Advice: Ask Mother Phawker

motherphawker-copy.jpgDear Mother Phawker,

What the fuck? I mean, really, what is the point of it all? Why do I even bother when everything in the world seems irretrievably fucked?

Sign me,

Hating Everyone And Everything In University City

Dear Cranky O’Buzzkill,

Given your address, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re a college student. Which explains why you have the time to sit around having an existential crisis on a weekday morning, but whatever. I’m suspecting your angst is caused by either too much dope, too little sex, or a combination of both. In other words, you’re in the mid-semester funk. In the short term, try tweaking your routine a little bit and see if that helps.

In the long term, however, Mother agrees with you that, indeed, many things about the world do seem to suck giant Phanatic balls (wait, does the Phanatic even have genitalia? Oh hell, you know what I mean.). However, as long as there is truth, beauty, Coltrane, early-morning sex, and the promise of leftover Halloween candy, the world can be, in general, a pretty tolerable place. This is one of those things on which you’re just going to have to trust yer Mother.

Really, it only sounds as if Mother’s being glib, Matt. If you truly feel that “things” — whether we’re talking about things in happening (or not happening) in your life, or just the world in general — are so bad you wonder if it’s worth getting up in the morning, go and see a doctor/shrink/priest/rabbi/trusted friend, with the quickness. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for advice, help, meds, or a shot in the chops. All of the above do help.



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