Dear Albrecht: V



Albrecht Soothspitz, b. 1347

Take heart, dear readers! Albrecht is back. This batch of letters took him an extraordinarily long time. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a magically preserved medieval philosopher supplied with quills in New Jersey? -- especially when said medieval philosopher goes through epic stretches of ennui?) While is Wii addiction eventually wore off, Al developed a powerful attachment to fantasy football. He has no idea, whatsoever, how the game is played, mind you, but he so enjoyed the onion dip and Guinness at the league meetings, he couldn't resist. Please, as always, bask in his wisdom. Then . . . evaluate it carefully, for your sake and the sake of those around you.
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Dear Albrecht:

My mom is all mad at me because she saw some pictures of me on Facebook. I was at a college party and, in the pictures, I am lifting my shirt. But, like, I had a bra on. Like, big deal. It's not like I was naked. I don't see what she is all worked up about. What do you think? I don't want to be, like, a prude.

Signed,
PROUD TO BE ME


Dear Proud:

When I was, like, a young man, the sight of a woman's flesh exposed anywhere above the second knuckle used to make me as randy as a novice monk skinny-dipping on a May night while watching the shadows move past the convent school windows. If you wenches run around offering your wares to anyone who cares to have a twist, where in the name of Socrates is the wedding-night magic going to come from?

I also feel it necessary to point out that the social networking medium to which you refer is called FACEbook. If they intended otherwise, they would have clearly labeled it Bosombook.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albecht:

My son simply won't go to bed at night. Any advice?

Signed,
FRUSTRATED PARENT

Dear Frustrated:

"Won't?" Yes. I do have some advice. Sprout a set of bollocks.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

I fear I am in love -- deeply in love. I am a woman, but the problem is, the man with whom I am in love is openly gay. He says he loves me, too, but could never commit to a physical relationship. Still, he is willing to marry me because of the bond we share. What should I do? I think I love him enough to abandon the pleasures of the flesh, but I am worried about the next step.

Signed,
IN LOVE

Dear In Love:

Are you out of your tree? Are you so foul, weak and hideous that this is your only option?

Odd's bodkin! I've learned to expand my social parameters since settling down in the twenty-first century, but some of you people are determined to break up the basket, drop the splinters in a water pail and stir, stir, stir. Answer me this, Aristotle: If the dog find himself alone in the farmyard with a hen and the gate is locked shut, what is he likely to do when Nature calls to him? Correct: jump the fence and find somewhere else to howl.

Find a sturdy cupboard and lock yourself away. Sadly, your stupidity precludes the possibility of a normal life. How do you manage to open jars?

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

Books or E-readers?

Signed,
CYBER BOOKWORM

Dear Cyber,

Scrolls.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

My car is ten years old now. It runs fine, but it looks a little battered. We really can't afford a new one, but, in my line of work as a real estate agent, a nice car is important. Should I buy a new one or keep this one until it wears down?

Signed,
TIM

Dear Tim,

(Tim?)

I never understood why Man moved away from horses. Let go the wheel of a car and you will likely run off of a cliff or into a tree and die a a horrible death. Let go the reins of a horse and the worst situation you might find yourself in is sitting still in a meadow while the noble beast culls sweet grass.

Right. Write back when you have an important question.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht:

I have been married to my husband, Bill -- oh, poop. I didn't mean to type his real name. Anyway, we have been married for twenty years and it just occurred to me that Bill is really, really boring. He never want to do anything. All he does is read books or make model ships in the basement or plays video games with our sons. All he ever wants to do with me is sit and talk -- or other stuff, if you know what I mean. And he plays his guitar a lot -- sometimes for, like, an hour. Seriously: he's thinking of taking lute lessons. Lute! But, besides three or four bike rides a week, that's it. He never wants to go out dancing and stuff. Bor-ING. I don't like being in this position, but he needs to expand his horizons. What should I do?

Signed,
BORED BY BORDY MC BOREDPANTS

Dear Bored,

The computer, for your information -- and this comes from a chap who wrote with quills on stretched animal skins for most of his life -- has a "delete" button. Unfortunately for your husband, you do not. He'd be better off for pushing it, were it the case.

Albrecht.
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Dear Albrecht,

Is Chuck Norris as tough as they say?

Signed,
SCARED

Dear Scared,

Chuck Norris is so tough that, even when he was generations away from being born, the torturers in the Stankburgen Castle dungeons used to refer to their Iron Maiden as "Chuck Norris."

Albrecht.