Nouveau writes:

Dear Sir Charles,

Okay. Listen. I'm admitting up front that I'm a lady with new money. My dad used to have a struggling button factory. When the old geezer popped off my second year of community college, I took over the business. I said, let's go high-tech. No one wants wooden buttons anymore. Let's go electronic. Let's go internet. So you know those buttons you push on when you're shopping Amazon, or when you fill out an online form? Those are mine. I invented them. I make them. I manufacture them. I've got an exclusive right. I notice you have one on the page where readers can submit letters to you. So, you paying for that, dude?

Anyway, look. I'm trying to upscale myself. They tell me that if I want to break into the really big leagues where I can get Bill G. by the nads, I've gotta. So I'm going to wine tasting classes, and I hired some bitch named Martha Stewart to redo my place (I don't know who she is, but she's driving me nuts), and I'm trying to get used to this high-class food you yoicks and away types eat, because they're telling me that a diet of pizza and a brewski just isn't class with a capital K, you know?

So. This caviar stuff. What's up with that? It tastes like dog crap, only not as tasty, if you know what I mean. Do you guys really eat this stuff? Jeeeeeeez, no wonder you got those expressions like you just put something nasty in your mouth. I had a mouthful of the red caviar and next thing I know it's all over the new Lichtenstein and Martha's having a hissy fit.

So tell me, cause I've gotta know, because at this point I can take in my mouth, but I just can't swallow. Are black ones bigger and tastier?

Nouveau Riche

Sir Charles replies:

My dear young lady,

Although in general I fear that your palate will remain uneducated to an extreme that would make the average carrion-fed maggot seem like an intellectual giant along the likes of Kant, Einstein, Gandhi, and Grandiose Enterprises Ltd. Celebrity Spokesperson Posh Spice, one will rely upon an old adage that has served many a generation of young women.: Once you try black, you'll never go back.

Wishing that every letter was this simple, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose

Abdul writes:

respected sir,

my date of birth is 19of december 1951.  my name is Abdul Kadar. i want to buy a car, which number suits me? from 3526 to 3535. pls advise me.

also i want to know my future specially about my daughters.

waiting for ur advice,
Abdul Kadar.

Sir Charles replies:

My most respected foreign visitor,

How happy one is that you wish to join the throngs of  individuals clogging the roadways with badly-maintained motors blasting annoying music composed in a non-Western diatonic scale at top volume while talking upon their celluloid phones. However, one must decline your request for numerical advice, as one only gives Lucky Number advice on Thursdays in which the date is a prime number, and only then for lucky numbers between 2642 and 2657. Ever so sorry.

As for your daughters, one can see quite clearly that the oldest will soon be running away with a curry chef from Lahore with the name of Shatma Pans. As for the other seventeen daughters, one fears that their futures remain shrouded. One fears that one's all-seeing spectacles require a new prescription.

Cordially yours, one remains,
Sir Charles Grandiose

mam writes:

hi, today my sister and i got into an arguement, i told her that i could make more money then she by time i got out of college. she is going to drexel university for accounting, i want to go to college for computer programming.

i said to her i bet you i will make more money then you by time i get out of college. she is in her third year of college, i am still in high school. my average of this moment is a 80.5, but i still have time to get it up. my sister told me that i can't go to college because my grades are not high enough, and that she thought i got a 55 in my math class but i got a 77 and she said that because of that i wouldn't get into a college. also, my father has kidney disease and has to go on emergency dialysis, so she said that by time i get out of school my father might not be able to pay my college fee's and tuition.

so i want to know if i was wrong or was she wrong, about what was said? and also how can i tell her that what she said is wrong? and also i have another problem, i cry when i get really mad or frustrated. how can i prevent this from happenening?

thank you for your patience.

mam

The Lady Felicia replies:

Dear mam,

One happens to know from a long and painful experience with Melody Windover-Midden that sisters are always wrong. You needn't tell your sister that she is wrong, but you might practice a dismissive, knowing sort of smile. It will infuriate her and will be much more satisfying for you.

And you must silently tell yourself, the next time your sister angers or frustrates you, that sisters are always wrong . It will help you to feel smug (an extremely under-appreciated emotion), and the impulse to produce tears will simply vanish.

If, on the off-chance, your sister happens to be correct and a lackluster academic performance prevents you from attending the college of your choice, you are welcome to apply for a position at Blandsdown, my dear. I can make no promises, being guided in this as in all things by Sir Charles, but there may be a future for you at Blandsdown as under-maid to the maid of the antimacassar closet, or even as head sweeper of cigar ends in Sir Charles' walk-in humidor.

Serenely, one remains,
Lady Felicia Grandiose