I’m Having A Me Party, An Advice Column By Myself : Ask Professor Classypants

Welcome back, wisdom-seekers, to another installment of Ask Professor Classypants. It’s a special edition with a singular, shining goal: to remind you that fake advice columnists have feelings, too.

Also, I hope you got the Muppets reference in today’s title. If you didn’t, you are dead to Act Classy.

I don’t know, Cookie Monster. I don’t know.

In my first two outings as your go-to guru of gut-checks, I was swimming in letters. I couldn’t swing a cat without hitting an advice-seeker. When, both, the cats and the brutalized advice-seekers stopped coming around and began sending emails instead, I was positively deluged with e-pleas. Annoying mothers-in-law. Dreadful co-workers. Tactics for those being bullied. Best practices for those doing the bullying. In retrospect, I should have saved some of these letters instead of answering a dozen or so and setting the rest on fire or forwarding them to Dear Prudence. Because now, dear readers, I have no letters.

Do I think it’s because no one wants my advice? No. Do I think it’s because people are afraid of the truth? Yes.

So, this week, I am taking on the cowards and offering entirely unsolicited advice. I am going to post questions I’ve never been asked on the street. Then I’m going to post answers to questions no one bothered to ask me. And because I am on the Internet and you are not, you will sit there, you will listen, and you will like it. Confused yet? Good. You deserve it. Maybe next time, you’ll submit a question like a good lost soul.

Dear Professor Me: Should someone ever wear those wife beater t-shirts that aren’t wife beater t-shirts? Those sleeveless t-shirts that just scream “Kevin Federline?”

Dear Me: I think the better question is, “Should someone take Kevin Federline out back and beat the t-shirt out of him?”

Dear Professor Me: What made you want to become an advice columnist?

Dear Me: Fantasies about beating Kevin Federline.

Oh K-Fed, we’ll never let you drift into obscurity.

Dear Professor Me: Isn’t this column a rip-off of Dave Barry’s old “Ask Mr. Language Person” bit? Or of “Letters to Strong Bad” on Homestar Runner?

Dear Me: Hey, when you have a blog, THEN you can have opinions. And, really? A Dave Barry reference? It’s 4:00 pm somewhere; shouldn’t you be getting ready for dinner, reading a Denny’s menu aloud to a bored teenager?

Dear Professor Me: Wait — aren’t you the advice-seeker and the advice-giver in that last scenario? By admonishing yourself to hold your opinions until you get a blog, haven’t you torn a hole in time and space?

Dear Me: I’m sorry, do I know you?

Can you say ‘wormhole’ without snickering? Me neither.


Dear Me: Oh, look! A van!

Wow. Advice-seeking isn’t as easy as I thought. I am chastened. Hopefully, you are as annoyed as I am chastened and will send your letters soon. If you include a self-addressed stamped envelope, I will mail you back a partially completed Mad Libs booklet from 1982 and a half-used bottle of Love’s Baby Soft because it has been 30 years since anyone sent a self-addressed stamped envelope.

Happy writing! Thanks for stopping by to live, love, and learn. Be sure to join us next week. And remember: Act Classy and you will be classy. Ish.

Have a question for Professor Classypants? Feel free to use our magical form that lets you enter information into rectangles. When you hit SUBMIT, the form sends electronic mail to Professor Classypants with your message. Great… now we’ve over-explained things.

Molly Martin

Professor Darla Von Classypants is actually Molly G. Martin. Because Ann Landers and Dear Abby and Dear Prudence haven't used real names in 67 years so why should she? And if you're thinking this reminds you of an old Dave Barry schtick: when you grow up and get your own blog, THEN you can have opinions.

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