugger loves columns like these. There is nothing I enjoy more than a white columnist waxing nostalgic about the "good ol' days" when women stayed at home, men were the breadwinners, and black people were lynched for using the wrong restroom. Those were the days, weren't they?! Things were great back then.*

Now, your Aunt Slugger is not here to judge straight couples where each gender takes on a traditional role. My own mother, for example, was a stay-at-home mother for much of my childhood, begrudgingly taking on some of the most awful tasks imaginable, like being a Brownie troop leader, presiding over the PTA, and helping me haul a giant barrel of overgrown impatiens to the county plant fair. Being a parent is like being a sewage diver without the pay or mandatory hepatitis vaccinations. It is a necessary, disgusting, and important job, but people do not have enough respect for this role.

But I digress. Our Fox News opinion writer cites a whole bunch of studies indicating that women value work-life balance and comes to the natural conclusion that the only way to achieve this is to find yourself a husband who will take care of you. After all, ladies, "you can't take your paycheck to bed with you."**

Obviously this solution makes sense. The fact that women cannot easily achieve work-life balance is NOT because of things like incredibly inadequate maternity leave, the wage gap between men and women, or a lack of quality state-sponsored programs for parents. No, you idiot women, it's because you aren't married to a man. But not just any man, ladies! You need a man who can support you if you leave your job or reduce your hours, which means you should NOT look for male social workers or male teachers (these men are probably not real men anyway, since they have eschewed money and glamour for women's work).

And of course, if you cannot find a man, "ask yourself why, and I bet you know the answer," says our delightfully offensive Fox News op-ed writer. It's because you are a repulsive trollop, with your own bank account and your career and what we can only conclude are loose moral standards.

So ladies, let's do ourselves a favor and set the women's movement back about a hundred years. I for one am going to change the focus of this column to be exclusively about housekeeping and matrimony, with upcoming topics like, "Can you recommend an alternative to PineSol?"*** and "How do you properly iron a man's dress shirt?"****

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

*False.
**$10 to the first person who knows what that quote means.
***Who the fuck even knows what PineSol does?
****You don't.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Miley Cyrus

Dear Aunt Slugger,

I am wondering if you have any tips for Miley Cyrus. I find her recent behavior completely unacceptable and am shocked by her recent stunts, including smoking a joint at the Europe MTV Awards. Can you offer her some fashion and career advice?

Sincerely,
Florence W. Knudsen, St. Cloud, MN

Dear Florence,

Here at Aunt Slugger HQ, we have a policy of only providing advice to people who write in or to people or organizations who are in desperate need of good, albeit unsolicited, advice. These people include (but are not limited to) religious zealots, the United States Congress, people who record their workouts on Facebook, and anyone who talks about McDonald's the same way you'd talk about the Al Qaeda terrorist network.

And honestly, your Aunt Slugger has no advice for Miley Cyrus. I am not saying I like Miley Cyrus, and I'm not saying she doesn't regularly look like a homeless ferret on national television. I'm saying that she's a 20-year-old woman. This demographic is impervious to advice, so there's no point in wasting my breath.

Early on in her career, your Aunt Slugger spent some time working as a residence hall director at a New England university. As is the case with many universities, this particular university was overrun with people in the 18-22 age range. Your Aunt Slugger was responsible for three buildings filled exclusively with sophomore college students. I was also responsible for handling cases of student misconduct, like cheating on tests or eating hallucinogenic mushrooms or throwing a keg through a fifth story window or smoking crack out of a roommate's ear. For this hard work I received a shitty salary and a basement apartment where the toilet water was never less than 175 degrees Fahrenheit for reasons that were not entirely clear.

Many people spend years getting an advanced degree in higher education to work with these youth. These dedicated souls want to understand these youth, to mold these youth into decent citizens. With all due respect to these people and their hard-earned degrees, the only people on earth who are truly qualified to work with college students are medical professionals who routinely deal with naked, stoned, 150-pound kindergarteners.

One common theme throughout my career as a residence hall director was nudity. College students love to be either completely nude or in various states of undress. This particular university had a student-sponsored dance entitled, "The Less You Wear, The Less You Pay." It should come as no surprise that many guests were admitted for free. And even when people were theoretically clothed, they weren't clothed appropriately. Underwear hanging out all over the place, no underwear, bras being used in place of sweaters, and jeans stretched to the brink of exhaustion. These were the hazards of the job.

And then of course there was the alcohol and drug use. People in this age range love to drink, and they love to blaze up. Tobacco, marijuana - you name it, these fuckers were smoking it. My colleagues worried a great deal about these young, 19-year-old chimneys; your Aunt Slugger just waited them out. Nothing weeds out obnoxious college students more efficiently than a felony drug charge.

My point here, readers, is that we should not be surprised by Miley Cyrus. And honestly, we shouldn't worry about her, either. Young adults do not realize that the only thing separating them from newborn infants is a diaper. They will learn. Or they will get arrested. Or they will walk into a Courtyard Marriott in Omaha and find Jeff VanVonderen waiting for them.

And then eventually, before they know it, they will grow up and become...you. Easily shocked, easily appalled, and always boring.

Sincerely,
Aunt Slugger

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

A Refresher on How to Not Be a Huge Pile of Festering Shit

Today, it came to my attention that a friend of mine from high school and her wife received a piece of hate mail. Or at least I think it was hate mail; it was only semi-literate. Apparently, the authors of this letter are in possession of a computer application wherein the end user chooses a bunch of religious words and then watches as the computer vomits a random assemblage of these words onto a piece of paper. (This application is also used to draft Tea Party speeches.) So the letter went something like this:

"God is watching satan praying for you blah blah blah"

And then, perhaps coincidentally, a collection of words resembling a sentence:

"God wants you to listen to this dvd, satan doesn't want you to."

Accompanying this letter was a DVD entitled, "Satanism and the Homosexual Agenda: A 1-Part Teaching by Pastor Joe Schimmel."

One thing I will say about the author(s) of this letter: They make my job easier. Low-hanging fruit, so to speak.

This will not be one of those columns you see where people list out all the other stuff in the Bible that modern religious extremists have chosen to ignore despite their steadfast grip on the one liner anti-gay clause in the Old Testament. This argument never works. "The Bible advocates [something ridiculous, like eating babies]! Do you do that?" LGBT advocates will say in response to the Bible-thumping homophobes. You can't go down this path. It's not helpful. Because the answer is probably yes. Bible-thumping homophobes probably do eat babies. These fuckers have some skeletons in their closets that would make Ted Bundy look like Big Bird, and no one needs to see that.

Normally I wouldn't address the authors of this letter. People who write hate mail like this and then go out of their way to obtain a DVD featuring a pastor whose name makes him sound suspiciously like a Nazi war criminal are beyond my help. They won't (can't?) read this column, and even if they did, they would denounce it as Satan's influence and send me hate mail that would probably offend me if I could muddle through all the grammatical errors.

But say that you do own nine copies of Heinrich Himmler's Joe Schimmel's one part series on Satanism and the Homosexual Agenda. And say also that you can read this (a suspicious claim at best, but fine). Here is my advice to you.

It's 2013. Get over it. Mentally, you're stuck in 1837, though honestly, for everyone's sake, I wish you were there physically, too.






Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Aunt Slugger Advice Column Temporarily Suspended Due to Government Shutdown

***Due to the government shutdown, "Dear Aunt Slugger" is being replaced with "Ask Senator Ted Cruz."***

Dear Senator Ted Cruz, 

Hello, I am hoping you can help me. I am employed by the Department of the Interior as a contracting officer, and I have been furloughed due to the government shut down. I do not have much in savings since I used it to pay for my grandma's gall bladder surgery, and I am wondering if you can give me an ETA on when I will get paid again. 

Thank you, 

Jefferson T. MacIntosh, Houston, TX

Jefferson! So good to hear from a fellow Texan! Well, let me tell you buddy, we are THIS close to making a decision. Realllll close. The problem is the Obama administration and their refusal to accept a budget -

Sorry for interrupting, Senator Cruz, but I thought the problem was that you are refusing to fund the Affordable Care Act. 

The what? The Affordable Care Act? No no no, we are definitely going to fund that-

Whoops, sorry again. The Affordable Care Act, AKA Obamacare.

Oh! Sorry! Hahahaha! You know how I get my acts confused. Well, as you know, Barack Hussein Obamacare is a Marxist concept foisted upon the American people by the socialists who have infiltrated the -

Hi again. I really hate to keep interrupting you, but I thought Obamacare was legislation that was passed by democratically elected officials in the United States Congress. 

Boy, you sure are annoying with all your so called "facts," Jefferson. Who told you that? Did you hear that in some underground socialist newspaper put together by the liberal Jews in Hollywood?

Well...um...the Senate website

I'm kind of over you and your loud mouth, Jefferson. Next question.

Dear Senator Ted Cruz, 

I am a 28-year-old male, and I met this really nice guy on match.com. We went bowling on our first date and then had dinner at Olive Garden on our - 

Jesus Christ, gays eat at the Olive Garden? My kids ate there just the other day! I'll introduce an amendment to keep that from happening again.

 I...um...wasn't expecting that reaction...um..so -

Oh my GOD, you and your pro-gay rhetoric. Let me guess: You're teaching your gay agenda in the classroom.

I'm a marine biologist in Tampa. 

I always thought manatees seemed gay. Next. 

Dear Senator Ted Cruz, 

Hello. I was recently diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with violent tendencies, and I can't - 

Is this another sob story about not being able to get your medication? This needs to stop. You know, if you would just suck it up and deal with the voices in your head, maybe then you wouldn't need that damn medication. I broke my toe once and you didn't see me heading straight to CVS for some meds. I toughed it out like a man.

Actually, I was going to say I can't afford a new assault rifle. I passed the background check with flying colors, but weapons are just too expensive. 

Well, that is just a tragedy right there, son. That should never happen. A man has the right to defend his home from any invaders, real or imagined. I'll introduce legislation in your name.