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5:59 a.m. - 2005-11-09


In recent weeks, I have fallen head over heels in cyberlove with the gals at Smart and Sassy.

While I've known about the site since its existence thanks to some well placed anonymous sources who emailed me to say "Hey ... I'm part of this new site called Smart and Sassy. Read it, bitch", I usually don't have enough time to read sites that don't have slews of naked women on them.

But about a month ago, I stumbled across the site, read some of the letters and responses and hooted myself silly.


I hooted so hard, it made me silly.

Lampshades on the head ... that kinda shit.

I was like that freak-assed bird from the Cocoa Puffs commercial.

Hootin' my ass off, I'm tellin' ya.


So anyway ... once I quit hootin' and my sanity level came back to as close to normal as it could possibly be ... I realized something.

These bitches ripped me off.

And by "bitches", I mean bitches in the nicest sense because I love these gals.

But I came up with the internet advice column with nasty responses YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS AGO.

...I just ... you know ... never got around to actually DOING it...

To prove that I came up with the original snarky advice column, I present to you ...


Dear Uncle Bob,

Why is it that men only care about one thing?



Dear Trudy,

Bite a fart, you fuckslut. Be more specific next time, you walking sperm bank.

Uncle Bob

Dear Uncle Bob,

I'm getting married in a few weeks and I'm beginning to get cold feet. What should I do?


Dear Jeannie,

Invest in some slippers, you ignorant cow.

No seriously ... call your fiancee, explain to him that you don't think you want to marry him just yet, and then go gang bang your local high school football team until your colon falls out. Take pictures of the gang bang, upload them to and announce that you are "Dave Simpson's fiancee from Tulsa, OK" or whatever the hell your fiancee's name and hometown may be.

Uncle Bob

Dear Uncle Bob,

My husband won't stop chewing tobacco. I've tried to get him to quit for years but he seems to have no interest in it. This is affecting our relationship. How do I get him to stop?


Dear Cynthia,

It sounds to me like he chews tobacco to get the taste of your rank-assed nagging vagina out of his mouth. Be glad he hasn't slit his throat yet as a last ditch effort to escape your irritating self. Here's a solution ... kidnap some local high school cheerleaders and let him have sex with them. Do this on a regular basis. He'll be knee deep in poontang and won't have time to chew tobacco. Problem solved, bitch.

Uncle Bob

Dear Uncle Bob,

I'm obsessed with anything to do with Harry Potter. Oftentimes, I imagine what life would be like if I were part of Harry's posse and could fly around on a broomstick and slay dragons. Is this weird?


Dear Patricia,

It's not so much weird as it is just fucking pathetic.

What you need is a firm dose of reality in your life to bring you down off this fantasy cloud and get your mind off of Harry Fucking Potter. Contract a fatal disease or something. Have sex with a homeless Haitian guy and his dog. Become a crack addict. Anything. Just realize that Harry Potter is only a character in books and movies and has no interest in you and uninspired existence.

And thanks for saying "Harry's posse". That cracked my shit up.

Uncle Bob

Dear Uncle Bob,

My mother-in-law is driving me crazy! She insists on telling me how to raise my newborn baby and is over at our apartment constantly, telling me how I'm doing everything wrong and that my baby's going to grow up to be a psychopath. How do I tell her that her interference is straining our relationship?


Dear Kathy,

First, when your mother-in-law begins her next tirade, rip her blouse and bra off with your bare hands (use scissors if necessary), throw the baby headfirst into her chest from across the room and scream "YOU BREASTFEED THE LITTLE BASTARD YOURSELF, YOU WIGGY COCKBLOCKER!"

If this doesn't work, spike her coffee with cyanide and throw her body in a dumpster and never report her missing. For God's sake ... DON'T report her missing. That's where all these psycho killers get caught ... reporting the people missing. Just tell your husband that she said she was going on a "vacation" and left you all her credit cards in case of emergency.

Problem solved, bitch.

Uncle Bob


I came up with that shit YEARS ago.

It just looks as if I'm copying them.


I swear.

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