Advice........

OH VICTOR, PLEASE NO?!!!

I ain't givin' no advice.... One more day perusing, juggling the 3 "Dear So-And-So" advisors our local rag employs here in KC:  Annie... Abby... and Carolyn...

Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah
Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah

What a spirit Spring is bringing round my head, 

makes me feel glad that I'm not dead.

Sorry.... all that ain't got nuthin to do with this blog... it was just rattling around my brain, so, wrote it... sang it (you're welcome that I ain't got sound).. and it was about Spring.  I hate Winter, love Spring.......... so that.

Dear Annie..  This (letter to Annie) first one was really depressing.  A gal friend of a guy who's married with a child.. guy has historical pattern of addictions.. meth, heroin, alcohol... she's had to break into his house a couple times when he overdosed (3 yr old home, uncaring wife was at work).. Wanted to call Child Protective Services, never did...  then, he later 'came on to her', she feared rape... "What do I do?" (DUH!)

I think any of us could be Annie on that one. "Get a protective order...CPS exists to assess and protect children when parents cannot or will not.  Making that call isn't betrayal... then, step away."

Dear Abby.  On second thought, the letter to Abby (too) was depressing (boring too, not newsworthy) and by gollly we have CNN, FOX, Facebook, X, Instagripe, all that crap - we don't need no stinking badges... oops... no, it's "We don't need no (more) stinking depressing crap.

Dear Carolyn.  First.. Victor's opine on the three advice folks, sorry, kinda, not really.  Annie seems to be the youngest, newest to the game, and that's cool.  Abby, she's been around since tintype ain't she? Wise, 'seen, heard everything', ie, predictive.

Carolyn, I ain't well versed nor am I a paid consultant to judge, but, to me, "she's with it."  New age, smart, clever writer, pins answers down, maybe tosses in a splash of guilt..

Anyways.... a mom of two thirty-something daughters wrote Carolyn, "At wits end" about them. 'Both capable, great jobs, many wonderful qualities, mildly depressed, personal lives a mess.. one in an on again off again relationship with a man who won't commit... the other, in a many year relationship with a wonderful man but SHE won't commit.

'Pained' (that's how the letter writer penned her name.) My two sisters have adult children with their own families and children whom they spend their holidays with and it pains me to see my own daughters stuck... and still, no grandchildren (I bolded that, newspaper didn't) or progress.   Then basically stole from the Beatles, Help, I need somebody. (Advice)

Editor's note... wouldn't it be fun to have, like a Southpark adviser added to the fray?  You know, like "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." or something like that.

Carolyn told pained, "Howabout this... They are okay. Wherever they are, is okay.

She then briefly addressed the perceived depression, "I don't have access to them, but, there's no clock, no race, no Major Award for Approximation of Happiness Through Life Milestone Acheivement anywhere I've seen.'

'But, I do have access to you, so I can ask, why are you so caught up in your daughter's adult children's business?"   You GO Carolyn!  Southpark 'em  "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." 

'Now, eyes on your own paper. Your two daughters are doing their thing and that's great. That they're capable and have good jobs and wonderful qualities is not stuff to breeze by.  Re: stuckness, Mom, it's not their job to give you grandchildren.  That expectation alone can eat away at their well-being.'

VICTOR?  Yain't gotta yell, I'm right here...  Are you gonna turn this blog into a continual advice column?

No.  Tomorrow I'm gonna be Joel Olsteen, preach, raise money to straighten out folks.

Monday, I'll host a Town Hall, invite all my Pub and Dem friends, see if we can get this ironed out.

Then, Tuesday, we're gonna lock Eric Cartman in a padded cell... see if we can get that little manipulative foul-mouthed kid the correct meds or therapy to stop being a narcissist and sociopathic child.

Or, I may write about something else stupid, throw in some 70's lyrics and call it an omelette blog.

Eggciting eh?

Love, Victurd