Lost? Hopeless? Need a hug? Then call someone who cares.

The rest of you, try me at editor@weeklyworldnews.com and I’ll answer if I feel like it.

Dear Dotti,

I adopted a hound from hell from a shelter minutes before they were going to send him back to Satan! Can you believe it? This pooch is so sweet and wouldn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it. But when my landlord found out, he said it’s the dog or me. He claims his insurance forbids hounds from hell in the building. It’s not the breed! It’s bad owners who are the reason hounds from hell tear apart human flesh if provoked! How do I fight this for my baby and hounds of hell everywhere!
— signed, Bleeding-Heart-for-Damien

Hey Pinhead!

You are the reason we can’t have nice dogs.
––Dotti

PS. The rest of you? Do not write me about how your hound from hell is different. He’s not. And to you “mixed breed” owners? Dog’s red eyes mean you’re full of lies.

Dear Dotti,

The day has finally come. My boomer mom has made it to Facebook. She reposts warnings that Facebook will publish our photos unless we copy and paste her post for the next thirty days. That and 5000 word letters that are AI remakes of reddit threads. And now? She’s going conspiracy posts, now birds aren’t real? How do I get her off her phone and back to watching my kids for free like she’s supposed to!
— Signed, Yeah, I Saw Your Post!

Dear Selfish B,

Birds aren’t real. The truth hurts.

Next? Your mom is so desperate to stop raising her second batch of kids that she’d rather wage a useless war against Zuckerberg than crack open another Uncrustable. Can you blame her? Bad news, your mom doesn’t want to watch your kids anymore. Good news, Facebook will never get their hands on your mother’s 4000 pictures of peonies!
––Dotti

Dear Dotti,
You’re the only one I can ask because everyone else is a simulation. Who in our government is actually alive, and who’s been on coma watch since the last election?
––Signed, Can’t Keep Up!

Dear Can’t Keep Up!

All I know is, if gas keeps going up, I’m gonna trade in my 1969 Buick LeSabre, lace up these boots, and start walkin’.

Even legendary advice columnists can’t tell who’s dead and who’s breathing in Washington anymore. But I do know the zombie count keeps going up. So, if you hear scratching coming from your shed… stay put, mmmkaaay?
––Dotti

That’s all this week.

Keep eating lettuce. Plumbers have to pay rent, too. ––Dotti

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