I’m sick of everything. The Super Bowl was
stupid, television sucks, skiers hate snowboarders and vice
versa, and everything drains me. Am I depressed, and if so,
what can I do about it?
Don’t worry about your depression. All you need is good
old-fashioned meds and everything will get better. My personal
favorite med is a good Old-Fashioned with extra bourbon.
that the Grammys are over, can you explain the difference between
the album of the year and the record of the year?
– Ginsel, via e-mail
“Record” refers to what most of us call a “single”
or “song,” while “album” refers to a
long-playing release which usually includes a number of singles/songs.
My guess is that when the Grammys were first given out, records
could only hold one song, hence the designation of a single
as a “record.” A record “album” can
thus be seen as a collection of records, much as a photo album
is a collection of photographs. Perhaps if you were a 100 percent
certified genius like me, you could have figured this out on
– Thanks, Diver
neighbor is driving me nuts! He’s constantly partying,
cranking music late into the night and being a general nuisance.
I’m sick of it. I’ve called the police on numerous
occasions, and they come over and speak with him, but this never
stops. I’m about to take the law into my own hands, however
I feel my anger pitted against his drunken ramblings will end
up with me hurting him. What should I do?
I talked to your neighbor. You actually drive him nuts with
your dull ways! Look, he’s just trying to show you the
healing powers of a rock-n-roll party. Why can’t you just
lighten up? Next time you hear that sweet ol’ rock-n-roll
coming from his house, just pop on over and P-A-R-T-Y!
– Yours truly, Diver
Dan Groth of Buzz House/Mai Thai
Facts: Dan wants to get
paid for his Diver services.
Got a dirty little secret?
Looking for guidance to remedy a sticky situation?
Seek help from the master of the kitchen! The Dish Diver has solutions
to life's little messes. Send your problems to "Ask
the Diver." - By mail to Durango Telegraph - Attn
Diver -534 Main Ave., Durango, CO 81301; by email at
or by fax at 259-0448.
I have a bizarre quandary. I have an unnatural aversion
to the “McDonald Land Gang,” which keeps me from
enjoying the fast-food chain’s tasty treats or even entering
the premises without a terrible feeling of dread. My refusal
to go to the restaurant is affecting my relationships with others.
I feel this fear may stem from the strangeness of having a skinny
clown as a mascot for a temple of heft. What can I do?
Lost in the hefty Midwest
I can sympathize with you, but for reasons of my own. You see,
years ago I was in McDonaldland working on the campaign to get
Mayor McCheese re-elected. One day, I witnessed some ballot-box
tampering by Ronald McDonald and decided to report it to the
police. What I didn’t realize, however, was that Sheriff
Big Mac had been receiving payoffs from the Mayor McCheese/Ronald
McDonald political machine for years.
I immediately got thrown in the slammer on some cooked-up charges
and was put in the same cell as the notorious Hamburglar, who
had murdered at least 30 Fry Guys during his vicious career.
(To this day, I get a cold sweat when I hear anything resembling
the “rubble rubble” he always muttered).
After my eight-year sentence, I swore I’d never return
to McDonaldland, regardless of the entreaties by my beloved
Birdie McBird. I arrived in the United States, changed my name
and got plastic surgery. You may know me from my original name:
Grimace. I suggest everyone stay away from McDonalds, for your
sake and my own.