(Marty Fleck is a self-help guru, the author of the international bestseller Where Can I Stow My Baggage? and the syndicated column "Baggage Handling." He is also the pseudonymous protagonist of Bill Scheft's new novel Everything Hurts. He has generously agreed to answer questions from readers of the Huffington Post.)
Dear Marty Fleck,
I read that Nadya Suleman is trying to trademark the name "Octomom." I am livid. That's mine! Even though I have no children, I came up with that word after driving my nephew's little league team home from a game two years ago. I was on my cell with my sister, Sherise, and said, "Just call me Octomom." My question: Can I use the NSA wiretap of that phone call as proof to sue this craven self-promoter?
Lisa Hechter, Lexington, KY
Dear Lisa,
I am not a lawyer. I am not a doctor. But you don't need to be a doctor to know who needs a doctor. Nadya Suleman is caught in the crucible of infamy. She's got 14 children and the bank just foreclosed on her shoe. She needs our compassion. You might need Depakote. Again, I am not a doctor. I am a self-help guru, which is a charlatan with a book deal. That said, I know my way around delusion and lady, you make Nadya look like Florence Friggin Henderson.
You think the government would waste its time gratuitously tapping the phone of a private citizen who has absolutely nothing to do with homeland security and is a threat to no one? Okay, let me rephrase that. You think the government would risk exposing the Orwellian depths of its hypocrisy just to help someone cut themselves a slice of Octomom Sippy Cups and Fallopian Tube Tops? Please. Have you met the government? They can't award farm subsidies so Joe Biden can replant in his head.
Lisa, you seem like a nice girl with a lot of time. May I suggest a brisk walk to your local bookstore (on your way to the pharmacy for Depakote), where you can pick up my international best-seller, Where Can I Stow My Baggage. If you have trouble locating the book, take out your cellphone and ask the NSA agent breathing on the other end of line. They usually know where to find me.