“Dear Pricks”: The only advice column that matters

Dane Robert and Brandon Mendelson

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Dane Robert (aka: Cornelio Prick) and Brandon Mendelson (aka: Hugeh Prick) are two jerks who answer your questions. They’re fed up with the bullcrap canned answers that syndicated columnists give to people like you. You deserve the truth, even if it hurts. Dear Abby can kiss their backside.

Dear Pricks,

- Owen

Dane Robert: I have to apologize, it would appear that our super-sophisticated question submission software has omitted part of your question in order to protect your manliness. It’s alright though. Fortunately, I can read losers minds, so I was able to salvage your complete question:

“How can I be cooler around chicks, so they don’t see me for the complete pussy that I am?

You might want to start on a very basic level by removing the gayness in your life. These things may include the following:

1. Wine Coolers. Not even the kind made by Jack Daniels. Take them completely out of your alcohol vocabulary.

2. Straws. These are a precursor to giving blow jobs. If you need a straw, at least bend it over with your finger and drink out of the glass.

3. Bravo. Just turn the damn channel.

4. Salads. Even the name is gay. Salad is what food eats.

5. Lisp. See a speech therapist for f-ck’s sake.

6. Walking. While the act of walking isn’t indicative of being gay, waving your hips from side to side is. You’re not a chick, so just cut that shit out.

7. Gay bars. Don’t go to them. Women go there to avoid men rubbing their adolescent erections all over them. If your buddies want to go because there’s “less competition”, you need new buddies. They’re either trying to “out” you or they want to suck your straw.

Unfortunately for you, the list above is probably just a snapshot of the issues you have. Regardless, it’s a good start and while you’ll probably never be “cool”, you will at least be on your way to losing your mangina.

Brandon Mendelson: First, you’re going to need to track down a 1949 Ford Mercury Eight. This won’t be easy because most of the people who owned one are dead. So are the cars. They were probably recycled into the crappier, vanilla looking plastic thing you’re riding around in today.

Or used in the construction of an Arby’s. I don’t know.

This shouldn’t stop you from finding one though. Thankfully, fiber glass replicas are popular among old white people with a lot of money and nothing but time on their hands. Once you’ve located one, steal it.

How? I can’t tell you that. Use a flamethrower and your imagination. You’ll be fine.

Now Owen, this is really important: Once you got the car, you need to put the following address into your GPS device: 6530 West Bryn Mawr Avenue in Chicago, Illinois. This is the street address of William Howard Taft High School in Chicago.

That’s what the squares call it today, but us cool people actually refer to the place as Rydell High.

Before arriving at Rydell, there are a couple of important things you need to do:

1) Throw out all your clothes. Seriously. All of them. Even the boxers you’ve beaten off into since 2001. It’s time to let them go the way of former Olympian Mark Henry’s wrestling career.

Replace these clothes with a wardrobe that includes only the following: White or black T-shirts, blue or black Levi’s jeans, and a leather jacket. The shirt sleeves should always be folded up, and your T-shirts should be free of any moronic, ironic sayings. Nobody cares how clever your shirt is.

Oh, and don’t forget a pair of Chuck Taylor All-Stars.

2) You’re also going to need a lot of hair gel to give yourself a styling pompadour. If you don’t look like The Fonz when finished, you’re not using enough gel. Get more.

When you’re fully equipped to be cooler, show up at the school and hang out in the parking lot smoking a cigarette. If the Truth anti-smoking ads have taught me anything, it’s that smoking is cool and will make you seem like a guy impressionable minors want to hang out with.

From there, cementing your coolness is just as easy as finding the leader of The Scorpions and challenging him (or her, it’s the 21st century you know) to a race on Thunder Road.

Good luck with your new found coolness, and remember: Grease is the word.

Dear Pricks,

- Shawn

Dane Robert: You’re probably a loser, did you ever consider that? Some people (i.e. you) will never be good at anything no matter how hard you try. Why do you think they created the special olympics? Do you think that some heartless bastard just wanted to single them out so he could watch them fail as a group? Maybe, but it’s also because no matter how hard they try, they’ll never swim as fast as Michael Phelps. Wait … wasn’t he retarded?

Anyway, my point is, you need to lower your expectations. Don’t strive to be the better. It’s a hopeless journey that involves a ton of work. Instead, look to beat those weaker than you. Become the best of the worst. A Special Olympics gold medalist in beer pong. Yeah, you might get drooled on occasionally, but I think we can both agree, it’s a small price to pay for victory.

Brandon Mendelson: Since my college drinking game experience is entirely limited to Beirut, I can’t really answer your question. Although they’re similar, Beirut and beer pong are different games.

Here’s what I can tell you: Games like this are all mental. There’s very limited physical skill needed to be successful. If you think you’re going to kick ass, and really believe that, you will.

If you doubt yourself, even on a subconscious level, you’ll suck out. And I can’t recommend sucking out at beer pong because that’s how people get dicks drawn on their face.

I think of this mind-body connection as being a lot like wrapping my favorite porn star, Jada Fire, in saran wrap and storing her inside the wall of my apartment.

Once my wife is away, I gotta get a butcher knife and unwrap her. Now, if I’m a pussy, have shaky hands, and think I’m going to cut her, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

If it does, she’s no longer turned on (whose idea do you think this is in the first place? Mine?), and I could end up killing her.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain away the death of a tight, naked, hot black woman after she’s bled all over your hardwood floors to your wife?

So. You have to be one with the knife, the same way you have to be one with the ball in beer pong. Do that, and you’ll up your game.

Good luck filing that police report. PRO TIP: “She was like that when I got here” only works once.

Dear Pricks,

- Conor

Dane Robert: First off, I want to punch you in the throat for saying the word “boss”. Normally, someone of your douchiness, doesn’t even get a second look. By this point, we would have already printed out your question and literally shit on it. Considering that we’re in a new venue, I thought I should take this opportunity to set the bar. From this point forward, if you dare send us a question with any of the following words, you’ll be beaten savagely with Brandon’s pointy wiener.

Adjectives to avoid: sweet, choice, cherry, money, boss, ace, primo, A-1, whiz-bang, cat’s meow, first-class or pretty much anything else PBR drinking hipsters think is cool again.

With that bit of housekeeping out of the way, here’s your answer: I’d like to see a “Running Man” style of show, where Bob Parsons is the contestant. But, rather than badass gladiators, it’s a lineup of native wild animals from Africa that each get a turn. Parsons would get two GoDaddy Girls and a group of villagers as sidekicks. For every animal he kills, we get an additional 10% off each domain registration. If Parson dies, GoDaddy is given to the people of Africa to run as they wish.

Brandon Mendelson: Better question: Which one of these animals would be more fun to f-ck?

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