(The editors and Mr. C. K. would like to apologize in advance for his overt and unnecessary hostility. Mr. C. K. was, by his own admission, “having a bad day.”)
How come Arnold Palmer gets a drink named after him and I don’t? Could you recommend steps toward “I-have-a-drink-named-after-me” greatness?
Ann Arbor, Mich.
First of all, the Arnold Palmer, as it is known (half lemonade, half ice tea), was not named after the golfer Arnold Palmer. It was named after your mother’s old dried-up snatchola. Yeah. You heard me right.
I asked a girl to marry me and she said no. Now we’re dating again. Can I use the same ring to propose again if I put it in a different box?
Why would you date a girl that said no to you the first time? Why don’t you go find a sharp thing and stick it up your stupid dickhole? By the way, I’ve been to Easton, PA, and it was a nice town. Except for you.
Shit in a pipe, douche.
I’m ready to grow a mustache, but I don’t want to send the wrong message. What does each style of mustache say about its owner?
I don’t know what any mustache says about its owner, but I know what yours will say. It will say, “Please get me off the face of this stupid ugly cunt.” Nobody likes you. Even the a and the n at the end of your name ran off because you’re such a fucking stupid twat.
Thanks for your letter.
Is secondhand smoke really as bad as everyone says it is?
San Francisco, Calif.
Very good question. Let me give you some statistics.
1. Your name is stupid.
2. Nobody cares what you think.
3. I hate you.
4. I have a pretty nice penis. It’s not huge, but it’s well sized and it’s nice. This isn’t directed at you. It’s directed at any attractive woman reading this magazine who might run into me later in her life. I’d rather advertise my penis than answer your stupid question. Idiot.
For a long time the main thing that’s bothered me is procrastination. Like right now. I’m procrastinating instead of doing my job. In the old days humans hunted and were hunted—by mastodons and wolverines and such—but now we sit in front of computers. We got no excitement. So I procrastinate. Piss people off. Barrel through deadlines. Living la vida loca. Am I wrong-headed about all this?
Las Vegas, Nev.
You sound like a real card. You sound like you really got a clever mind and you’re always spinning your wheels about some-who crazy business. Mastodons??? What a nut. “That Bret,” your friends must say, “he is quite a kook. I hope his wife has a baby into his mouth and it gets lodged in his throat and he chokes on his own stupid baby.”
I cut up an old backpack to make my own BabyBjörn. He doesn’t seem to like it much. Any advice on how to make it more comfortable or entertaining for the kid?
First of all, I don’t believe you. I have owned three BabyBjörns and I can assure you that you couldn’t make one out of a “cut up” old backpack.
Second of all, BabyBjörns are stupid. Just carry your ugly, ugly kid or let him walk next to you as you live your shit life. Don’t make him hang on your sad, flat, old, pimply, sweater-wearing vest.
Third of all, I hate you because you leave things out of every sentence. “He doesn’t seem to like it much.” Who?! Who the fuck are you talking about, you lazy cunt!
“Any advice?” Do you mean, “Do you have any advice”? You left out the “Do you have” part. I hate people who talk like that. They also say things like “Fact is…” Get your goddamn hands out of your pockets and say an entire sentence! And please take the entire town of Winnipeg and shove it up your mom’s asshole.
I took my baby girl out for a walk last week and a teenage boy passed me in the street and told me I was “a total MILF.” What does this mean? Should I be insulted?
MILF is a common acronym used by teenagers these days. It stands for “Ugly Bitch Who Lies about Some Kid Calling Her a MILF.” He didn’t say it and you know it. Why don’t you tell me the real story? You were taking your baby girl for a walk when nobody walked by and nobody said anything. Because you are invisible to the caring world.
Oh my god. What is wrong with me?