Hello dedicated readers,
I know you've been wondering where I've been, but you won’t believe the time I’ve had since I last wrote. Those dear sweet girls decided they would send me on a cruise! Now I have seen heathens and charlatans and damned hippies all over this great country, but did you know it’s even worse in other places? I won’t get into that though. Luckily, I brought plenty of literature with me that I could share with the nonbelievers and I didn’t take any slack from none of them when they tried to feed me raw fish. I said to them, “You can dress it up and call it sooshee all you want, Manuel, but it’s still raw fish and I ain’t eatin’ it!” And so the cook made me some collard greens that were just heavenly (‘cause they boiled the hell out of em! Get it? Hee! Pardon my language, but that’s just plain funny.)
Anyway, I guess there was some kind of mix up, because those girls (probably too busy worshippin’ trees or some crap like that) forgot to get me a return flight, so I was stuck down there in the islands for awhile, until I found some nice people who were willing to let me on their boat. I guess they were hunters or something, because we stopped at a lot of different places delivering boxes, and they always had really big guns with them. I asked what was in the boxes and they said it was nose candy, which seemed odd to me, but I guess those island people just are backwards sometimes.
All was well and good, until one day all the hunters jumped into the ocean, and I thought they were going swimming, but then I saw the siren on a boat that was coming right at us, and they were yellin’ something about standing down, which I don’t know how to stand down, only how to stand up, so I just sat there, and when they got there, they started looking for all the hunters, but they were all gone.
So long story short, I have what they call “bitches” back over in the cell block. They keep offering to get me some cigarettes and “shiv” people, but I don’t smoke, and shaving another woman is just plain unhealthy. Something those Lebanese do, and I’m not having a part in that. Renee and Zabet were kind enough to send me some of the reader questions, which I’ll answer before lights out. We aren’t allowed to have pens after lights out since Cheryl slipped and fell on hers thirty-seven times. Bless her heart.
Dear Aunt Antagony,
I found myself in a very confused place. I see the different patterns and stitches that you guys at "The Anticraft" have come up with and posted on your website, and as many people would see them as beautiful works of art, I see them as much, much more.
I am not real for sure exactly what you would call it, but I have this deep, almost dark passionate love for your creations. When I mean love, I mean not so much the love that a grandmother would have for her grandchild, but more of a "I hope no one comes in here while I am doing this" kind of love. Some would call it disturbing, I however call it beautiful. Should I be ashamed of this love? Please help me Aunt Antagony!
Sincerely
Turned on by Tunics in Toledo
Dear Toledo,
Yes. You should be very ashamed. The Lord watches everything you do, and there isn’t enough bleach in heaven to scrub his holy eyeballs after doing whatever it is you might be referring to. But I’m SURE I would know nothing about that, because I am a lady. You should consider getting some help. Or perhaps a lobotomy. I had a friend in high school who had a problem with self-abuse in that way, and they just drilled a little hole in his head and fixed him up right proper. He pushes a broom out at the Burger King now, but that’s just because they finally built one there. He'd been sweeping for awhile, bless his heart. It’s a paycheck though, and if you’re doing the dirty to sweaters I’m betting you’re still living at home in your mother’s basement and . . . well . . . I don’t even want to think about it.
I hope you change your ways before rapture, but honestly, I don’t think there’s enough time in the world. You are sick.
Sincerely,
Aunt Antagony
Dear Aunt Antagony,
I have been informed many times that I am going to Hell. Should I go
in a hatbox, a handbag, or a handbasket? Should a young lady wear
gloves for this excusion, and if so what color?
Sincerely,
Hellbound
Dear Hellbound,
Well, I suppose a handbasket would be traditional . . .
You know, I tried to be the cool Auntie for a second there, and it’s just not right. The nerve of you kids today just really fires me up! I mean really! You don’t go to church. You don’t take care of your responsibilities. You just sit around and make crafts and make jokes about damnation. Oh, when you get there, it sure won’t be funny then, now will it, missy? No it certainly will not. And I’ll be up in Heaven, one of God’s Army, laughing my rear end off.
And the idea that young women don’t wear gloves any more is just obscene to me. Of course you should wear gloves for this, and any excursion, and maybe there will be some mercy for your eternal soul if you could for just one second show a bit of dignity.
Sincerely,
Aunt Antagony
To send your questions to Aunt Antagony, please email her at Aunt.Antagony@gmail.com.
