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The Carletonian

The Carletonian

The Carletonian

Dear Shabes

<rk on a new journey to a higher echelon of journalistic integrity, straight into the heavenly realm of “Dear Abby.” That’s right. This week I will give you my unadulterated, infallible, and really, really, ridiculously intelligent advice.

Now, you might be saying, what qualifies you for a job like this at The Carletonian? Well, I took a journalism class seven years ago, and I also saw the fifth season of “The Wire,” so I’m at least as qualified as anyone in The CLAP.

Anyway, enough futzing around. Here’s the first set of letters. And most of them are real, too.

Dear Shabes,

I am a freshman guy. Recently I participated in my first freshmen brodeo (Editor’s note: a “brodeo” is a large gathering of “bros”). I thought we had everything down. We were wearing soccer jerseys, shorts, and athletic bags tied behind our backs. We also splashed water in our faces to make it look like we just got back doing something dangerous/interesting. We laughed way too loudly, and did that thing where we just stand around smiling with our mouths open. We were looking to impress some girls, so when a bunch of seniors walked by, we started crackin’ wise. Bad idea. Long story short, they made me feel small and insignificant. And we still didn’t get any girls. Please help.

Brospeh McFroshy
Dear Brosheph McFroshy,

If you’re going to shell out some guff, tough guy, you better be able to throw down. It’s like bringing a knife to a street fight in Fallujah. You can’t build street cred by taking on the grand master first time around. If you were Tum-Tum you wouldn’t challenge Rocky to a fight for Emily, right?

Prescription: Go train, my young friend. Watch Norm McDonald’s cinema classic “Dirty Work.”

Dear Shabes,

I never actually read The Lord of the Rings, but I did watch the movies. Why didn’t they just get on one of those giant eagles and drop the ring into the volcano-mountain?

Samuel Kalar

Dear Samuel Kalar,

Not everyone has the incredible accuracy of Rex Grossman. Plus I bet they had wizard guns or something.
Prescription: Girlfriend.

Well, that’s all for this week. Send your letters, and anything goes, to [email protected].


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