Dear Captain Obvious: I met this kid at camp where I was a counselor. He told me he hated his parents, that they never paid any attention to him and that he was planning on running away once summer camp ended. He asked if I was interested in taking his place, as it would be hard to get far once his parents realized he had not returned home. So here I am, mind you I look nothing like their real son, and I’m about 3 years older, but he said they wouldn’t notice. He was right. I showed up to the kid’s father’s office one day, shouted, “Dad!” and the guy hugged me and started calling me “son”. Boy that was easy! Now I’m ready to start the shenanigans. What can a kid do around here to get himself into some trouble? All “Growed” Up.
Dear All Growed: Welcome to our lovely town! You’ve picked the perfect place to set up operations: Teen Angst into motion. First off, you need some friends in your age group to cavort and get into sticky situations with. Once you have that secured it is time to begin exploring your options.
Here are a few:-
Teenage sex: Neglect the use of condoms to increase your risk of disease and pregnancy.
Recreational drugs and alcohol: Sneak out to parties without your parent’s permission and try to drink yourself into unconciousness or worse, operate heavy machinery, say a jackhammer for instance.
Fall in love: This works best if the girl is impoverished and from a “different world”. The goal here is to make your parents hate her guts and try to keep the two of you apart.
Dear Captain Obvious: I recently just found out that my mother is a two-dollar crack ho and the woman who as been raising me all my life is really my aunt. Her over-the-top bronze complexion notwithstanding, I had no other reason to believe that this woman and I were not biologically linked. Now, when I looked in the mirror it all makes sense. I’m a mess and I have no clue how to get over this. Singing usually helps. Maybe I should go down to Indigo and belt my precocious heart out. So Confused.
Dear So Confused: Please. Don’t. Why waste your considerable talents on the tone-deaf patrons of Indigo when a traveling circus would be a better arena to showcase your larger-than-life talents? Run away now while you still have the chance.
Dear Captain Obvious: After burying my keys, credit cards and wallet in the grave along with my dead wife, I’ve set careful coordinates to slip slowly into madness. I spend my days drinking Mexican rum and souring up the local bar with my unwashed body and clothing—I figure the more I stink the less chance there is of someone trying to befriend me. My unsanitary plan seems to be working on everyone except a little chica who won’t keep her distance. She gave me roses, an obvious ploy to diminish my stench, but I beat her at her own game when I tossed the flowers into the ocean. With my beloved gone there is no reason to smell good again, is there? Frowzy.
Dear Frowzy: We all have our different ways to mourn. Some keep busy, others cry and then there are some, like you, who just want to be left alone to decompose. I get it, you’re hurting but you are also becoming a public nuisance and that’s not fair to the rest of us who are living and want very much not to have our noses melt off our faces. Just because you’ve been touched by death doesn’t mean you have to smell like it. Clean up your act.
Dear Captain Obvious: With no career to speak of and a dead husband’s ashes lying in a pile of horseshit I’m now free to pursue hobbies. I figure becoming a private investigator and looking for my missing ex-husband would be a great way to keep busy. Even though I’m probably the last person he wants to see right now (my husband and his wife died in a car crash together because they were run off the road by someone who wanted my husband dead) I’m determined to force myself on him. Do-Gooder.
Dear Do Gooder: Isn’t it glorious to be filled with a purpose? When he rebuffs you and refuses to acknowledge your presence remember that.
Dear Captain Obvious: Like a moth to a flame I’m hopelessly drawn to men who are assholes. My boyfriend in particular is a fine specimen in the asshole species. He’s cocky, rude, lacks social skills and has great aptitude for grating on nerves, a skill I wish I had but am far too wooden to successfully adopt. He’s going through a rough patch right now with his family (simply put, they hate him with every fiber of their being) and I want to do my part to be there for him. Other than having sex constantly, what else can I do to make this time easier for him? Loving Girlfriend.
Dear Loving Girlfriend: We men aren’t terribly hard to please. Talk as little as possible (my current girlfriend is a mute and we get along famously!), give us all the sex we want, whenever we want and let us talk incessantly about our needs and desires whilst refusing to give one iota about yours. You seem to be doing all of the above. You may want build a shrine in his honor and pray to it three times a day. That would be nice touch I think.
Dear Captain Obvious: I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting my long lost son while officiating a wedding. It was not exactly a happy reunion. Long story short, I abandoned him and his mother when he was a little boy and from what took place at our first meeting today I have a sneaking suspicion he still harbors some ill will toward me. I want to make things right, but I am an extremely selfish man. What can I do to overcome his pain? Daddy Didn’t Bother.
Dear Daddy Didn’t Bother: Another absentee father trying to make up for their child being made to endure a hellish life because he wasn’t there to guide him or her? Don’t feel too bad, you’re in very good company as virtually most dads in this town have a son or daughter stashed away and largely ignored. Try to remain positive and keep trying to wheedle your way back into his life. He’ll reject you at first but you’ll wear him down eventually.
Dear Captain Obvious: I busted my underage son about to drink beers with his buds one night at our house. I got really mad because my daughter died in a car crash caused by teenage drinking and it brought back a lot of memories. I told my son he didn’t have any sense in that dumb head of his and as soon as a said it I knew I was wrong. Isn’t dumbness hereditary? Feeling Bad
Dear Feeling Bad: There’s really no need for me to answer that is there?
Originally published: Aug-26-2008
