Anne Landers

So the other night I was in The Library (aka bathroom) where I keep all my crossword puzzles from our daily paper. I solved last Sunday's puzzle (in pen, natch) but still had some time before checking out so I started reading other features on the page.

Suddenly I see "Ann Landers". Seriously? I remember Ann Landers when I was a kid. She was awesome! She helped housewives with their most perplexing, horrible problems! She was full of the BEST advice!!!

Ann died not too long ago and two chicks (who I think were actually writing the advice for her the last few years) took over. The column's pretty much the same...except that the two chicks apparently still think it's 1978.

"Dear Ann, I've been married for 20 years and my husband recently told me he's been in a relationship with another woman for 10 years and they have two kids. What should I do?"

Ann is all, perhaps he's misunderstood...see a counselor...try to bring your husband to the counseling sessions!

Wha? Honey, GET A RUTHLESS DIVORCE ATTORNEY AND TAKE THAT ASSHOLE FOR ALL HE'S WORTH!!!!

How are people still writing to Ann??? It's 2010! Is "Confused in Cincinnati" real? Because I don't think ANYONE would actually write Ann for advice on how to handle their drug-addicted son who's also a kleptomaniac!

"OMIGOSH. I had a birthday party for my cousin's sister's roommate, and I forgot to invite her brother's wife's dog! What should I do? I know! I'LL WRITE ANN LANDERS. She'll know what to do!!!!!"

Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration but still...are there really people out there who have major life issues and actually write to a newspaper columnist to solve them? What do they do if their letter isn't published? Let your husband keep cheating because Anne hasn't advised you on how to handle the situation yet????

Thank GAWD for the internet because my issues could fill up two years' worth of columns for Ann. I don't have time to sit around and wait for her sage advice - I just Google "The dickhead cheated on me. What should I do?" Within ten seconds I find the perfect solution: Put used kitty litter in his pillowcase and get the hell out.

Probably won't read THAT in Ann's column but DAMN THAT FELT GOOD!