Saturday, November 30, 2013

Question: My friends all like going out to karaoke, but I think it's a big stupid waste of time. What should I do? Do I go with them or not?

If you're a professional singer, karaoke is a great way to show off to dullards that you have skill, and therefore can be a quick way to make you feel good about yourself before going home to your next tear-filled shower.

If you're a terrible singer, karaoke is a great way to show off that you are brave and stupid enough to bore the fuck out of everyone, or make their ears shame-bleed before going home to your next tear-filled shower.

Karaoke is like having a wonderful breakfast and then finding out a dog chef made that breakfast, and even though he's a cute dog, he has that weird smelly ear thing going on, which is okay normally but pretty gross in terms of food preparation. Hopefully he has sous chefs that aren't dogs that don't have the ear thing, but you also want to believe that the executive dog chef took a paws on approach to your fabulous meal.

Karaoke is that thing you do when you're drunk that you would never do when you were sober because the difference between drunk and sober is how good at decision making you are. "I could go sing Dancing on the Ceiling by Lionel Richie and bore the shit out of everyone, or I could sit here and eat some bread because my shit is off-kilter at this point," said no one who does karaoke ever.

Short Answer: Dog Chef. I wouldn't be surprised if someone stole this and put it on TV. I saw a show about nude people buying new homes the other day. On The Learning Channel. Fuck us all. I think we just got karaoked.

Friday, November 29, 2013

Question: Been awhile since we've seen a poem. Got any to spare?

The Devil drives a taxi
And he listens to your stories
Hoping that you might reveal your soul

But he doesn't want to steal it
Only borrow just a piece
And drag it on back down into his hole

With a little cheap white desk lamp
And high-end corrective lenses
He writes the greatest story ever told

To sell it to the public
And make a million dollars
A bestseller to inflate his bulging fold.

Short Answer: I guess 'Bulging Fold' isn't a good title so we'll go with 'Cheap Desk Lamp'.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Question: Can you elaborate?

On having sex with your mother?

Sure.

She was wet, because it was raining and her wool hat wasn't waterproof. She looked like a nearly dead otter, too fat to roll over for another gasping breath of life-giving air.

I took her meaty hand, like a newly skinned package of sausages, and led her to your house while you were at work. You hadn't made the bed.

Perfect.

It was like undressing a wrinkly hot water bottle that had been dipped in hair gel. Finally, when the last of the clothes were sloughed off, she stood there, like a compressed Stay Puft Marshmallow man, naked pockets full of cottage cheese and freckles.

It was hard for me to achieve erection. I kept thinking about how disappointed in her you would be, that she would let it come to this. That helped.

When I entered her, it was like driving a cornhusk into a plate of mashed up beefaroni that had sat out over night. I could feel every little inch of her musky, calloused insides as they were hot-frictioned back into some semblance of sliminess.

The next three minutes were the best she ever had. Mainly because you're a great disappointment to her.

Short Answer: I guess the moral here, if I must continue to elaborate, is that you're both very disappointing human beings. Having sex with your fat, lonely mother was like fucking a bean bag chair that had been left in a leaky garage all winter.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Question: What do you think about Black Friday?

If zombie movies have taught us anything - and they have taught us everything - to participate in consumer driven abortions like Black Friday is to be a mindless automaton bent on doing nothing but harm to oneself and society as a whole.

It would never occur to me to go shopping, a horrible, terrible event to begin with, whilst all other humans are also shopping. That sounds like a three-tier enema to me.

I would rather pay more for stuff, and not get trampled, fondled, gropeled, and every other thing that busy feet and fingers do in a crowd bursting with yelly, foul intent.

But to each mad consumer his own, and I don't judge people's desire to either get things done sooner, or cheaper, depending on what Black Friday means to them. It's just hard, from the outside, not to see it as a giant victory for corporate greed, as the humans spill like rats into the maze, hoping to sniff out the cheese and clasp their jaws around it by any means necessary before another filthy rat gets the spoils.

Short Answer: I'm more of a Black Sunday kind of fella.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Question: Could you explain failure using a series of colourful analogies?

Failure:

Like being asked to walk the plank, slipping, launching like a rocket from the seat of your pants, and belly-flopping into shark infested waters.

Having only water for your cereal.

Viagra for masturbation.

A mummy using the toilet effectively enough, then unravelling itself completely on the way back to the dinner table, because he got his wrappings caught.

Blowing your load into a condom while trying to put in on.

Attempting to address a bully with a firm statement, on the spot coming up with, "You're the one who has hands."

Ruining everyone's shit by not getting out the way, like the iceberg that sunk the titanic.

Putting your keys in the fish bowl at the beginning of the key party, going back later to see only your own keys remaining.

Crocs and poncho.

Trying to cook sexy naked dinner, arriving at the hospital emergency in a bathrobe for searing the tip of your penis on the inside of the oven door.

Laughing at yourself in the mirror.

Short Answer: Failure: Trying to write funny analogies and resorting to simile, metaphor and irony.


Monday, November 25, 2013

Question: How do we improve the public bathroom experience?

More touching. Just get in there, hold some hands, stroke a stranger's back, run your fingers through a guy's hair at the urinal. Let's bring physical contact back into that world of uncomfortable silence.

Low singing, too. That would be nice. 'I will always love you,' never stopped a man mid-stream, I assure you.

Less toilet paper in the stalls, so that you have to communicate with the outside world to wipe your bum. There's camaraderie in that, especially if someone has to sacrifice something, like a page out of their journal, so you can have a clean bottom.

Dear Diary: Lump of poo.

Did I say strobe lights yet? I didn't? What the hell?

Murder clowns are great too, especially when your pants are around your ankles. And yes, I'm still at the urinal.

How about a lot of plant life, like wall crawling vines, so that there's kind of a musky, greenhouse thing going on? Nothing says too many people in a room better than plant stank.

Oh, and less sarcasm.

Short Answer: Extremely difficult to improve. I don't do away games, if at all possible.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Question: Is it gauche to wear a crown during sex?

Not if you're the emperor, king, queen, prince, princess, earl, marquis - pretty much any fancy title - of sex. I mean you've earned it, right? Even if only handed down by birthright, someone made some sacrifices at some point so you could wear that crown. Why not wear it with pride?

Obviously, if you're having sex with other crown wearing sack-royalty, this is not an issue, because there will be sceptres and tiaras abound. I can see a slight dilemma however if you're the Grand Duke of Sex (my title) and you bring home some gullyrat after a rave. Then, you know, she's all hopped up on whatever they're calling ecstasy this week and she smells like a lot of people dancing, and her fishnets are ripped and she already has her skirt above her waist. You go and bust out your crown at that point and it might seem a little out of place.

Though perhaps gauche to start with your crown on, I think having it nearby on the nightstand (still in its glass case, of course) for easy access right before you 'blow the horn' is totally acceptable. Even if she thinks it's strange, if you've done a good job - and you have, you're sex royalty - she's about to 'milk the bellows' as well and won't care too much. Think of it in the same way as yelling something hilarious. Can't get away with 'yabba-dabba-do' at the beginning, but you can sure let one rip at the end.

Also, if you're really concerned, you can position your lover so that they're eating royal pillow (not a metaphor) just before you finish, so she can't see you slipping your crown on. (This doesn't work so well for the lady royals. Perhaps bury your lover's face in your boobs? That usually does the trick.) If you're really slick, you can get the crown on, finish up with the 'succession' and have it back in the glass box before she rolls over and opens her eyes.

Short Answer: Gauche? A little. Tasteful. Yes. Awesome? Definitely.

Note: If this question was referencing a paper crown, like the one from Burger King birthday parties, then it's totally not gauche to go with that.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Question: What does your wife's snoring sound like?

Like a rhinoceros getting a prostate exam.

Like two girls with implants doing a duel 69 motorboat.

Like the devil clearing his throat before a speech, but it's an important speech and he's a little nervous.

Like someone's tearing down a beloved statue of a great historical figure.

Like crunchy zombie farts.

Like a bull moose getting a reacharound from a backhoe.

Like a tuba player blowing his instrument while submerged in a swimming pool filled with chunky peanut butter.

Like a gravel filled fog horn.

Like Atlas, struggling to hold in a fart while keeping the world aloft.

Like kraken Lamaze.

Short Answer: It sounds a lot like me slapping some titty. Wake up, bitch!



Friday, November 22, 2013

Question: Think you could write the longest answer you've ever written?

I already have.

I've also written the shortest, the funniest, the smelliest and every other adjective you can think of.

In all fairness to the question, the longest answer I've ever written is this one:

http://askkeithanything.blogspot.ca/2010/09/question-could-you-write-brief-though.html

Someone asked me to write a story. So I did. That was by far the meanest question I've ever received, because writing a story takes a significant portion of time. Therefore, to write something even longer, I'd probably have to write another narrative that comes in longer than...1343 words.

Shit. That's not actually that many words. I'm guessing that my longest post is actually this one, then:

http://askkeithanything.blogspot.ca/2012/09/question-what-are-your-favorite-guilty.html

Yea, that one is way more, at almost 2200 hundred words. That means some of my bigger lists are the biggest answers, probably.

That big list of guilty pleasure movies is also my most popular post. I wonder if length is something people are really into? I know my wife is, that's why she hangs out with her friend Jerome twice a week.

Short Answer: Though it did occur to me to try, I've chosen not to ramble on to exceed my previous word count record. Let's go with the initial sarcastic answer instead, shall we?

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Question: My inlaws are in town. How should I proceed?

A lot of people go straight for the booze, but I'm more of an LSD to deal with inlaws kind of guy. It seems the job of all inlaws to make their children's significant others feel awkward and insignificant. I counter this by the random naked acts of drug use. I don't feel awkward being naked in my own house, but the inlaws don't seem very comfortable with it at all. Also, when high as a jacked up lightning-kite, I tend to profess to others that I am above them, Godly, and that they are often my bitches. This turns their desire to make me feel insignificant back on themselves, like a gun loaded with warm shits.

I also like to serve them food that no person wants to eat, and act like they're unsophisticated for not wanting to try it. "No, roasted apples with tucked-in snails is very popular right now in the culinary world. More mustard, Dad?"

Another great way to establish dominance while your inlaws are around is to totally fuck your spouse, preferably in the middle of the day, and in a closet or bathroom, and as loudly as possible. This will make them nearly die. And if you can, get your mate to call you God in a loud voice, therefore reinforcing the whole insignificance thing. I also like to throw in a good, "I'm...really...enjoying...fucking...your...vagina...(wife's name)." And go with the full name, really drive it home.

One more way to gain total control is to physically hurt the male inlaw a few times, always by accident of course. (I like the brutal, deathsqueeze handshake, myself.) As for the female inlaw, let her know that you see where your wife gets her looks, and slap a little old lady ass.

Now, they're just frightened children, who'll eat all their supper and go to bed. They won't sleep, so don't feel awkward doing some more loud fucking. I find it turns me on to imagine them wide-eyed and unable to process feelings.

Short Answer: Don't take any shit! It's your house! You're a grown ass man/woman!

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Question: My polar bear is doing that thing again. Any advice?

What, that thing where he swims from ice flow to ice flow trying to find a home that's quickly melting away so that eventually he and all of his kind drown and become extinct?

Not much advice, no. Unless you want to put a drowned polar bear head in every climate change denier's bed, I don't think there's a whole lot you can do, here.

Or is it that thing where he tries to bite his own tail and then falls over and does that weird roll where it looks like he's flipped himself inside out for a moment before springing back to his feet? That shit's adorable. I'd advise you not to interfere.

Or is it that thing where they aren't really white. That their fur is actually clear, and just gives the impression of whiteness? Advice? Tie-dye that fucker. That'll teach him for being colorless.

No matter how many jokes I make now, I'm already sad about the drowning thing.

I fucked up.

Short Answer: Polar bears are pretty. Baby polar bears are one of my favorite baby anythings on the planet.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Question: How would you bring back the spittoon?

Is James Joyce an idiot? He thought cuspidor, the Portuguese word for spittoon, was the most beautiful word in the English language.

For those not in the know, a spittoon is a little jug or urn that looks a lot like what you should be pissing in, that instead acts as a receptacle for spits. Particularly the frequent spits provided by tobacco chewers.

Did you know there are spittoons next to the justices of the Supreme Court, and all throughout the senate? No one spits in them anymore (presumably), but instead they're used as wastebaskets.

I guess to bring the old cuspidor back here in North America we'd have to start spitting something. Tobacco ain't gonna come back on that front; too many internet pictures of people with mouth cancer. I'm thinking we're going to have to start spitting something else...

How about our food? You know, think of it like a wine tasting. That would help the obesity epidemic if it was culturally acceptable to spit...oh, say...a third of the food we were going to swallow into a spittoon. Of course, the spittoons would have to be bigger and more solid, and you might need to add water before you empty them. Jesus, there's a job for you. Spittoon waterer-downer. Like a jizz mopper, but more saliva!

Presumably.

Short Answer: Okay. I figured it out.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Question: Where do you come down on Ironman 3?

Between the neck and the shoulders?

I'm not going to write a proper review here. I chose not to write a review after watching the movie, and now I'm too far removed and wouldn't be able to do it justice.

(In case anyone's forgotten, I'm a huge Iron Man fan, both comics and films. And of course, SPOILERS.)

The gist is:

What?

You know what we need in Iron Man movies? Less Iron Man! But you know what we need more of? Random suits that don't do shit but explode!

Oh shit, we forgot Rhodey. Jam him in there. No, no one will notice that the subplot is irrelevant if we blow up enough stuff at the end.

Make Pepper the hero? Wait, what makes her capable of defeating an enemy that no one else can defeat? She's wearing a sports bra? Never mind. I rescind my inquiry.

Don't worry, we've got the Mandarin. Oh, what? We don't? Right, right I forgot about that mandate where we're now going to ruin the fuck out of each superhero's most famous and beloved villain. What? No? Just Iron Man's? Still gonna treat all the other super villains with the utmost respect? Cool.

Hey, let's have there be a 'battery' issue with Jarvis. That makes sense. And then some little kid will have to help Tony because he's such a mess from coping. You know, all the alcoholism. What? No alchohol? But what are we going...he has panic attacks? Are you fucking kidding me?

At least this is the Extremis story line. That comic kicked ass. What, because we're jamming the Iron Patriot (???) and the Mandarin into this movie, there isn't really enough space to do the Extremis thing justice? It's just basically a bunch of 'fire-guys'?

Hold on. Did you just say he's going to be able to remote control the Iron Man suit? Therefore taking away the entire need for Tony to be inside of it? Therefore destroying the heart and soul of one of the most beloved Marvel characters? Again, he doesn't have to be in it for it to work? Are you fucking kidding me? No risk, no heroism, no....

Head asplodes!

Short Answer: I tried so hard to enjoy this movie. I forgave, and forgave, and forgave. Afterward, every time I'd think about it, I'd remember something else that was poorly thought out, poorly put together and jammed down our throats with the likeness of the other two films. I'm baffled that so many people don't see the issues with this film. Isn't there a scene where dick bag breathes fire and stops Rhodey from escaping, and then the next time we see Rhodey he's outside? Maybe I just need to watch it again.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Question: How do you know if you've accidentally sparked an uprising?

Of penis? Pressure at the front of your jeans, I guess.

It's hard to know for sure if it was accidental. I mean if you walk around being so awesome that some random shit you said can get people all up in arms, you're either going to be oblivious or not all that surprised.

Pitchforks, torches, kill the monster chants. Those are all good hints something's up, but don't really indicate that you were somehow responsible. Unless I suppose you can track back to a significant event, like, you were the one in the bar who said, "Hey, you guys know there's a fucking monster in that castle? Totally murdered some little kid, too."

But there are other kinds of uprisings. Not all are peasant based, or driven by monster vengeance. I would think that the political kind would be hard to do by mistake, unless some politician took the initiative to exploit your story. Something along the lines of:

You put peanut butter on your bag to get your dog to lick it. (No judgement. It was Tuesday, you were bored, and your dog seemed a little lonely.) Your dog enjoys that sweet, sweet nutsack so much that he takes a little nibble. You end up in the hospital, and the stitches they sew into your pouch are really noticeable. Next time you're with a prostitute, she shies away from the area because she's afraid those really obvious stitches are indicative of some sort of transferable disease. Despite your best efforts to explain that she is in fact the diseased one, she turns down your trick. Cut to: her servicing some politician. After coitus, she relays the story of the thick-stitched ball bag john. The politician is flabbergasted. Can't a man get a fuckin' prostitute to play with his jibblies? What are these stitcher-uppers doing to our freedoms? And then he takes it upon himself to rid the world of thick black stitches, all because your dog gave you that forlorn look and you were too lazy to take him for a walk.

The uprising might be subtle, as many people who either have oral sex with their dogs, or frequently utilize whores don't come forward with loud voices. But a lot of murmurs from behind hand-covered mouths add up pretty well.

But you are accidentally responsible, you brave, dog-raping soul, you.

Short Answer: The word uprising makes me think of boners, in case any of this was confusing.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Question: What would happen if Shrodinger's cat and Pavlov's dog got married?

First of all, I will not live in a world where cats get married to dogs. Marriage is a sacred thing, that should only happen between two openly gay dudes.

The scenario I envision is a simple one. Someone rings a bell, and Pavlov's dog's conditioning makes him open Schrodinger's box. He looks inside, learns whether the cat is alive or dead (or God help us, there at all) and then closes the box without telling anyone the results.

Great. Now we've taught a dog one of the deeper mysteries of the universe. How long before he breeds a race of intelligent dog warrior/poets to enslave us all? They know all about discipline; soon we'll be the ones jumping at the sound of a bell.

The other issue of course in this question of quantum superposition compared to collapsing reality is whether or not the dog salivates into the box, and if that saliva, after a period of time, is wet or dry. Or is it both wet and dry, because we aren't looking inside the box? This is scientifically relevant to us as humans because of how often during sleep we drool, make eye goo, emit boogers, pee pajamas and spread poo particles in all general directions.

And what if, just what if, they manage to procreate? Is that animal both dog and cat? Is it one or the other? Will it meet you at the door, tail wagging? Or step on your keyboard when you're trying to work?

A lot of science here. A lot of science. Yep, yep, yep.

Short Answer: (Takes nap.)

Friday, November 15, 2013

Question: A dragon, a man with a leaf blower and a one-eyed frog walk into a bar...

This sounds super filthy. I'm pretty sure that dragon means dick, and one-eyed frog means dick and a man with a leaf blower is a man with a dick.

So I'm guessing there's gonsta be some fuckin'!

This isn't really a question, so I guess the person is suggesting I finish the joke.

Alright.

A dragon, a man with a leaf blower, and a one-eyed frog walk into a bar.

'Alright,' says the barkeep. I don't have any treasure, I don't need to be blown, and we don't serve Cyclopses.'

'Everyone needs to be blown,' said a voice from the back of the room.

The dragon, of an ill-humoured sort of dragons from the south, burned the budding humorist with a single exhalation, then the man with the leaf blower blew the ashes out through the front door.

'Well, I never," said the bartender.

'What?" asked the one-eyed frog.

'I've never seen anything like that in my life.'

'I've only ever seen half of everything, and I never know how far away it's happening,' said the one-eyed frog.

'This joke became very literal,' said the fluffer.

Short Answer: Bail!

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Question: What's your ensemble movie dream cast and what film would you remake with them?

The difficulty here is deciding whether the cast is chosen for the particular roles of the movie I'd like to remake, or if I should pick my favorite actors and then find the movie that they would fit in.

First off, Gary Oldman, for sure. He's probably a central figure. Followed by Tim Roth, James Spader, Kiefer Sutherland and Tom Hardy. I think for ladies it's Rachel Weisz and Amy Adams, though I have a rotating group of favorite ladies. That's the answer for right now.

My mind goes directly to a movie like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, probably because both Tom Hardy and Gary Oldman were in it, and a movie like that lends itself to some pretty meaty little roles.

You know what I'd love to see? I'd love to see a big old space adventure with all these folks as the crew, as unrealistic at that hope is. Like a remake of the film Supernova. You know that one? James Spader is in that, and he's awesome, but the movie is total garbage. But the original premise was hell in space. For that matter, they could remake Event Horizon, a movie that some people like a lot (because they're dumb) that though better than Supernova, could use a good remake/rogering.

Either that or The Expendables. That movie literally couldn't have been any worse. And I'm pretty sure that watching a couple of old fuckers slap fight would be better than the fights in that movie. (Except for Jason Statham, of course, who was created from dirt and blood to fight on celluloid.)

Imagine Amy Adams and Rachel Weisz getting in a little tussle. Anyone?

You know what would be fun? To take one of those movies from when we were kids, like Monster Squad, or Goonies, or The Explorers, and make a sequel with all those kids grown up, and each of my fave actors could play one of the roles.

Imagine Amy Adams revisiting: "Come on. Don't be chickenshit!"
Or Tom Hardy doing the truffle shuffle.
Or Gary Oldman shouting, "Hey You Guys!" as an aging sloth.

Short Answer: I like a lot of actors and actresses. And there are a lot of bad movies out there that could be remade. Too many options to nail down one.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Question: My ankle hurts when I twist it. What should I do?

Maybe I'm just misunderstanding, here, but I don't think you're supposed to be twisting your ankle on purpose. I think it probably bends and flexes, but I don't think it wants to twist.

My advice would be to stop twisting it.

This is not just me. I'm pretty sure the most used terminology - though not always accurate to the problem  - when one hurts one's ankle, is to say they twisted it.

Basically what I'm saying that you're saying is the equivalent of, 'my elbow hurts when I hyperextend it' or 'my penis gets sore at the tip after punching'. Best not to hyperextend your elbow or punch your wang.

What you should do is begin a strict and concentrated regime of less ankle twisting, and more angle bending and flexing. Try walking normally, without letting your foot slide from side to side, or without letting the ankle joint wiggle until you feel pain and fall over.

Also, learn words good. There are a lot of ways to express yourself. This isn't one of them.

Short Answer: To your ironic dismay, you might want to go to a doctor about your head, if you're so inclined to actively twist your ankle.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Question: Is this the coming of the age of aquarius?

I thought that was in the sixties? Wait, is this another one of those time travelling questions? Was this asked aloud, or into a phonograph, and magically transported here? Can you even hear me? Please, anyone!

It might be the coming of the fist of smashface-ius. How would you like that, ya bastard?

That term/song reminds of 40 Year Old Virgin. That movie was good. I liked how it was one of those 'everyone who's in that is famous now' movies. Those should have their own list.

...

See ya!

Short Answer: No. It's the age of Taurus. 'Cause I said so, that's fuckin' why.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Question: What's the worst thing that could happen?

In general? Death.
On an airplane? Food poisoning nose dive.
In a bathtub? Little poop.
In a bra? Dry nipples.
In Antarctica? Penguin leprosy.
On the bus? Big poop.
Around Christmas time? Localized present fire.
In a kayak race? Itchy leg.
Near Salem? Being a witch.
While kissing Cerano de Bergerac? Cheek abrasion.
On the wing of an airplane? Midsection bird.
In the Kentucky Derby? Bucket of chicken.
At the Alamo? Conditional surrender.
To late night television? Leno.
In a prom dress? Pregnancy.
To a paraplegic? Anything else.
After Midnight? Feeding a gremlin.
Before Sunset? Another movie with only talking.
To Jaleel White? Momentary career resurgence.
To football? Less helmets.
In Dildo, Newfoundland? Name change.
On television? Cat rape.
Near a volcano? Push.
In or around your junk? Razor blades.
To the Pope? Wilting hat stilt.
To a dog in the midst of pooping? Smack in the face.

Short Answer: What's the worst thing that could happen to a short answer? Grammatical and/or spellig error.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Question: How'd that breast lift go?

As surgeries that make you look younger, this is a pretty good one, because when it gets all botched up you can sweater it.

How terrifying are those faces, man? The people who get facelifts until they look like greased mannequins in a panic?

Boobs are great. I would never deny someone the desire to restore their beauty if they felt it was necessary, but the knife seems a little extreme to me. I'd rather see a woman get a good push up bra, and a man who doesn't care that her breasts are saggier than they once were.

As for my breast lift, there was probably a bit of confusion here. I wasn't getting a breast lift, I was getting covered in naked ladies.

Short Answer: The rumours of my surgical demise are greatly exaggerated. Except for the ball tuck. That shit happened.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Question: Why pumpkins?

In bed? For making believable heads while you Alcatraz the shit outta there.
For Jack o' Lanterns? Because they're bigger than turnips, which jack o' lanterns were originally made out of
For pie? Because there's little use for pumpkin flesh other than mashing it into sugar.
For the color of my bedroom walls? So when I'm high on LSD I can pretend I sleep in a beautiful sunset.
For sexy alone time? You already made a face in it, and it's approximately head sized, and it's a little warm because of the candle, so...
Why sexy time with the eye hole and not the mouth hole, then? If I have to explain this...okay, okay, you know those jaggedy teeth, right?
For patches? Yea, that one's weird. Are their turnip and cabbage patches? As I wrote this I realized there totally are. I wonder what the criteria for patch is, other than field. You'd think potatoes would have patches because they have eyes. Or gangsters because they have worn out elbows on their suits. Or plantations of glitchy software. Or the potato eye joke again.

Short Answer: They're also a great thing to hollow out if you need to keep a bunch of abortions nearby. You know, for stem cell freezies or whatever. Hey, I wonder if anyone, as a Halloween prank, has ever taken a poop in someone's pumpkin? That'd be funny. Big brown, oozy face. Irretrievable candle. Ahhhhhh...think I need to switch out some isolinear chips.

Friday, November 8, 2013

Question: What do you think of this whole Rob Ford thing?

I don't give a shit.

That guy's hilarious. Like most politicians, I'm assuming he's terrible at his job. But I'm not concerned about his personal behaviour because it doesn't necessarily reflect on his professional behaviour.

Obviously if the guy was a full blown crack addict he'd probably be shite at mayoral duties. He's obviously not that, so what the fuck do I care what he does with his free time? Who am I to judge him for smoking crack or whatever he does with prostitutes and yelling?

The fact that these sorts of things are newsworthy baffles me. Don't get me wrong; report about the crack smoking mayor. Report away. But when it becomes a big phenomenon and everybody is out in their yards constructing shiny new soapboxes, I couldn't be less interested.

Yea, yea, your morality is very impressive, random shouty person who probably beats his/her spouse. Shut the fuck up and run for mayor yourself if you've got such a problem with it.

Oh and by the way, people aren't stupid. Nobody things Toronto is the city of crack and booze now just because the mayor is a tool. Get over that shit.

Short Answer: At least he's funny lookin', am I right? I'd rather have a Farley than a boring, slick little prig any day.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Question: I'm supposed to make a presentation for at-risk werewolves - any advice?

So much.

Werewolves are at-risk for an awful lot of things, so what I'll do is go by category, and give my number one piece of advice for each.

Ticks: Collar up, boys.
Rape: Werewolf rape is no joke. If there's any vampires in your town, keep your furry cootch locked up tight. Even if they get a tiny whiff, those vampires will find a way to rape you.
Exposure: This is a serious issue. Make sure you have a safe place to turn back to a person. We've lost so many just laying in the woods covered in deer blood.
Mono: Werewolves love to lick butts, and Wolf Mononucleosis is rampant in the Northwest. See your vet regularly and try to Know The Butt You Lick.
Teen Pregnancy: Nobody wants a cub that can't be taken care of properly. Especially if you were raped by a vampire and now it's one of those hybrid dealies. Just do it in the butt.
Ringworm: Again, see your vet, and get him to look at your anus. Just make sure your vet isn't also a werewolf. If he licks your butt, then the whole community gets ringworm.
Vampire Aids: I can't stress enough that if your pack lives anywhere near vampires, stay the fuck out of sight. They will impregnate you and give you vampire aids. And your weird hybrid vampire-wolf baby thing will also have vampire aids and possibly ringworm and definitely pink eye.
Mummy Smell: You laugh, but there are some kinky thropes out there, and nobody likes the smell of dead Egyptians. Not even live Egyptians. I mean, live Egyptians don't like the smell of dead Egyptians, not nobody likes the smell of live Egyptians. Jesus.

Now as for the presentation itself, I'd suggest first of all not being a mummy (or you'll get taken from behind through the bandages), not being a vampire, not being a hybrid, not being pregnant and not having ringworm and definitely not having pink eye. It would help a great deal if you were a vet or another werewolf, just not both. So try to be that.

Speak softly with minimal howling. You don't want to rattle the herd. And stay on point. A bored werewolf is an attacky werewolf. Am I right? The mummies know what I'm talkin' 'bout! Word!

Short Answer: Keep it simple, and leave your big silver belt buckle at home. Werewolves don't like tacky shit.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Question: I may or may not be able to influence Time. How can I know for sure?

I almost died of boredom reading the question, so you might be on to something.

No, but seriously, I can't answer this question because in my inbox it's dated 1997, before this blog ever existed.

!!!

On a side note, the fact that you capitalized the word 'time' definitely means you can influence time. It would never occur to me to ever capitalize it. It's not a thing to be personified or controlled, I might say.

Hey, if you can influence time, can you do me a wee favor? Can you give me back those boners I used to get when I was younger? You know the ones where you could hang a tweed jacket on the end of them and they'd still stay strong. These days, if a whisper of wind or a falling hair touches my erection, it's flop dick city.

Flop Dick City, Da-Na-Na!

Short Answer: If you could control time, you could make women so happy. 'Hey, what would you do for an eighteen year old's breasts, grandma?' That didn't sound right. Never mind.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Question: If you're here, then what's making the breathing sound in my closet?

You are probably dead by the time I read this question, and more than likely beyond any help I could give at this point.

I told you not to assume that it was always me. You fuck with the closet monster, you get the poison dong horns.

It was only ever me on date night, so I could watch you and your significant other disrobe and paw at each other with awkward, forced sexuality. If it wasn't date night, I'm sad to say, I was at home, or in someone else's closet.

It's not all about you, dead guy.

Short Answer: Sometimes breathing sounds is actually coming from you.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Question: Can...the...what for?

I'll assume you're asking:

Can the gorilla I'm holding down by the neck get up and give me what for?

Big time.

Or is it:

Can I telepathically send a question over the internet, and if so, what for would I do that? And what for use is grammar, any?

Here's the thing. I can answer all the questions, I can, but I don't know what's happening right now. I think we should all just back away, recede into our caves, and try this again tomorrow. Whattya say?

Short Answer: Best...the...what ever.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Question: I love the smell of my own poop...am I normal?

That better be normal. Because if it isn't, wow, just wow. I am one messed up dude.

For me it's more notable to not like the smell of you own poop. You know things are rough if you flee your own area.

Ever smelled somebody else's poop, and then been ashamed to admit you like it? Whenever I get busted enjoying someone else's brand, I always try to claim it's because it smells like a certain kind of food, like that's going to help.

"You getting that? What is it, almonds?"

Short Answer: Yummy.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Question: What do you think of the news that NASA is starting proof-of-concept testing of an Alcubierre warp bubble?

I think they stole my idea.

I used technology similar to this in a novel I wrote. I twisted the Alcubierre drive theory to have the ship create negative energy between massive plates (Casimir effect), making a massive bubble to help it 'dock' with the similar event horizon neg-energy of a wormhole, whereas the actual Alcubierre drive is more like opening space before you with projected waves (using contraction ahead and expansion behind), bending space around you with neg-energy, allowing you to ride through in a warp bubble.

It's cool because basically the region you've created around you moves, sort of defying the laws of how fast the ship itself could move. Brilliant.

Now that I think about it, I used a very aggressive form of this tech in another book, where the ships 'cut' through space and then seal the rift behind them.

They should be doing this. I've always thought the science was solid, and one of the frontrunners in terms of believable faster than light travel. At least for science fiction stories.

Short Answer: For this to work, you need 'exotic matter'. Don't we all.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Question: I had my ears pierced recently and my left ear smells like ass. What do you make of that?

First of all, I'd like to see how you're getting into a position to smell your own ear.

Second of all, I'd like to see how you're getting into a position to smell your own ass.

My tertiary desire is to see you quickly change between ear-smelling position to ass-smelling position as you confirm that, yes indeed, these things somehow smell similarly.

By the way, that's called sebum. It's just basically oil and dead skin collecting around your piercing. Best thing to do is remove the ear entirely.

Short Answer: Ear piercings are a pain in the everything. I took mine out years ago. Besides, nobody remembers the Faith video with George Michael anymore, so people weren't 'getting it'.