In today’s edition of Dear Reader, I will try to help an individual with a most peculiar problem. At 7:09 pm on September 27, 2008, a visitor from Aukland, Australia, came to my site after searching the following:
“my wife hates my snakeskin cowboy”
A big thanks to Google for referring this reader to me.
Dear Reader,
Your search has brought up so many questions I want — nay, NEED — to ask you.
First, is this “person” with the snakeskin outer layer truly a cowboy, or does “he” simply wear a cowboy hat to hide his snake-ish facial features?
Secondly, if he is a cowboy, do you have any photos of him riding on a horse or lassoing a stray calf? If yes, could you please send me some?
Thirdly, where did you find this snakeskin cowboy? Did he run away from the circus? Is he your son?
Fourthly and finally, if he is your son, does that mean you were once romantic with a snake? How does that even work?
My hunch is he’s your son. I cannot imagine someone welcoming an escaped midget freak into their home. A bearded lady is one thing. Heck, I used to to date a bearded lady. But a snakeskin cowboy is entirely different.
If he’s your son, as I suspect, is your wife his step-mother? Do you suspect her dislike of him has more to do with the fact he’s not her own flesh or blood, or because he has scales instead of skin?
My hunch is your wife hates your snakeskin cowboy son because of his scales. I wish there was a simple solution to your problem, but unfortunately there isn’t one. If you want your wife to get over her snakeskin cowboy stepson prejudices, it’s going to take some time, hard work and patience.
Find ways for your wife and stepson to enjoy some quality time together.
For example, do they both like movies? Perhaps watching Anaconda or Snakes on a Plane would help your wife become more comfortable with having a stepson who looks like a snake. As for cowboy films, I recommend Open Range with Kevin Costner and Robert Duvall. It’s very underrated.
The important thing is to encourage them to do things together. Things won’t improve overnight, but they will improve in time. And if they don’t, you will have a decision to make. Do you get rid of your wife, or do you get rid of your son?
My opinion, for what it’s worth: wives are easier to come by than snakeskin cowboy sons who may or may not be able to ride horses and lasso calves.
Sincerely,
kev
P.S. In the remote chance you meant to search for “snakeskin cowboy boots,” tell your wife she is crazy. Snakeskin cowboy boots are awesome.
What sort of advice would YOU have given our friend here? What should he do to get his wife and son to bond? If things can’t be worked out, which one should he give the boot?
As always, leave lots of and lots of comments — one or two or ten, preferrably.
I'm a cypher, wrapped in an enigma, smothered in secret sauce. Also, my name is Kev and I own this here website.
















;-) 9.29.08 at 10:46 am:
Perhaps Reader’s wife DOES hate the snakeskin cowboy son, but doesn’t hate snakeskin cowboy boots. I am thinking perhaps Reader should just make his son INTO boots. A little grotesque? Sure. But it’s a win-win situation.
;-) 9.29.08 at 11:48 am:
@Angi: See, that’s one of the things I like about you. You’re not afraid to think outside the box. If the box was here, you would be over there. If the box was there, you would be here. The box is doing its best to get you to think inside it, but you’re much too fast for it.
;-) 9.29.08 at 11:56 am:
The box isn’t the boss of me!!!
;-) 9.29.08 at 12:46 pm:
Ha, Angi’s idea is great! Snakes are scary and a smart, half-human snakelike creature would be worse. But boots aren’t scary at all.
;-) 9.29.08 at 4:12 pm:
@Angi: You smacked that box around like an overly sensitive ex-boyfriend who cries too much. Good job!
@Erin: Wouldn’t you be scared of the boots coming back to life? How would you like to sleep with THOSE in the room with you??
;-) 9.29.08 at 9:50 pm:
What box? I never see the box.
“Snakeskin cowboy” is an expression that means snoring.
Honest.
Tell your reader to get some breathe-right strips. They come in a box.
Jenny’s last blog post: Times Is Hard … Right?