Hello Marvin,
Sometimes I think that if I were a plant,
I would want to be asparagus. What does this mean? I'm
worried.
Signed,
Herbie Greenleaf
Gardener Extraordinaire
Dear Herbie,
What's a sparagus?
Dear
Marvin,
I have a habit of rubbing money all over my genitals.
I like the feel of the crisp 80% rag content against my skin.
Is this normal? And how do I explain the green paint on my member
to my boyfriend?
-Sam Flikpoe
Crevice, TN
Dear
Sam,
Hmmm... I've never heard of such a thing
before. Thanks for the tip. I'll let you know how it works
out.
Dear
Marvin,
Why when I stand up and then sit down really quick
over and over again does everything start to look like bit-o-honey
that maybe a dog threw up?
-Justin
Brown
Brighton, MA
Dear
Justin,
You are most likely suffering from a congenital
birth defect. This, coupled with some external stimulus, like
maybe a dog throwing up bit-o-honey, would likely produce the symptoms
you mention. You could bring your case to some sort of specialist
- a board-certified philatelist perhaps; or an Episcopalian - but
I suspect that your condition, known as phytocranial myopathy, has
progressed well into its debilitating final stages, the chief symptoms
of which are itchy, watery eyes and death. My advice to you
would be to distribute your worldly possessions and give yourself
freely to the eternal beyond with much haste, thereby sparing your
loved ones the pain of witnessing your agonizing and inexorable decline.
It would be best if you wrote a short note to each of your loved ones
explaining how they never really understood you. This will facilitate
the healing process.
Dear
Marvin,
What can I do about that "not-so-fresh"
feeling? I think you know what I'm talking about.
-Dolores Spiegelman
Davenport, IA
Dear Dolores,
There are those among us who believe that a woman
should not feel ashamed of her femininity, that she should not take
ridiculous measures to disguise what is after all a completely natural
phenomenon. Pay no heed to these foul-smelling atheists; they
are an abomination in the eyes of God. No one can say for sure
what horrors eternity holds in store for them, except that it will
clearly involve much wailing and gnashing of teeth. A solution
of three parts rosewater to one part distilled vinegar applied topically
should do the trick. Now go forth in morning-fresh peace to
do God's will.
Dear Marvin,
I'm a little embarrassed - I'm not normally one
to write to an advice columnist, but right now I'm facing a problem
with no clear solution.
It all started about 12 minutes ago, when electricity
and phone service were simultaneously disrupted at my family's suburban
home. At first I was not alarmed by this - after all, it IS a dark
and stormy night, and these sorts of outages are not uncommon in such
conditions. But as I looked out the window of my study, I was struck
by something quite peculiar - all the other houses in our quiet, God-fearing
neighborhood appeared to still have electricity. It was at this time
that I heard the first bone-chilling scream, as an unseen malevolent
force began its rampage, cutting down my family members one after
another.
The assailant has obviously taken steps to cut
off communication, but he is apparently unaware of my computer's battery
back-up and cable modem. Perhaps this inter-related network of computers
- this "inter-net" - will provide a means by which to end
this unholy terror, before it is too late. For I have heard tales
of a man... a man whose wisdom shines out like a beacon to America's
lonely, lost children... a man whose compassionate hand has guided
many a metaphorical wayward sailor to likewise metaphorical safe port...
a man whose legendary good sense is eclipsed only by his grace and
keen wit. Sadly, in my current state of frenzy I have been unable
to locate this man. But I am in a bit of a pinch, so I guess you'll
do.
At this point, one might rightly ask: Why haven't
I taken matters into my own hands? Why haven't I stood up to defend
my own? Well, it is not so simple as that. You see, I lost my legs
many years ago in a game of high-stakes poker. How can I, a wheelchair-bound,
niggardly shell of a man, hope to prevail against this fleet-footed
fouler of all that is fair? No - my best chance is here. My only hope
is that you will receive my desperate plea and dispatch the local
authorities to the scene before all is hopelessly lost. Help me Marvin
Kremple, you're my only hope!
Alas, it begins. A flash of lightning - and in
the reflection of my computer monitor, I see the beastly murderer
silhouetted in the doorway behind me. In this, my hour of final reckoning,
a thousand stray thoughts race through my mind! Why didn't I lock
the door to my study? Or maybe even just close it?! Why didn't I escape
through my first story window and crawl to my neighbors - you know,
that nice family of ex-green berets - and ask for assistance?!
Bah. It is of no matter now. The only question which remains
is: Can I press "send" in time?
Aargh! He is upon me! In one clean, steel stroke,
this dastardly defiler of decency... this grim artist of the macabre
has painted a ghastly purplish grin across my throat. The light of
the universe fades as my lifejuice flows, collecting in a warm, syrupy
puddle on the floor. In a moment, I will slip feebly from this chair...
crumpling to the ground... gasping desperately for one last breath
of precious air.
Where have all the flowers gone?
-Slipping Slowly from Consciousness
Cuyahoga Falls, NY
Dear
Slipping Slowly,
There are many, many fish in the sea. It
looks like you've caught yourself a REAL SHARK!
What?! My questions aren't good enough to post to your damn
WEB site??!!! You big, freakish pervert!!!!
Um, this IS Dear Abby, isn't it?
Shit.
-Elmo
Sesame Street
Dear Elmo,
Perhaps I was wrong in my thinking, but I didn't
feel that your frequent letters, consisting of nothing but allegations
concerning "that Bob guy" being "like, totally gay!",
were worthy of comment. Dear Abby, INDEED
|
Marvin
Kremple, chief accountant and financial advisor to noshadowkick.com,
has gotten the boys out of more than a few jams thanks to his unflappable
demeanor and sterling analytical skills. Far from being a mere
number cruncher, Marvin has managed to keep the boys even-keeled despite
all the craziness that sometimes can invade the lives of such burgeoning
rock stars. Shawn, the No-Shadow drummer, has this to say: "If
level-headed were an ocean, he'd be the Pacific. Having Marvin
around has been like having our own personal Yoda, except he's much
bigger and wears a bow tie. I can't imagine where we'd be without
him. Shit." Marvin has graciously agreed to offer advice
on all matters of life, love, and lucre to the band's fans.
Please