It’s Monday again! That means a whole new round of literally thousands of letters I have to wade through in order to pick a few that I think are worth answering. Here they are:
here is a message for you. although I enjoy your self-asks more, I thought I’d shoot you one. what are your thoughts on peanut butter? chunky? creamy? stick em in a stew?
First, I love peanut butter. Every single day I eat dozens of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, much to the dismay of everyone who knows me. They always say stupid things like, “your blood test results show that you’re malnourished,” and “your diet cannot consist solely of peanut butter and jam or your health will continue to decay.” Personally, I like the crunchy peanut butter because the little peanut bits get stuck in the holes of my teeth. Later, during a particularly boring stretch at the office, I’ll wiggle them out with my tongue for a nice game/snack.
Alan, i was wondering - do you think those skateboard kids took your door and put wheels on each corner and made a super skateboard that they could all ride on at the same time?
… I would be filled with the same blind rage that led me to throwing my door at them if it weren’t for the sheer genius of this. Those goddamed smart, sneaky skateboarding kids. Fuck.
Remember when you shaved off your eyebrows because you thought everyone at the office would think you were a badass, but then they made you take your two weeks vacation early and then you couldn’t take Susan to Delaware for your second Honeymoon?
Shut up, dummy! SHUT UP!
Shut up! You’re the stupid one here!
I didn’t post one yesterday because I didn’t feel like it, okay? Not because no one sent me a message! I’ll have you know that thousands of people sent me messages. Dozens of them were from women wanting to have sexual intercourse with me, and several were from world leaders asking me to be their friend. So HA!
And even IF no one sent me a message, so what? Aren’t you the loser who keeps posting your address in hopes of getting a letter from someone and all you’ve ever gotten in the mail are subpoenas? BOOM!
Hey you big dummies! Guess which of your favourite Tumblrers is having a guest over to their house? Me! So to all you naysayers who have claimed that I am a “friendless loser who needs to get over his ex-wife and move on” are totally wrong. I obviously don’t need to get over my ex-wife in order to have friends.
So now I have to do something called “clean up” which sounds just as stupid as it is. Basically, instead of having things all over your apartment, you pile those things in one location to make it look like you have control over your life. “Clean up” also includes washing dishes, but they’ve all fused together after not being washed for so long, so I’m just going to throw them out. I eat over the sink anyway so it’s not like I need them.
Well, I just wanted to give an update to those who are “worried about me” and who think I have “issues”. It’s clear that I am FINE and you guys are the ones who have issues.
Also, if someone knows of somewhere I could get a front door on short notice that would be great. I took mine off to throw at some kids playing skateboards and they stole it when they skated away. Thanks!
Paul looked across the table at his wife, Janice. She was reading the newspaper and waiting for her coffee to cool down. She had done the same thing, every morning, for the past 12 years.
“If you put milk in your coffee it will cool down faster, you know,” Paul said.
Janice didn’t answer. Janice drank black coffee every morning for the past 12 years.
After a prolonged silence, Paul asked, “Why do you even read the newspaper?”
Janice hated most things she read in the paper and complained about it often, much to the annoyance of Paul.
“Why don’t you ever answer me?” asked Paul. “I mean, here I am trying to have a fucking conversation with my wife over breakfast and she chooses a newspaper over her own God damn husband!”
Paul got up from the table, grabbed his coat and keys, and left to go to work. He slammed the door on his way out, which caused a picture of them on vacation to fall off the wall and break.
Janice didn’t notice the outburst, however, because Janice is a carrot.
People often ask me things like, “Alan, why are you doing all these terrible things to our lawn?” and “are you on PCP?”
It’s hard to imagine that a human being can live in actual freedom. I can literally do anything I want, regardless of the consequences. You know why? Because I don’t give a shit!
-Oh I’m sorry, did I just knock your HOT SOUP into your lap?
-What’s the special of the day, waiter? KAPOW! NUT SHOT!
-I just farted on your baby, you dummies!
-Whoa, I hear sirens. I’m out of here!
Want to know the secret? I realised long ago that we all die alone. And instead of moping around like one of those Elmo kids that hang around the Blockbuster and have black fingernails, I chose to air punch my way through life!
I am high on PCP! I am going to run naked through your sprinklers!
I am the 1%!
Today is Monday’s Mail Bag, the day that I answer all the questions people sent to me, regardless of how stupid they are.
Okay, so when I opened the bag a moth flew out of it and gave me the finger. So that either means you dummies were too dumb to leave me a message, or your interest is wavering in this here blog.
Here’s one I made up to satisfy my quota.
Hi Alan, I was wondering how you’re so damned awesome all the time? What can I do to be just as awesome as you? I think you are single handedly the greatest person to ever occupy this planet. I love you, and I know where you live.
Love ALWAYS, Alan xoxo
Hi there, Anonymous! To answer your questions: Drugs.
Look at all of their soulless faces.
All yearning for something they cannot obtain.
Will the darkness that engulfs me, engulf them?
Will they ever stop lying to themselves about being happy?
Happiness does not exist. Only darkness and death.
Death will consume us all and everything we’ve ever done will be forgotten.
Well, maybe except for the time I dressed up like Geddy Lee for Halloween and refused to change out of the costume for seven months.
The newspapers reported on that pretty heavily, and were extremely unkind in their analysis of me.
Like when I tried getting on stage at the RUSH concert, the papers reported that I was a crazed stalker. That wasn’t true. I just genuinely believed that I was Geddy Lee because I had worn the costume for so long.
So yeah, people might remember that for a long time.
Actually, people still write about the time my Great-Grandfather threw an avocado at William Howard Taft.
Where did he even get an avocado back then?
What was I writing about? Oh yeah, RUSH.
Great band, right?
This person right here has been lifting family photos from these people and passing them off as their own. The photos in question are of a little girl, who the writer claims is her own daughter, and a baby, who they claim to be the Aunt of.
The writer writes up long, detailed posts about their “daughter” or being an Aunt. Although convincing, the posts are untrue and therefore extremely disturbing.
If any of you could join in and report the page so that it is taken down, that would be greatly appreciated.
To report a page, email email@example.com. Include the URL to the page you are reporting, and a description of why.
I think it’s about fucking time.