Miss Manners Knows Everything

Dear Miss Manners,

I love cocaine. The only thing I think I love more than cocaine is hosting a coke party: the guests, the music, the occasional impromptu orgy...I just love coke parties.

Of course, there comes a time at almost every coke party when the cocaine starts to run low. Now whenever I go to someone else's party, I always suggest that the host should be entitled to the last line of the evening. By now, I'm a little hurt that for all the coke parties I've thrown, no one's ever stood up and said, "Hey, how about -------- gets the last hit?" Am I asking for anything beyond common courtesy?

The preparations for hosting a cocaine party are certainly nothing to scoff at: getting a head count, managing food preferences, setting up good music...not to mention procuring the cocaine. Without a doubt, everyone at a good coke party should be thankful for the capable host.

Even so, as host your highest priority is the happiness of your guests. If you care more about one last line of coke than being generous to your guests, then why host these parties in the first place? Just keep your doors locked and the lights off, and then you can snort enough nose candy to paint your brains white.


Dear Miss Manners,

I can remember when I was about twelve years ago, my father gave my some sage advice: Avoid debates with friends and family over religion or politics - you'll be arguing until blue in the face and by the end, nothing in the world's changed except now you have a gripe with a loved one.

This pearl has kept me out of trouble for most of my life, until about three months ago. Since I proposed to my girlfriend, her mother has taken every opportunity she can to question and belittle Satanism whenever she is around me. I'll show up with my fiancée for a barbecue, and her mother will say, "Oh hi Devil Boy. Do you people eat hamburgers? Or should I find a tasty virgin for you to snack on?" She'll even make devil horns on her head with her fingers and shake her head with her tongue out when no one is looking. One time she whispered to me that she dreams of chopping my unholy alter to bits with an axe. How am I going to make this marriage work?

The first thing you should ask your (hopefully) future mother-in-law is how much does she really know about Satanism. As a Satanist, have you performed any charitable works or fundraising for people in need? Informing your fiancée's mother on how much Satanists give back to the community should give you just the leverage you need to speak with her confidently.

If she absolutely refuses to listen to anything you say, then you'll just have to live with the fact that she is unreachable. Religious intolerance is always ugly, and it gets uglier when it stands in the way of a(n) (un)holy union. But if you truly love your fiancée, then perhaps the best thing to do is to pray to the Lord of Darkness with all your heart and hope for the best.


Dear Miss Manners,

As a hitman, I have two rules: 1) No women, and 2) No children. But sometimes when I'm doing a job, it can't be helped that a family member or significant other will be there to see me "do my work" (i.e., murder their loved one.)

Throughout my long career as a hitman, I've never hurt a woman or a child. At the same time, I've had a number of children, wives, and girlfriends look on at a most inopportune time for them. Any advice on what to say when I'm caught "taking out the trash" (i.e., stuffing someone's recently deceased loved one into a trash bag)?

For touchy issues like these, it's always best to give the offended party some time. After seven days, it would be fitting for you to return to the scene of the unpleasant encounter. Probably a good idea to bring over flowers and a bottle of wine, but don't be too apologetic. After all, you were just doing your job.

If you're invited in, do your best to brighten anyone's mood with conversation. Remember: A little self-deprecating goes a long way. (e.g., "I know what you're thinking kids: Was this the best hitman that the Pucelli family could have sent? Haha. Believe me, I certainly am not. Just ask my wife - she'll be happy to tell you how lousy I am!)

Try not to overstay your welcome. If you are invited for dinner, kindly excuse yourself. Perhaps mention "another job" that has to be handled tonight. They will probably laugh at that.


Dear Miss Manners,

For many years I've employed the services of prostitutes, yet I have never had a clear idea how to handle tipping. What is the correct amount to tip, if at all?

Seventeen percent. No more. No less. Seventeen percent.


Dear Miss Manners,

Not too long ago, I used half-truths (and even some non-truths) to convince a country to enter into a war that this country had no adequate reason being involved in to begin with. Now, almost four years later, I can still feel the sneers and disapproving looks when I try to spend some time with the country. I know now that I was in the wrong. I want to apologize, but time has only aggravated the wounds I've created instead of healing them. What is there I can do?

This is nothing that a little baking cannot fix. Accrue 30,000 pounds of sugar, 40,000 pounds of flour, 8,000 eggs, 2,000 gallons of vanilla extract, and 5,000 pounds of chocolate chips. Once you have your supplies, you're almost ready to begin. To make a proper apology cake, you simply must use a gas oven. Electric simply will not do. Mix the sugar, the flour, the eggs, and the vanilla extract in an Olympic sized pool. Once adequatly mixed, let the mixture sit for half an hour. In the meantime, you will need to inspect your oven and make sure it is in pristine condition before you begin baking. Stick your head in your gas oven, and do not exit it until you have been in there for at least 25 minutes.

After that, everything should be much better. For everybody.