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Advice from Strangers

This Week's Guest:

Location: Riley's Last Resort Bar And Grill
Time: 1:15 a.m.

Dear Barney,

I love you, Barney. But sometimes Im sad. Mommy and Daddy yell at each other all the time. Mommy says its because Daddy cant keep it in his pants. I think she means his wallet, because he looses it all the time after hes been drinking Daddy-pops. Can you tell them to stop?

Lucy, age 6

Dear Lucy,

So Daddy's been out getting a little reverse-cowgirl on the side, huh? Well, can you BLAME him? Your mom's probably some prissy little goody-good who doesn't know a Dirty Sanchez from a dirty fuckin' tea-towel. You want grief? I have to wear this fucking outfit up to 10 fucking hours a day. This fucker is hotter than Jenna Jameson's ass during an anal-bukkake shoot! Throw me under those super-fucking-nova lights and I lose more water weight than Angus Young at a concert in Phoenix! But does my wife care? No! Fucking prude. She's all like, "Eeewww, you're all sweaty!" Well, no shit! I just sweated away 40 fucking pounds! But will she let me sweat away another pound with a couple minutes of the good stuff? NO! Frigid tightass. No wonder I've been fucking that hot little intern in the Baby Bop suit. Time's short, and I have needs. NEEDS, DAMMIT! Roxie! Roxie baby, could you dance that hot little ass of yours over to the bar and get me another double Dewar's? Man, she's got a caboose that SCREAMS Dirty Sanchez. Not like that fucking NUN I have to go home to.


Dear Barney,

My brother has a girl friend. But I think girls are icky. Will he give me cooties?

Daniel, age 6

Dear Daniel,

Hmmm. That's a fuckin' noodle-scratcher all right. Cooties, eh? If you mean crabs, well, you never know, do you? What kind of girl is this girlfriend? I mean, does she look like she's been ridden hard and put away wet? You tell your brother Barney says to make sure he wraps the ol' tomahawk before dippin' his wick. You never know, these days. They got some shit floating around out there that'll make your dick fall off faster than Mr. Rogers' post-mortem ratings. I kid! I kid! Rogers was a fuck of a guy. That guy could pound tequila like nobody's fuckin' business. A toast! Here's to ol' Fred Rogers! He never met a chick he couldn't nail, and he never met a drink he couldn't fuckin' drain! Whatafuckinguy! Huh? Wha'? I will NOT keep it fucking down, you Nazi fucking bartender fuck! I'M FUCKING BARNEY, you minimum-wage douchebag! I make more in fucking toy sales in a DAY than you did all last year! I am NOT fucking drunk! I'm raising a toast to a GREAT FUCKING ENTERTAINER! Roxie, tell that dickhead. FINE! I'm going. Here's 10 bucks. Buy yourself a decent shirt, you FUCK! I'm gonna TRASH this place on the air tomorrow. You just signed your foreclosure papers, ass-clown! Uh oh. I think I'm gonna puke ... Fuck, I gotta get this dinosaur head off or it'll stink for a month.


(Transcribed By Greg Preece)

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