Why Dear Abby Sucks

I have an obsession with advice columns. I read them voraciously. Carolyn Hax, Ask Amy, Annie's Mailbox, Dear Prudence, Dear Margo, Miss Manners, Classic Ann Landers, and Dear Abby. I try to hold off reading any for a few days or a week and then read them all at once in a massive advice binge. It was this habit of mine, of reading seven or eight columns at once, that first alerted me to the fact that Dear Abby is the worst advice columnist in the history of the world.

A little history, because the column hasn't always been this bad: The original "Abigail Van Buren" was Pauline Esther Friedman Philips, the identical twin sister of "Ann Landers," Esther Pauline Friedman Lederer, and they feuded for much of their adult lives over their warring columns. (There's a really good biopic starring Wendy Malik.) While Ann Landers was always the superior column, Dear Abby held her own quite nicely until 1995, when Pauline Philips was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and her daughter, Jeanne Philips, took over advice-giving duties.

The first thing you'll notice when you read a Dear Abby column immediately after, say, Ask Amy, is that Jeanne Philips is not a very good writer. If you read her column after you've read Miss Manners or Dear Prudence, you'll discover that she's not funny, even when she tries really hard. After a Carolyn Hax column, you'll realize that Dear Abby's counsel is superficial and trite, when not completely wrong-headed. This is the biggest problem. Her advice is really bad. Let's look at some recent examples:

To a young woman whose coworkers disrupted her reading in the break room:

Another thought: Place a Do Not Disturb sign with large lettering next to you if you think it will help them get the hint.

Really, Abby? Putting a sign up telling her friendly coworkers to leave her alone is going to foster a harmonious work environment? Good call. Or how about this one? A professional pianist is having difficulty. He plays in stores, restaurants, and lounges and his patrons often ask him questions midsong. Because he cannot play and talk at the same time, he has to either stop playing or ignore them until he finishes. What to do? Abby starts off with,

I have it on good authority, as well as personal experience in piano bars years ago, that many pianists can not only play and talk, but also play and sing.

You guys, Dear Abby is kind of a bitch. Maybe many pianists can, but this guy can't, and he's the one asking for help. Also, I think playing and singing is called self-accompaniment and is different than carrying on a conversation that has no relation to the music you're performing. This one's the worst in the last month. A woman sought counsel when the son she gave up for adoption in her youth found her. Her husband has threatened to leave her if she tells their adult children about this son or has any contact with him. Here's what Abby says:

From the tone of your letter your husband is the dominant partner in your marriage. If that's the case, and you really think he would leave you after all these years because you leveled with your children about the fact that they have a half-brother, then keep the secret.

However, if your relationship with your husband is anything approaching a partnership, then stand up for yourself and make it clear that you are the sum total of all your experiences -- both the joyful and the painful -- and you need to see your son, thank his family for the love and care they have given him, and let your adult children make up their own minds about whether they want to be contacted.

So if your husband is domineering, just keep your mouth shut, because it's better for you to lie to your children and ignore the son searching for his history than to be without your controlling spouse. Implicit in this advice is the idea that by marrying someone controlling she has given up the right to make her own choices. It also seems to say that her domineering husband is right to be ashamed of her and her past choices. The second paragraph--suggesting the exact opposite course of action, but only if her marriage is a partnership--makes clear that remaining silent and kowtowing to her husband's every whim for the rest of her life is her punishment for choosing such a poor mate. Apparently no one can change their circumstances or correct their mistakes in Abigail Van Buren's world. And that's a world I don't want to live in.