Marge Klindera worked the Butterball Hotline for more than 25 years, helping harried housewives put together the best Turkey Day presentation possible. With Marge getting on in years, we’ve decided to enlist the services of the Broncos advice-giving QB to help with your holiday queries. Go ahead, Jay.

Oh, for love and misery, I just didn’t plan accordingly for the gosh darn holiday. I had this huge bird and not enough room to jam it into my freezer. Trying to think on my feet, I shoved the thing into a snow bank to store overnight and cook the next day. ‘Course, when I get up the next morning, a new blanket of snow had fallen and I can’t find where I put the stupid turkey. What can I do and is the thing even safe to eat if I do find it? I’m at my wit’s end.

Heather, Fort Collins

Ha. You’re dumb. But if you’re desperate, just do what Brandon Marshall does: Get McDonalds to make you a really huge McNugget. He’s a Nuggnuts, just like the ad. You seen it? Whatever, I don’t care.

So I’m stuffing the turkey while nearby my son and my sister’s kid were horsing around with some Hot Wheels cars or whatever. The hubby called me into the next room just before I stuck the thing in the oven. Hours later, when I took it out, I find there’s a melted toy car stuck right inside the bird. I know it was Bonnie’s kid. She has no idea how to parent. I asked her to host the goddamn holiday this year, but of course she told me her house isn’t in order. Like it ever is.

Sandra, Tulsa

Ha. Your family is dumb. Was it a Hazmat Hot Wheels? If not, it probably wasn’t carrying any dangerous materials. Safe to eat. Or not. I don’t know. Are we done?

Ok, so I know white people only eat pumpkin pie and black people only eat sweet potato pie, but my shitferbrains cousin Henry married one of those Obama-mixed race people and is bringing her over. Do I have to make a special sweet pumptato pie for her. Should I hide the silverware, too?

Kerry, Nashville

I grew in Santa Claus, Indiana, so I never met a black person until I signed with the Broncos. Brandon says they don’t have pumpkin or sweet potato at McDonalds, so you should go with the apple.

What type of shit do I feed to a family of Cutlerfuckers, you Cutlerfucker. I think possum shit would be good, but it’s so hard to find around these parts. Ibex shit, maybe? DON’T GET TOO COMFORTABLE, ASSHOLE. 6-5 DOESN’T GUARANTEE YOU SHIT, BILL GATES THE QUARTERBACK. THERE’S STILL TIME FOR A LATE SEASON RUN. KING PHILIP THE LASERFACED WILL PREVAIL. FUCK YOU.

Laserface, San Diego

Why don’t you shut up, Rivers. You…you…Shut up! I beat you already! Nothing wrong with my haircut. Maybe you got stupid hair, you STUPID HAIR! I HATE YOU!

Jay Cutler, ever the font of priggish wisdom, has agreed to lend an ear to some readers’ most pressing problems.

About a year ago I stumbled upon this hidden folder on my husband’s computer featuring pictures of amputees having sex with each other. All of the pictures featured sexual scenes where the stump figured prominently in the interaction and there were at least close to a hundred of them. Okay, perhaps stumbled was wrong because admittedly I was prying, as his behavior has made me a little suspicious of late. This discovery has really freaked me out. He’d been volunteering at the VA hospital for the last year and what before seemed like a really selfless act now comes off as a fulfillment of a sick fetish. I find it hard to be intimate with him knowing what is really going on in his mind. Is there a way I can discuss this with him without losing his trust?

-Severed Connection

Your husband is weird.

I followed with great interest the recent news that you had been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. I myself suffer from the same condition. I’m on a fixed income so dealing with it is a real challenge. I spend about $115 a month on insulin and that accounts for about 15 percent of my income. Sometimes I have to cut my dosage from week to week to make sure I make it to the next paycheck. I know the risks, but it’s something I’ve learned to monitor and live with. Certainly someone of your status has been exposed to effective strategies and low-cost programs for dealing with the disorder. Any help would be greatly appreciated. And Go Broncos!

-Struggling with diabeing

Get more money.

Jay, this is your mother. Why haven’t you called? Yesterday was Mother’s Day, in case you forgot. And not just in humdrum Santa Claus, Indiana. Your father took me to a lovely brunch at the Holiday Inn and snuck out a few extra biscuits like old times. You loved those biscuits so, Jay. I know you didn’t like it when we made the big scene at that game last year, but it’s only because we were so overcome with emotion watching you play. You know how your father gets. Anyway, please give me a call. Because I’m your mother and I worry. You’ll never be too old for me. And I know you want these biscuits. Judging from photos, you are about due for dad to cut your hair again. WRITE SOON!

-Mama Cutler

Biscuits!