Dear Captain Obvious: I’m a bootlicking yes-man who had to step in and assume interim control of my boss’s billion-dollar company due to a personal family tragedy. I was only too happy to do it—if anyone can get things done without expecting recognition it would be me. But his son had other ideas; can you believe this muttonhead had the nerve to tell me that since my last name isn’t on the company letterhead he would be the one taking control of things? It took all I had in me not to drop kick his ass to next Tuesday. Can I get a little respect in this Mutha? Unappreciated.
Dear Unappreciated: Respect must be earned you simpering sycophant and you’ll have none of it while standing around holding back and being classy. Now is the time for crassy, my good man, not classy. Get loud. Get “ig-nantâ€, as you young people say, and tell this cheeky little upstart that old brooms know the corners best. Illustrate by grabbing an old worn broom and begin sweeping yourself under the carpet like the good little dust bunny you are.
Dear Captain Obvious: I’m the most convenient baby that ever lived!! Whenever my parents are busy at work or digging themselves out from under the latest crises, for example, I gladly suppress my own needs so that they can cope. After the nanny is long gone and all is quiet, I lay in my crib, marinating in my soiled diaper and think about them. What are mom and dad doing at this very moment, I wonder. Are they thinking of me as I am of them? Baby.
Dear Baby: Are they, indeed. I would venture a guess and say, no. So, please get over it, grow up and don’t forget to repay them in kind with lots of teenage angst. That’ll fix ‘em.
Dear Captain Obvious: After not having solved a case for years I’m now on a proverbial roll. My latest discovery, a young woman hacked into tiny pieces and hidden in a storage shelter in a horse barn has me dancing with lady luck. I would like to find a way to use this to drum up new business. How do I cash in without being uncouth? Fool’s Gold.
Dear Fool’s Gold: I say forget about the detective business all together and open up a funeral parlor, that way the dead come to you instead of you going out to look for them. With this town’s high death rate and your hankering to profit from death it’s a match made in hell.
Dear Captain Obvious: I’m an expert at shooting myself in the foot. I encouraged my boyfriend to give a knock-dead gorgeous homeless woman and her kid a place to stay in his home. Next thing you know, he offers the woman a managerial position at his nightclub and has her annoying brat singing there almost nightly. As a final insult to injury I dropped by his apartment the other day and found them standing in his living room in an embrace. Suddenly, I’m not so comfortable about their relationship anymore. What do I do? Green With Envy.
Dear Green: What do you do?! You grow a pair and kick the bitch out, of course. But, you’re not going to do that. Oh no, you’re too noble, right? Too busy wearing a tight fake smile and pretending everything is just dandy. Well, good for you. When the man-eater finally finishes devouring your boyfriend I hope she pelts you with his bones.
Dear Captain Obvious: I haven’t slept a wink in two weeks. Besides keeping a very busy law practice afloat sans partner (Christeeen, where the f*ck are you?!) I’m the gal Friday for Genoa City’s wealthiest businessman. I fly in medical specialists to tend to his dying wife, I coordinate estranged family members, I plan tasteful funerals and yet manage to hold my marriage and family together even though we only see each other at social gatherings, but I digress. I’ve received news just now that my long thought dead and buried father is not only alive, but wanted for murder which makes it the perfect time for me get to know him, right? Sleepless Among The Cattle.
Dear Sleepless: Right you are old chap, sleep when you’re dead, I always say. Track down pappy and start making up for lost time. I’ll be right here next week when your subsequent letters arrive dripping with the abandonment issues you’ll most likely want advice on.
Dear Captain Obvious: I’m a former sourpuss who has just rediscovered the facial muscles used for smiling and, I owe it all to the power of lyrics and melody! Yes, the words on the page you’re reading do not deceive you. I. Want. To. Sing. I’m going to chuck all the hard work, money and attention my loving parents have invested in me and sit at my Casio all day and night composing catchy ditties for me and my irksome cousin to sing as duets. Vegas, here we come! American Idle.
Dear American Idle: Oh, goody, dreams really do come true! And to think I was just saying to myself the other day that what this town needed was another resident to pummel us over the head with their caterwauling. Let me be the first to step up and congratulate you and your kinfolk. Best of luck. I hope you develop polyps on your vocal chords.
Originally published: Aug 9, 2008
