From a Submariner's Perspective is a weekly column, written in response to the letters sent in to advice columnist "Prudie" at Each week, The Submariner responds to the letter writers in a way that author, Emily Yoffe, probably can't (but perhaps would like to...). Each entry is headed with a link to the orginal questions and Yoffe's answers. Enjoy!

Also, if you have questions that you'd like answered by The Submariner, or anyone here at "The Fly", just write to me at and I'll forward to the appropriate party/parties for an answer (or you can write to them directly via the e-mail addresses on their pages)! Once the answers are published, I'll drop you a note letting you know.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

...on Hubby Thinks Sis Has AIDS (orig. 8/13/09) <---Original Prudie Questions Can Be Found There

Ahoy there shippers! How in heck are you guys on this fine, fine Prudie Day?! Holy smokes, what a glorious morning, eh! Why is it so great? Well, I can’t say exactly. It just feels damned good today. Something in the air I guess. Coffee? Maybe. Preseason football? Well, that could certainly be a part of it, but, who knows? It doesn’t do to overanalyze these things. What I do know is that it’s Prudie Day and so it can’t be too terribly bad, right? At least for us. For the letter writers? Well, let’s find out what’s going on in those poor saps’ lives...

LW#1: Prudie, I’m a horrible, horrible liar. I mean, think of the worse lie you could ever tell someone about your own sister and then multiply it by about 100. That’s me. That’s what I did. I told someone my sister has AIDS! And who did I lie to in this way about my own sister? My then-future, now-current husband! Why? Because I was scared if I didn’t, he’d choose her, you know, once he met her. But now that I have him sufficiently ensnared, I’m really needing to rid myself of this guilt that’s eating me up on the insides like, well, AIDS (oh, Edgar Allen Poe, where are you when we need you?). What should I do, Prudie? Help! Wow! Chicky, you are the winner! I don’t know what competition you’ve won, but you are the winner! My first and immediate thought for you is one word: counseling. You need it. And I’m not talking about some minor chat with a hotline volunteer, either. I’m talking about highly professional, inpatient, research-like counseling with probes and wires and Rorschach tests that will get to the root of whatever in the hell your malfunction is! Holy shit! If there’s solace in anything, it’s that you didn’t tell your hubby that your sister routinely visits the state prison and “services” prisoners through the chain link fence--but you came awfully close, didn’t you?! Listen, come clean with your husband. Just like Prudie said. Be prepared that he might be just a tad bit upset--as in, “What the holy fuck, you crazy nut job?!” But you know what else? Here’s the funny thing: your husband already knows. Yep, he does. Unless you guys live on the other side of the country and have never interacted in any meaningful way with your family, he knows. And, if not, are you keeping him from them, too, so that he doesn’t fall for your mom or aunt? And if he has met everyone and genuinely doesn’t know, he’s about as clueless as a door knob. So, if that’s true, perfect. He can be your prize! Either way, though. Counseling. Pronto!

LW#2: Prudie, I’m so, so, so happy in my marriage to the world’s most perfect man, except... He’s fat. And naked. And he touches his dick all the time! I mean, I know his girth has nothing to do with my letter because it’s all about his nudity, and his giblets, and the touching, but, I just thought I’d mention the fat part because, well, you know, he’s fat! But, I also don’t like the naked part. Or the non-pocketed pocket pool he plays! Other than that, he’s soooo perfect. What should I do? Okay, so, does this guy work? I mean, by your description, it sounds like if he’s at home, he’s naked, wanking, and eating. All at the same time. Does he even bother to stay dressed between the car and the house? Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but you’re an adult. And, you’re married! That’s like a doubly adult state to find yourself in, even if you haven’t grasped that yet. So, why can’t you say to your hubby what you’ve said to Prudie and, by extension, all of us here in Prudie-land who now have to think about your husband’s corpulent weiner tossing? Do you think Southern-Belle and the ladies in her office want to read that stuff (well, okay, they do find it funny, come on ladies, admit it). But still! Sit down in a non-nude moment (you may have to take him out to dinner to get him to put clothes on) and read to him the letter that you wrote to Prudie. If he’s any bit of a decent man and husband, he’ll understand (provided he’s paying attention to you and not tossing the salad under the table).

LW#3: My cousin is a mentally-imbalanced, racist, extremist, pro-gunist, anti-liberal, birther, whack job whose rants on the web are bordering on Unabomber Manifesto-style ramblings. His singular focus on these issues is doubly concerning because it now seems likely he’s going to go kill an abortion doctor or someone like that in the hopes of pleasing his higher power. Should we tell his daddy on him? (Another LW#3 with problems too serious for me to just blithely dismiss--damnit!) I just love the current level of thinly-veiled racist frothing some folks have worked themselves into of late, crying on FOXNews about the lost “America they grew up in.” Unfortunately, it’s guys like your cousin who can’t see past the fact that most of this is just manufactured, hypocritical bullshit, and, sadly, he might actually go out and hurt someone. If you’re worried enough to write in to an Internet Help Lady, you should have already called someone, if not the authorities, to at least have your cousin questioned. If he’s in control of his faculties and is just doing some healthy venting (whatever), then they’ll leave him alone (hey, if he supports the Patriot Act, he can’t decry his ass being questioned!). But, if he’s about to go shoot up a school or immigration center, though, maybe it can be prevented.

LW#4: I’m a 14 year old who likes to sleep with the stuffed doggy that I’ve slept with all my life. I like to bring him along with me when I go places. My friends or family or some other rotten bastards are encouraging me to knock it off because they say “only babies play with stuffed animals.” I really like my doggie, but am worried that it’s a problem. What should I do? I’m going to tell you the most important lesson you can learn as a person and it takes some people a lifetime to learn it. Don’t you ever give a rat’s ass about what anyone tells you is “cool” or “grown up” or “how to be part of the in-crowd”. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, you should do exactly as you please with regard to those issues! Do you know how wonderfully rare and precious and incredibly inspiring true individuality is? If someone makes fun of you or ostracized you, not only are they not worth your time or effort, but they’re hollow little shits of human beings and I promise you that the cool exterior that they put on is something that hides the painful hollowness inside. If your doggie makes you happy, keep him with you. Even if you’re 100 years old and you put in your will that you want to be buried with him!

Well, shippers, until next week. Thanks for all of the good wishes on the ankle (and the occasional razzes at my wimpiness--yes, MM, I’m looking right at you, chicky!). It’s healing quite nicely. Until next week, shippers, fair winds and following seas!

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