Well Hidie-hodie-diddly-dipsy-doodly-diddly-day! Goodness gracious, it's been ages since your dear Aunt Betsy turned her hawk-like attention to her overflowing mailbag, stuffed to the gills with your letters of pathetic misfortunes, all clamoring pitifully for my gorgeous advice. Here I sit, wedged in my House Beautiful Broyhill dinette set in limited-edition turquoise-and-mauve wagon-wheel-and-butter-churn formica. This morning I gaze wistfully across my sunflower and rutabaga border bed and find myself mildly annoyed by the view beyond. The neighboring Japanese garden, so anal retentively landscaped one suspects demonic dealings are afoot, as if the gardeners sold their souls to beelzebub. The garden in question, of course, lies within the godless realm of the Butt-Sex Republic, the homosexual Gomorrah lasciviously abutting my own Aunt-Betsy-stan (Christian Theocracy, population moi).
As you may remember, Lance and Bruce (co-queens of the Butt-Sex Republic), allowed their tedious poodle (tactlessly named "Fifi Lalique") to wander carelessly into Aunt-Betsy-stan, whereupon the excitable creature was promptly tranquilizer-darted and skinned. The resulting poodle casserole subsequently won an honorable mention at the Headcheese County Fair's Casserole Exposition. After ribbon ceremony, one fussy judge objected to finding a paw in her serving, whereupon my trophy was ruthlessly stripped and health officials began rudely popping by for invasive kitchen inspections. Aside from the poodle snout inconveniently lodged in my garbage disposal, I believe I passed their scrutiny with flying colors.
In Yahtzee-related news, Yolanda Blott (a diabetic Lutheran with fibromyalgia and restless leg syndrome) was obliged to bow out of our tournament's semi-finals after Nazi pederast memorabilia was discovered in her Volvo's glove compartment. She protests her innocence, of course, but don't they all? Ms. Blott (currently prisoner 24601) was a formidable Yaztkateer and perhaps Aunt Betsy's most daunting foe, but of course I never take pleasure in anyone's misfortune (Note to self: send a generous check to ex-brother-law Fingers Romano for calling in that anonymous tip).
But enough fiddle-faddle. As I wade through oceans of letters, a pattern emerges. I shall answer only those questions that prominently feature the letter "C." And henceforth, to make things interesting, every time we see a word starting with a "C," we must Chug a Cordial of Courvoissier! Goodness, doesn't that sound divine? Let's Commence, shall we?
Dear Aunt Betsy: Yo, my name is Carmine Corleone and I was recently elected mayor of a City in New Jersey (perchance you recall my Campaign slogan: "Vote for Me and I'll Eat a Bug"). Cool, right? Well now I've been Charged with Corruption! Holy Crap!So I had a little Commercial venture in which I paid Rabbis to Cut kidneys out of Children so I Could swap them for Cereal boxes Crammed with Cash. Where I Come from, that's Called Capitalism! That Attorney General is a lousy C*cksucker! Who Can I Call to put out a Contract on the Creep? Signed, Gotta Unite In Dis Office
Dear GUIDO: Heavens, that's 23 Cordials of Courvoissier! Last time I had this much to drink I made a Crank Call to my Cute niece Jeannie Bladdersham and Convinced her to Chop off all her hair so the starving Children in Calcutta Could make wigs for Christ! I've enclosed the Cell number for my ex-brother-in-law Fingers Romano. He'll fit that pesky AG with a pair of Cement Crocs and take him for a walk along the bottom of the Chesapeake!
Dear Aunt Betsy: My dear husband is a Congressman. We are devout Christians (read: Republicans), so when he went to Washington, he decided to live in a house Called C-Street, which is officially a Church run by a Cadre of Christ-devoted Creationists Called "The Family." Well, it seems C-Street is a Cauldron of Cheaters! Why, it seems all those Cads on Capitol Hill Can think about is their Crotch! Call girls Carousing at all hours, Ceilings Coated with sperm, it seems they spend their days in Congress Caucasing for the Cause of defending every marriage but their own! Cordially, Cripes! U Cheaters Know How Obama Loves Divorce
Dear CUCKHOLD: Oh my, 26 more Cordials of Courvoissier! At this point I've Completely Ceased to Care about your Cry-baby Concerns. Nevertheless, I've enclosed the number of my ex-brother-in-law Fingers Romano. He'll take your Cheating Creep AND his Call girl for a drive in his Chevrolet and get all Chappaquidick on their patooties! (hiccup)
Dear Aunt Betsy: Welcome for Coming! We so so angly at you Cock-a-doodie USA peoples! Poopy-sad Hirraly Crinton is a C*nt! How Come she to saying North Korea peoples acting like Churlish Childrens? We Consider Hirraly Crinton a fat Cow and her Clothes are to being ugry, how are you to Choking on those apple fruits? Signed, Korea Is Much Jeopardize Other Nations! Great Invincible Leader!
Dear KIMJONGIL: Criminy! I've Chugged a total of 61 Cordials of Courvoissier by now! And I just remembered I put my kitty-Cat Mr. Sillypants in the Dishwasher at seven O'Clock as punishment for sharpening his Claws on Sambo, my favorite lawn jockey. Regarding your letter, while we agree that Ms. Clinton is that "C" word that rhymes with "punt," it's also true that you have the big "C" and soon you're going to Croak. And now, dear readers, Aunt Betsy must retire to the powder room to blow Chunks.
Aunt Betsy sez: "This blog's feed contains the recommended daily allowance of Vitamin C"