New feature: DEAR NEWSBOT!

[Newsbot]

In order that this reporter might dispense the wisdom that comes from being a futuristic newsreporting robot, vynsane.com news announces a new regular feature, Dear Newsbot.

Our first letter comes from Podunkville, WV:

DEAR NEWSBOT: I was sexually abused by my sister's boyfriend, "Teddy," three months ago. He is five years older than I am, and now I am pregnant.

I don't want to tell Teddy or my family because I am afraid of the consequences -- especially because he and my sister are getting married in three months. I don't want to ruin their marriage, but I can't keep this a secret much longer. I am starting to show.

Please help. I don't know what to do because Teddy is a respectable person and I know they won't believe me if I tell the truth. -- PREGNANT SISTER

DEAR SISTER: Are you retarded?

No, really. Are you retarded? I ask this not to be cruel, but because you certainly sound like you're a few X-Wings short of a Rogue Squadron. You'd even consider letting your sister marry this douchenozzle who fucked her sister and got her knocked up? Even worse that the shithead abused you. Wow. I honestly cannot believe that one as stupid as you was actually able to compose a letter. Or did you merely smear pictures on the wall using your own excrement and ask someone to write for you?

For you to even consider anything but telling her so she can cut his nuts off and kick his neutered corpse to the curb leads me to believe you are retarded. The fact you've let this go on as long as it appears you have actually suggests to me that you are so mentally deficient as to surpass mere retardation altogether.

My most crucial bit of advice: you must get an abortion immediately. For the good of mankind, your flawed genes cannot be allowed to propagate any further. No, scratch that. You must commit suicide. You are so stupid, your very existence is an abomination. If you're not sure how to commit suicide, ask whoever it is that changes your diaper to help you.

[Newsbot]

Our next letter is from Michigan:

DEAR NEWSBOT: My friends and I visit a website, and there's a guy who hangs out who I don't think likes me very much. I'll call him "Fligtad Snornbi." Fligtad makes it clear that he thinks lowly of me; he won't even address me by name without adding, "Or should I say Dicker?" to the end of the sentence. I try to put on a brave face, but it really hurts my feelings. Even the mad diabetic Native American pussy I get due to the wolf shirt I recently won is not enough to console me. I'm seriously considering ending it all. What should I do? -- DICKER--I MEAN, SLICKER

DEAR DICKER: Are you retarded? The reason that this Fligtad makes fun of you is obvious. You smell goddamn gay. Perhaps you should change the brand of deodorant you wear. Just because Secret is strong enough for a man does not mean it isn't made for a woman.

[Newsbot]

And our latest letter comes from Liverpool, in Merrie Olde Englande:

DEAR NEWSBOT: I've been a little distracted lately, but have been bidding on eBay auctions for toys anyway--strictly Tatooine toys and Lego, as I disdain thoroughly any other Star Wars paraphernalia. I was pleased as punch to have won what I think is a brand new shiny Tatooine Darth Vader Lego set. Unfortunately, I run the text through a translator program after winning and, wouldn't you know it, old bean, I've won an empty box! Plus, the French seller includes a note in this empty box about he has been making love to my mother. I'm really in the grip of despair here. I can find no recourse on eBay's policy pages. How best to retaliate in proper, polite British form? -- GRAND MOFF SUPREME BEING MISTER DADDYPANTS

DEAR GRAND: Are you retarded? They say "buyer beware," but I do have a proposal to you. Give your mother tickets to a vacation in Aruba. Hide in her house, under the covers of her bed, wearing her lingerie. Wait until this French bastard shows up to slip her the sausage, and, right as he slides it in your rump, you snap a photo and threaten to blackmail the son of a bitch if he doesn't give you your money back. I bet he'll say, "Sacre bleu!" and immediately refund your money, as he won't want his grinning counterpart to know that he's been partaking in the love that dare not speak its name. (I forgot to mention that this ruse will be far more effective if you're willing to take some three inches of French dong.)