There HAVE to be better explanations!
Here are today’s letters and Ann’s answers:
At the grocery I see an attractive woman with designer clothes, expensive jewelry, $8000 breast implants and a brand new convertible - using food stamps. Should I be upset?
Ann) She could have bought them before financial setbacks, or have a wealthy admirer.
My husband’s parents live thousands of miles away. Over 3 years have gone by and I’ve never once talked to or gotten a letter from his mom, only his dad. The Bible says honor your parents, but she shows no interst in us.
Ann) She is probably clinically depressed and someone should take her to the doctor.
My employer likes to post birthdays (and ages!) on the bulletin board. How can I prevent him from telling people when I hit 50?
Ann) Ask him not to. Be grateful and firm about it.
My answers:
Either you made it all up (sounds too pat), or she’s a crack dealer and her users pay with food stamps.
Your husband’s father is living with a man. (Or the classic: “Mom” lives in the house behind the Bates Motel, and is Anthony Perkins in a wig.)
Tell him you’ll sue for age discrimination, then do it.
The only reason I sometimes read Ann Landers is to laugh at the advice.
One thing to remember, though is that the original letters have to be a lot longer than the ones printed. Sometimes she will respond to stuff that doesn’t appear in the paper, so you know there was more to it. Also, sometimes editors rearrange or trim both questions and answers. Read two competing papers and see the difference!
Yeah, I read those today and couldn’t believe them myself. Well, except for the last one. Apparently the editors decided to trim.
Not that any of her advice is on the mark, but at least now she has a daughter as loony as her helping. Or is that Abby? Damnit, can anyone tell them apart?
The simplest advice to #1 is, actually, don’t jump to conclusions. But the reason isn’t “maybe she got those jewelry before hitting on hard times.” SELL THE JEWELRY THEN!
It’s “Maybe she’s helping out with the shopping for someone less fortunate.”
The second one…um…how in the world can you diagnose clinical depression through someone else’s version of a person that the writer hasn’t even met! If I could make those kinds of blind jumps, I’d travel across the grand canyon in a single bound.
But you don’t know the whole story and you’re jumping to conclusions based on insufficient evidence.
Lemme give you one example: I carepartnered a friend of mine through the last 18 months of his life. Often I had to go grocery shopping for him, pick up prescriptions, etc. He became totally disabled and over the course of his illness went through public assistance and disability, got on Medicaid, all the other things society does to help people in these kinds of situations.
I caught great amounts of abuse from people at places like the grocery store for exactly the kind of stuff just mentioned; what was a well dressed woman doing buying stuff with food stamps? He was also an incredibly picky eater (most everything made him throw up anyway) and I had to buy really dainty stuff for him and people didn’t like that either. And all the gods help me if I did my OWN grocery shopping with his, I learned very quickly not to buy steak while shopping for Tony.
It was often the same thing at the drugstore, where the clerk would sometimes say things like, “Here’s your AIDS medications.” Nice and loud.
They didn’t know the story. YOU don’t know the story. SO until you do, suspend judgement. What’s it to you anyway? What difference does it make to your life and who are you to judge?
ToobaTeacher, you’re not the only person who thought that “Angry Taxpayer” made up her story about the woman using food stamps. (Ann claims that she does not make up her letters, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt…barely.) It sounds too pat and urban-legendish. (And we know how many urban legends Ann and Abby have fallen for over the years.) Ann blew it with this “fallen recently on hard times/wealthy suitor” stuff, though. That seems even more ludicrous than the scene “Angry Taxpayer” claims to have witnessed. I conjectured that a) either the woman was actually using a credit card (in my state, food “stamps” are plastic cards with magnetic stripes that you swipe through the credit card machine, and, unless you are looking closely, it’s tough to tell the difference) or b) she was shopping for someone else–elderly parents or grandparents, a sick friend, doing some sort of volunteer work–who knows? “Buying groceries for Grandma” is much more likely than “won’t sell off my jewelry to buy food”, and even more likely than “cheating the welfare system to pay for plastic surgery.”
I think that something was trimmed out of the second letter prior to publication. I don’t know how you’d immediately come to the “clinical depression” conclusion otherwise–unless Ann’s got Miss Cleo working for her or something ;). Why hasn’t this wife asked her husband what’s up with his mother? My WAG–Mom’s an alcoholic/drug addict, and Dad’s covered for her for many, many years. “Chris” is angry about this, and he isn’t too keen to contact them/visit them/invite them to the wedding. He’s deeply ashamed as well, and that’s why he hasn’t told his wife.
Her advice on the third question isn’t so bad. At least she didn’t say “Suck it up–it’s not such a big deal that you’re turning 50. Heck, I’m 80, and I don’t care who knows it. Be thankful for all the wonderful years that God has given you, and be thankful that you have a boss who cares so much and wants to celebrate your special moments.” Blecch!
You will notice that just about every other column these days has Ann and Abby apologizing for their flubbed advice. They’re getting older, and aren’t as sharp as they used to be. Oh, and it’s Abby whose daughter is helping/taking over. She now has two heads in the picture in my local paper, whereas Ann still has just one.
Yes, you should be upset. I am. I have never been able to pay for jewelry, surgery or new cars using food stamps. All I can buy is food and illegal drugs.
Dear Pearls Before Swine in Saginaw,
Obviously, the letters you have sent and the phone calls you have made have not worked. There’s only one solution: you need to begin stalking her.
Move back to your husband’s hometown and ask the people who live next door to his parents to let you know when they move out–ask them weekly for updates. Make your mother in law’s grocery store your grocery store. Start dressing like her so you have an excuse to shop where she shops. Sooner or later, she will not only acknowledge you; she will appreciate you for the wonderful daughter in law that you are.
One more possible explanation: some people run scams where they somehow obtain food stamps and then sell them for money to whoever’s willing to buy. It’s illegal, but still widespread in some areas.
How did the person who wrote this know about her breast implants? Also, did he/she follow the lady to the parking lot? Stalker. Quit stalking, you stalker. What a stalker.
How did the person who wrote this know about her breast implants? Also, did he/she follow the lady to the parking lot? Stalker. Quit stalking, you stalker. What a stalker. **
[/QUOTE]
…
So, yes, she did follow her out to the parking lot. And, notice that she was taking pretty careful notice of the food stamp woman’s breasts. Lesbian stalker. Quit ogling other women’s tits and stalking them, using “welfare fraud” as an excuse, you lesbian Republican stalker.
Forget Abby and Ann. Read ‘Dear Dottie’ in the Weekly World News.
A friend of mine and I shared a godawfully boring Intro to Psych class in college. The prof’s lecture consisted of reading aloud the transparencies he’d made directly out of the book (and nothing more), but he took attendance so you HAD to be there. Rather than fall asleep (he’d mark you as absent if you got caught), we used to sit in the back of the lecture hall and read that column to stay awake.
We figured that we learned more about psychology (abnormal in particular) from reading that advice column (and assorted bits and pieces of WWN) than from the class itself. If nothing else, it’s a heck of a belly laugh.
Bitter Fenris responds*
Gentle Reader: Get yer f*cking nose out of someone else’s shopping cart. I happen to know for a fact (my minions are everywhere) that you were the oblivious swine who’s runny-nosed little monsters were running amok in the produce deparment throwing grapes while you oogled this woman’s breasts. Perhaps if you’d MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, you’d be able to control them. As it is, they’ll have years of expensive therapy ahead of them to make up for your breast-induced neglect. But I suppose that the vaguely illicit thrill you get when you can snoop on what someone else is buying / paying with is the highlight of your drab, empty day. Maybe you should just kill yourself and end the interminable tedium now?
And while I’m not exactly calling you a feculent pile of lying crap…um…well I guess I am calling you a feculent pile of lying crap. Your description of the rich woman (how do you know they’re $8000 breast implants anyway?) was too perfectly stereotypical. I suppose as you left the store, you were accosted by black men who were eating watermelon and tap dancing, while making lewd comments about white women. You lying toad.
**
Bitter Fenris responds*
Y’ didn’t give me enough info. Have you written to her? Have you called her? If so, and she still hasn’t responded, then screw her (not literally!:eek: ). If you haven’t, then it’s your own damned fault.
**
Bitter Fenris responds:*
Good Christ. You have a chance to ask Bitter* Fenris anything in the world, and the toughest issue can come up with is this? You must have a really easy life or be really, really stupid. But I’ll perservere. :: sigh :: You tell him “I don’t want you to post my personal information. Thanks.” Grow a backbone you worm. If you suspect he’ll do it anyway, put the request in writing, give him a copy and take another copy to the HR department. Killing him should only be considered as a last resort.
Bitter* Fenris
*Actually I’m not bitter at all, but it was fun to write as though I was.
