Category Archives: Dear Stabby

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Dear Stabby,
What up you freaky, stab-happy bitch!?
I like a girl with a little bit of crazy. How’s about you send me some skins through this here email? Send me some succulent shots of them titties and neden! Whatta say?
But FUCK ALL THAT for a second. There are serious matters to attend to. I’ve got a problem… maybe you can help me. I STA… wait, no…
I am upper management at an underground music label. One I’m sure all Juggalos would be familiar with.
Continue reading “Dear Stabby – 3Jan2021”

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,
Please help me. I woke up this morning and found out I was alive. I have heard this is a terminal condition, in many cases, curable only by death. I don’t know how cope. It is affecting my entire exsistance. I have never been through this before, I’m now a sickly shadow of who I once was. All I know is that I cannot live this way. Please, please…. any help would be appreciated.
-Ennui in Ontario

Hi Ennui!
Um. So, my probation officer told me I have start this letter by saying the National Suicide Prevention Helpline is 1-800-273-8255 or else I’ll get violated again.
But allow me to evoke a powerful quote from the mighty Dark Lotus: “Death Don’t Want No Juggalo”! And while this is true, The Dark Carnival provides many ways for you to alleviate your symptoms as well as agreeable mentors to prepare you for living your best unlife! Blaze Ya Dead Homie teaches us that you can still be a G long after your pulse has passed. If your posthumous aspirations lean more toward the ethereal, Ouija Macc claims to be a ghost, and since I have it on good authority that boy’s number one fear on the planet are Ghostbusters, I’m apt to believe him! The takeaway here is that when the burden of breath gets to be a bit much, you can always turn to the transformative power of music to pivot away from all that and bring you closer to the Unknowable Other! Take it from me: Music is where it’s at. All the rest is just noise.
Keep Rockin’ the Dead,
Stabby

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,

The chick from my GED class finally let me smash. With her friend no less! Problem is they live in a crackhouse and her friend couldn’t get horny what with the glory hole in the bathroom and all, so we had to sneak back to mom dukes place to commence the humpin! I know my uncle heard us cuz he busts in pretending he finna take a shit, like he forgot where the bathroom was, when really he just wanted a glimpse of this epic fuck action. Next time these two freaks are proposing bringing my homie in the mix to have a pussy eating contest. I’m down but we need a judge! I’m thinking about asking unc since he obviously wants to watch, but if mom finds out she’ll slap my beard off. Then I’ll be drydicked AND grounded. What should I do??

Hon E. B. Burgler

Hi Hon!
Thanks for trusting me with such an intimate dilemma! Worry not, this column is a judgement free place to share openly and feel safe. But if I was your mother I would slap you too and you would deserve it, you pervert! You’re so worried about what your uncle wants that you never thought to ask either girl how they feel about it! I know if somebody caught me with my pants down pretending he might poop on me I would probably not want to see them ever again. And think of your poor mom! Don’t you think SHE might want to be included for a change? Try low balling her with a “Hey mommy, what if…?” hypothetical. The answer might surprise you! But before you get ahead of myself, have an honest talk with all of the key players first. When it comes to sexy times it’s important that everyone feels secure and comfortable. Who knows, maybe they have their own judges in mind? It’s not all about you and your creepy uncle, you know!

Never Speak to Me Again,
Stabby!

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,

I have a fitness question. I workout religiously with one goal in mind: I want a bigger butt. My friends all hit the shows showing off comic book Super Hero Ass but no matter how much I lift and tone my sad cheeks look like they belong on Droopy Dog! Do you know any lifehacks so I can cheat my way into a superior posterior?

-Pittsburgh Pancake Butt

Hi Pancake!
Can I call you Flapjack instead? Flapjack Fanny? Flappy for short? No? Ok.

Well if you ask me, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy exercise routine but in this case you might be your own worst enemy. Take my Uncle Debra for example, he has the fattest ass of anyone I know and all he does is chainsmoke Chesterfields and watch TruTV. Now I’m not saying be like Uncle Debbie (seriously. Don’t.) but in my thinking the key to a fat ass is…well, fat. Dr. Stabby prescribes a healthy dose of KFC and Kraft Macaroni as a surefire way to expand donk. If you end up with lopsided loop just revert to your gym tactics and even the lumpy parts out accordingly. I guess you could do like Cardi and get a buttmeat transplant, but let’s be real. You don’t have rapper money. I do happen to know a carnie in San Miguel that’ll do it cheap and discreet in exchange for a case of limited-edition Faygo, but let’s just say you’ll be a lot happier if you don’t ask where he gets his materials from.

Best of Luck on Your Booty Bounty,
Stabby!

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,

I need your advice. I’m studying for an exam, and it’s super important that I get high marks! I’m a grown-ass woman with the body of a 12-year-old anorexic orphan boy so my grades are all I have going for me. Plus I have a pathological need to be the best- any score less than 100 and I will die from failure and embarrassment! People say I’m dramatic but I’m not dramatic, everybody else is just stupid! Please help!

Maniacally Academic in Maryland

Hi Macadamia Mary!

Since the turnaround time for these letters takes so long you’ve likely already taken and failed your test, so RIP. But just in case, you’ve come to the right place. According to my promotional material I graduated with a Masters in Psychology from Dark Carnival University so I’m a genius or something. In school I used mnemonic devices to memorize the stages of coping with terminal illness. Anger, denial, fear, bargaining, depression, acceptances for me became: Ayo, Dying Finna Be Damn Awesome! However nothing beats an old fashion cram sesh, so make sure you hit those books. And if anybody talks shit on your big brain and boy body again, hit THEM with the books! Until they stop moving. (Make sure nobody’s around for this last part)

We Never Spoke,
Stabby!