Men think epilepsy divine, merely because they do not understand it. We will one day understand what causes it, and then we will cease to call it divine. And so it is with everything in the universe.
Now, I dunno if Hippocrates really said that or not, but I sure like it, and thugh it has nothing at all to do with this weeks; letter writers I thought I'd share.
In other news, I got good feedback from people regarding my questions of the “forensic loan audit” process for people in foreclosure. I also got some good feedback from several folks who tried to do it.
It's mostly bullshit.
So, back to square one, or better yet, plan B: I have a legal team representing me and protecting my interests. It's affordable, comparatively, anyway, and these guys have real people who recommend them.
And so, here we go: time to dip on my house. First we try to do a “mortgage modification”, a little tap dance co-sponsored by the current administration which, turns out, is so easy to punch legal holes in it is only successful one time in a thousand or so, and frequently turns into a massive fuckover of the homeowner. Thanks, Bambam. That's why we voted for you, pal.
Incidentally, my odds are equally low, yes indeed.
After that, it's time for a “short sale”. Doable, readily presentable, and gets me out of the heat without getting my ass nailed to years of legal bullshit and inflated fees.
All this might take 6 months, so I remain here meantime. I can deal with that.
I'll report later.
And off we go to Prudieville, where they have hot and cold running idiots on tap for us in remarkable quantity today.
Originals can be had here.
I'm dating an incredible woman. I'm thinking about our long-term future together. I'm torn as to whether I should tell my girlfriend I became a sperm donor. Is this something I should tell my girlfriend about and, if so, when?
Donor With a Guilty Conscience – Please allow me to start off by stating unequivocally that your incredible stupidity is probably immeasurable using modern-day methodologies. You should not think about your “long-term future” with this woman, because it is possible you could pollute the human species further with your sperm, causing countless more idiot offspring and destroying the entire planet in a violently horrible tsunami of goddamn fucking stupid people.
The idea that this information – you jerked a hot load of your elephantine idiocy into a cup for college beer money a couple times – is so pedestrian and uninteresting I can't seem to find anything to say about it at all. This is the black hole of non-issues, and you have managed to make an issue of it. Congratulations, Mr. Gump. “Mamma always said 'jerk it into the Dixie Cup, Forrest'.”
In short, it doesn't matter if you tell her or not. She will soon enough discover you are a profoundly stupid slice of dickcheese and split shortly thereafter, unless she's as dumb as you, in which case any offspring you produce would create a critical mass which could realign the course of human evolution and the whole entire universe will implode in a fiery, bloody ball of fucking lameness.
Outside that, you should get a vasectomy and count your lucky stars you haven't been naturally selected for extinction in some way. Go back to the TV, dipshit. Maybe Spongebob is on.
I just started a new job as a partner with a great law firm. The problem is the clients' comments on my appearance. I'm a petite, feminine-looking woman. Male clients frequently make comments like, "You don't look mean" and "You look too nice to be a litigator." I want to convey that I'm a fighter in court and that they shouldn't be making inane comments on my appearance in the first place.
Feisty Female – Are you related to Mr. Gump up north, there? It always tickles me when lawyers write letters to DP, because although they are grammatically well done and the punctuation is generally good, they questions read like this:
I stuck my penis in a light socket and nothing happened. This became my main sexual activity until one day my jealous wife turned the switch on to punish me. What kind of conditioner should I try on my hair to make this frizz go away?
- Frizzy, Dizzy, and Holy Cow My Dick Sure Hurts Like Crazy.”
It strikes me that if you look to “nice” right now, you may have looked too “nice” before. Nobody ever said anything? Really? And you went to law school?
Never mind, here's the solution: if a litigator wants to convey the fact they are a fighter in the courtroom they might want to get into the courtroom and fight. Pee Wee fucking Herman doesn't look like much, but he can jerk off with the best in public and I don't hear him whining about it. He just did it.
So get a case assigned, pull the Ali in the courtroom, and shut the fuck up. You're a lawyer, for fuck's sake. Act like one.
My eldest daughter “Susie” is turning 10, and her father and I are allowing her to get her ears pierced. Her 6-year-old sister asked, "Can I come watch?" Susie responded, "No! I don't want you there!" I want to teach Susie that even though it's her birthday, she needs to think of other people besides herself. What should I do?
Sibling Rivalry – The fate of the world hinges upon the answer to this highly relevant and imposing moral dilemma: Can Jasmine watch Susie get her ears pierced, or is she really icky and a booger-eater who always get what she wants?
On one hand, Susie's dilemma seems a natural example of Edgar Friedenberg's statement, “Juvenile appraisals of other juveniles make up in clarity what they lack in charity,” and sets a tone for her personality which may serve her well later in life, although her relationships may falter as suitors bristle over her natural desire to be both free-spirited and in a leadership position. I am more concerned, however, about the outcome in Muslim nations where the veil is Sharia law: Susie could completely upend a thousand years of attempts to strengthen Islamification in the middle East, resulting in a surge of reactionary and revolutionary extremism.
Jasmine, on the other hand, seems to better represent the growing pall which overshadows today's youth, a peer-enforced miasma of ennui which threatens to tear into the very fabric of American family ideals and create a newer – and greater – subculture of disaffected youth which could rival Britain's Chavs, resulting in a like-for-like performance culture which would lead to a lifelong history of failure to win a World Cup by America.
In the end, I suggest you pull your fucking head out of your ass and let Susie do as she wishes – they're her ears, I might say, and if you let her pierce them you might let her make greater choices about the whole thing, such as if she wants her fucking sister to be there or not. This is called “sibling rivalry” you vapid nitwit, and it'll pass with or without you sticking your tepid ideals into the mix.
The end of the world is near, remember. You must choose wisely, you fucking moron.
My cousin "Bill" is getting married next month to his fiancee, "Jane." Most of my family hasn't met Jane. After they set their wedding date, my older sister "Tammy" sent Jane a message on Facebook introducing herself and asking Jane to change her wedding date. Jane declined. This has caused a problem. Can you please help my sister understand why what she did was unacceptable and that Jane's response is not crazy?
In the Middle – I swear by all the is goddamn holy I am going to start a one-man campaign to eradicate the whole fucking idea of weddings, completely and forever. There is no occurrence anywhere that is stupider than a wedding, unless Palin's in town speaking again. People getting married are sickeningly overwrought with puerile delusions of grandeur, visions of totally overblown pomp and circumstance, and putrid, vomit-inducing entitlement which most people think only exists on “The Real Housewives Of...” shows. It's a massive perversion of an otherwise simple event, it's fucking horrid, and it must end.
Families of people getting married are sometimes worse, though this seems to be the case where the Bride and the family are both suffering some manner of spongiform encephalopathy issues causing them to be utterly and equally stupid assholes.
Want my advice? Call your cousin and say “congrats, dude! I sent a gift card for 'Babeland Sex Toys.' Get yourselves a big dildo. Sounds like she needs it.” Get a nice card for her, and write “Congratulations on your marriage! Stay the fuck away from me and my family. We already hate you, or so I am told!”
Then on the blessed day, go to a pub and have a couple beers. At some point just yell “Mazeltov!” even if you aren't Jewish.
Viola. They're married. Done.
It strikes me that one day my daughter and I will have a conversation about issues surrounding that last letter, and I have a sneaking suspicion I will not exit that conversation a happy man. Sigh.
My son will understand.
And so I bid my Flysters good day – have a great remainder of Canada day today (Messy!) and have a great Fouth of July on Sunday. Cheers!