Take This Advice and...

America's premiere advice column, Dear Abby is written by the infallible "Abigail Van Buren", who in real life is known as Jeanne Phillips. But you really should get the full story.

It all started back in 1955, when Jeanne's mother, Pauline Phillips founded the column. Pauline, who had no prior experience in the psychological field or any sort of medical degree for that matter, handled telling people how to behave exclusively until 1987 when Jeanne's duties were expanded.

In 2003 it was revealed that Pauline had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, and had also not really written anything for the column in several years. It had been all Jeanne, all the time. Like Pauline, Jeanne did not have time for extensive training in the fields of psychiatry and psychology, since she had begun assisting her mother with the column when she was only fourteen years old. That's right, some people had been getting marriage advice from a fourteen year old.

So that got me thinking, what training exactly does it take to write an advice column? And for that matter, does anyone ever question the advice that the advice givers dish out? Is it simply taken at face value because it's printed in a "news"paper? Why couldn't I be an advice giver? I've made a thousand bad decisions in my life. Surely I could stop others from repeating my mistakes. And most importantly, how could I make money off this?

I immediately started reading Dear Abby and I learned a lot, mostly from the "people" who were writing in to her. Jerry Springer, you're a hack. Abby's been doing this for fifty years!

The people who write in and ask Dear Abby for advice seem mildly retarded at best, dangerously uneducated at worst. Others seem to be caught in a bizarre time warp that makes one wonder if Dear Abby isn't just recycling letters she received back in 1959. Sometimes though, you get a gem and the letter's author comes off a little too unstable to have been allowed to have anything to in their cell, like for example, a pencil to write in to Dear Abby.

One thing is always assured, no matter who is writing - Abby's advice will either be too vague to help at all, she will be too busy preaching about morality to offer any advice, or she will go to her old standby and suggest that the author seek therapy. There are times when Abby's answer is simply the address of a therapist and a hearty "good luck." That is always Abby's trump card - the age old pass the buck technique of "Wow, why did you waste your time writing me when you really need to seek professional help?"

I figured some of the best advice ever given was "seek a second opinion", so that's what I set out to do, offer the people who wrote in to Abby a different perspective from an individual who also has had absolutely no training. So, for your enjoyment, I offer you three Abby letters, Abby's advice, and for the sake of comedy what I think Abby really should have said.

EXHIBIT A

DEAR ABBY: I have questions about "growing up." I am 15 and want to talk to my mom about it, but I'm embarrassed. We talk about some stuff, but most of the time I wait until I can't stand it anymore and finally talk to her. Do you have any ideas about making it easier for me to open up to my mom? I want to just walk through the front door and say, "Hey, Mom, I've got a question" - but I can't. I'm too shy. Abby, please help! - TOO SHY IN A SMALL TOWN

DEAR TOO SHY: I'm sad to say your question is very common. It is repeated in nearly every batch of mail I receive. Teenage girls want to talk to their mothers, but they are afraid to reach out. What I recommend are scheduled mother-daughter dinners, one-on-one time where there are no distractions, and feelings can be discussed, questions answered and opinions and attitudes aired and explained. This quality time can be the basis of precious memories and the foundation for trust and closeness. If this seems far-fetched, consider how many thousands of young girls have such distant relationships with their mothers that the only person they feel they can confide in is an advice columnist. Mothers, please reach out to your daughters. You'll be glad you did.

JACK'S TAKE - I seriously doubt this is a real letter. The prose that Too Shy In A Small Town has dribbled out sounds more like copy for a douche ad, than a desperate plea for help. If this letter is genuine, than Too Shy In A Small Town is either a time traveler from 1962, or is so introverted that her only contact with the outside world is reruns on Nick At Night. Abby's advice is not only vague, but it then turns into a preachy "doesn't it suck that mothers and daughters sometimes don't get along diatribe which helps Too Shy's dilemma in no way shape or form. I also find it hard to believe that "I'm too shy to talk to my mom" is repeated in nearly every batch of mail Abby receives. Is that really the most common problem facing America's young women today? I also like when Abby directly talks to every mother in America when she says, "Mother please reach out to your daughters," I was just hoping she was going to add, "…and don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys."

My advice for "Too Shy" is when she says she'd like to be able to "just walk in the front door and say "Hey Mom, I've got a question" - would be to then walk in the front door and say "Hey Mom, I've got a question".

Unless your mother is Joan Crawford, and you're holding several wire hangers, I'm going to imagine her response will be something along the lines of "Yes, what it is?"

EXHIBIT B

DEAR ABBY: My children attend a local elementary school here in Dallas. They are in kindergarten and second grade. Other parents have told me about a practice that occurs in third grade at our school. If a child's desk is not properly organized (to the teacher's specifications), the teacher does a "desk dump" in front of the class and orders the child to put the items back using the "proper organization." I don't think public humiliation is an appropriate teaching technique. And I seriously doubt that the children learn anything more than fear of their teacher. Fortunately, the school district does not allow corporal punishment; however, this kind of emotional abuse can be almost as destructive as physical abuse for children this young. What do you think of this "teaching technique"? - WORRIED PARENT IN TEXAS

DEAR WORRIED: I think it is unacceptable, outmoded and should be scrapped. Instead of teaching children, it demeans them and causes resentment. Since you feel strongly about it, visit the principal and confirm that the stories are true. If they are, ask that the teacher be instructed about what is appropriate and effective and what is not. If the teacher persists, you and other concerned parents should take this matter up with the school board.

JACK'S TAKE - I was little more distressed to hear that the school children at this Dallas area elementary school were being taught by Mao Tse-tung than old Abby was apparently. Although, "unacceptable" is a rather harsh adjective and I could almost picture Abby's clenched fist, raised in anger while she typed it. The teacher's actions seemed rather extreme, to the point of comical even, and I wondered if after dumping the child's belongings onto the floor, the teacher then screamed, "How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat!"

I went to Catholic schools for over a decade and was taught by very angry nuns, but never once did the penguins dump my desk over because my pencil box was on the left side instead of the right. Is this parent really the first to complain about this teacher's actions? I mean think about the poor teacher in this example, they're beyond anally obsessive-compulsive and probably have to wash their hands thirty times after performing each desk dump, yet no one is complaining about their obvious cry for help.

Abby's advice was passable; as I was pretty sure she was going to involve the school guidance counselor in there somewhere. But, she may have also offered the simple suggestion of, "have your messy child keep their desk organized" as an alternative option to calling an emergency meeting of the school board.

EXHIBIT C

DEAR ABBY: I am 7 years old. I live with my mother and father in a small apartment. I have two fish; two cats, a hamster and a mouse - but I would also like a dog. My mother says our apartment is too small. My dad says to ask you because I practice reading through your column. Plus, I told my dad that I would ask your advice. Thank you. - AMBER IN CHICAGO

DEAR AMBER: At the risk of getting myself in the doghouse, I vote with your mother. Two fish, two cats, a hamster and a mouse are already quite a sizable menagerie for a family of three living in a small apartment. Enough is enough. I'm pleased that you read my column - it's never too early to start

JACK'S TAKE - Before I get into Abby lecturing a child over their love of animals, and squashing any dreams the child may have had about becoming a veterinarian one day, let me blast into the parents. I find it hard to fathom that the pecking order in this household is really "ask your mother, ask your father, ask Abby", but apparently it is. My parents would understandably pawn me off in front of the TV from time to time to get a simple moment of peace, but at least they would make sure Sesame Street was on. They never once threw a copy of the local newspaper's advice column at me and then wandered off. I mean, what sane seven year old practices their reading with newspaper advice columns? Is this apartment really so small that they can't fit any Dr. Seuss books in under the door? Are they home schooling this child with Dear Abby as one of her textbooks?

Amber needs serious help. This is one instance where Abby should have demanded therapy for the entire family, including the damn fish, yet she didn't.

Amber also seems rather concerned about getting a response from Abby, since she told her dad she would ask. Is Amber afraid of the constant hounding from her father if she didn't ask for Abby's help right away? The daily interrogations, "Have you written Abby yet?" Dodging flying whiskey bottles while her father lies curled up in corner sobbing, "I mean come on Amber, your mother and I don't know if we should buy you the dog, we need help with this decision, we can't parent you by ourselves, write in to Dear Abby already! You're tearing this family apart!"

Meanwhile, in revealing her advice, Abby seems to have forgotten several laws of physics in the process. She lacks the recognition that hamsters, fish, and mice are all very small creatures. Amber neglects to mention if her fish are actually tiger sharks, if her cats are in fact cougars, or if the hamster is of the giant poison Madagascar hamster variety. Abby also never asks for floor plans of the apartment to have her team of researchers determine if indeed it is "small". Instead, Abby takes the opportunity to slap down a little girl and then offer a commercial for her column with a hearty "it's never too early to start".