Monday, November 30, 2015

Question: Ever been a tit grabber?

A boob clutcher?
A breast snatcher?
A bosom gripper?
A teat seizer?
A mammary snagger?
A cleavage corraler?
A hooter hooker?
A knocker nabber?
A bazoom grappler?
A filthy pillow spiriter awayer?
A honker shanghai-er?
An udder latcher onto-er?
A chest amasser?
A hanger handler?
A nipple gainer?

Short Answer: Never.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

Question: Why are strawberries red?

I can't help but think that a question so simple could be better placed at the feet of the broad internet, or one of them there question answering sites, or Jeeves, or the Strawberry Council of the Americas or something, but I'll take it on, just the way I took on this long-ass sentence.

Basically, a strawberry isn't red, not to be a dick. When we see color, it's basically the color that the object isn't allowing in from the spectrum of light. The acid in anthocyanidins in the strawberry's flesh prevent red from getting in, so it reflects back into our eyeballs and makes us think the strawberry is red. I think that basically covers the science.

Also, strawberries are one of the angrier berries, having to have their seeds on the outside like a child forced to wear their underwear outside their gym shorts by a team of razor-sharp bullies.

Strawberries are the most shame-filled berry. So often have they been associated with lustful things, that they are constantly blushing, like you just told them what you were going to do to their pussy. And the word ravage and/or mangle was used.

Strawberries also have the most blood of all the fruits. Originally called bloodberries by the alien race that planted them in Egypt, if you prick a strawberry, it will geyser like when you cut a man's carotid artery. In olden times, people would paint their hovels this way.

Short Answer: Because they ain't blueberries.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Question: Major Dollingham, at your service.

What the absolute fuck?

Sometimes it's impossible to pretend to know what the fudge you dudes are on about. Was this supposed to say Dillingham with an I? Because when I Groovled it - that's seventies Google - I found some dude named Benjamin Franklin Dillingham. But he lived in Hawaii and died a hundred years ago, so it's unlikely he asked me a question on my blog.

Now I've got to go through the process of trying to figure out what's funny about this, because it didn't inspire an immediate response other than the one noted above. I think the funniest thing might be - assuming you're real - that you thought, "This blog is rather humorous. I'll bet the purveyor is a mustachioed gentleman similar in breeding to myself. I shall let him know that I am hence at his disposal."

Is the Benjamin Franklin thing weird or funny? The dude must've been straight up named after fatty Franklin. (Sorry. He always looks chunky in pictures. Why am I apologizing?) I guess there's nothing inherently funny about that. Whiff.

Is it that you're a major? Why would I need military help? Is it my discipline? Do I lack discipline? Is it because I don't make my bed? Well, what's the point? I'm just going to ejaculate in my sheets again tomorrow.

Short Answer: Fuck this, I'm out.

Friday, November 27, 2015

Question: Do you participate in Black Friday?

Hey, I'll trample a doofus any day of the year if they get between me and my slathering consumerism, so it's just not that big a deal for me.

No. Not really. I heard someone say once that the sales on Black Friday aren't even that good, like, they're the third best of the year or something. I don't remember who that person was or if they even existed, but I took that to heart. No sense having to eat my way out of a pseudo-zombie apocalypse just to get a few dollars off a view master, or whatever the fuck people buy.

Though I'm sure some people shop on Black Friday for themselves, to take advantage of the sales to acquire things they think they need, there must be some or many who are Christmas shopping. And that to me isn't really the spirit of Christmas, to be punch-dancing your way through the process, rather than taking the time to think about the people you love and enjoy the act of gift-giving in all its fullness.

What I'm saying is: 'What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.'

Short Answer: Grinched it.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Question: How do you walk with such massive balls?

This question must've come from someone who knows me personally.

I tuck 'em.

Short Answer: My balls are actually quite normal. I like to joke that they're big so that my genitals look like a water-bike, but the truth is, my balls are regular. It's my penis that is absolutely humongous. Well, mostly. It's like thin at the base, then it starts to get bigger, and you're like, "Shit, is this going to keep getting wider?" and there there's a slight upward turn as well as a slight rightward turn (called the chicane) and then it thins back out before diving downward and to the left. It's like a regular penis with a hunchback. Feeling sexy yet?

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Question: What's a growler?

This may be a set up, because my first thought was that it's a type of fart. You know the ones. They come from deep and rumble out like a truck exiting a tunnel in the mountains.

It's some other stuff, too, I guess. They call certain small icebergs growlers. It's a device that tests electric motors. It's a military vehicle. It's another name for the Clarence, a type of horse-drawn carriage. There's a USS Growler in the American navy, and it's also the nickname of a certain kind of surface to air missile. It's a pork pie in Yorkshire, and in parts of England, it refers to a particularly hairy set of lady junk.

Lately it's been popularized by craft beer makers as a name for a certain style of bottle, the kind you get take-away booze in.

But let's get back to the fact that some people call a vagina a growler. That's pretty sweet. Like it's all ornery and displeased, and you'd better not poke it.

Short Answer: How'd your date go last night? Splendid. I fed her a hot meal of peen, right in the fuggin' growler.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Question: Hi there. I don't usually read your blog for the poetry, but it seems a long time since you did one. So I'm going to take one on the chin for all the losers.

I'll go ahead and assume that A) I'm a loser and B) I'm supposed to write a poem now.


Her cloying beauty
sends streaks of stark redness
across the interstitial space.
The striations of infection,
reaching little tendrils of heat,
the radius of raised, pink flesh,
a stark zone of entrapment.
Her eyes like little sicknesses.
Her mouth mandibled for her pleasure.
She smiles with smoky wheezes
and whines with wine-lacquered tongue
and touching you with fingertips that
crawl between
your skin
her bones
she asks for little more than your
whole heart.

Short Answer: It Cleans Up Well

Monday, November 23, 2015

Question: Have you started your Christmas shopping?

I have!

Every year I say something like, "I'd love to get it all done before December. Then we could just chill out and enjoy the Holidays." That's dumb. It never happens, and I still enjoy the Holidays. I let the whole process stress me out too much, as though if I don't get it done fast enough, all the stores and presents will evaporate, and I'll have to go to someone's house and tell one of their children that they aren't getting a present, even thought they'd probably be happy if I wrapped a dirty sock. I write this list of all these people I have to buy for and I feel instant chore-regret.

But it makes no sense, because I badly want to give things, and it's the one time of year when I can justify spending the money. So each year I try harder and harder to be less stressed out about the process, which in itself is a kind of stress. This is something I'd really like to improve.

Anywho, I did start early this year, and with the most fun part: shopping for kids. Which I'm starting to stress out about 'cause shopping for adults is harder and sucks more and I never feel like I have enough money to get the really good ideas, so I'm always buying lesser ideas. I can't wait until I'm a rich and successful author and can use my money to buy people really great things.

And hookers. Like the really expensive ones. Like the ones that have rules.

Short Answer: I'm in a bit of a conundrum due to the fact that I started before December, because now I'm feeling a little Christmas-y, but I try not jumping in until November's over. Gonna have a week of weirdness until I feel like I can really let loose and start wearing antlers and Penis Claus underwear. (The 'claus' is that you gotta suck it.)

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Question: Why does my wife cry so much?

You're probably hoping against hope that I say something misogynistic, sexist, or just plain stupid. Maybe like, "Because women are just hot and dumb." Sadly, the truth is that if your wife cries all the time, it's probably your fault. You're too concerned with your own life, your own work, and porno. You've let yourself go and your worries about unimportant garbage makes your dick work less good. Also, instead of complimenting her when she puts on a nice outfit, you ask where it came from, and why it looks so 'stretchy'.

You can see how frustrating this must be for her. When she cries, you're all like, 'What now? Are you on your period? You get two a month, now?' You think you're sensitive because you're a pussy and are afraid to have much backbone in your daily life, but that's not sensitivity. It's just being a pussy.

Now you're thinking, 'How dare this guy call me a pussy? He's using the word pussy in a defamatory way! He's the misogynist?' Sorry. That's just you being a stupid asshole on top of being a total and complete pussy.

Short Answer: If this doesn't sound right for you in particular, I regret to inform you, it renders the analysis no less accurate.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Question: They have "hypo-allergenic horses" now?

I read this as 'hypno-allergenic' at first. A horse with crazy, black and white, spiral eyes. "Don't you get the fuck on top of my back." And then he sneezes or something.

Yea. I invented this. I was bored one day and I figured I'd throw a bone to the snifflies. I was all like, here's your horse-riding back, you thick-snotted nerdholes. I'm absolutely the best.

Short Answer: Next is a cross-breeding with pygmy horses to create a pocket horse that you can put on your keychain and smell when you miss that dirty, hairy shit smell.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Question: How would you inseminate a pig?

I would encourage another pig to take the reins on this one.

Is that confusing for any of you that I talked about pigs and then reins? Were you like, that's horses, man!

I bet you were.

I'm going to go out on a limb (trees!) and assume you're trying to trap me in some sort of pig-shagging admission out here in the open clearing that is the internet. Well, jokes on you, pal, because I would never fuck a pig, and only let it perform felatio on me once.

So, ha!

Short Answer: I still think the natural way is the best way. The less hands and fingers we have inside our animals the better. They just weren't designed to have our human fingers in them. Like my mom used to say every morning at the breakfast nook, "Better a pig's oily dick then a human hand covered in a latex glove and plenty of lubricant."

Guest Written by Someone Who Doesn't Give a Fuck! (apparently)

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Question: Why khakis?

One time, man! Jesus! I didn't know what you were supposed to wear under a kilt!

Why khakis, indeed. I guess when your cargos don't quite vibe with your deck shoes?

Sadly I'm not inspired by this question. I have a pair of khakis in my closet that I never wear, so I guess I'm on your side, if your side is, why khakis 'cause they just sit in my closet.

I think there's a certain situation that they're appropriate. Like if you're at a summer wedding reception, or getting a tour of a boat, or if you get busted fucking someone's wife. How can you beat up the guy who's slipping on his Dockers? Right, because his penis is covered in your wife's internal film.

Short Answer: Because some dudes don't like jeans or looking good.

Note: If we were talking about pleated khakis, I mean the opposite of all this.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Question: How do you feel about the world right now?

I'm sure this is a question about some very specific things that are happening. I don't need to list them, you all know what they are.

As this is a humor blog, I'm not going to get into the details. I'll say this, and risk the ire of anyone who reads it.

People have always done terrible things to each other. History is a blood-red tapestry of heinous acts. The thing that bothers me when a tragedy strikes is the way we become divided so quickly. It's as though human compassion only lasts to the end of a social media feed, before people start making the news about themselves, using horrors as opportunity to spout their own agendas.

It's nice the way the world comes together when something bad happens. But only when the media covers it properly, and only briefly. Just a few days hence, and we're as divided as ever.

Because I'm a believer in patterns of behaviour and the inherent selfishness and survival instinct of humans, it does not surprise me. But it is a lot to take to the face every single day when you look out into the world.

This morning, in the span of twenty minutes I cried because of the actions of some, and was disgusted by the words of others.

I just wanted to read a poop joke, man.

Short Answer: Do you think Charlie Sheen got HIV from tiger blood?

Note: All right, I've decided to go on ahead and say the thing I want to say. We live in the greatest time in the history of the world. A lot of very smart people say that we're safer than we've ever been, and that there's less war in the world than at any other time throughout history. I have a tendency to reach for that, to fall back on it in times of strife, rather than get my head turned around. That's not to say you don't have the right to be angry or frightened. Do as you see fit. But a little perspective in times of crisis goes a long way. Perspective leads to processing information less emotionally, which leads to creating actual solutions rather than aimless rants and arguments where no one is listening to anyone but themselves.

One last thing. When a tragedy involving deaths - of which there have been many over the last year we're now discovering - occurs, why not leave the people whose family members died to process the emotion? Though our compassion and empathy are unavoidable, we didn't die. Our family members didn't die. So we have a greater capacity to be rational and kind and smart while they mourn. We should use it. Bickering over political nonsense does not honor dead innocents.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Question: Just burps.

Asked my wife to ask me a question today. She just burped at me.

I didn't have a more attractive offer.

(She just farted super loud while I was writing the last word of the...there's another one. Okay. Hard to work when my wife is home from work, as per usual.)

Lately she's been getting up in the morning and watching X-Files episodes on the couch with no pants on. And I mean no pants at all. She just puts the laptop on her vagina, ducks into her headphones and wiggles her head like Milhouse in a tent.

I don't know how I get anything done. Though I suppose you could claim that this is nothing. If you were a dick.

Short Answer: I think she might be super evil. She used to just walk around with her big boobs out to distract me, and at some point in the last year it shifted to passing butt-walks. I think maybe she's trying to attract my attention. Funny it hasn't occurred to her to go completely naked, yet. I guess when you wake up one morning and there's no blog posts anymore, you'll know she's figured it out.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Question: My wife salivates when she sees a half-naked man on television. What can I do to stop her?

Remove her salivary glands or her sexual bits. Remove the television. Remove your fat.

Any of these things should provide a nice, sexless marriage for you. Except maybe removing your fat. Maybe if you do that she'll want to bone you, but I doubt it. Once a woman is willing to get excited over pretty colors on a screen, she probably doesn't want the full sweat-n-smell experience of having someone like you on and up in her.

In all seriousness, it's good if your wife is turned on easily. Women can be attracted to many things, and your inherent manliness might be one of them. So I'd encourage it. Maybe even try to get involved, like encouraging her to masturbate to some of these TV people while you watch.

Let me tell you, a worse problem is a woman who doesn't get excited. Imagine having to tempt a tiger out of a cage and then grease it and fuck it every time you were horny?

Maybe don't imagine that. My point is that your problem may in fact - in this very rare case - be a blessing in spit-covered disguise. Give your woman what she wants and she'll appreciate you, and maybe even throw you a bone after she's finished being inseminated by the local sports team.

Short Answer: I know it's kind of gross when women flip out over 'hot dudes' but fair's fair, home slice.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Question: What question do you have for us?

You ever think of your balls as a dickporch?

Us? Is this everyone who reads my blog? Wow. Nice work, everyone. How did you manage to get seven people in one room?

Here's a question. Why do you not promote my blog more? You know I'm hilarious and large-wanged. I needs ta get paid.

I suppose it's not your job to promote me. It's your job to watch me strip and dance and leave no tip. Well I work for tips!

That's not true. I don't expect tips. I expect the whole wiener! Gimme, gimme, gimme!

Short Answer: Gimme the wiener!

Note: Seriously, why are you here? You know that other blogs have pictures, right?

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Question: I hate a lot of things. What do you hate?

Thanks for letting me know up front that you hate a lot of things. Was this supposed to inform my answer? Am I to feel pressure to hate more than normal? You can't change me, man!

Hate's a strong word. And so is cunt. So there you go.

Things I Hate:

That we don't use the word 'hussy' anymore to describe loose women.
When you're masturbating and your pet catches you.
When poop smells like food you ate recently.
That most people don't bother to put sour cream in their mashed potatoes.
Where prostates are.
People who call boobs 'chesticles'.
That 'things that go dump in the night' didn't get the laughs it deserved.
When you're hungry for pizza but you already had pizza.
Squidgy poops.
The amount of calories in a doughnut.
Soapboxing or as I call it, making something about yourself.
The existence of the cucumber and all its nefarious plots.
The vaginas of my enemy's mothers, which is why I pounds 'em so hard.
Articles of clothing.
Trying to find quarters in a bunch of change and continually getting fooled by nickels.
The tiny patch on my neck where my beard grows weird which keeps me from having the best beard in the history of man.

Short Answer: Bonus: Movies that pretend they're subtle, interesting, progressive and engaging, then end with stabbing, shooting or physical struggle.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Question: Save me for Friday the 13th! What's your favorite superstition?

Not much for superstitions, though I'm not the kind of asshole who will walk under a ladder just to do it. That's calling down the thunder. I also won't wear the number thirteen if I can help it. Because it's the number of Aes Sedai it would take to control the Dragon Reborn, and then where will we all be when Tarmon Gai'don comes?

(Re-reading The Wheel of Time. Suck it.)

Breaking mirrors doesn't seem all that scary, plus it keeps Bloody Marys away. Touching wood's dumb because even things that look like wood aren't necessarily wood, then how much of an asshole are you? Crossing your fingers doesn't make you any less of a lying sack of shit. Four leaf clovers is like a weird plant anomaly. Dumb.

I think my favorite is that women were bad luck on sea voyages. The reason I like that one, is because some women would be 'encouraged' to expose themselves to the sea in order to counteract this superstition. This is a very early sign of men taking the time to propagate something that makes their lives include more titties.

Short Answer: In truth, I've always been a little wary of Friday the 13th itself. Don't know why. It's not like all of us can contract HPV on the same day or whatever.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Question: Hairburger?

Everything about this grosses me out.

First it made me think of 'furburger' which is a term I do not like, no sir. I think it's most often used in reference to a vagina, and those are gross, too.

Then I actually thought of a beef patty with a shitload of hair sticking out of it. And not long wavy tresses, like the kind of sporadic and dense hair that grows out of an aging man's ear middle.

Then I thought of a burger patty composed completely of hair. Not cool. But better than vegan.

It's weird. I've often found my wife's hair in my food and I think nothing of it. But if I get a long, dark hair in a meal at a restaurant, I burn the place down. Which is weird, because there's no way anyway working there is as filthy as my whore wife.

Short Answer: What kind of fries come with a hairburger? Is it assfries? It's assfries isn't it? It's assfries.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Question: Baths or showers?

Yea, I'm a pretty big bath guy most days. Though sometimes I couldn't be bothered to bathe, and on those days stepping  under something is a shit-tonne easier than all the prep that goes into a bath.

I like rubber duckies quite a bit, and foresee that when I'm rich and/or famouser, I'll have quite the collection. I already have a few sweet ones.

I've got rubber duckies from the hotel I stayed at on my wedding night. They have sunglasses on. I have an elf ducky for Chrimmas time and one that looks like a soccer ball, and my favorite, a pink ducky with little white polka dots.

All of that I just said is real.

Short Answer: I like to read books in the bath; that's my big relaxing activity. Can't read books in the shower. Pages get wet.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Question: What's your take on the Drake Equation?

N = The number of civilizations in The Milky Way Galaxy whose electromagnetic emissions are detectable.
R* = The rate of formation of stars suitable for the development of intelligent life.
fp = The fraction of those stars with planetary systems.
ne = The number of planets, per solar system, with an environment suitable for life.
fl = The fraction of suitable planets on which life actually appears.
fi = The fraction of life bearing planets on which intelligent life emerges.
fc = The fraction of civilizations that develop a technology that releases detectable signs of their existence into space.
L = The length of time such civilizations release detectable signals into space.

Image result for the drake equation

Save some Fs for the rest of us, am I right?

Yea, it's not very good. Because some of it is kinda filling in blanks, the whole thing doesn't act the way a mathematic equation must act to be trusted.

Turns out Frank Drake never intended it to be all that accurate, though. He was just trying to spark conversation at some SETI meeting. So give him a break, people. It's a better predictor of alien life than you could create. Would you think to use all those Fs?

(Though people think N is a number reflecting the possibility of alien life, it's actually a predictor of whether or not there are detectable radio waves that could be from another civilization.)

Short Answer: Equations make for exciting answers. Here's one. My bum + pizza + terlet = F (as in Fuucckck...)

Monday, November 9, 2015

Question: There's a "Toy Hall of Fame?"

Yea. My favorite is the three-fingered buttplug ballslapper. No, no, wait, it's the vibrating Fonzie thumb. No, it's gotta be the duck-mouth spreader with self-applicating anal nitrate. Hold on, my favorite is the Rim-Around-the-Rosey knuckle-monster with authentic gorgonzola scent. Or the This Just In, Newsies themed dildo from Huge Ethnic Dong Corp. I'm getting ahead of myself, it's gotta be the live spider nest ball and rump tickler. Wait, maybe it's the LPGA two-in-one golfball head putt-stuffer with complimentary Grittylube. Or maybe Mega Joe's After Dinner Bowel Grazer 2000, the purple one.

Short (but still a good size) Answer: Wait, is there another Toy Hall of Fame?

Honorable Mentions: Chef Boy Are Deep's collection of naughty planet anal beads, The Cum Together Beatles' print Yoko Ono two-way dildo for guys and the Mississauga pork-pie surprise.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Question: Which is the superior pasta?

Got a bit of a swamp butt situation going this morning, so I'm writing this from the terlet. (Never eat two whole pizzas in one evening.) Feels like I got a football in my tummy and I'm just taking pencil-thin shavings off it.

Now, food. Basically, homemade pasta is the tits. If you use durum flour (finely ground semolina) to some degree, you're going to get the best pasta. As for the store bought dried pastas, they're all pretty much the same.

Beyond that, there isn't much to say. Pasta is simple, so keep it simple.

Short Answer: I'm a pretty big fan of the whole wheat dried pasta. I use it in my lasagna. I like the way it holds its texture after an hour in the oven. 

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Question: My foot hurts?

Put up a request for questions on Facebook because I was running low. This is what I get. People who use Facebook are something.


Is it in your mouth or in someone else's butt? No? Did you smack it against something or smack something with it? Like a mouth or a butt? No? Have you been standing, walking or running? Yes? It might be those things.

I do appreciate questions of all forms, I do. Sometimes the simplest question can inspire me to induce gale-force winds of laughter in those about me. But other times, it just seems like some words. I know I'm a total dick about this. To ask for a question and then be unsatisfied is bad enough, but to continually tell people that they can 'ask me anything' and I'll do the rest, to tell people to let me take care of the funny, and then complain when I get a question like this? What does that make me?

A monster. Fine. I can handle that. But how does it make you feel? You took the time (15 to 32 seconds) to ask me this question, and look what has happened? I grumbled and moaned and wrote one semi-funny sentence. Do you feel betrayed? Terrible? Vindicated for not having asked enough questions in the past?

Here's why your foot hurts. Because the world owes you nothing. Not even I owe you a funny answer, apparently.

Short Answer: The human body does a whole tonne of weird crap all the time. Most things will go away if you don't use that section/appendage to fuck something or get fucked.

Friday, November 6, 2015

Question: If you could choose how you were going to be murdered, what would it be?

My first instinct is poison. The slow drawn out kind, like when your wife is putting something in your food. That seems to be the most diabolical thing one person can do to another. Not only is it pre-meditated, you have ample opportunity to change your mind, which makes the murderer evil over and over again.

Though I would enjoy that, it isn't the most spectacular way. I've always thought those thresher machines in factories were amazing, you know the ones that look like a wood-chipper but you can put your fridge in there? One was featured in an underrated James Bond movie that I won't get into. (Timothy Dalton forever!) It would be pretty sweet to have someone push you into that thing.

I've always thought choices were scary. If it even counts as murder, I like the idea of being put into a terrible situation, and having to chose one of many terrible options. ('Like' in this case meaning it would make a good story.) Something along the lines of, "Here's your wife. We'll rape her with this horse if you don't jump in that hole feet first and let us bury you in acid." That would be a great headline the next day.

Short Answer: "Man lets wife get horse-fucked, still dies in terrible acid grave."

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Question: If you could choose to take one superpower away from everyone in comics, hero and villain, what would it be?

From everyone?

Adamantium claws.

That's a joke.

I don't know, man. I like superpowers. And the ones that are shitty don't really deserve my attention, and they're often very specific. (Looking at you, Cipher, you piece of garbage.) I guess the best answer would be something like flying, because that would change how comics are written. And it doesn't really make sense that people can fly. Many other superpowers come from something, but no one was bitten by a radioactive ptarmigan.

(Is that the funniest bird for that joke? Radioactive swallow? Radioactive albatross? Radioactive oriole?)

I guess my answer is super strength, because that's the big one that separates metas from normal. If you weren't super strong, then a person could get tired of your shit and punch your lights out. That would change the dynamic between the tribes.

Short Answer: I still hold that super speed is the greatest power of all, and I would never take that away from anyone. Except maybe Superman. Fuck him and his never-ending string of powers.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Question: If you were trapped on a dessert island, what would you bring?

Okay, here goes.

If I found myself trapped on an island, I wouldn't be able to bring anything. Plus, what would I need other than all those tasty desserts?

That's right, friend. You've done the unthinkable. The worst crime in all of English language humanity. You've suggested a dessert island, rather than a desert island. And in case you don't know, that's doubly stupid, because what you're really trying to say is deserted island. So you were two whole steps under the line of acceptability. You wouldn't be let into the club because you look too 'gronky'.

Short Answer: A spoon.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Question: Do you really have to answer anything that anyone asks?

I don't have to do anything.

I could stop doing my blog this very minute and I won't face a single firing squad.

I have, however, up to this point, answered every single question that has ever been asked of me, save a few minor avoidances. For example, if I write an answer and someone asks me the question a second time because they're displeased with the answer I gave, or because they think I misunderstood them, I won't answer. These people are dumb and don't get stuff. You ask the question, and it's art; it's not yours anymore. Plus, I don't want the same question coming up day after day on my blog because that confuses people and they think there is no new content. The few times I have had questions that are similar to other ones in quick succession, my traffic goes down.

That's pretty much it. The above scenario has only happened two or three times. Otherwise, it's been nearly two thousand questions with nary a hesitation. I have no process of evaluation when I read a question. I simply read it and then write whatever comes to mind.

I could see there being a few problematic questions, but I don't think my instinct would be to ignore them. I'd rather include them on the blog and write about my reaction to them. I've done that to some degree more than a few times, where I think a question is absolutely unitarded so I lay into its balls.

Short Answer: It's very difficult to ask a bad question, or a risqué question, or a stupid question. The only questions I have trouble with on a semi-regular basis are people who try to be funny in the question itself, not allowing much room for me to be funny. I suggest to people who do that to start their own blog. Or at least consider that your funny should beget funny. No one wants to come to my blog and read: "Good one," as an answer.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Question: Would you make love to a raven?


This is the third 'raven' themed question in less than two weeks. We had that question about Raven Symone and Raven the wrestler, then Raven Symone vs. Jaleel white. Is this a coincidence?

I'd hate to have to make some rule where I don't answer any questions with the word raven in them for a while.

So don't make me do that!

Obviously I would not, could not, fuck a raven. That's sick and tiny and weird. Plus those birds are smart as fuck. They'd know they were being violated, and then a bunch of them would come to my house and peck my nuts off.

Also, even if you could fuck an animal in terms of physics, why would you ever 'make love' to it? Who loves an animal that way? I loved my childhood dog, but if he came on to me when he was drunk I'd hit him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

Short Answer: Bad dog! No! No dicks! No!

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Question: Would you rather be shorter or taller?

Not to be a total bitch and choose neither, but I'm pretty pleased with the height I am.

These questions are tough for me because I'm so great. I don't often think things like, "I wish I could reach more shit." I think things like, "I reach the perfect amount of shit. Can I be any more badass?"

Same as, "I wish my dick was bigger." I don't say that. I say things like, "Sorry I killed your wife, Steve."

And I sure as hell never say, "I don't like myself." I say, "If I met myself on the street, I'd rape my own ass."

Exactly the Correct Height Answer: If I was a different height, I wouldn't be me. And nobody wants that. Unless you'd get to be me instead, and you'd totally love that. Because you're too short and/or too tall.