I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED MEATIER ARMS

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,
I have always wanted meatier arms, and now I am finally getting them.  But now that I have them  I want more!  Am I being greedy?
Meat  Lover

Dear Meat Lover,

I am supposing that you will probably never be satisfied with your arms. I say that because it is like the person who has only known poverty all his life, and then one day he gets some money and it makes him feel better about himself. But soon he wants to feel even better and he thinks by accumulating more resources he will. Of course, once this ball gets rolling, it doesn’t stop, and the person finds out that he can never really be satisfied.
Tolstoy once wrote a story called “How Much Meat Does A Man Need” (or something quite close to that) in which a person begins by ordering a smoked meat sandwich in a deli, after  which he is still hungry, and so he orders another, and another, and he just keeps going, wolfing down the meat rabidly.
Eventually the short-order guy is getting a sore arm making the sandwiches and tells the customer maybe a little fish would be a better choice. But the customer is so fixated on his meat that he rejects the cook’s advice. Eventually, the cook, walks out of the kitchen with a sling on his arm and begs the customer to end his meal. The customer agrees to this on the one condition that the  cook tell him where he can purchase a cow.
Do you see where this is going? I hope you would agree that Mr. Sandwich has gone overboard. My best advice to you is to be satisfied with the degree of meatiness of your arms and don’t make a pig of yourself.

TOILET MISERY

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,
I don’t wish to be rude, but I just have to know. How often is it normal to push food out from the bottom end? In my situation, I am spending lots of time on the hoop. I go like there is no tomorrow. Even my toilet is fed up with me and wishes I would leave it alone. I got that message because it is not flushing properly and probably feels it is being overworked.  Am I overreacting?
Toilet Misery

Dear Toilet,

“Defecate” is the proper verb for the function you are referring to. Make a note of it. The words you use to describe it are excessive. Okay. Numbers? I have never pondered this question before. It does not often come up in conversation.Let me take a walk around the house and consider your inquiry.

I am back. The number I came up with is one or two, once after breakfast and possibly once after lunch.  If you are squatting more than that, chances are you are eating too many busy foods. Have yourself some rice sticks, these will keep your door solidly in place.

This should help, and if it doesn’t, see a medicine man.

SURVIVAL AND SOME

He huffs and he puffs and he blows
The house down
He sings for his supper
He’s a rare clown

He has a girlfriend who hates him
She has good reason to
She calls him a transparent fake

And a certified Jew

Not a juggler or philosopher
He ever was
Not a lover of the lofty life
That was just buzz

He always salts his beans
and peppers his hair
He comes on time
And pretends to care

But he doesn’t really want
To save the world
That’s just a line
If the truth were told

He has a crush on Satan
Not a thing for Christ
He calls himself an agnostic
Unless it’s a bad night

He’s been a con-man forever
Never held down any job
He’s done time for nearly everything
And has no connection with the mob

Though you’d never suspect it
He has a tender side as well
He blows kisses to the moon
From his apartment in hell

His childhood was rather lazy
Though it’s gotten sort of hazy
His family was middle-rung
His mother was slightly crazy

His father was a barber
Who liked his steaks rare
His mother was a janitor
With a big pile of hair

As a boy he always played
On the wrong side of the track
As a girl he always played
With the leader of the pack

Then came the crash
In his late teenaged years
The suicidal mission
The solitude and fears

That landed him in the middle
Of a psychological ward
With old people who slobbered
While they played cards

This was just the place for him
To chill out and think
This was just the place for him
To get fat and pink

The doctors had the cure
For the illness in his head
Stringy food and pills
Yellow green and red

Which cheered him so much
He slowly exploded
Into the next century
All arsenic coated

He eventually straightened out
His curves and his kink
Went straight for the bottle
And started to drink

The years have not always been kind
to this boy
The poisons that he swallowed
The means he had to employ

To keep right on going
The measures he took
Were not easily come by
Were not found in a book

If it all works out in the end
It’s too soon to tell
He’s not dead yet
And he’s close to being well

What is true for certain is
That he’s paid his dues and some
What is less sure is why
He didn’t turn around and run

There isn’t much to gain
By beating a dead horse
There isn’t much left
Besides dying of course

Whoever may want to take a lesson
From this saga and this man
Might just as well forget about it
As fast as they can

MY BOYFRIEND THINKS I'M TOO HAIRY

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

My boyfriend had a “Brazilian” and now he teases me for being too hairy. Am I too hairy?

Goathead

Dear Goathead,

Be proud of your fur.  Some of the best people are hairy. Think of Jesus. The man never took a haircut, or if he did, it is not mentioned.

I for one enjoy a hairy woman. They are easier to hold onto, and hairy people have ape-like qualities that I admire. Whoever said that human skin should resemble glass? Give me a tuft here and there any day.

That said, I must comment on this boyfriend of yours. I have looked up  “Brazilian” on Wikipedia and learned that it is when a human has his pubic hair shaven away. The name , I understand, comes from the habit of young Brazilians who must shave their downstairs beards so that they can look good in their bikinis on Brazilian beaches. Look. Whatever heats your toast.

Maybe your boyfriend is an avid beach loafer and is looking ahead to the warmer months. Or he gets tired of scratching that mangle of follicles he has covering his jewels and said to himself one day, “Let me be free of bugs!”

To this, I would remind him that we all want to be free of the presence of the little ones, but not everybody thinks murdering  their body hair is the way to go. There is, after all, something called bug spray, or simply washing oneself on a daily basis which can wave the wand.

But truth be told, Goathead, I think this Brazilian stuff has much deeper roots (no pun intended).  I think your man must have something of the Alien about him. Think about it. Have you ever seen an Alien with a beard. Chances are they have no pubic hair either. There is something that tells me that your boy buddy no longer wants to be part of us and is hankering for another club to join. Why not dump the ingrate and find a real man to snuggle up to?

I hope this helped.

DIGITAL WIDOWER

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

My life is hell. My girlfriend loves her computers more than she loves me. She would rather be sitting in front of her screens –she has TWO in her office- than beside me, holding my hand. I feel like a digital widower.

D. W.

Dear Digital,

Has the world lost its mind? Have humans crossed the frontiers of sanity? These are rhetorical questions, but I must answer them nevertheless : Yes and Yes! Two screens! I can just see her head bobbing from one to the other like a loco chicken eyeing techno snacks, so that she can forget about her hombre for a while.  She sounds to me like a sadistic witch who is bent on transforming her love interest into a lonely, bitter man.

I don’t know what she does on her computer. If she is chatting, well, most of the weaker vessel do that, they were born to it, don’t you know? It comes with millions of years of nudnicking their hunting husbands about how tough the carcasses they have brought in are compared to their next-cave neighbours’ husbands’ meat trays.

Girls will be girls, after all. But If she is onto more nefarious activities, like searching out female porn websites, the heck with her. Put a stop to it! You don’t  want  her comparing equipment with the chunks we can peruse these days. Be a man! Wrestle her to the floor and show her what’s what. In any case, don’t let the b…..  flush you too far down the toilet. Get a hobby.

Get a life!