Dear Wally… 136
The Blue Stone Press’ advice columnist brazenly goes where Dear Abby and Ann Landers wisely wont.
‘Dear Wally’ is salty, funny, and irreverent, over the top, obnoxious, sweet, and sometimes pointless. No topic is off limits and hate mail is occasionally spewed at the paper. But don’t let that scare you off.
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Dear Wally 136
Dear Jackass Wally:
When my friends and I read your column in our dorm room, we play a game called “Beer Wally.” It works like this. We read it out loud and every time you say something stupid or try to impress us with your vocabulary, we do a shot of beer. Obviously we get really drunk doing this. Here are some of the words that got us wasted last time– vitupertion, sniggered, sanctmonious, erstwhile, quadratic. Oh yeah, I almost forgot sugar booger. What the hell is that? I could go on and on. Most of us go to college but we never know what the hell you are talking about. Your answers are so full of crap, it makes me want to stick a fork in my eye. Seriously, you are the perfect example of why this area sucks and that everyone under the age of 30 wants to leave. This place is nothing more than fake intellectuals like you, dirty old farmers, dirty construction workers, hippys who think their real artists, gay guys from New York with weekend houses and ugly soccer moms. Did you ever notice how ugly everybody is around here? You probably won’t even print this letter because you’re probably a pussy, but we have an ACTUAL question for your next column- Why does everybody think this area is so great when it sucks?
Beer Bob: How dare you insult the entire readership of the Blue Stone Press in one discursive, snarky, hacked-up loogie? That is MY job!
For your edification: One hippy= hippy. More than one hippy= hippies. 3 or more hippies = Rosendale. (Bada BING!)
Dirty old farmers grow the barley and hops that constitute the grog into which you push your punkass snout when you are playing Beer Wally (and not studying in the library?!). You sure you wanna so overtly jam the farmers?? Revenge (like beer) is a libation best served cold… And where the hell are my Beer Wally royalties?
You can probably get away with insulting hippies, if you must, as they are an insouciant bunch. We farmers, on the other hand, have backhoes and shovels and aren’t afraid of putting fresh manure in its (your) proper place.
Not sure what soccer fields you are lurking around (does your probation officer know you are up to this?) but the soccer moms I see at my kid’s games are smokin’ hot (and that means YOU in the Subaru- you know who you are!)
‘Awesome’ Bob, I have to call you out on your improper use of their/they’re /there. Copy editing is petty stuff and I hesitate stooping to your level (I make my fair share of mistakes), but you made it to college (presumably out of 7th grade, too?) not knowing witch word to use when? ‘Vituperation’ has more letters then/than (your choice, sir!) you give it credit for. Dangle THAT preposition, for you seem above the lowly station of proper grammar use!
I think you SHOULD lead the disgruntled youth movement out of this area, single file. Gather up your Xboxes and Justin Bieber posters and leave this Hudson Valley, cat-turd sandbox! Make a parade of it! What self-respecting , upwardly mobile go-getter like yourself (with a fork sticking out of his eye) would want to hang around the stunning mountains, biking trails, summer swimming holes, dirty organic farmers, gifted musicians, writers, actors, cool coffee shops and (eeeek!) folks with weekend houses! Best you leave the moment you finish college in 2030!
Don’t worry about the rest of us you leave behind. We’ll try hard to make it…
Meanwhile, here are some words for your saucy, beer-quaffing, pleasure; insolent, puerile, impudent, laggard, dolt…(you drunk yet, or should I keep going?)
Yours in the battle to eliminate idiocy,
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