Dear Kitty Winn,
I wrote to you a few weeks ago and your advice about the breast implants was swell, but I must admit that I knuckled under and paid off my credit card debt instead. But I do have a few bucks left, just not enough for elective surgery. So Iâ€™m slinking back to you to ask how I should fritter $1,000. Is it time for a vacation? Some shiatsu massages? Or should I be practical all the way and tuck it back in a musty bank vault? And then thereâ€™s always charity. Surely thereâ€™s some starving children somewhere. Is Biafra still trendy? Kitty, youâ€™re my last resort since I usually do all my financial planning in a whirl of penitence following a drug binge. And Iâ€™m out of drugs!
-Moâ€™ money, moâ€™ problems
Now I know how the workhouse master felt when Oliver Twist asked for seconds. We don’t double dip in askery here. Do you think Dan Savage has to sit around all day, dreaming up new places for his readers to stick their rude bits? Well, I’ll take this indignity on the chin since you have caught me at a blank in my schedule. That impossible black hole when Rockford Files is over and Magnum, P.I. won’t be starting for another 40 minutes.
However I think you will find you have answered your own question- what you really seem to need are drugs. And if crawling around on the floor for a couple of days, playing with scotch tape and string cheese while blaring Scott Walker does not give you any ideas, well, you will be out the money anyhow. Tidy, isn’t it?
Now go away.