I Am No More


Dear Chris Brown,

Three years ago, you punched your girlfriend repeatedly in the face while screaming that you were going to to kill her. You smashed her bloodied head against a car window, bit her ear and fingers, and placed her in a choke hold until she began to lose consciousness. The beating was brutal, sustained, and left your girlfriend hospitalized.

That really should have been it for you, but you hired a crisis management team, expressed an obligatory amount of remorse, and a surprising number of your idiot fans were willing to overlook the fact that you savagely beat a female.

This past week, you revealed your freshly inked neck tattoo, and it’s plainly obvious that it’s the face of a battered woman, one that bears a striking resemblance to your ex-girlfriend.

Of course, being the little punk that you are, you denied that the tattoo was of her likeness. Instead, your publicist went into damage control mode and made the ridiculous claim that your tattoo was based on a MAC Cosmetics face chart inspired by a Mexican sugar skull. To cap off the absurdity, you tweeted, “I’m an artist and this is art. Dia de los Muertos.”

I’m sorry, but you are not an artist. You’re not even a man. You are a stupid, violent child with a minor talent, and you don’t seem to realize how easily replaceable you are. If Ne-Yo and Usher each produced one extra auto-tuned B-side a year, no one would even notice you were gone.

Your music is cheap candy, a bunch of heavily processed garbage filled with artificial sweeteners and no nutritional value. That’s fine. There’s a market for R&B flavored bubble gum, but don’t go around calling yourself an artist, and let’s not pretend that your new tattoo is art.

Your tattoo is nothing but a toy badge, an empty threat from an angry boy who resents his role as a pop culture villain. Well guess what, Chris? You’re always going to be the villain. Nothing is ever going to change that, and if you don’t like it, then feel free to step off the stage.

No one will miss you.

Yours in disgust,

The Coquette

(Read my Unsolicited Advice column weekends in The Daily.)

On politicians.


How does one beat Paul Ryan?

With a riding crop, darling.

On fun sized advice.


Dear Coquette, 

I’m a 29 year old woman — am I way too old for a nose piercing?
No, but you are way too old to be asking anyone’s permission to stick things into your stupid face.

I don’t think you’re very nice.

Thank you.

Why is it that I know everything that’s wrong with me, and my life, and how to fix it, but I can’t seem to want to change it enough to actually do it. Why?

Self-awareness is not the same thing as self-control.

I am relatively sought-after, but my high standards have made me lonely. How do I fix this?

Your high standards aren’t the problem. It’s your unreasonable expectations that are keeping you lonely. There’s a difference.

Why do I feel bad about being a routine person who isn’t constantly out and about having new experiences?

Don’t worry. You’re just feeling the effects of advertising.

My girlfriend just confirmed my fear that I’m selfish and inconsiderate. How do we make this work?

There is no “we” who has to make this work. You are the one with your head up your ass. You are the one who has to remove it.

Why do so many people feel they are entitled to happiness?

The problem isn’t people feeling they’re entitled to happiness. The problem is people feeling they’re more entitled to happiness than others.

I have 3 kids and a great husband. I live in a small town and don’t work. Why am I not happy? Why do I want to move to a bigger city? Why won’t my hair grow faster?

The answer to all three questions is simply that you’re bored.

Do you think that people such as Courtney Robertson always get their way?

Please do not idealize reality TV personalities. They are cartoons, a grotesque collection of narcissists and imbeciles willing to sacrifice their dignity at the altar of celebrity culture. They are never to be taken seriously.

When someone says, “I’ve fallen out of love with you,” does it really mean, “I think I can find someone better?” I just wanted to know if it’s a line like, “it’s not you” where it really means something else.

“I’ve fallen out of love with you” is significantly worse than “I think I can find someone better,” but you can’t see that because your wounded ego is trying to process your pain with jealousy instead of forgiveness.

We hooked up, he hasn’t called. Would it be insane to try to have a relationship with him?

A relationship? Slow down there, Zippy McCrazypants. Try finding out what he looks like in daylight before you start planning the wedding. Baby steps.

I keep retreating into inactivity and mindlessly surfing the web. I’ve been asleep for at least ten years now. How can I wake up?

There is no grand answer to that question, nor does there need to be. The point is that you keep asking yourself every day.

What are your thoughts on boycotting Chick-fil-A, whose CEO recently slammed gay marriage?

Feel free to boycott, but don’t expect it to make a dent in Dan Cathy’s ignorance or his bottom line.

If he’s under police investigation, he’s not at all boyfriend material, right?

If you have to ask this question, you’re not girlfriend material either.

Why do I always go to the bathroom during work to masturbate?

Because you’d get fired if you did it at your workstation.

I’m attracted to my boyfriend’s sister. How do I deal with this?

Whatever you do, don’t suggest a threesome.

My boyfriend has never eaten a girl out, and refuses to eat me out. Advice?

Find a new boyfriend.

Would you do it again?

Twice and harder.

❥ klarathemes