Hey Gernie!

You could call your mom, but Gernie's smarter.

**DISCLAIMER**

Any actions taken as a direct result of Gernie’s advice remain, legally, the full responsibility of the person or persons taking the actions. The staff of Stringphone, including Gernie Retreat, absolve themselves publicly of responsibility for the results of such actions.

Use this form to submit questions to Gernie.

1/12/24

Dear Gernie,

I’ve never written an advice columnist before, and frankly, it feels quite desperate, but I guess that’s what I truly am feeling: desperate! The cat’s out of the bag, and I mean, really, there’s a problem with my cat.

For the past four nights at about two o’clock in the morning, I’ve been awakened with an awful fright. At first, I thought it could be just an average run-of-the-mill nuisance like the boom of a weapons test or a car door slamming shut nearby, but no. I’ve been awakened by the looming sight of my cat floating before my eyes.

He doesn’t seem to be bothered much by it because, after a few moments, he floats back down and curls up on his usual spot on the ottoman. Initially, after encountering this phenomenon night after night, this gave me quite a shock. My mind began to race with questions like, “Why is my cat floating?” “How does a cat float?” “Is he trying to tell me something?” “Is this the end?” However, we haven’t even gotten to the worst part. What’s making me pull my hair out is the fact that my husband DOES NOT BELIEVE ME. 

After watching the cat defy gravity two nights in a row, I decided to set an alarm and make my husband wake up at exactly two on the dot to witness the cat float with me. When two o’clock hit, my husband jolted awake, put on his glasses, focused his gaze on the cat, and waited. And waited. That fucker didn’t even budge.

On night four, I fell asleep convinced I had just been dreaming it all. Cats don’t float, and sometimes cold medicine gives me weird dreams. That would definitely explain it, except I woke again with the same eerie feeling and was greeted with the sight of whiskers in the moonlight when the witching hour came once more.

Now my husband thinks I’m trying to gaslight him. I can’t take it! What’s worse, trying and failing to convince your spouse that the cat floats or the fact that THE CAT FLOATS? 

—Desperate in Sugarbean Square

Dearest Desperate in Sugarbean Square,

I would like to begin by stating how pleased I am that you worked up the “gumption,” as they call it, to finally write in to an advice columnist, like myself. Every addiction, grief, and recovery specialist in the nation will tell you that this is the first and only step to healing, especially in light of the horrors you’ve been facing as of late. When we face difficult times, like a best friend betraying you, accidentally adding one too many rat pellets to your cousin’s birthday cake, or repeatedly discovering our cat, airborne, at the most inconvenient times, it’s important to remember that we can’t control our circumstances, but we can control what we do in light of them. Now — let’s begin with that fucker of yours.

Your husband seems to bear a striking resemblance to a man I once married, a man who tried to change my name from Gernie S. Retreat to Gertie S. Rumpus. No, that is not a mis-type. He tried to change both my last name and my first name. He stated that the name “Gernie,” beautiful as it is, reminded him too much of the light-show infirmary trucks, and not enough of the captivating woman who slept beside him. That fucker is now dead.

But I digress… We must first address the root of your issue: your husband’s belief that his sense of reality is superior to yours. We’ll see about that! Please see the instructions below for a fool-proof way to cure him:

Step 1: Every night, after your spouse is asleep, pluck five to six and a half bristles from his toothbrush. (Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more humbling, than believing you have such horse teeth, that a toothbrush for mere mortals is no longer functional for you.)

Step 2: Tell him that the Pordsens have been asking about him. As questions arise, simply respond, “You don’t remember the Pordsens? You’re unbelievable.” (If you are so unfortunate as to actually know the Pordsens, you may substitute with “the Harkies”.)

Step 3: Begin shipping off your belongings (one at a time in order to avoid suspicion) to Dye Phoid Inc., a remarkable non-profit that will dye anything (and I do mean anything) for half the price of a packet of KoolAid. Select your favorite color, and slowly replace items as they return in their new hue. Soon, he’ll begin to ask questions like, “Did you order this purple blanket?” Or “Is this purple remote new?” Or “Has the cat always had such a purple-y sheen?” By this point, we’ll have him right where we want him. Enter code GERNGERL at checkout for 32% off your first order. 

This brings me to Step 4, which, in case you were wondering, does indeed involve that floating cat of yours. The real problem here is not that your cat is floating. In fact, there is often such joy to uncover when discovering a new talent in the family! Now that your husband is surely questioning his grasp on reality, we must simply craft an opportunity for your husband to spot the cat in flight. 

You can begin by tying your husband to the bed. He may scream in delight believing that Fear Factor has finally received its much deserved reboot, and that he has finally been chosen as a contestant. He may begin to ask, “When will Joe Rogan be here?” Simply smile and nod. Everything is going according to plan. 

Next, locate a rope-like object, such as a bedsheet, jumprope, or paracord. Create a lasso loop, reenter the bedroom, and say “It is time to giddy up,” as you successfully rope the body of the ceiling fan.

For this final step, let’s suppose that your cat’s name is, say, “Paul.” Tell Paul that it’s time for the performance of his lifetime. Wrap him securely in a blanket or towel, based on Paul’s preference. Gently tie him in the rope-like structure hanging from the ceiling fan, while being especially careful not to harm the beast. He is, after all, an especially special cat. At this point, you are free to flip the power switch and look on in amazement as your husband takes in the majesty that is Paul in flight.

Sincerely,

--Gernie

1/17/24

Hey Gernie, 

I feel like I’m losing my relative to the Shadowy Corporate Entity? What do I do?

--Grieving in Gangrene

Dearest Grieving in Gangrene,

Losing a relative can be a difficult experience, but the good news is that we can always make new ones. Head down to Build-a-Being at the Monger Mall to customize the appearance, political leaning, and dental hygiene of your very own relative. Use my code GERNMA for 21% off at checkout. 

Sincerely, 

--Gernie

1/29/24

Howdy Gernie,

My Craigslist roommate makes cat noises and paws at a balloon taped to a wall whenever I try to have a conversation with her. What do I do?

Best,

--Lonely in Lunchland 

Dearest Lonely in Lunchland,

We’ve all been there. Simply visit your local library, print 10-12 articles about the links between latex usage and late-onset cardiac emulsification, and begin sliding them under your roommate’s door. If that doesn’t do the trick, call animal control. 

Sincerely, 

--Gernie