Dear Abby, Yoko Ono, and More!

Allright, lots to get off my chest this morning.

First off, I hate Dear Abby. She may be dead, in which case I’m not entirely sure if I’m still allowed to hate her, but you have to hate someone who boiled everyone’s problems down to 75-100 words and then solved the problem with one sentence: “Please try counseling.”

Now, Miss Manners is pretty awesome. I don’t agree with most of what she says, and the people who normally write in are such accomplished retards that I want to bash my head, politely, into the nearest marble column, however she has such a way with dealing with the sub-humans who manage to pick up a pencil, pen, or crayon and write to her about how someone “made fun of their lunch” the other day. She’ll return with a zinger like: “well, it’s rude to make fun of people’s lunches, but you don’t have be so rude about being offended by it”.

Which brings me to someone who I think might have been offended by everyone in the world. For the past I-have-know-idea-how-many days at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art there has been a special Yoko Ono exhibit. I happened to attend the museum for a party thrown by my employer, and got a chance to see Yoko Ono’s works of Art. I had absolutely no idea how to explain what I witnessed, but then I found this awesome comic by Keith Knight, which explains my bewilderment successfully. And for the record, the apple, the toilet, the ass, and the phone are all very real aspects of my nightmares these days.