Dear The Captain

Remember Dear Abbey? Dead. So never mind her. But what about Dr. Laura – now there’s someone to admire: still living and making fistfuls of cash giving “relationship” advice to masochistic callers on her syndicated radio program with the subtlety of an M1 tank and with the weight of the august title of Dr. behind her. The Captain is a bit jealous, being only able to cart out the definite article “The” in front of my oh so convenient pseudonym. However, given that Dr. Laura is a doctor of Physiology and NOT, as she would love you to believe, of Psychology, there’s no reason, or local ordinance, preventing me from jumping on board that gravy train. Bottom line: with my obscenely yellow mesh Floor Captain baseball cap and degree from the school of hard knocks, I’m every bit as qualified as Dr. Laura to tell people what the hell is wrong with them.

So if you have an inexplicable desire to seek out pain and humiliation, write in with your questions, ‘cause The Captain is ready to oblige (for a ridiculously inflated fee).

Here are my first customers.

Dear The Captain: I am a tall, smart, fit, never been married 37 year old guy whose dated dozens of attractive and successful woman with whom I have a lot in common. The problem is, they all tell me I’m a “great guy” but there is no “chemistry.” What is wrong with me?

Dear “great guy”: First of all, the bitches are lying. They don’t really think you are so “great.” Second, it’s anyone’s guess as to what’s wrong with you. How the hell would I know anyway? Suffice it to say, you’d be better off trying to find “chemistry” in a Crystal Meth lab in Southern California. But keep trying. I’d like to hear from you again!

Dear Captain: I’ve been the primary caretaker for my invalid mother for the past ten years. In those years, my siblings and I have had every kind of disagreement possible. I attribute this to their guilt over not being the caretaker. At one point, I told them that I was not looking for their approval. I was neither looking for nor needed their thanks. I made it clear that I did not want gifts, but my siblings insisted on sending me gift certificates along with notes thanking me for taking care of the mother they have ignored for the past decade. If I keep the gifts, I’d have to write thank you notes for gifts I specifically said I didn’t want. I have no idea how to do this? I know this is not a big problem, but I’m stumped about how to proceed.

Dear gift getter: For the record, it’s “The” Captain. The first thing you should do is send the gifts to The Captain’s PO Box. After that, you are free to continue to hate your siblings and live a lonely, bitter existence until you or your mother croaks, which ever comes first. Should you ever come to your senses, I suggest you find out if euthanasia is legal in your state. And I’ll not say no to more gifts!

So believe The Captain when he says: If you think you’re messed up, write to me, because you probably are!

Yours by the billable hour,

The Captain