Especially when he writes it to himself!
Do you ever find that when writing letters you suddenly turn into an intellectually dishonest Womens Studies professor with a large condom collection, a militant, man-hating lesbian with a bad case of penis envy, or a self-loathing homosexual with a scientifically-proven short lifespan? Are you a smug hippie who never bathes, except in patchouli oil? Have you ever wanted to confess your deepest, darkest sexual secrets to an Assistant Criminology Professor in order to help him prove what a slut you are? Well this is your lucky day. Because you could be Dr. Professor Mike Adams’ next imaginary correspondent!
David E. suggested in comments that “Letters to Dr. Mike could be a great feature,” and was kind enough to get the ball rolling with this classic example of the form:
Dear Dr. Mike,
I never thought this would happen to me, but…I was in my women’s studies class hating on the patriarchy and burning the papier-mache penis we’d made earlier in the semester, when all of a sudden in walked this strapping buck of a criminology professor. He had an enormous package…that he was bringing over to our lesbian professor from the post office. She snarled at him, as she usually did to male visitors, to get his manpaws off her property. He told her where she could stick it, and I just fell in love. I broke into his apartment and fell submissively before his feet begging him to show me the meaning of manliness. Together we worshipped Jeebus by tying a crossbeam to his mighty penis and nailing his hands to it. Later, when I lost my virginity (we removed the crossbeam, don’t worry!) to him, I renounced my lesbianism. I guess it’s kind of like Goldfinger, where Pussy Galore was a lesbian until she met the right man? I bet there’s someone out there for all those confused women.
In all fairness, writing a Townhall column the Dr. Mike way is extremely labor-intensive. While it requires no research, fact-checking, or original thought, every specious point must be painstakingly corroborated by one, and sometimes two independent stereotypes — whether it’s a weepy co-ed who emails Dr. Mike about the lesbians flaunting their vaginas at her, the smarmy, aggressive leftist who picks a fight with Dr. Mike, then promptly folds in the face of the Professor’s Whiffle Ball-like bon mots, or a Muslim “friend” who arrives in the last paragraph to grudgingly admit that he and his kind really are scum. It’s true that inventing the dramatis personae of a typical Dr. Mike column is fairly easy, since the templates were established long ago, and Dr. Mike needs only to pour a little invective into the Thingmaker-style injector molds, but it’s time-consuming, since he has to wait for his gays and sluts and radical feminists to cool before he can play with them.
So let’s lift the burden of making phony friends and besting apocryphal enemies from Dr. Mike’s frail shoulders. Write Your Letter To Dr. Mike and post it in the comments.
Be Dr. Mike’s New Pen-Pal!
I’ve got a Thingmaker. Are you sure you don’t mean a Creepy Crawly Oven? Because Thingmaker is basically jello, and is not especially hot to begin with, and cools in a minute or so in its ice bath. I love them both, I have the Creepy Crawly machine, too, and like to make a batch of those for Halloween treat bags (I put them in tinier bags with a note that they are not food), but the Thingmaker toys are really better just spilling out of a glowstick-lit jack-o-lantern. Ah, the bugs, the maggots, the worms…
I admit that Dr Mike may find waiting the minute for his Thingmaker toys to cool to be a stretch of his patience, though. The five-to-seven minutes for the Creepy Crawlies must make him crazy.
Um, did I mention I’m getting no fucking sleep lately? Good.
Left by D. Sidhe on August 23rd, 2007