Ask Amy a stupid question

Oh, the lady from Ask Amy is earning her large paycheck, let me tell you.

Dear Amy: My son went to a birthday party for a boy he knows from school.

He asked the boy what he liked and was told certain types of toys. We bought one for him, and when my son got to the party his was the only "real" present.

All the other children gave the birthday boy gift cards!

How disappointing. Half the fun of presents is seeing the wrapped packages and wondering what is in them.

Some of the givers didn't wrap the gift cards, or even put them in an envelope!

Dear Martyr:
Let me get this straight...You're seeking advice because your bratty kid didn't get to watch some other bratty kid rip open a bunch of cheap toys? How's the brave little soldier holding up? I hope, after suffering such a trama, you have him on constant suicide watch. Maybe the Pope can say a prayer for him and all the other victims of gift card-mania!

Little kids don't care about "seeing the wrapped packages and wondering what is in them" unless said kid is a complete tool. Regular kids, the ones who don't poop their pants when they sneeze, only care about the loot.

You know, the more I think about this stupid letter the angrier I become. The best thing you can do for this boy is stuff him into the trunk of your car and drive into a large body of water, because with you as his parent he's better off dead.

This is one fucked up situation

My friend Brooke introduced me to Margo, another advice slinger. This letter is a hoot.

DEAR MARGO: I was divorced and unattached for 10 years before meeting and eventually marrying a wonderful woman I thought I knew quite well. We happily dated for 18 months prior to marriage, with no problems in the all-important area of compatibility, emotional or otherwise. She meshed easily with my friends and immediate family, as well as with my 18-year-old son, whom I had raised on my own. Moving forward one year, I come home early from work one day and catch my wife in bed with my 19-year-old son. Needless to say, my jaw dropped so fast you could hear it crack. It was an immediate and emotionally charged situation that ended with them both being told to get out, which they did. The following morning, after a wretched night full of agony beyond description, I received a call from my son, who told me the two of them would be leaving town the following day to start a new life together. He told me they were in love but neither knew how to break the news to me. It had been going on for -- you guessed it -- one year. I was absolutely speechless. The following day, they packed their things while I was away from the house and left. It's been a month now and I haven't heard a word. I don't even know where they went. As for the soon-to-be ex-wife, good riddance. She'll reap what she's sown somewhere down the line. But my son is a different story. I am his dad and I love him. The horror of our relationship being destroyed this way is almost more than I can bear. I want there to be some way we can reconcile. In the meantime, I am left in anguish as I suffer through the pain of having two people I loved brutally ripped from my life. I am in need of discerning words of wisdom her -- LOST IN SPACE

Dear Chump:
Wow, you really know how to pick 'em, bud. Let's gloss over the fact that knowing your wife started getting plowed by your son the day he turned eighteen has to emasculate you in the worst way; instead, let's focus on your misguided love of your son.

Your son is so emotionally and spiritually crippled that he has to fuck his dad's wife? He can't find some nubile eighteen-year-old girl to bang? Forget he was ever born. "Oh, but he's my son, and I love him." Fuck that, and fuck you for thinking it. So fucking what if he's your son? You bail your son out of jail for getting in a bar fight; you don't forgive him for giving your wife the ol' deep-dickin'.

Hey, some people have assholes for sons. Hitler was someone's son; John Wayne Gacy was someone's son; Ann Coulter is someone's son; they were/are beyond redemption. So forget the both of them and wait around for the next person to come along and rip your heart out.

You'll have a burning desire to hire a private detective to find them, then exact your bitter revenge. You'll want to dip your son's cock in liquid nitrogen and hit it with a hamer, then pour fast-drying cement down your ex-wife's vagina. Don't do it, as fun as it may sound. The expense and resulting prison sentence won't be worth it. If you think it's bad finding your wife in bed with your son, wait until you're anally entered by a cellmate who used to "stunt dick" for Lexington Steele.