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You probably get lots of e-mails from hopefuls wanting to become advice columnists, but I thought I would ask anyway: How does one become a successful advice columnist? I believe that I have something to offer. I give advice to friends and family, and I’m sure that there are many other people out there who would benefit from my advice. I am not interested in simply spouting my opinions: I am interested in helping people. Any suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated!

—Wannabe Advice Columnist

I’ll get to your question in a moment, WAC, but first some thoughts about a man who spouts opinions for a living. . . .

Some of you probably caught me on Bill O’Reilly’s show, The O’Reilly Factor, on Fox News last week. I was on his show to promote my new book, Skipping Towards Gomorrah: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Pursuit of Happiness in America, and O’Reilly began our segment by barking at me about owing royalties to Robert Bork, the conservative author and social critic who wrote Slouching Towards Gomorrah. Of course, if I owe Bork money then Bork owes money to Joan Didion, author of Slouching Toward Bethlehem, and all three of us owe money to the estate of W.B. Yeats, the poet who got this “(blanking) towards (someplace)” business rolling.

Anyway, I was having a nice enough chat with the combative Mr. O’Reilly, holding my own, defending pot smokers and sex educators and other sinners. And then, O’Reilly asked me what I thought about gay bathhouses. I made the mistake of telling O’Reilly the truth: I hate gay bathhouses and I think they should be closed. This is not a new position. I’ve been an on-the-record gay bathhouse basher for 10 years now. (And, guys, are gay bathhouses even necessary these days? Web sites like gay.com have basically turned every gay man’s apartment into a virtual/potential gay bathhouse, so do we really need to go to the real thing anymore? Why eat out when you can order in?)

O’Reilly pounced: “I want to go to a gay bathhouse!” he barked. “I want to go to a gay bathhouse!” I was stunned. There I was sitting across the table from the darling of the American right and . . . and . . . he was shouting at me about wanting to go to a gay bathhouse. “If I want to pursue happiness in a gay bathhouse, shouldn’t I be free to do that, Mr. Savage?” I didn’t know what to say. If Bill O’Reilly wanted to go to a gay bathhouse, well, who was I to tell him he shouldn’t? “I want to go to a gay bathhouse! I want to go to a gay bathhouse!” I told O’Reilly that he was right, admitted that my urge to close gay bathhouses was inconsistent with my do-whatever-feels-good positions on drugs and other sexual acts. “You win,” I said, but really I was thinking, “Get me the hell away from this guy before he shouts ‘I want to go to a gay bathhouse’ again!” Picturing gay men in a gay bathhouse is revolting enough; picturing Bill O’Reilly in a gay bathhouse? That could put a gay guy off gay sex for the rest of his unnatural life.

But it occurred to me as I was leaving Fox News that there had to be a talented DJ or two out there who can’t stand O’Reilly. . . . So, Mr. DJ, why not sample Bill O’Reilly barking “I want to go to a gay bathhouse!,” put a catchy beat under it, and release it as an underground dance single? An ambitious DJ might make a video to go along with the single—a video that shows Bill O’Reilly barking “I want to go to a gay bathhouse!” over and over again. If someone pulls together “I Want to Go to a Gay Bathhouse!,” I’m positive it will be the surprise dance hit this winter in Ibiza. And wouldn’t that be lovely?

Okay, back to WAC’s letter.

Since I’m still on a book tour—have I mentioned that I’m on a book tour?—I’m writing this week’s column just like I wrote last week’s column: sitting on an airplane under the influence of two anti-anxiety medications (washed down with two anti-anxiety vodka and tonics), which means I’m in no condition to give advice to anyone—for the second week in a row! (If this keeps up I’m gonna get drummed out of the American Association of Advice Columnists for sure.) As I’m in no condition to give advice, I decided to run a few letters from people that I wouldn’t want to give advice to anyway—and that’s where you come in, WAC. I do get lots of letters from “hopefuls,” as you call them, and it always blows my mind. Here’s a newsflash for all the wannabes out there: No advice columnist on earth wants to help other people “get started.” Why would we? This is a competitive business, and none of us are interested in creating any more competition. So I’m sorry, WAC, but you’re on your own.

I know you give advice about sex, but I was wondering if maybe you could also give some career advice. I’m a wannabe sex columnist. I’m in college and I write a sex/relationship column for the campus newspaper. Now I’m looking for some advice myself. Sound career advice in this line of work is hard to come by.

—CJ

You want some sound career advice, CJ? OK: You should definitely think about having a career—a real career, in some other field. You had a nice little run at your campus paper, but now it’s time to find a real job. It appears that all the attention you college sex columnists have been getting in daily papers lately has gone to your heads. Let me set you straight: Your experience writing for a college paper may have left with you a false impression about the availability of jobs at newspapers in general and the availability of advice-column gigs in particular.

At college papers, editors, reporters, arts writers, op-ed columnists, and sex- and relationship-advice columnists are always up and graduating. Consequently, jobs at college papers open up a regular clip. In real life, however, people don’t graduate, they retire or they die, so jobs at real newspapers can take years and sometimes decades to open up. Since writing an advice column is a job that you can pretty much do in your sleep or on your deathbed, advice column gigs almost never open up. Look at Ann Landers: Her column had to be pried from her cold, dead hands. My column will have to be pried from my hands, too.

So here’s my advice for you, JC (and for everyone else who keeps asking me for advice about getting competing sex or advice columns off the ground): Don’t kid yourselves. Stop bothering me. Get a real job.

Dan Savage’s new book, Skipping Towards Gomorrah (Dutton), is on sale now. For more info, or to find out about Dan’s tour dates and signings, go to skippingtowards gomorrah.com. Send your Savage Love questions to mail@savagelove.net


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