Probably Uncalled For...  

This is just another great example of just how f**ked up people can be, and for little to no reason other than to overcomplicate s**t. Take advice columns. Freakin' wow, I hate me some advice columns. 99.998% of all of the useless space wasters led me to wonder how many people are actually out there running amok that have problems so gripping, so earth shattering, just gnawing away at their very souls that they just have to sit down and write a letter to a f**king newspaper feature sharing space with the freakin horoscopes? I know it's cheaper than getting therapy, but come the f**k on. You got better odds getting your inner demons addressed through a "discreet massage" ad.

Take, for example, the absolute dolt from Wisconsin who fired off a letter to the one and only Dear Abby. She said she loved her job, her boss always gave her good reviews, and the work was simple and stress-free.

Yeah, lady. I hear ya, or at least I wish I did. Are you f**king kidding me? What in the name of holy damn is so perplexing you gotta drag in freakin Abigail Van Buren into the fray?

She feels guilty because she apparently makes too much at her job, and that other people are trying to get by, and just barely, on even less for harder work. She even asks if she should ask her boss for a paycut. Yeah lady, go ask your boss for a paycut, and he'll give it to you, and he'll never look at you like someone who has a lick of common sense again. Tell me how much you love your job when everybody there is convinced you are a raving dumba**.

WTF?!?

This was your big f**king problem? And what a f**king shock, all Dear freakin Abby could cough up was to either "donate some money to charity," or to "go to therapy." How the hell does she continue to get paid for that? It's like she is even more worthless than Dr. Phil. It sounds like she needs a freakin competency hearing, to me. Then again, I'm...ahem...no professional or anything, even though I may just be smarter than Dr. Phil or Dear Abby.

My advice is to quit your little dream job there, an go to work at a f**king 7-11 or a quarter-a**ed cubicle farm like I wage slave at. Your life's going pretty well, so why feel guilty? I mean, for f**k's sake, seeing as how you weren't smart enough to figure out to just give some money away or get some help (not of the syndicated variety), then you should be damn well thankful you have the spot in life you do, Mrs. "Cut and Run in Wisconsin."

You f**king dolt.