Friday, May 31, 2013

Question: So, I keep reading about this Rob Ford crack thing, and my understanding is that fat crackheads are as mythological in nature as a unicorn or a hot chick who enjoys cooking and cleaning. Can you enlighten me?

Hey, fat chicks don't like cleaning either.

There aren't any fat crackheads because by definition when you're a 'something-head' it means you do that shit a lot and are defined by it. If you do crack a lot, all your money goes to the crack and the kneepads necessary to protect your blowjobby knees.

So I guess if you're suggesting that Rob Ford isn't a crackhead because he's fat and his knees don't look sore, then you're probably onto something.

Short Answer: Could you imagine needing something so much that you'd do weird things to people's junk just so you could get it? Rhetorical. We all could.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Question: How Often do you do laundry?

I fear that the reason you capitalized 'often' in the question above is because you would like me to be specific, and avoid discussing how 'well' I do laundry or how 'naked' I do laundry or how 'sexy' I do laundry.


I do laundry poorly and simply.
I'm very naked when I do it.
It's the right amount of sexy.

You're welcome.

Now, as for how often, I'd say not much. In my house, that's a chore that my wife handles. It's similar to other chores she has to handle, but the laundry isn't as full of blood. (Except, of course, after 'Murdery Tuesday'.)

I probably do laundry once a month, or once every seventeen minutes, or somewhere in between. I don't know. I don't wear much clothes, and I like them stinky when I do put them on. It goes with my look.

Short Answer: I tried to buy some new clothes the other day, because I hadn't in a couple of years, and it cost me a billion dollars. Seriously, clothes are too expensive. Though if I was rich, I might be that guy who wears new underwear every day then throws them out. That's exactly the right amount of prickishness for me.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Question: What is the cooler profession, lead singer of a rock band or vampire hunter?

Money: Rock Singer

This is an easy one. Vampire Hunters may very well have day jobs, but rarely do they have the sort that can supply them with the income that a Rock Singer has the potential of bringing in. I mean, there are the weekend warrior set of Vampire Hunters, and some of them have great jobs during the week, but let's be honest, they aren't real Vampire Hunters, are they?

Chicks: Rock Singer

The job inherently comes along with some celebrity worship, even at the lowest levels. I've gotten full, naked oily rubdowns just for telling girls I was in a band, without them even seeing said fictional band perform. Even the most handsome Vampire Hunters are often haggard from staying up all night, praying for dawn.

Fame: Rock Singer

Again, fame is inherent once you make it to a certain level. As a Vampire Hunter, you pretty much have to kill Dracula or nobody gives a shit. And then it's just a fifteen minute ride anyway. The perks of fame are hard to let go of when you've had them only briefly.

Self-Worth: Vampire Hunter

A lot of creative types are wormy pieces of shit on the inside, too afraid to face reality, drinking and fucking away their fears and insecurities. Vampire Hunters kill monsters, with a very difficult to learn, applied skill. They're often scholars, trained soldiers and martial arts masters, with proud lineages of monster hunting. And they are keeping your pretty little neck safe, and they know it.

Happiness: Rock Singer

They say money can't by happiness. Poor people say that, I mean. If you aren't happy and you have money, you just spend your whole life trying awesome shit to see what makes you happy. That's pretty much better than sitting still and just being happy. Also, despite the fulfillment one would feel killing vampires, there's also the guilt. Are they all bad? Do they really deserve to die just because they're a predator? Should we kill sharks because they feed on us once in awhile, too? Should we make soup out of their fins? Tough life.

Leather Pants: Tie

Short Answer: The lead singer of a rock band takes it, with more girls, great pants and the ability to drown sorrows with money. Vampire Hunters can only drown bloodsuckers in holy water, then take sad, rape showers to wash away the pain until their water gets cut off because they bought a new silver tipped stake on eBay rather than pay their bill.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Question: Dear Keith, I asked for a raise at work and management gave me a breakdown of what they assume I could make elsewhere. How would you react?

I never did well in real work situations. The workplace and I don't agree, because I'm not allowed to have my balls out there. This is also why I don't agree with church, the Kiwanis club, or outside.

In that situation, I would tell everyone who would listen to go on ahead and fuck themselves. Simple as that. Actually, not that simple. I'd probably let them all know that I'd fornicated in their mothers' mouthholes.

She said she loved having it near her face, I'd say. Then I'd make a round of fake fart noises, cup those fake farts in my hand, and spread them around a little. Just like I spread their mothers' bum cheeks last night.

Here's the thing. If someone won't give you a straight answer, you should have sex with their mother. That's what they deserve. If they're not going to man up and do what's proper, truthful and right, they should be forced to picture you, hairy balls deep in their own mother's wrinkly bottom, while she asks politely to take a sniff afterward.

Short Answer: I try to have sex with as many people's mothers as I can, just in case they ever cross me. There's nothing like the delightful ring of truth when it comes to a story about shitting in a woman's purse.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Question: There is a mouse in my girlfriend's apartment, what should I do?

Because there are some pretty straight forward and obvious paths to follow - catching and releasing it, putting down traps, calling an exterminator - I'm going to go right on ahead and assume this is a metaphor.

If there's a 'mouse' in your girlfriend's 'apartment' what you should do is avoid sticking your fingers in there until she's had a chance to let the blood reabsorb. Then, when the 'mouse' has tucked his head all the way back into the 'apartment' give it another day and make sure there's no soreness. Then, with lots of lubricant, you can put your lumpy business back up in there.

Now, if this doesn't make any sense, perhaps your metaphor isn't hemorrhoidal in nature. Maybe it's someone else's 'mouse' in your girlfriend's 'apartment'. If that's the case, you need to go to the mouse whole and lay down a bunch of tasty cheese that has been injected with a cocktail of sexually transmitted diseases. Next time this other 'mouse' is let into your girlfriend's 'apartment', she'll hopefully get some life destroying combination of conditions. Herpcrabs or something. (By the way, make sure you're entirely finished putting your own rodent up into her abode before you get it all messed up with puss-producing party favors. You don't want to mess up the next 'apartment' you visit.)

Some domiciles can exist with many rats running around. Just make sure to put a plastic bag over your capybara before you let it bang around in your lady's penthouse. You don't want your furry snout rubbing up aginst someone else's cabinet liquor.

Another piece of advice, if your lady is the kind that likes black squirrels in her hacienda, you might be fighting a losing battle. Try taking your chipmunk next door.

Short Answer: Mouse in apartment euphemisms I didn't get a chance to 'jam in there':

Hamster in the guest house.
Beaver in the split-level.
Gopher in the bungalow.
Porcupine in the duplex.
Groundhog in the condo.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Question: If I think that every time I masturbate, that the next day something bad will happen in my life, does that make me OCD or simply self-loathing?

What I'm hearing is that you only masturbate once every couple of days. There's your problem. If you just go at yourself on a more regular basis, you won't have time for guilt or self-loathing, just a break here and there for purposeful trips to the lube dispensary.

If you really link any sort of enjoyment in your life to guilt, you're not going to be a very happy person. Even murderers have to let that shit go so they can enjoy the spurting blood and sing their death lullabies in the right key with full voice. Hard to serenade a struggling victim if your throat is clenched up with shame.

You're definitely not OCD. Here's OCD. 'I masturbate constantly. Every time I see a woman I have to masturbate. Then I count the strokes evenly. Three right hand, three left hand, nine right hand backstroke, flick the tip seven times..." If this sounds familiar to you, call me. I've a game we can play. It's called synchronized something or other.

Jerk it when you want to and feel good about the fact that you're enjoying your life. People worry to much about shit like that. As long as you're not hurting anyone, have a good time. Just don't play romantic music, okay? When you start romancing your own balls, it's time to get a job, hippie.

Short Answer: You may be self-loathing for entirely different reasons. Don't get it mixed up with happy, happy fun times.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Question: What are your thoughts on the mayor of Toronto?

I think it's a great example that because everyone has a camera you really have little privacy as a public figure of any kind. You think you can smoke crack with your homies on the weekend without getting busted up, but your dead wrong, son.

In a way, I can't help but like him. Just think of how careful people with any amount of celebrity have to be nowadays. I like the idea that there's a guy who doesn't seem to give a shit about that. Or he's a dumb ass and he's hilarious, either way.

I wonder if the overexposure of celebrities through iphones and media is actually creating a less interesting breed of celebrity? Gone are the days of drunken debauchery in the mainstream. Now, specific people get lit up (lookin' at you Lohan). Back in the day, if someone was caught doing something naughty, they could make a public statement, say they were in rehab or back on track, we'd believe them or we wouldn't and life would move on. Now we get to watch the Sheens of the world try over and over again to clean the slate, then document them as they fuck up. I'll bet if we knew the truth about many public figures from the past, we'd be horrified with how many terrible things they did. Now, you gotta lay low.

Which brings me to another idea. Backlash. What if public figures and celebrities get so used to the climate of being documented during their bad moments, that there is a proliferation of bad moments? What if it becomes the normal climate to get drunk, have car-accidents and be caught showing your fluffalupagus getting out of a car seat? Everyone in the limelight is going to be caught doing something eventually, why not let it all hang out? Maybe that's the mayor of Toronto's bag. Hey, we're all doing bad stuff. I'm one of you!

Sets a bad example, I suppose. Then again, if you're getting your examples of how to behave from celebrities or politicians, you're beyond fucked up anyway.

Short Answer: I think he's funny. Fat guys who smash themselves in the face for my amusement are okay by me. Jesus, it just occurred to me that this might have been a question about his political beliefs or something. What does that say about me?

Friday, May 24, 2013

Question: I think my neighbour is a racist, how can I verify this?

Top Ten Ways to Verify That Your Neighbor is a Racist

10) Black face.
9) Inter racial front lawn sex.
8) Get a permit for a burning cross right on your property line.
7) Watch his reaction to a conversational phrase like, "I had to wash the chinks in my armor with spic and span."
6) Ask him if he thinks cotton production has slowed.
5) Mention to him that you think his daughter is dating a 'damn immigrant'.
4) Get a crazy hot Latino girl to walk by, and try to strike up a conversation about 'dat ass'.
3) See if he's offended by Wayne Brady or Mario Lopez.
2) When he's asleep, sneak in and give him the black face.
1) Emphasize the 'hood' when you talk about the neighborhood watch and wink at him while you do it.

Short Answer: If you think he is, he probably is. Check and see if you live in the south, that'll help you figure it out.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Question: What dire straits drove a man to invent pickling?

His food was rotting, and he was all like, "Yo, what's the deal, bitches?"

And then someone else was all like, "You gotta pickle that shit, son!"

Then the second guy took a dirty wizzle on a cucumber, improving the taste of the demon food so greatly that man adopted pickling for other foods.

Was the second man drunk? Yes.

Was the first man a Mexican? Maybe.

Is Mark Knopfler's solo work better than Dire Straits? Also maybe

Does this question promote irreverence? Ferris wheel.

Short Answer: Napoleon.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Question: How much is too much?

Sex? Fourteen minutes.
Pizza? Thirteen slices.
Soccer? Champion's League and Europa League.
Baseball? One game.
Midget Porn? Three midgets worth.
Game of Thrones? 25 hours a day.
Salsa? A chip-snapping amount.
Nudity? Sole of the foot.
Politics? America.
Love? Wet socks.
Kim Kardashian? Pregnant version.
Violence? When the head tumbles into your lap and the eyes focus on you so you're the last thing that person will ever see.
Counting? 56 (Try it.)
Vivacity? Cialis.
Perversion? Being at the mall, near all the yoga pants and tights.
Self-Pity? Being at the mall, near all the yoga pants and tights.
Stupidity? Finger lick after the Wet Willy.
Voyeurism? Dressed like a bird, nesting in the neighbour's tree.
McDonald's? Big Mac, Quarter Pounder w/cheese, ten nuggets, fries, shamrock shake...McRib.
Gravy? Three boats.
Participation in our Ridiculous Democracy? Three votes.
Repetition in humour? Three jokes.

Short Answer: For counting, half of you tried to count and bailed around 56, while the other half of you decided that 56 was too high to count to.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Question: Why, in a modern age of mass proliferation of knowledge and freedom, are there so many racist cunts left?

I blame the Jews.

You really want me to weigh in on this? For reals?

I'm pretty sure, like most problems, it has a lot to do with stupidity. Or more specifically - if I have to be nice to the stupids - education. You gotta get taught how to hate for such a petty reason as skin color. It's so fucking arbitrary. If you came up with that alone, you'd get laughed out of the building.

Luckily, the next generation is more understanding, better informed and compassionate. Globalization, by most accounts, should get us all a little more used to one another, and that should cut down on the lynchings.

Most of us fear what we don't understand. Without context, even the slightest amount of racism can bleed from parent to child. It's important that despite whatever goes on at home, that as a community - I'm looking at you schools - we teach tolerance and acceptance, not only in terms of color, or culture, but also in relation to other religions and beliefs. It's okay to believe a sock monster will collect your soul when you die, as long as you're not trying to make everyone else fear socks, too. Or if you're at a beach resort and you're trying to keep people from wearing socks with their sandals, then it would be okay to push the sock monster thing. Just for a bit.

You can't really hate someone for the color of their skin. You can only really hate someone based on their actions and who they are. You've got to go in with the hate ready and loaded if you don't know the person. So we just have to learn to stop loading that gun.

And analogies. We need to get rid of those too.

Short Answer: Racism is lazy. It's the pun of hateful behaviours. We can do better. For the most part, if you get to know someone, there's lots of reasons to hate them. I broke up with a girl for having tan lines once, for example.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Question: Can you think of a better mnemonic device for remembering the order of the planets?

Shit, does one exist already?

My Vile Ejaculate Makes Junipers Sway Under Naked Propulsion

How's that?

Many Vegan Earlobes Make June, Sunny, Unctuous Nibble Parties

Mother Vaguely Embraces Manly Jumpsuits Sewn Under Nefarious Plotlines

Mistakes Very Early Mean Jumbled Suppositions Ultimately, Not Poon

Mice Violate Every Maze Just So Ugly Nerds Profit

Ding, ding, ding! That was a good one.

Monsters View Every Masculine John Sucking Unusually Nasty Penis

I worked backwards with that one.

Myopia Very Early May Justify Some Unheard Nipple Preclusions

May Violet Enter My Jerry-rigged Shack Under New Pretense?

Mayans View Each Month, Jamaicans Sit Using Narcotic Products

Most Veered Evenly, Maligned Just So Under Numbing Pressure.

My Very Enlightened Mother Just Shit Under Nan's Porch

My Very Engorged Master Just Spanked Us Naked Padawans

I have to stop. I have to stop.

Short Answer: My Views Exist Mainly, Jurisprudence Suggests, Underneath Naked Philosophy

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Question: Could you, would you eat a mouse?

First of all, I know this is you, Dr. Seuss. You've been hounding me everywhere else on the internet, so it's no surprise you've popped up here. And this is sick. You know damn well that isn't the line from your book. You're just trying to make me look like some crazy mouse eater!

One time, Seuss! I was super drunk, alright. Someone told me that the trap was an interesting way to serve cheese, and they said that the furry cheese was even better than the cheddar, and so I hate the stupid mouse and I thought it was cheese and everybody laughed and I couldn't vomit it up, so I ate more mouse and whatever.

You'd think, with your rich and textured life, you could find something to do that would be more beneficial to society at this point. I swear to all that's holy, if I get a Go, Mouse, Go question or a Ten Apples Up On Mouse, I'm gonna find you! And then Horton's gonna hear an asskicking, and the places you'll go will be straight to beating town by way of my foot in your ass boulevard.

This isn't over, Seuss. Not by a long shot. Seriously, you are the worst nemesis ever. Oh, and by the way, that thing you posted on Twitter, about me 'doing it' with a fox. Not cool.

Short Answer: One fish, two fish, red fish, you better watch your back!

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Question: Can you do a Top Two list?

Top Two Things That are Great

2) Oral
1) Pizza

Top Two Things That I Don't Eat

2) Cucumbers
1) Non-dairy creamer

Top Two Elephant Thoughts

2) "Why can't I remember where I put my keys?"
1) "You can do this, Carl. It's just a mouse. You can...aaaaaahhhh!"

Top Two European Football Names

2) Gianfranco Zola
1) Bafetimbi Gomis

Top Two Things to do at a Campfire

2) Get in the way of smoke
1) Weed

Top Two Sexual Positions

2) The Roiling Stove Pipe
1) Hotbox

Short Answer:

Top Two Short Answers

2) Fair Enough
1) Apparently

Friday, May 17, 2013

Question: What is Rush Limbaugh?

I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not gonna get into a political thing. I know nothing about Rush Limbaugh - other than the larger stories that have hit the news over the years - nor should I know anything about Rush Limbaugh. Every time I've heard him utter a single sentence it sounds like it's in defiance of all common sense. And in case you were curious about how right he is, he yells to make sure you know. This kind of person is my least favorite. A voice with no soul, wit, context or tact.

He should be made into a skin suit.

Short Answer: Who knows? Might be the nicest guy in the world. Could just be a big act for his radio show. See what I did there? How I found balance in the universe? Ahhhh. Oh, almost pooped it. Gotta go!

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Question: Is it ever okay to steal a duck?

If you're in one of those eighties, pantie-raid, nudity movies then you can if your rival school's mascot is a duck and you steal it to play an innovative prank. Then, of course, the duck dies and you have to find another duck that looks exactly the same. But you can't so you have to spray paint the signature dark spotting on the duck, but he turns his head and now it looks like the duck is in black face and that's bad because your rival school used to be a 'negro' college and they're trying to get away from that on account of sensitivity and during the big game the duck gets loose and waddles onto the field and the dean of the duck school - a harsh, elderly woman - faints away in the bleachers.

Then somehow the duck gets under the feet of the horse that's carrying the hot blonde girl who's carrying the school banner and as she stumbles her shirt pops open. The elderly woman, just revived, faints a second time when she sees such perky boobs.

Or you can steal a duck if it's a famous duck and you need the ransom. But only if the ransom is part of some elaborate scheme in a movie where boys sneak into dorms and watch girls changing.

Or you can steal a duck if you don't like how long your game of duck, duck, goose is going. Duck goose is a lot shorter in the long run.

Or you can steal a duck if you hate insurance.

Short Answer: Now I'm gonna go watch Ski School, Private School and that other one with Johnny Depp (Private Resort?). Then I'm not gonna touch myself the whole time.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Question: Why do people say 'It's always in the last place you look' like they're giving you advice?

Because people are assholes.

Actually, this might qualify as a douche bag maneuver. Making a joke that a million people make every day while acting as though it's witty and original. This is on par with the people who ask if the bank has any free samples.

Most people couldn't give proper advice if they had a Kitchenmaid All-Purpose Advice Maker 3000 strapped to their groin. We're all so full of ourselves, advice is often just your own opinion, and as we know, those are dumb. Real advice takes an altruistic bent, backed by experience and some awareness of the situation and an ability to relate or at least empathise. Try to get that all in one box, Betsy Crocker.


Short Answer: So in conclusion, fuck Betsy Crocker. That's my advice. Make your own goddamn cakes.

*This post partially paid for by Betty Crocker and Kitchenaid. Maybe if you gave me some real money I'd get your names right, pisspots.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Question: Why do anatomical parts have such dumb names? Why is a penis a "penis" and not a Superfly Funsicle? Why is a vagina a "vagina" and not a Slippery Happyflower?

I find it strange that you would focus on penis and vagina. In my opinion, penis and vagina are two of the more interesting names for anatomical parts.

(Maybe you just chose those parts because their functions are entertaining, and they can have silly names. Doesn't work for other parts. Except maybe the tongue.)

You ever thought of the word throat? That shit is weak. Sustenance and Air Pipeline, perhaps.

And foot? What's with foot? Isn't that a Five-Digit Ground Toucher?

Or butt. No, that's a funny one.

How about your mouth? Foodhole and Wordvalve both.

Chin? Hairy Punchtaker.
Elbow? Roomcreating Sensitivity Joint
Knee? Lower Elbow
Ankle? Lower Knee
Heart? Loveholding Bloodpumper

Okay, I think I'm done doing your joke.

Short Answer: Your face is a Follicle Dotted Oil Sluice.

Monday, May 13, 2013

Question: Am I confused?

If you have to ask...probably.

Though you weren't so confused that you were unable to operate a computing device and a keypad of some sort, so it's not like you're entirely outside of reality. Unless you thought you were writing this in blood with a scalpel on the flank of a unicorn canon. Then...

There are very few ways for me to tell if you're confused or not. Try this. A blind man driving at the speed of light stops at a drive-through bank teller and flashes his lights, 'causing a gang style shooting where the man ends up in hospital and the doctor says, 'I can't operate on this person. It's my dog.'

Did you think it was weird that the dog was driving the car at all?

You might be confused.

Short Answer: Cross-dressing, touching your own nipples a lot and dial tone hatred are the symptoms I'd most watch out for.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Question: If you were itchy all over, which celebrities would you get to scratch you?

I'm gonna do this, but it's only gonna work if you picture the entire scenario as described. Remember, I'm itchy all over, so they're probably going at it with some ferocity. Go!

Top Ten Celebrities I Would Get to Scratch Me

10) Salma Hayek. Where? Greased leather couch bed. With what? Boobs.
9) Christopher Walken. Where? Side by side hospital beds. With what? His pimp cane.
8) Ronaldinho. Where? Penalty spot, full stadium. With what? Horse teeth.
7) Jewel. Where? The car she used to live in. With what? Snaggle tooth.
6) Christina Ricci. Where? Up against the wall like I'd been busted. With what? Forehead.
5) Jennifer Aniston. Where? Upscale high rise solarium, winter. With what? Nipples.
4) Marty Feldman. Where? Mr. Lube. With what? Eyeball flesh.
3) Kirsten Dunst. Where? Upside down against brick wall. With what? Snaggle tooth.
2) Cloris Leachman. Where? Just at my house. With what? Her oldey-time fingers.
1) Taye Diggs. Where? The set of Equilibrium. With what? The severed extra fingers he had removed as a child due to polydactyly.

Short Answer: I've been itchy all over before. It sucks and no celebrity can help. Trust me, I called a bunch. I don't know how 'fucking off' was supposed to help me either. Buncha lowlifes.

Note: I was trying to add a celebrity who could scratch me with their 'briny penis' but I just couldn't settle on the right one.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Question: What is with the whole East Coast/West Coast beef?

I don't know. I'd eat beef from anywhere.

If this is in reference to rap music, you've asked the wrong know-it-all. The whole thing, as most things, was blown out of proportion by the media. Yea, a couple of cows got shot and that sucks, but it wasn't such a big deal. Just goes to show, attach a hand-signal to something and it goes viral.

If this is about east coast vs. west coast in general, I'd have to guess it has a lot to do with weather. Weather's awesome, and a very interesting topic for a humour blog. Let me elaborate.


Anyway, people are dumb. They think that wherever they were born is the best. That doesn't really make any sense, now, does it? If you were born in a hole in the ground, with a piss tube and a feeding tube and could only see a narrow slit of sky, then someone picked you up and took you to a hockey game and gave you a tasty hot dog, would you wish you were back in your shitty hole?

Short Answer: In the above example, there is no poop tube. I envision a slow escape atop piling feces.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Question: Which directors, no matter the genre, do you implicitly trust to make a quality film?

Sorry to disappoint, but none.

You probably wanted some in-depth answer, where I cite examples of great directors and their impressive track records. Problem is, if a director lays even one little egg, then how can I trust in his consistency? Plus, at the heart of the matter, it is an art form. And what are the chances you'll like every piece by an artist, especially when a thousand other people have their fingers in the paint on each of their projects?

The names that come to mind are David Fincher, Christopher Nolan, Ang Lee, Quentin Tarantino, the Coens, Chan Wook Park. But even within their fine resumes is a turkey or two.

I didn't like Fincher's Zodiac. I didn't like Nolan's The Prestige. I wasn't overly impressed by Django. Park's Thirst was a friggin' mess. You get the idea. Even directors that have really solid track records are moving carefully against the grain. Everybody throws up a dead duck at some point, and the next movie could be quacking all the way to the grave.

I suppose I could define the word quality to indicate that the movie doesn't have to be perfect. I think the directors above all have a certain level of quality about their work. I'd probably add some other guys, but that list would be too long. A lot of directors can be trusted to bring professionalism; doesn't make the movie good. (Looking at you Martin Campbell's Green Lantern.)

Short Answer: Scorsese, Lynch, Soderbergh, Cronenberg, Almodavar, P.T. Anderson, Haneke, Wes Anderson, Von Trier, Miike...lot of good ones out there. And they've all taken a crap or two.

(You know who I just thought of who's three for three with no sign of slowing? Ben fuckin' Affleck.)

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Question: What do I do when I discover a fun murdering cunt in the room?

This question made me picture you catching something out of the corner of your eye while sitting on your couch. You go to investigate the writhing movement and discover, rather than the expected mouse or giant spider, a vagina.

I'll assume this question is more along the lines of 'fun-murdering cunt' as in, someone who is ruining people's fun, as opposed to 'fun, murdering cunt' as in someone who murders the shit out of people, but also manages to be a good time sally.

Now that I've got the right cunt, I imagine two different things. First is the guy who craves female attention and has discovered the only way he can get the degree he needs to get vag is to play a Matchbox Twenty song on the guitar. Dummies swoon and maybe he gets laid later, but the fun is effectively murdered.

The second thing, and the one I'm assuming this question was referring to based on the gender distinction of the word 'cunt', is one of those loud-mouthed, know-it-all bitches who needs to bolster her self esteem by having judgmental opinions about every single topic from Obamacare to abortion rights and every government funded baby death scenario in between.

We all know the type. It sounds like this person has a lot to say, but you quickly realize there is very little substance behind her opinions, except for when she misquotes someone famous. Yet if you disagree with her, the attitude comes out big time, and she speaks to you as if you're doing a late term with a chainsaw right on her sunny porch.

When I was young, I used to tear these people apart. I'd be calm and quiet and reference better data, back up my arguments, and lay in a few zingers for the amusement of the people around me. Now, as a more mature gentleman, I find that it's rare that a person can effectively 'murder my fun', so I often take the higher road and excuse myself from the situation. I might still go out and play pisstank with her automobile, though.

Short Answer: Pisstank is actually more of a way of life than it is a game.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Question: (AKA) What are the top ten names you would give a newly discovered colour?

I'm not going to be an idiot about this and just write a list of made-up words like Blorange. That would be lame. Instead, I'll try the Crayola approach.

Top Ten New Colors

10) Just Around the Anus Purple
9) Recent Dongpunch Red
8) I'm Too Lippy and I Asked for This Black
7) Racism White
6) We Don't Know What Color Dinosaurs Really Were Green
5) Song Sung Blue
4) Creamed Jeans Beige
3) Bag O' Sucked Out Human Fat Yellow
2) Dirty Spoon Filled with Happiness Brown
1) Jew Penis Violet

Short Answer: I've been clipped so I have every right to make that joke. Mazel tov.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Question: Can the Canucks still call themselves an "Elite" team?

As of the asking of this question, the Vancouver Canucks are down 3-0 in their series. Statistically, this means their season is done. I'd like to wait and answer this later, out of sheer obedience to the laws of taste and tact, but that's not how this works. So here I go.

I've been defending the Canucks all year. The team had a lot of injuries and wasn't as reduced compared to their last few President's Trophy winning seasons as some suggested. Though I didn't agree with their assessments, when we acquired Derek Roy at the deadline, we filled the center gap that many pundits thought was the main problem with our team.

For me, Ryan Kesler was the big thing missing for most of the season. Quite simply, he forces teams to pay attention to him, and ends up not only giving us two scoring lines, but frees up a lot of space for the Sedins.

Having said all that, the way the Canucks played in Game Three was not how you would expect an elite team to respond under the circumstances. For a must win, we looked rather flat. This probably means the demise of the coach, barring a very unlikely comeback in the series.

Are we elite? I thought we were. Did we play like it? No, sir.

And when the coach is in danger of losing his job, how elite can you be?

Short Answer: With so many injuries this year, it's very hard to evaluate how the team stacks up against the teams of the past few years. Except that it's the same core and almost all the same supporting cast. Quite simply, our playoff performance was baffling. If we can't go out and prove that we are elite, then we are not.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Question: You're a dreamboat. How do you do it?

It's definitely all me. Don't let anyone tell you it's their DNA or their 'good jeans' whatever the fuck Levi has to do with it. I'm handsome as balls because I take the time to do what needs to be done.

For example, you don't get your hair to stand up in this many directions without discipline. I wake myself up in the night and drape my arm over my head, to make sure I crease it in a bunch of different spots.

And this glistening complexion isn't a gift from god. You have to make sure not to wash your face, even when you're in the shower. That shit can be really hard. I hired a snake charmer to keep me moving, and he costs a lot because he normally works with cobras and not people.

As for the beard, don't even get me started. I'm serious. This shit is a masterpiece of human ingenuity. Sure, lots of people have 'chiselled features' and 'jawlines' and 'chins', but some of us have to fabricate these things from hair. And I mean hair that grows out of you, not the kind of thing where you build a perfect 1/110th replica of your hot next door neighbor Carol out of various clippings you've collected from her garbage. Ya idiot.

Short Answer: Here's some math for you. When you're young, a wide variety of people think you're handsome. As you age, that number dwindles until it's just your mother. When you die, people are just glad that you don't look too dead in the coffin

I guess that isn't really math.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Question: What is the feeling when one dances on the ceiling?

Probably feels like you're going to have an explosive multiple orifice letdown. Like your head fills with blood, and then your nose feels with snot and then your eyes fill with eye snot and then your ears fill with inside noises and then your throat fills with acid and your pants get real full of feces.

This is a crucial moment for ceiling dancers, right before you fall onto the floor and land in a veritable smorgasbord of your own bodily fluids. My suggestion is to try and smear as much muck on your shoes as you can, to keep you attached to the ceiling. Better to dance in your own filth on the ceiling than faceplant in your gooey detritus atop your waterbed.

Sorry to paraphrase the Buddha.

Short Answer: I don't like being upside down. And in hindsight, Lionel Richie's jerry curl was not cool. And his daughter is a fleabitten, broomstick ho. And she can't sing Hello at all. We weren't looking for you, bitch. Get someone with less vaginal tearing on the line.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Question: Why shouldn't I pay the ferryman before I get to the other side?

For those not in the know, Don't Pay the Ferryman is a Chris De Burgh song.

Hey, can we do one of those internetty things for 'For those not in the know'? FTNITK. Do I have permission from the internets?

I love Chris De Burgh. I grew up on Patricia the Stripper and Spanish Train, two songs that make me very, very horny. (One's about a stripper, the other is about Jesus and the Devil playing poker. Those two things and a boob pizza and I'd be erect for life.)

The answer to the question, other than Chris De Burgh is a tasteful human being, is that if you don't pay the ferryman, you won't get to the other side. Yea, he's a scuzzbucket. You'll probably end up being a ghost, flitting about doing nothing for the rest of your life. Kinda like what Chris De Burgh did after 1990.

I kid. He made a bunch more albums. What are they called? Er...shutup.

Short Answer: Actually, in 2004, his album The Road to Freedom went Gold in the US. That's pretty substantial. You wanted to know more about Chris De Burgh, right? (That part's a joke. But you do want to know one other thing about him. He's got a daughter who won Miss World, then did Playboy. Happy Googling!)

Friday, May 3, 2013

Question: What is it that only the lonely can play?

It is my experience that couples can masturbate too. Though not in front of each other. We're not animals, people.

What? We are animals.

One sec, I have to go jerk off in front of the mailman.

That didn't take as long as I'd expected. His frowny face and thick glasses really did it for me. Felt like I was jacking it in front of my High School Principal. Yea, suspend this you oily motherfucker. Splurg!

I realize now that I've assumed all along that the word 'play' above referred to 'playing with oneself'. I don't think that's too much of a leap. Not as far as seeing your bespectacled mailman and getting erotic over the fact that he reminds you of the only father figure you've ever had in your life who tried to use discipline instead of dirty night kisses.

Have I said too much? What if I tell a funny story. One time a clown molested me.

Short Answer: The End.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Question: Where can I find a girl like this? (-Video link of girl pooping into her own hand provided-)

I'm not gonna post the link. I never have before, and though it's clearly relevant, I've chosen to keep things word-ly. So go look it up on YouTube if you must. It's a girl standing outside a Toronto nightclub and she poops into her own hand and throws it away.

If there are girls like this, as in, other girls who would poop into their own hands, I can't imagine what else they'd be up to with their other bodily functions. And I sure as hell wouldn't want to find out what they'd do in and around my bodily functions.

Awww, I just thought of something awful. In the video, she tosses away two chunks. I'll bet she was wearing a thong under her skirt.


If you manage to find a girl like this, I don't wanna know. I have no desire to hear the stories about 'what she did with my man cream' or 'where she sluiced the urine'. Keep it to your disgusting selves.

Short Answer: This is the kind of girl who would play turtlehead with you. "Do you see it yet? Do you see it?"

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Question: What is the real origin of the phrase 'Eat your heart out'?

Apparently it's in the Iliad, in reference to grief. Some say it comes from the bible and is a bastardization of the concept 'eat your own flesh' which means to be lazy. The modern usage of course is to be jealous of something, though it seems the stupids have turned it more literal.

Of course the real origin is much less interesting and far more terrifying. Back when one could simply throw their unwanted children into the woods to be devoured by wolves, it was commonplace for mothers to remove the heart and consume it themselves, for fear that a wolf would be imbued with the soul of the child. This would be an ongoing hassle, as the woman might find herself awoken in the night with a wolf suckling at her teet. Besides being unsanitary, the sexiness of the event often led to inter-species breeding - or 'dog-fucking' - and that is where werewolves come from. This is also where the whole 'silver bullets kill werewolves' thing came from, because it was a regular occurrence that the woman would use her best silverware to chop out her own baby's still beating heart.

Short Answer: There was a dude who really ate his own heart out once, and famously claimed, "I should na done tha." But that's not where it's from.