Advice

On god in philosophy class.

I think questions about God in a freshman philosophy course are completely irrelevant. I know that my professor warps the subject and her lectures are shit, so maybe if someone put a better spin on it, they would at least be more interesting.

Wrong, shithead. Philosophy classes are exactly where questions about god are relevant. That’s the whole fucking point of philosophy.

Debate and discussion about the existence, definition, and value of god are vital to your development as a free-thinking individual, and there’s no better place to work that shit out than within an academic discipline devoted to systematic reason and rational argument.

Sharpen your critical thinking. Develop your logic. Send your rational mind into battle against the unanswerable questions of the human condition.

This isn’t about what you believe. It’s about advancing the level of sophistication of your beliefs.

Good luck.

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Advice

On planned parenthood.

Can you write something about the House’s vote to pull funding from Planned Parenthood? As one of the millions of people in this country who have taken advantage of Planned Parenthood’s amazing services, I am outraged. Planned Parenthood spreads awareness across the nation and provides many with life-saving health care that they couldn’t access anywhere else. I, for one, don’t want an STD epidemic…or worse, a teen pregnancy epidemic that will put Gloucester High and MTV reality shows to shame. Hopefully your fantastically sassy self has some insight here.

Insight? Yeah, vote. While you’re at it, don’t ever vote Republican. It’s pretty obvious they’re all a bunch of anti-woman, anti-choice, anti-science assholes pandering to a base of semi-retarded Nascar fans.

Better yet, openly shame your religious friends for their belief system’s intrusion into the political sphere. That malignant “the bible says” bullshit is the primary source of humanity’s willful ignorance on the topic of female reproductive health.

Yes, that’s right. This all comes back to religion. This is about abortion, people. This is about a bunch of delusional pro-lifers so blind in their faith that they can’t even properly interpret the artificial will of an imaginary lawmaker in the sky.

Here in America, only the creepy Jesus freaks think their religious doctrine supercedes a woman’s reproductive rights, and now that they can’t openly legislate their way into your uterus, they’re gonna find whatever bureaucratic back door they can to defund and dismantle the safe and legal family planning services that currently exist.

So I say again, don’t ever vote Republican, and if you really wanna do you civic duty, call up your congressman and make sure the bastard is on the right side of this. At the very least, sign this petition.

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Advice

On madonna and gaga

What are your views on Madonna because it seems that you don’t care for lady gaga?

I love Madge, and actually, I think Stefani is incredibly talented. I just wish she’d spend more time crafting quality music instead of grooming her persona. She’s too much sizzle and not enough steak. Madonna earned her icon status over decades. Gaga seems to think it can be done in a year.

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Advice

On a hug and a swift kick in the ass.

Dear Coquette,

My husband starting seeing someone else without my knowledge. A few weeks later, his deceit and manipulation led to the decision of divorce. I didn’t know about the girl then — he just started withholding information, being less open, etc. I found out much later that they were seeing each other well before he left. Things didn’t work out between them, to say the least. Cheating is just a symptom of a problem; I realize that it wasn’t anything special about her really but more about the problems that we had.

He and I stayed friends even after I found out about her, and got closer again when they broke up. But I can’t seem to shake the pain. I’m harboring it, the pain, the expectations. I think of this girl and I feel like I can never compare to the way he idealized her. I need to let go and let things be. I can’t wait around for him to come back to me. But when we talk, that’s all I want to know. Is there hope? Is there a chance? Will we get back together? What is he thinking, where is he currently, as far as his expectations? I want a play-by-play so that I can plan accordingly. But all this does is push him away and prevent me from really being present as an individual with thoughts outside of us. I can’t contribute anything except my anxiety.

I don’t really know what I’m asking. I guess I just want a hug or a swift kick in the ass. Both maybe.

Don’t worry, I know what you’re asking. The long-form version of the question is “Why her and not me?” That’s the one your rational mind likes to spin on like a little hamster wheel of anxiety and confusion. The short-form version of the question is “Why her?” That’s the one your ego saves for moments of weakness and rage. Of course, the existential version of the question is simply “Why?” That’s the one that keeps you up at night and prevents you from moving on in any meaningful way.

I’m sorry to say, neither a hug nor a swift kick in the ass is gonna help get answers for you. Playing 20 questions with your emotionally stunted ex-husband isn’t gonna get you anywhere either. In fact, nothing is.

Sure, there are easily identifiable root causes and valid reasons for your divorce, but those are just the who, what, when and where. It’s healthy to analyze and process all that stuff, but it’s never going to churn into a fundamental and satisfying explanation. It sucks, but you need to get cozy with the brutal truth that there is no answer to why. You have to let go of that question. Until you do, the anxiety is gonna own you, and you’ll never really be able to move on.

That’s right. You have to move on — and yes, that really means what you think it means. It’s time to detach yourself emotionally from your ex. No more friendship. No more anger. No more holding out hope. You have to start listening to the stronger parts of your soul and ignoring the desperate little girl inside of you still clinging to the fantasy of reconciliation and some sort of happily-ever-after ending.

Get some distance. Quit making excuses for your ex-husband’s lack of integrity and emotional immaturity. Stop asking your ex-husband all those questions that you should be answering for yourself. For that matter, start referring to him as your ex-husband.

You don’t need a play-by-play from him to plan accordingly. You don’t need a damn thing from anyone other than yourself to confirm what you should already know. You can do better than a man who will always cheat on you. You can do better than a man who’s always halfway out the door. You can do better than a man who manipulates you with your own insecurities.

You can do better.


Read “The Coquette” Sundays and Wednesdays in The Daily.

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Advice

On boundaries.

There’s a woman at my office (the receptionist), who’s really attractive (duh, receptionist).  In my professional capacity I don’t have much interaction with her but I’d really like to find a way to create some without being another creepy dude making contrived moves(I know that’s what I’m doing, hopefully with less creep).  Who knows if we’ll even click… this isn’t about trying to fit where I can’t, but I’d like to give it a legitimate try without boning my chances by being a typically awkward guy.

Pen, company ink.  I get it.  I’m adult enough to not let that kind of shit get to me if it doesn’t work. Aside from not dating someone from work, what should I do?

Aside from not dating your receptionist, you should also not hit on your bartender, you should not ask out your waitress, you should not proposition your stripper, and you should not kiss your prostitute on the lips without permission.

Listen, jackass, this isn’t about being adult enough to not let shit get to you if it doesn’t work. It’s about being adult enough to respect the boundaries of professional relationships.

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Advice

On fucking right back

how much cock do you suck before you do 2keys of coke of a strangers rock hard cock. also, how does a flat dried up cunt like yourself get a cock hard enough to snort noodles off of, let alone cocaine? i bet its hard, like watching all your friends from the last 200 years write a will whilst you still think you’re young enough to go clubbing like the fuck slut cum whore gorilla ogre vulture wanna be cougar you are. cougars are hot, i’d fuck a cougar/ but you’re like… a god damn sabre tooth tiger. maybe back in the day… but now? hot shit damn fuck I’m outmatched. Gimme one that can get wet and slick my stroke. Not have a stroke while slicking my stick. fuck off, get it wet. if you cant get it wet… well when it comes to men if you can’t get it wet you can’t get it yet. deal with it. lube your nasty little fuck slit. we can lube it for you for round 2. but we gotta cum in it to once to lube it for twice. fuck off. they sell lube on every corner you dumb cunts. get some. i’d fuck half of you cougars if your pussies weren’t so damn dry/ like the sahara in that cunt. tried fucking a cougar 3 times…. shits like sandpaper mixed with flypaper. its not that hard. get it ready, and a guy from 16-61 will love it. tight, wet, slick. 3-4 minutes and hes spurting like your pussies have been hurting for a hard cock. if that’s not enough. come get some from me. i love a tight cougar pussy. ill fuck one any day, any time. long as you’re up for round 2 a little later. i’d also love some ass. yeah that’s right i love to fuck ass too. get your stink on my wink. smoke some grass while i fuck your tight ass. cougars who have never been preferred. 40 year + untapped assholes…. I’m trying not to cum right now. so tight. so fresh. pound your ass right onto my flesh. right now. any unfucked cougar ass. give me some skin. fuck it like youd suck it. on that note suck it like you would help a lady who was stuck. in a building from the war.we save those cunts from war so theyll fuck us like a whore. any lass id save id fuck like a duck. id make an honest woman out of her sure, but only if she can fuck and suck like sister parish. if not, the HEADmistress can keep on CUMMING on.

Wow. You’re a magnificent idiot.

I mean, sure, people submit stupid shit like this all the time, and while I’ll give you credit for the sheer bulk of your obscenity, I have to say, you still fucked up big time.

You see, for whatever reason, you decided not to submit this through my anonymous form. Instead, you sent it directly to me through your gmail account.

Maybe you didn’t think about it. Maybe you didn’t care. Either way, you made the awesome mistake of sending a message like this with your full name still attached to it.

You jackass. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with? If you fuck with me, even for fun, I fuck right back, and in your case, it was all too easy.

You have a very unusual surname, and it took three fucking clicks to learn the name of your mother (Michele with one L) to whom I forwarded this message on your behalf.

That’s right, fucko. Say hey to your mom for me.

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Advice

On remembering

Small college campus. Ex harasses and insults me over weekend. His girlfriend is spreading shit about me. I feel anxious about leaving my room and generally uncomfortable on campus. Normally I just don’t give a fuck. What is going on?

You’ve just forgotten that no one gives a fuck what your douchebag ex and his latest skank have to say about you.

You’ve also forgotten that you don’t give a fuck what your douchebag ex and his latest skank have to say about you.

Quit forgetting. Remember how little you care whether he keeps breathing? Remember how much of a badass you are? Remember how big the world is outside your small college campus, and how none of it really matters?

Yeah, I thought so.

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Advice

On selling out.

Really? Of all the people to sell out to, you picked Murdoch, evil overlord of the most hated soul-crushing, fact-mangling corporation?

What, you’ve never watched The Simpsons? Never chuckled at Family Guy? Seriously, dude, I’m not over here giving Glenn Beck blowjobs or anything. Rupert Murdoch doesn’t even know my name. Literally.

Besides, hiring my narrow ass and geniuses like my editor Sasha Frere-Jones should be all the evidence you need they’re doing things differently at The Daily.

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Advice

On going pro.

Listen up, all you lovers and fuckers. I’ve got some killer news. I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been tapped to be the advice columnist for The Daily, Rupert Murdoch’s new iPad newspaper.

That’s right. I done sold the fuck out to the man.

I’ll be writing a Wednesday and Sunday column in the Arts & Life section called Dear Coquette that will be every bit as shady as Dear Coke Talk. It’s great. Not only do I get to stay anonymous, but they really are letting me do whatever the hell I want.

If you don’t have an iPad, now you gotta reason to go get one. If you do have an iPad, download The Daily app. Do it now. Don’t worry, it’s free for the first two weeks, and after that it’s only 99 cents a week. You know I’m worth it, bitches.

Go ahead, read my shit in today’s special Valentine’s edition. It’s a column about laziness, monogamy, and hot MILF action. Good times.

Just so you all know, I’m about to hop on a plane to New York City for fashion week. I’m gonna take a few days off from the blogs while I’m whore talking it up around Manhattan, but don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.

Happy V Day, bitches.

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Advice

On being needy.

I have a great relationship that has lasted over a year. He’s a wonderful, intelligent man. The only problem seems to be that he has a hard time complementing me. I think he thinks its awkward, or something. Do I just overlook it, because of all his good traits? He treats me well, and finds other ways to make me feel special, but my ego thinks theres something missing.

Yeah, no. There’s a difference between legitimate intimacy needs within a romantic relationship and not having your ego stroked often enough.

Just remember, a compliment given out of expectation is no compliment at all.

Don’t be that girl.

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