Need some guidance about that snaky spouse of yours? At a loss for what to do about that annoying cubicle mate who can't distinguish between his inside and outside voice? Stuck at a fork trying to figure out which utensil to use for that forkin' flambe?

America's features pages feel your pain, and they're here to help. Need help? All you have to do is ask Amy, dialogue with Dr. Laura, send a missive to Ms. Manners, or consult one of the Dears: Abby (care of her daughter Jeanne), Prudence or Margo.

And, to be sure, these presumed purveyors of moral and ethical pith aren't lacking any confidence. How else to explain such humble monikers as the Advice Diva or Mother Wisdom?

(Advice Goddess? Here's a freebie: Get over yourself.)

So why is it that there aren't more male advice columnists? It's not that women don't give excellent advice (see the blogspot: "The Bitch is In: The Best Advice You'll Ever Not Take"), but aren't we men the supposedly compulsive problem solvers? Aren't we the ones who so ungraciously blurt advice instead of listening (and listening and listening)? We should be perfect for a medium in which the format is strictly ask-and-answer.

Why waste all that page space with expressions of false sympathy, weaselly qualifications, old-biddy chastisements and reprints of gag-inducing inspirational poems, when you can dispense of the task with masculine efficiency?

My guy friends are a generally self-reliant bunch, not given to serial gut-spilling, anxiety-letting or relationship-moaning, but there are those few who morph into the stereotypical "beer broad" after a few too many.

For them, I devised a highly sophisticated 10-point list of interchangeable responses suitable for any crisis (sort of a Magic 8-ball with two bonus responses).

Whether it's a 20-year estrangement from your parents, a tweezy spouse with designs on your uni-brow or a boss who fails to recognize the genius of your work, what problem couldn't be solved with one of these bits of sage advice?