Dear Captain Obvious: I’m a deadbeat dad that would put Bobby Brown to shame—at least his baby mamas can find him! Recently my grown daughter, whom I abandoned to be raised by her mother and abusive stepfather, sauntered back into my life to be a living and breathing reminder that any idiot can make a baby but it takes a real man to be father. Guess which one I am? About a week ago I ambushed my daughter at her job to invite her out to dinner. She said, no. Again. I’m tired of being shot down. How can I relay to her that I’m finally ready to stop being a useless human being? Sperm Donor.
Dear Sperm Donor: I can’t for the life of me figure out why your daughter wants nothing to do with an obviously loving and caring person such as yourself. Could it be the nightmares of her stepfather pummeling her mother?  Maybe she suffers from low self-esteem being that there was no one to tell her she was worthy of being loved all those years? Perhaps she might even hate you for leaving her to rot in the purgatory that was her home life? Gee, I dunno. Kids these days; they expect so much. You gave her life for chrissakes, what more could she want?!
Dear Captain Obvious: Do you think it’s possible for someone who was addicted to porn—to the point where it broke up their marriage—can go to a few therapy sessions and be completely cured? I’m just wondering what happened to me. One day I can’t get enough of porn websites, XXX-Rated DVDs and strip clubs and the next I’m an upstanding photography assistant who works 18-hour days. It could be that my girlfriend, who happens to dress like a Times Square hooker, cleansed me of the insatiable urge to… well… you know. This dramatic turnaround has left me completely hard-pressed.
Dear Hard-Pressed: Hhhmm that does sound perplexing. Either you’ve got multiple personality disorder or you are the victim of a dropped storyline in this bad soap opera we call life.
Sabrina Costelana
Dear Captain Obvious: Since falling hopelessly in love with a much older man I’ve had the joy of revolting his family members (I am about 30 years his junior) and reaping the benefits of his unimaginable wealth. I spend my days ordering his servants around, buying decadent pastries, and polluting the city as I drive to and from my fiancé’s office up to seven times a day! I know a simple phone call would suffice but I’m intent on warming the globe with our love. Life would be perfect except for one annoying detail—his son. We hate each other and now we’re forced to live under the same roof as my fiancé has insisted that he move in. Mon dieu! How can I be rid of him without looking like the bad guy? Pretty Young Thing.
Dear PYT: Give the staff the weekend off and stuff the hollow of his bedroom curtain rods with anchovies dipped in caviar. As the stench begins to blanket the room he’ll ask to be transferred to another. Rinse and repeat until he’s slept in every room of the mansion inhaling the putrid fragrance of dead fish. Eventually he’ll tire of the unwelcome aromas burning his nose hairs and will have no choice but to evacuate daddy’s home, and your life altogether. Best of luck.
David Chow
Dear Captain Obvious: I’m having a fire sale on my dignity; every last shred must go! I have a really bad habit of turning my back on open doors when I make phone calls to my bookie. I know I’m setting myself up for, say, my fiancée’s ex-boyfriend to spy on me and use it to his advantage but no matter how I try to face the door I can’t get my legs to obey—it’s like some unforeseen power is willing me to be wide open to ridicule and humiliation. I want so much to abandon my weasel-like ways but it looks like it’s not in the cards. Bad Hand.
Dear Bad Hand: Everyone’s got bad habits. Take me for instance: I tend to sit on the back patio of Crimson Lights and air my dirty laundry so that anyone near the door might over hear. When someone is after me for money I have meetings with them in the only restaurant in town where my wife or business associates might witness me sweating bullets and looking like a caged animal as we have heated arguments over grilled salmon and asparagus. The point I’m trying to make here is this: you’re a moron.
J.T. Hellstrom
Dear Captain Obvious: Last week my father-in-law fired me just to test my loyalty to him and his company. I guess I must have passed because he re-hired me on the spot. Part of me really wants to tell the egomaniac where he can shove it but I’m just a namby-pamby who enjoys his handouts, which is ironic when you consider that not long ago I blathered on and on about how I would support his daughter and grandson without his help. Now look at me. I really should have my man card revoked. Any ideas on redeeming myself? Freeloader.
Dear Freeloader: Even if you grow your balls back you’ll never convince your wife’s father that you’re worthy of her. He’s just probably humoring his kid until you piss her off, then, my friend, it’s time to start worrying. If you like living on easy street I suggest you make no attempt whatsoever to show her any sign of your backbone. You’ve got to demonstrate that she’s everything to you. Start off tonight by springing from the couch the moment you hear her key turn in the front door. before she steps over the threshold lay down so that she can wipe her shoes off in your chest. Don’t forget to nip at her heels excitedly and fetch her favorite slippers.
Colleen Carlton
Dear Captain Obvious: I did a number 2 all over my boyfriend’s future career as a brilliant author and tenured professor. He’s all mad at me and stuff for reneging on a deal we made in which I would tell him my family’s history and he would write it and get it published. What can I say, man? I giveth and I taketh away. To avoid his death glare burning into me every time our paths cross I plan to scamper off to Shanghai for a work-study program. Lily Livered.
Dear Lily Livered: No doubt your man contemplated the ramifications of having an adult relationship with someone so immature. Therefore, he’s getting exactly what he deserves.
Undisclosed Location
Dear Captain Obvious: I’m a regular reader and would love for you to print this as a personal favor. To all the townsfolk calling the Colonnade Room to make reservations please note that we went out of business the day The Genoa City Athletic Club opened. Despite our best efforts, we had to accept the fact that there’s only room in this town for one restaurant. To the goons sent by the GCAC to threaten to break our kneecaps: Please note that we sent this letter from an undisclosed location so there’s no use trying to find us.
Originally published: May-12-2008
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