Danny Albertson: Here we are, back from the ancient, backwood lands of Kiln, Mississippi, and back in the cozy confines of the luscious Lush For Life Headquarters in Tampa. I am once again blessed to have the luxury of spending a few small moments with none other than the one and only, the Immaculate Brett Favre. Much has happened since the two us shared a warm Milwaukee’s Best on your John Deere, Brett. How have you been?
Brett Favre: Quite frankly, life has been shit, lately, Danny. Worthless as a rotted gasket on the wrong side of a potbelly pig’s noodle in a farmhouse gangbang.
DA: Not sure what you mean. What’s been the problem?
BF: For starters, the ol’ management in Green Bay’s suckin’ the grease outta a toothless hooker’s gums. I made it clear I wanted that colored fella Randy Moss on my team as my split end. Them sunsabitches wouldn’t know a Lombardi Trophy if it came up and gave ‘em a stiff slammer jammer in their ol’ tail pipe. And meanwhile, that bastard Aaron Rodgers is still tryin’ to get my playbook Cliff’s Notes. That sumbitch shoulda been traded to Oakland fer ol’ Moss so we get a dern championship ‘round here.
DA: Why do the team executives fail to listen to you, Brett? Don’t they know, like we all do, or at least I do, that Brett knows best?
BF: Well, shit. I guess not. I am Green Bay. I am football. I am America. I’m every rosy-colored perfectly packaged dream ever imagined. If you don’t listen to me, you askin’ for some serious hurtin’.
DA: If life in football is so bad, then why don’t you just hang it up and retire? Go out on your own terms instead of on your back with a shattered knee and in need of reconstructive hip surgery.
BF: I could never do that. My fans need me and this country needs me. In this time of uncertainty and confusion, the world needs something, and someone, they can believe in. I provide that to all of my adoring hordes of mindless followers.
DA: On another note, what is your opinion of the current Nextel Cup race? Who do you like?
BF: I tell ya, I always like to side with ol’ Junior. I never like to bet against DEI and Junior. That ol’ bastard Waltrip sure can race his freggin’ Chevy ‘round that sumbitch fast as a sumbitch. I can’t stand ol’ Matt Kenseth and his stupid face, and that Juan Pablo Montoya has gotta go. Someone really should step up and put that greasy bastard outta his misery. How dare he drive the 42 car and not be ashamed of himself.
DA: Who is worthy of driving the 42?
BF: Pat Tillman is the 42 and no one else is even worthy of his greatness. Except me, for obvious reasons.
DA: Not even, say, Jackie Robinson. No one wears the number 42 in all of baseball for what he did for the game and the progression of civil rights.
BF: No comment.
DA: What about all this speculation that Tiger Woods is in fact the greatest golfer the world has ever known?
BF: Don’t gimme that bleedin’ heart crap. Ol’ Jack Nicklaus would wipe the floor with him and any of these other garden variety make-believin’ golfers.
DA: Well, Brett, that’s about all the time I’ve got for you today. Before I let you go, how is your family?
BF: I’m glad you asked. My wife’s breast cancer has resurfaced in her other breast and we’re probably going to have to chop it off. Ol’ Doc said she’d have to have some surgery and some chemo, but I told him I could just lop it off in the ol’ shed with my granddaddy’s machete. They don’t make steel like they used to, sure enough. My mother has heart and brain cancer. My sister had her leg removed after fallin’ down some stairs. One of my daughters lost an eye last week and my brother-in-law lost his arm to match his amputated leg. You’ll hear all about it in my exclusive primetime featured interview on SportsCenter for the next six weeks.
DA: Sounds good to me. There’s no such thing as too much Brett.

In a monthly periodical, you, the readers of Lush For Life, can submit questions to Danny Albertson, which he will forward on to Brett Favre, in their ongoing conversations.

Due to the enormous workload and massive panic attacks I’ve endured over the course of the past several weeks, the need to distance myself from all the turmoil and constant surveillance we cope with on a day to day basis at Lush For Life Headquarters has continued to grow. This is why I’ve decided to work abroad this week, traveling to the sweaty ball-sack of the Heart of America – Kiln, Mississippi – to conduct my periodical interview with the immaculate Brett Favre, where we can discuss current events, as well as the finer things in life, without the ongoing paranoia and hustle and bustle that usually encompasses both of our lives.
“It’s nice to be able to take a deep breath and relax, isn’t it, Brett?” I asked Brett as I climbed on the back grill of his 4120 Series John Deere.
“I tell ya, there’s nothin’ like getting’ out to the country and just enjoyin’ yer life, the way our four fathers intended,” he said as he started the tractor’s engine, pausing to listen to the calming, humming, raspiness of his favorite thing in the whole world.
Spending time with this man is always hard for me to classify. “We’re in your neck of the woods, buddy,” I said, “what do you have in mind for us?”
“I’ve got to run some errands, Danny,” he said as he cracked open a warm Milwaukee’s Best and turned onto State Road 603, heading towards town. “So you better just ask me whatever it is you’ve got on yer mind while we’ve got time, cause I’ve got over 30 acres to mow by sundown.”
I grabbed a beer from his stash in the floorboard of the John Deere so I could truly absorb the moment. “I know it’s the offseason, and you don’t make it into the big city too often…”
“Damn straight,” he interrupted, taking a gulp. “This is Brett Favre time. This is when I spend time with my family and build up that good ol’ character I need to keep milkin’ for the media.”
“I understand; believe me,” I assured him. “You know, the democrats are starting to make some noise up on Capitol Hill, and there’s a lot of speculation to who will win the nomination for the next election,” I said, hoping he has some faint clue to the current Washington lowdown.
“Them dern democrats are always up to something,” he said, giving me a look that he actually has something important to say. “If it ain’t some bleedin’ heart spoutin’ ‘bout civil rights, then it’s some fast-talkin’ suit tellin’ me to either clone my grandmother or to stop prayin’.”
“But if you had to pick one, who would it be?” I asked him.
“I tell you, I never trust a woman to do a man’s job,” he said, “You think some Sheila could be out here doin’ this man’s work?” he said, crushing his empty beer can on his forehead and throwing it at an oncoming semi. “If it ain’t fit for grit, it ain’t fit for shit,” he said, “and ol’ Hilly’s as dilly as they come.”
The gross weather began to get on top of me. And sitting on the storage rack of this industrial lawnmower wasn’t helping. “This damn Mississippi heat is killing me. I don’t see how you live here.”
He began to laugh. “Your meat ain’t built for this Kiln heat,” he joked, “This kinda livin’ll make yer butt sweat seep right through them city britches.”
“How do you feel about Barack Obama?” I asked to try to get back on topic, but the warm Milwaukee’s Best wasn’t helping.
“Somethin’ about that sumbitch don’t seem right to me. When you take a Texan outta power, all the dern hyenas come out for all the scraps,” he said, pulling his tractor over and parking in the gravel parking lot of the local corner store. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna vote for no terrorist, and that’s what he looks like to me.” He turned off his 4120 and headed into the store for a sack of backwoods beef jerky and a quart of kerosene, which gave me some time to pound back another one of his god-awful beers to make the interview run a little smoother.
He came out of the store with one of the locals with him, obviously joking about something, most likely making fun of me in some manner. Typically “city folk” like myself are not well received in “these parts”.
I was drenched in sweat and obviously not enjoying the lifestyle that Brett so openly embraces. “Damn, boy,” he says as he laughs with some sun-burnt, illiterate local, “are you made outta plastic or something? You look like a piece of cheap Chinese crap that was left out in the sun for too long.”
I felt as though this interview would have to be conducted later, at Headquarters, in the foretold promised land of air-conditioning and wireless internet. “You ready to head back, buddy?” I asked. “I have a deadline.” We shotgunned a pair of beers and jumped on the tractor, heading back towards the Favre Homeplace.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, noticing he was doing some weird mouth movement, reminiscent of someone who just plowed into a line of proper booger sugar.
“The damn jerky is as tough as bloodhound’s hind leg. I’m pickin’ the chewed beef outta my canines,” he said.
“Sorry we didn’t get to go into as much detail as maybe you or I would’ve liked,” I told him.
He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s fine. After I drop you off, I’ll head north on 603 till I find acouple toothless slags.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, intrigued.
“Oh yeah, man. There’s nothin’ better than scourin’ the ol’ countryside, shotgunin’ beers on the back of yer John Deere, bird-doggin’ chicks.”
I may not make it back for deadline after all.

Dear Dr. Belvedere, 

I am nineteen years old and an aspiring model. Anna Nicole Smith has always been my idol and I am trying to follow in her footsteps. Do you have any advice on how I can go about my career and goals?

–Alana Nichole Smythe

Dear Ms. Smythe,

Being a doctor, I have many corrupt colleagues that would be willing to give you your drugs of choice. That is the first step in following the footsteps of such a money grubbing, junkie. I also personally know some great fad diets and remedies to get your weight fluctuation on a grand scale. 

Next, find an old geezer with money. When out at a bar or social outing, listen in on conversations for the following key words: real estate, investments, and pimp. Watch what they are drinking (make sure it’s expensive and hard to pronounce), notice the watch they are wearing, and look for someone with a hungry desperation for young, fresh meat (also if they order veal, that’s a sign). Stay clear of doctors and lawyers, as they are familiar with gold digging nut bags such as you. 

The rest is simple – get unbearably strung out, pop out a few kids in twenty-year intervals, strip, and pose nude (I hear Hooter’s pays for breast implants – look into it). Try things like heroin and Oxycontin. Obtain some saggy skin, on yourself as well as in the bedroom. 

Remember to excessively expose yourself in public while inebriated. Practice slurring your words to the point of indecipherable utters. And of course, try to become a poster child for the likes of a big drug company. Smile a lot, too, like the asshole you will be. 

And please, if you ever get on an awards show of any kind, remember NOT to thank me and please leave my name out at all costs. Thank you. 

Dear Dr. Belvedere, 

I grew up in Washington, DC, graduated from the Naval Academy, and I consider myself highly educated.  I recently broke up with my boyfriend of three years. I met him on MySpace through the group “Space Cadets”.  He was an astronaut, as am I, and he left me for some other government worker with better health benefits. He left me shortly after I went on a trip to the moon, and despite the fact that my friends say that I am spacey, I think I am still in love with him. I’ve decided to get back at him by kidnapping his new girlfriend and making her do absurd acts that would demoralize her very being. I robbed a thrift store in Texas and have a plastic tube, a stick, a box of diapers, a plastic mannequin arm, and a pellet gun. What can I do to get back at her?

–Heart-broken in Houston

Dear Heart-broken, 

I can completely relate to the brink of insanity on which you are teetering. I, too, have suffered innumerable offenses from the opposite sex, and I have devised the remedy for getting back at them using a few simple steps.

Disguise yourself so that no one will recognize your face. Proceed to drive into the vicinity of wherever that wretched bitch is and repeat the following quote in your head: “Make no mistake – I will hunt down and punish those responsible for my pain.” 

Now what to do with the tube and diapers… If you are really adventurous, I would shove the tube up her rectum and force her to defecate through it. After this has taken place, make her eat, write, or make art with her own feces (body paint is fun, too).  As for the pellet gun and stick, get creative, honey, because you’ll need to think of something to create headlines in the papers. 

When the authorities ask you why you did what you did, let them know it was a mix of being brainwashed by the government and George Bush’s speeches on terrorism. Instead of seeing her face, you were seeing Osama bin Laden’s, which led you to such a destructive action. You could always say that oxygen escaped your brain too quickly and you hallucinated a Heaven’s Gate cult member dressed in purple robes and advised you to do his will. 

Most importantly, I would use that plastic arm of yours to slap the shit out of yourself. You deserve it my frien

Dr. Audrielle Belvedere is the resident Psychoanalyst at LushForLife.com’s main headquarters in Tampa, Florida. She will be answering your questions in a semi-regular fashion, giving blunt, frank advice to the sick minds that patronize the pages of L4L.

Dear Dr. Belvedere,

Lately, I’ve been having a serious problem: I can’t seem to pry myself from my computer. I’ve been obsessed with World of Warcraft and I’m completely engulfed! I don’t spend time with my girlfriend and have taken to microwavable dinners. I called out sick yesterday at work just to play, and now my job is hanging in the balance. What should I do?

Lost in Cyberspace

Thank you for your question, “Lost in Cyberspace”. I thank you simply because you express an issue relevant to the entire American population and I have been aching to respond back to this dilemma.

First off, quite simply, you need to pry your fat ass away from the computer. Go jog a mile. Get your lard, tank ass in shape so that you will be appealing to the opposite sex and can actually educate yourself in something called “social skills”. By attributing the bulk of your free (and work) time in a computer game, you have let yourself go. Do you know that the game was constructed so that people like yourself can cease to have any purpose in life and require nothing more than a high-speed Internet connection and McDonald’s cheeseburgers and, if you are really motivated, maybe even a beer or two? You have dumbed yourself down to suit the needs of Corporate America and, if you ask me, we have a social revolution on our hands. People will be brainwashed into thinking life consists of little gnomes fighting pre-meditated wars with fake weapons and an actual purpose to their madness…. Actually, disregard what I just said, because that happens to be a reality at this point in time.

The point is, quite frankly, get a life and quit making up for your shortcomings (i.e. the size of your manhood), and go out in the world and create the battles for yourself! If you are too chicken shit to start a revolution without the comfort of your laptop, you are an unworthy human being and deserve to be annihilated in the real world.

In conclusion, put down the CGI rendered sword and read a fucking book.

Dear Ms. Belvedere,

I’m very depressed. I have two kids and I can’t figure out who the father is. I called a talk show and they ain’t tryin’ to pay for the blood test. One kid looks chink-eyed and the other look black. I don’t be knowin’ what to tell them. I heard you be good at this shit and I be needin’ some help. I have me a good job, but I’m tryin’ to get child support from one of them cousins that knocked me up. What should I do, Ms. Belvedere?

Knocked up in Harlem

Well, Ms. Harlem, you are a sadly common case. First off, learn a technique called “spell check”. Get a fucking GED, if possible. Learn how to speak English (it was determined by the school board that Ebonics is not a proper language), before you teach your children whom they were conceived by. Lay off the blow, get off the pole, and go back to school. Your fat ass booty can only take you so far and this is what lead you to conceiving children by the “cousins” that don’t even remember you. I would advise you to lie to those poor, innocent children and tell them their daddy’s are “magician’s fighting the war in the middle east”, because that’s as farfetched as it will get. At least their teachers in school will believe them…

Just tell them they were made by Chinese workers in a sweatshop in Africa, sent to you by UPS. That’s better than telling them you have been fondled by more men than your second grade education can possibly remember.

As for you, in the meantime, milk the welfare system for what it’s worth. My tax dollars are supporting an infinite number of you trampy hoes, so take advantage while you can. As long as your legs are spread, you will continue to get monetary support from the government and can conceive as many illegitimate children as your heart desires. Those children of yours will contact me soon enough for advice anyways, because they will certainly lead a destructive, confused existence. Not to mention, request psychoanalysis sessions due to the traumatic experience of you being an ignorant bitch. Best wishes to you and your chink/black children.

By the way, it’s fucking DOCTOR Belvedere to you… please get it right.

In a monthly periodical, you, the readers of LushForLife, can submit questions to Danny Albertson, and he will forward a handful of them to Brett Favre in their monthly sit down Q and A.

Danny Albertson: In the wake of all that has changed and transpired within the world of politics during the last several days, I find myself sitting down with the mighty Brett Favre. In this time of change and uncertainty, there is no one else I’d rather have by my side, wading through this political whirlwind, Brett, and I hope all of you readers out there recognize the extreme luxury we all share in spending even the slightest moment with this great man. How are you, Brett?

Brett Favre: I have to tell you, I’m not really feeling like myself. I, like most of you good warm-blooded Americans out there, struggled through watching the Democrats take control on Capitol Hill earlier this week – and I haven’t felt like the same, good ol’ Brett since.

DA: Rather than refer to our mailbag, we’ll just do a one-on-one interview this week, so we can get to the bottom of all the hot topics that have transpired over the past several weeks, without the possibility of losing focus with silly, ridiculous questions that are unrelated to you.

BF: That’s fine with me, Danny. Obviously some of our readers are below me.

DA: I won’t lie to you and say that I’m not concerned for the state of our country. What do you suggest all of the remaining right-minded, god-fearing Americans do?

BF: Just hang in there, guys. That’s what I’m doing. Still reflect the same strength in yourselves that is present in all of our fearless Republicans leaders. We will survive; we will overcome.

DA: How do you think our executive regime will remain the dominant powerhouse that it has been for the last six years, now having to deal with the competition and desires of the Democrats?

BF: Well, this could be tricky. Ole ‘W’ won’t be able to get as much done for us, now, but I think with the right kind of teamwork and focus, we’ll be able to make some political splash plays. Years ago, when we [the Packers] were the best, we flaunted our skills and no one could touch us. George W. Bush has experienced similar things during the past several years – but now that some pieces of his team have been disbanded, he will have to step up and lead us all to the Promised Land and rightful place atop world diplomacy.

DA: You and the President have a lot in common. Both of you share similar political views, and you are both battle tested. Before he named Robert Gates his new Secretary of Defense, did the President contact you about the job opening?

BF: He did. I was glad to hear from him – we hadn’t spent any time together or share any words since we were awarded our doe-huntin’ licenses and went buck wild in Arkansas last winter. He offered me the job – which I told him, ‘I’m an offensive guy, not defensive’ – but I did give him some advice on whom to choose to replace Mr. Rumsfeld.

DA: How do you feel about Rumsfeld’s resignation? And what kind of response or backlash should the people give to the Democrats?

BF: It is a shame that the first thing the filthy Democrats demand is the removal of such a good leader. I feel we should torch the Senate and the House, and set the cities aflame.

DA: I know of your future political plans of running for office alongside your desired running mate Charles Barkley, but would you consider any other position along President Bush’s cabinet, acting as a springboard towards your personal political dominance?

BF: I’ve dominated on every level of competition I’ve been faced with in my life. Though Secretary of Defense isn’t for me, I think I could be an effective Secretary of War, or a war strategist. All talks of exit strategies from Iraq would dissolve, and we would have all out carnage – crushing them. Anyone who disputes our motives and decisions would fall subject to my mighty hand. The United States would reach new heights of political and economic dominance around the world, and all of our leaders and citizens would be remembered as gods.

DA: A likely and progressive outlook. Before I let you go, can you give me some warm, parting words for our readers regarding the loss of one of our field’s most respected reporters, Ed Bradley?

BF: He was a washed-up, old nigger journalist with an earring and a blood disease. He was a figurehead of the libs and an evil tool for the Jews. Who cares?

DA: Well put, I suppose?

In a monthly periodical, you, the readers of LushForLife.com, can submit questions to Danny Albertson, and he will forward a handful of them to Brett Favre in their monthly sit down Q and A.

Danny Albertson: Another month or so has passed as all of you, like myself, have been tapping our feet and watching the arms of the analog clock slowly tick – anxiously awaiting the next time Brett Favre, The Greatest Person Ever, graces the LushForLife.com newsroom with his always insightful, and usually peculiar outlook on the present state of the world. We have a few special guests with us today, as fellow NFL quarterback Jake Delhomme, and former quarterback and current L4L correspondent Rob Johnson join us for this installment of Ask Brett!

Brett Favre: That’s right, Danny. Even though it says in my contract that I will always be the center of attention, always, these fellas are okay.

Rob Johnson: It’s good to hear that from you, buddy. I never thought I’d ever hear you say anything like that.

BF: Well, I’ve always smoked your ass on the gridiron, so showing you up here will be as easy as threadin’ the needle on a fourth and thirteen.

Jake Delhomme: I can whoop your ass on the field and in the newsroom, Favre. You better check your Mississippi mouth at the door.

DA: There will be no mediator or referee calling this interview, Jake, so don’t think you can go whining and crying when shit doesn’t go your way.

RJ: Yeah, don’t get too exited, Delly. I’ve never seen a two-bit Cajun faggot like you man up to the likes of these guns.

BF: When it’s choke time, we’ll ask for your input, okay?

DA: Let’s try to stay on course. Our first question comes from Raghab in Beirut, Lebanon:

Dear Brett,

I met Danny on his journey to Lebanon earlier this year and heard about this feature. With all of the turmoil happening here and throughout the Middle East, how would you handle the problems between the Israelis and Arabs, and the growing disdain for the United States?

BF: Let me see if I can answer this: I’ve always felt anyone with darker skin is always in the wrong, and I don’t see anything different about this situation.

JD: The whiter, the righter, I’ve always said.

BF: The whole world has to deal with all of you dumbasses. If it were up to me, America would keep the hell out of there and let all you kill each other. That’s the only solution: every last one of you sand niggers die.

JD: I agree with you, Brett. In fact, we should send over artillery and weapons to both sides to get ‘em to hurry up with it.

DA: Is that really the good, Christian way to handle it? The more death and bloodshed, the better?

BF: Of course it is. God wants to see all of those heathens die for not believing in Him, and he also is on our side, always.

JD: It’s what they want. There’s no reason America can’t come to the rescue like we always do and lend our helping hand with guns and bombs.

RJ: I do not concur with you gentlemen. There can be a solution for all of these different peoples and religions to live together in peace and harmony. Allowing both religions to be named the national religions, treating each other with respect, and being understanding and open to both group’s beliefs and views would be a good start. Just because a group of people doesn’t agree with every nuance of your faith does not make either side ‘more right,’ or give either side the right to kill each other.

DA: Interesting debate. I’m not sure, but I think that outside of the extreme religious groups involved, nobody gives a fuck who’s right or wrong. Our next question is a little bit lighter, and comes from Billy in Branson, Missouri:

Brett,

I’ve noticed, like everyone else in the world except you, that your skills have diminished over the years, and you are now nothing more than a washed up hack that can’t face the fact that your career is over. When are you finally going to quit so I can see you on Dancing with the Stars?

BF: I have no plans on following in the footsteps of Jerry Rice and Emmitt Smith. I am, however, in talks with Hollywood producer Jerry Bruckheimer to launch an action-adventure, sci-fi television series where I would play myself, and I would travel through time and would be placed within the greatest historical moments of time where I would have to save the world. The show is designed to springboard my political career after my playing days are over. Our pilot episode puts me in the war room during the Bay of Pigs, and Michael Rappaport is currently cast as my sidekick.

JD: Is there any chance I could get a cameo?

BF: I don’t think so. With me at the helm, the world would be safe. But if we put you in the show, I really don’t think it would be believable. Rob would be a good choice, though.

RJ: I could see myself in Troy, on top of Mount Olympus, with oil glistening on my muscular, godly body, fighting Achilles to the death with only my two hands.

DA: And the L4L staff would replace Woodward and Bernstein in the Watergate investigation.

BF: I’ll make some calls.

DA: ‘Til next time, gentlemen? Let’s put some money on how many interceptions Brett will throw, and how many times Jake will complain to the officials by the time of our next meeting.

RJ: These two will go completely broke.

BF: In your dreams, faggot.

DA: Sounds like something worth discussing for a change.

Dr. Audrielle Belvedere is the resident Psychoanalyst at LushForLife.com’s main headquarters in Tampa, Florida. She will be answering your questions in a semi-regular fashion, giving blunt, frank advice to the sick minds that patronize the pages of L4L.

Dear Dr. Belvedere,

The last few weeks have been really tough. My girlfriend dumped me, my dog died in a freak power-boating accident, and my company fired me when they caught me doing cocaine in the women’s bathroom. I’m feeling really depressed and now want to end my life. Do you have any suggestions as to the best way for me to kill myself to maximize the feelings of guilt in the people who’ve hurt me?

-Coked Up in Columbus

Dear Coked Up,

Sounds like you have some serious issues here, Coked Up. First off, might there be some correlation here between the break up with your girlfriend and you spending time in the woman’s bathroom facilities? You may be suffering from a cocaine-induced gender identity crisis. In the scientific world, we consider this a genetic mutation that we call “”the queer placebo”". Now, are you sure that the person who broke up with you was a woman? Normally, with cases such as these, we prescribe a series of treatments, ranging from hiring transvestite swingers to perform absurd sexual acts (that normally relieves the problem), and we also use a drug called ‘dopephrine,’ which will trigger the ‘straight gene’ in your cerebellum, causing you to experience a euphoric state. While it has not been approved by the FDA, it has been known to cause sudden bowel evacuation (in laymen’s terms: shitting yourself), sometimes followed by acute convulsions of the pelvic region. People sometimes don’t mind this and enjoy its recreational uses, as well. After trying this, you will be well on your way to recovery.

Now as for your suicidal thoughts, if the aforementioned treatments do not alleviate your problems and you are adamant about taking your own life and wish to inflict guilt upon those around you, consider the following: Any self mutilation directed towards the genital region is always a good option, which may consist of irregularly twisting, cutting, and relocation of the genitals, etc. However, steer clear of conventional suicidal plans, as they are boring, overused, and fail to attract the attention of the majority. People want to hear horrific, sick, twisted plots to spark their imagination and provoke nightmares and fear in their pathetic, meaningless lives. Without this, your suicide will aimlessly fall into the renowned book entitled ‘The Book of Losers.”"

Lastly, I feel more for your poor canine that anything else.

Dear Dr. Belvedere,

I am completely in love with a fictional character from a popular cartoon. Is there any chance that we will ever be together?

- Dazed in Delaware

Dear Dazed,

I have had many cases like this and, surprisingly enough, there have been many stories of successful relationships. First off, I would recommend you obtain as many pictures and artifacts as possible of this character and display them obnoxiously around your house. Display the pictures in areas such as the bathroom, living room, closet, and, of course, your bedroom. This will give the illusion that they live with you and you will learn to be respectful of their space at all times. Try to plan a romantic evening for you and this character that now resides with you at least twice a week. The traditional dining choices, wine, sappy movies, followed by making love, is always a plus. Since you cannot be physical with this character, instead of making love, you can simply masturbate continuously with descriptive visions of this character replaying in your mind.

Try not to get too involved, because you never can really tell how faithful your partner will be, as they could be residing in the homes of several other gentlemen experiencing the same things you are.

Dear Dr. Belvedere,

My girlfriend used to orgasm every time we had sex, but it doesn’t happen anymore. It seems that she can only go if she has her vibrator, which she has named ‘Rusty,’ and has even written him a life story. Do I have a chance?

- Rejected in Richmond

Dear Rejected,

Sounds like your girlfriend was abused sometime in her life and that it involved some metal beam, old rod, and/or dirty metal part. She has some emotional affiliation with this vibrator and connects with ‘him’ on a deeper level that she does with you. If an inanimate object is taking up more free time with her than she is giving you, I would be concerned. Or, you could always try to dip your private parts in a metal liquid and let large quantities of water run over them and in a short time, your new nickname will be ‘Rusty’ and you can take his place. Also, role-playing will be helpful after this is done and you can simply reenact the lifeline of her vibrator, ‘Rusty.”"

I also seriously recommend that your girlfriend get a tetanus shot.

In a monthly periodical, you, the readers of LushForLife.com, can submit questions to Danny Albertson, and he will forward a handful of them to Brett Favre in their monthly sit down QandA.

Danny Albertson: I’m sitting down, once again, with possibly the most beloved and adored figure in all professional sports of all-time, ever: Brett Favre. A lot has happened since the last time you and I have had the pleasure of seeing each other’s scabbed faces.

Brett Favre: Sometimes your choice of words really offends me.

DA: I’m surprised, actually. You and I have known each other for a while, now, and have been through some strange shit together, too. It offends me that something so trivial would offend you.

BF: Do we really have to go through with this, then? I have an oversized lawn to mow somewhere.

DA: I say we can both just sit here and be offended by each other, because there are some important questions the people of ‘Merca really need to ask their self-crowned leader of everything that’s important. I mean you?

Besides, its not like you’re actually going to spend anytime learning the new offensive system Mike McCarthy is installing in Green Bay. You’re so awesome, all you have to do is all you’ve ever done – just fling that sucker out there and make a dern play.

BF: Goddam right, dad-blame it. Cockin’ back the ol’ cannon shooter is all this simple, Miss Sipp, gunslingin’ get-ur-done’r has ever been able to do.

DA: Let’s go to the mailbag. This first question comes from D’Artagnan in Yonkers, New York:

I know you’re considering a career in politics after your playing days are over. How do you feel about Charles Barkley annonouncing that he will run for Governor of Alabama in 2010?

BF: Usually, my stance on this issue is that athletes should stay out of politics, unless we’re referring to me. In Charles’ case, being such a bright guy, I think he should go for it.

DA: I always thought he was a complete moron.

BF: That just goes to show you what you city boys know about real life.

DA: Since you guys seem to be on the same page, maybe the two of you should run together for president, on the Republican ticket, no doubt. Those good-ol’-boys would respond to your thick skulls.

BF: As long as there’s a cold Budweiser and a backwoods broad, I’ll go anywhere and do anything. I’m sure that Charles would agree with me.

DA: If you’re a republican, and from the South, those things will surely follow you wherever you go. Our next question comes from Tommy in Milwaukee:

I am planning a hunting trip in Mississippi next month. I really want to gun down some good game, and I figured you could offer me some tips. What kind of guns do you use?

BF: Mostly I never leave my house without my 12-gauge double barrel elephant rifle. That sucker will blow the head of a twelve point buck clean off his body and leave the remaining corpse bloody and in shards of boney pieces. It’ll cause some serious damage.

DA: Isn’t the point of hunting to mount your kill on the wall, or to eat the animal? If you blow it to pieces, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of hunting the animal in the first place?

BF: The 12-gauge is strong, buddy, but will only cause a limited amount of damage to your kill. I don’t hunt for trophies or food. The Packers pay me $10 million a year, so I don’t need to kill my own food to survive. I also have way too many plaques and awards honoring all of my accomplishments on display in my home to have room for stuffed animal corpses. What I like is to destroy the hell out of a dern deer! The 12-gauge is good, but if you want real demolition, I’ve got a barrel full of hand grenades I take out with my military issue arm cannon that can blow through a 10-foot wide block of solid earth rock. Those are real goddam weapons!

DA: The next time you destroy a deer, will you send me the meat and the corpse so we here at LushForLife.com can at least enjoy it? I think our office could use a bit more character. There’s nothing like a dead animal to bring out the life in something, you know?

BF: I know what you mean, dudebro.

DA: Till next time, Brett?

BF: Sure, I guess. I’m getting a bit sick of doing this, though.

DA: We’ve all been sick of you for years, man. It’s all about learning how to live with one another, and being accepting of a wide array of different sorts of people.

BF: Except for the niggers.

DA: Riiight?

“Dear Emma,

How can I drink hard liquor excessively every night without acquiring that ugly, bumpy, red, contorted nose that heavy drinkers many times acquire?

-Walter Rogers

Eugene, Oregon

Drink more Ovaltine. I don’t know! This is the worst question ever! Reading it has actually made me dumber. Face it: some people are just born ugly. If you’re afraid of having an ugly, red nose when you’re older, don’t quit drinking: build a time machine, travel back in time to the year you were conceived, and stop your parents from procreating. The same bad genes that have caused you to become an alcoholic are the same bad genes that will cause you grow into an ugly, old fart? or just read about gin blossoms.

Dear Emma,

More often than not, when I have a bowel movement, or shit, it comes out thin like urine, or piss. Following completion, my rectum, or asshole, burns like the dickens, no matter how much I wipe. What’s wrong with me?
t
t- Teddy

Tampa, Florida

This is common amongst anorexic-homosexuals. The consistency of your bowel movements is caused by the lack of substance in your diet, whereas big, hard penises thrusting your milkshake-maker fortnightly cause the burning. If you wish to remedy your ailment, eat a sandwich and learn how to ‘pitch!’

Dear Emma,

Why are you stupid?

-John Fogger,

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Good question! See figure 1. (Below)

“

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about women in all of my years, it’s that there’s only a few stereotypes, and they are all easily identifiable if you know what you’re looking for. In order to save you a lot of heartache and venereal diseases, I’ve compiled them into an easy to understand list. Live by this as if it were gospel.

1. The “Sperm Bank” Girl: She’s just like your local sperm bank; everyone’s made a deposit. This is the perfect girl to loose your virginity to. Since all of your friends have already been there, it will be easy for you to compare and contrast when you brag about it the next day.
2. The “What Crawled Up Your Ass and Died?” Girl: She won’t let you put it “where the sun don’t shine,” she won’t go down on you, and the only guy she’s probably ever had sex with was that Chili’s waiter she met at a frat party and she’s still douching her vagina with holy water over that incident. It’s always good to date one of these girls, because it will really enhance your appreciation for the “Sperm Bank”. Now you just have to find the perfect medium between the two (see: The “Perfect Girl”).
3. The “Sugar Momma” Girl: This girl is awesome! Quit your job and start writing your wish list. This girl is usually the heiress of some big-shot hotel owner. She’s not quite as slutty as the “Sperm Bank”, but she’ll buy you whatever you want. The secret to keeping this girl is never letting her know that you’re only using her for her money. The easiest way to go about this is by always talking about lucrative prospects, like finishing college or getting a “real job”. Being in a band helps, too.
4. The “Ethnic Girl” Girl: Dating a girl outside of your race is a great way to improve your repertoire of racist jokes, because if anyone gets offended, you can always say; “It’s okay, my girlfriend is (insert race here).” If you’re a white guy who wants to make black jokes, date a black girl. If you’re a gentile who wants to make Jewish jokes, date a Jewish girl. And if you’re a black guy who wants to make cracker jokes, well… date whomever you want. It’s always okay for black people to make fun of white people.
5. The “Perfect Girl” Girl: This girl is the perfect combination of all of the above. She’s not the same race as you, so you can get away with making plenty of inappropriate jokes; she comes from a wealthy family, so you’ll never have to worry about sleeping in a box; she hasn’t used here vagina as a penis parking-lot in the past, but she will still meet all sexual demands without being too slutty about it. This is the perfect girl.