Mailbag Monday

In which your humble narrator responds to life's most pressing conundrums, even if they are invented.

Here at Rotten Baby Omnicorp Media-Mania, Inc., LLC, Ph.D., DDS, we view our service to all three of our readers as a sacred trust, and as such we have set aside today to answer some of the pressing questions that have been flooding our (imaginary) inbox. Today, gentle readers, we will answer the mail.

Dear Rotten Baby,
I am new parent and I am sick to death of all of the advice that complete strangers give me regarding my infant (human) child. I have read all of the popular child rearing books and have become convinced that I had better just muddle through as best I can and figure things out on my own. Yet, old ladies constantly stop me in the grocery store and give me conflicting, weird advice about childcare while admonishing me for everything that I am supposedly doing wrong. My question is, may I hit them with a brick?
                                          -Peeved Parent in Peoria

Dear Triple P,
No you may not hit them with bricks. That is an easily adjudicated case of assault. Since this happens in the grocery store, I suggest a 3-5 lb. bag of citrus fruit. It'll hurt like hell and leave no incriminating marks or bruises. I prefer Valencia Oranges, but you may wish to try several varieties of citrus fruits and make your own decision.

Dear Rotten Baby,
Long time reader, first time (imaginary) email writer. I am hosting Thanksgiving for my family on Thursday. This is the first year that my mother has not been hostess and I am nervous about living up to her standards. Any tips?
                                          -Nervous Hostess in Vancouver
Dear Nervess,
I hope to hell that you're in Vancouver in Washington State and not in British Columbia. Otherwise you are up embarrassment creek without a paddle of everlasting shame. You see, Nervess, The Canadians get their thank on in October. So if you're a Canadian, that ship has already sailed. If you're not Canadian and you want to keep your overbearing mother in her place, prepare nothing but side dishes and then ask her where the hell the turkey is when she arrives. Persevere in this little fib all evening, heaping subtle guilt on her at every turn. She'll be too flabbergasted to judge you.

Dear Rotten Baby,
I get the distinct impression that you're writing these letters to yourself because you can't think of anything else to write about today.

                                          -Suspicious Salvatore in San Antonio
Dear Sal,
You are so dumb it makes my teeth hurt. If there was a Church of Stupid, you would be the Pope. We're writing these letters because people love advice columns and we are convinced that this will send our site traffic soaring to add the demographically crucial Filipinio, trangendered, chicken-farming, Buddhist, fourth reader.

That wraps up this edition of 'Mailbag Monday," boys and girls. To have your queries, imaginary or otherwise answered, send an email to:
rotten.baby.blog (at) gmail (dot) com.