Hello my loyal legions of little piggies, who have rutted and rooted at the Trough of Life, desperately (and vainly) searching for any morsel of wisdom I may have dispensed over the last several weeks.  The queries have flooded in:  Where are you?  Why aren't you blogging?  How can I get shit stains out of leather thongs? (yes you deviant idiots... one of you actually sent that one in.)  Well, 1.  I've been here; 2. I'm far more important than you so I took a sabbatical to attend to myself; and 3.  wipe your ass better before you slide them on...  otherwise you'll have to steam-clean them, hope they don't shrink, and re-dye them if the steam damages the finish.  Well, I realize that, with the world in the hands of absolutely the dumbest imbeciles ever to be cast into the "reject" bin of God's workshop, I am needed now more than ever to save any tidbit of genius or decency left on this polluted, intellectually impoverished little planet.  That, and I received enough letters to my advice column to inspire me to insult.. I mean... "ADVISE" the writers.  But before I do, I must publicly demand that from this point on I be left in sole charge of issuing drivers' licenses to Asians.  (No offense to my luscious Asian concubines Stiffy and Sugarsnatch, or to my army of Far East fans who lap up my teachings like an inbred Arkansas toddler laps up lead paint off their Chinese-made Junior White Trash Party-Keg Playset).  Seriously, I've had enough near-fatal experiences with Nipponese nit-wits this week alone to justify my position.  On Monday,  for example, I was nearly hit by a runaway Cadillac Escalade ( I thought only Blacks drove those) while standing ON THE SIDEWALK waiting for the light to change. Oh, I survived.  I wish I could say the same for the recycle bins that little Miss Sukiyaki careened into.  And why did this Mandarin misfit simultaneously nearly snuff me out and undo the weekly efforts of the environmentally conscious?  Was it because her feet were bound too tightly to reach the brakes? No.  Was it because she was choking on the spinal column of the stray dog who wound up as part of her egg-foo-yong platter?  No.  It was because she chose to attempt text-messaging while operating a 2 ton gasoline-fueled missile.  After calling her a few names not fit to print in a nice family publication like this, I nearly ripped that phone from her hands and did to it what her disappointed parents should have done to her when she was born: toss it to the ground and stomp on it!  Now don't get me wrong... non-Asians commit this Hell-worthy trespass too.  But how shall I put this delicately?  Double-leg amputees aren't the best choice for your relay team if you're actually in it to win it.  Deafs aren't well-advised to try to host a radio talk-show.  A-cup underachievers should not aspire to sell or model lingerie.  Catholic priests should not run daycare centers.  And anyone with a genetic predisposition to Driving like a blind schizophrenic crash-test dummy on PCP should not attempt ANYTHING while driving except turning off the ignition and hopping a cab.  Unless the cabbie is Middle-Eastern.  PPPPPPEEEEEEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!  Don't get me me started on that disaster; it's a rant for another time.  Anyhow... on to the letters!

Dear Viciouspeach,


   What the hell is wrong with Mexicans?!  they put their shitty toilet tisue in the trash instead of flushig it.  They come over here and take our jobs and don't even talk English right.  We eat meat and potaetos here, not rice and beans.  Any thoughts or ideas?


All-American Patriot in Scottsdale


Dear American Pussy Fart,

    I've received some stupid letters, but yours takes the cake. In fact, you've earned the honor of having your ridiculous letter be the first I print unedited so that your ignorance and fetal alcohol syndrome can be viewed and mercilessly mocked by everybody.  Take your undersized penis out of your mother's mouth and listen up baboso.  Lazy piles of puke like you have but three options:  1.  decide to get up off your pimply asses and do the work your own damn selves; 2.   hope that brainy Asian immigrants (brainy unless they're driving, of course) can invent self-cleaning motels, self-picking fruit, self repairing cars,  self-serving/cooking food, self-washing dishes, self- building houses, self-emptying garbage, and self-raising children; or 3.  pucker up and start kissing a lot of mexican ass because this country's about to get a whole lot browner, you pendejo.  And there's nothing you can do about it, vermin.  ¡Ole!

Dear Viciouspeach,


   Please don't insult me; I really need help.  My 2 roommates are impossible to live with.  They eat my food, use my toiletries, and don't respect quiet hours (I am in college and need to study).  Even worse, they are late with rent and never seem to be able to pay their bills on time.  They are disrespectful to my girlfriend. And they bring over shady people who I don't know or trust.  I can't afford to live on my own in this city yet, and I've tried to talk to them about the way I feel.  It always starts a huge fight and I never get anywhere.  Am I a pussy for not being able to handle this?  How would YOU handle this? I seriously could use the advice.  Thanks and great blog by the way ( I really mean that).


Flabbergasted in San Francisco


Dear Flabby Gas Bag,


     Yes.  You are, in fact, a pussy.  But it's OK.  You are a pussy who was smart enough to learn the most critical lesson college can teach you:  Find someone smarter than you to tell you the answers.  You have potential, so I will solve your problem for you.  I live in San Francisco too; how lucky for you.  Go to the South side of the little liquor/ quickie mart on Minna Street between 6th and 7th, just off Market.  Look for a hooker there named Momma Marva.  She's about 5"10", 313 lbs. and usually wears purple nylons and knock-off Gucci ho-heel pumps.  You simply can't miss her.  For a modest fee, she will accompany you to your pad and pop her putrefied crotch-sores with your roomies' toothbrushes.  From then it's just a matter of time till your recalcitrant roommates learn the error of their ways.  Just remember to keep your utensils and drinking glasses separate from theirs.

     So there you have it: my glorious return to form.  Look for new scriptures next week, and keep those letters coming.  Email me at [email protected].  Address them, along with comments, praises, etc., to Dear Viciouspeach.  Till next time, my lackeys.  Keep up the march against Moronism.  Your Grand Marshall is ready to lead.