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.

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.

HOW TO WEAR YOUR TUQUE

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

This falls into the fashion category.  When I wear my tuque I am not sure whether the label should be at the back or at the front.  I have tried both, but always fear that it is at the wrong place, which makes me lose the concentration I need to try to find a decent job.  Where do you think it should go?

Label Me Worried

Dear Label Me Worried,

I  myself never wear a tuque for the simple reason that you never know which side is front and which is back and you always tend to make a fool of yourself. I will have to look that one up in order to answer your question.

I am back. With an excellent find: an organization that seems to know everything there is about  them. One of the tidbits of fact that I gleaned from them is that “tuque” is not a good name for the hat because it is too hard to spell, so they want to change it.

As far as the label problem is concerned, I could not find the answer there to it. Of course, you could always try wearing the label on the inside, which may stun some people at first, but then you might,  who knows, start a craze if it catches on.

If you wish to get creative, why not just get a very large sock to pull down over your ears?  Socks don’t usually have labels affixed to them, so you would be safe. But please do not choose to don one of those those wiggy things with the two strings and attached pompom  at the top that tries to project the image of a thin-brained creature who is visiting our planet from afar.

Good luck on this, and on finding a rewarding job.

MAYBE YOUR PANTS DON’T BREATHE

RON’S WISDOM SALON: A fictional advice column

Dear Ron,
I have a kinda sticky problem. If I am in my car, driving for at least a half hour at a stretch, my behind gets very hot, to the point that I begin to feel like what I imagine an egg must in the process of getting hard boiled. It does not feel too great I can tell you. What can I do about this other than to stop driving?
Baked

Dear Baked,

I have pondered this considerably and have come up with a possible explanation. Your trousers. Maybe your pants don’t breathe sufficiently. Or maybe your underwear is too tight. Try clothes that enjoy breathing.  Cotton is an option.
Otherwise, I would keep the window wide open, and elevate your backside from time to time to invite air contact. One cheek at a time is a good way to do it, rotating each to get maximum contact for about thirty seconds, but carefully watching the road at the same time. Good luck and rotate responsibly.

PARADISE

What on earth do they do there? Ok. You have women, wine, and song? Now is this constantly? You had one woman, you go to another. You can become the playboy of your dreams. Fine. That might work for how long?  awhile?  OK. I could take that. Then there’s  the wine part. We already know that too much wine makes you need to hang around the toilet bowl the next day. Are there toilet bowls in heaven? The song? Well how many really good songs are there? If you are staying there eternally, you’re bound to run out. And who decides which songs will be played? Some angel probably. What if you don’t get along with an angel? Can you request another?  They always talk about it being like a garden. Well, I now live a couple of blocks from a huge beautiful  public garden. But I’ve gone only a couple of times. Then they say there are lakes. I like a good lake as much as the next guy, but how long can you swim? Is there fishing allowed? Who says how many fish you can catch? The angels, right? I’d rather be near an ocean and surf. I’m sure there are people who would like to ski. So let’s say that it would leave a lot to be desired. But paradise has to be perfect. Everyone is always happy.  It’s peaceful. There is no pain. Excellent. Why not just take drugs?

======================

HOW TO BEAT AN INSULT

We have all been insulted some time or other in our life. And it is important that one learns to take insults well if we are to retain any measure of self-respect. When someone says to you, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” How can you most handily respond to that?

Act interested . Go, “Why don’t I go fuck myself, indeed?” Have your  fingertip at your lip, your head cocked at an upturned angle while you say this.  It is possible, though unlikely, that the big-mouth will join you in attempting to answer their own question,  Or you could choose to remind them it is none of their business. Your insult to them. But the better course is to stay on the high road and not play tit for tat.  It is possible that the person decides to up the ante with a more direct “Fuck you” or “Fuck off.”

Now you must clarify matters. Explain to the frustrated soul that you don’t wish to do either. Be firm but kind. Remind them that we live in a democracy, that they are neither your guardian nor your stockbroker (if in fact it is the case)  and that you don’t wish to take their advice. Or, contrarily, that you may just do what they have suggested. Thank them for their tough-love manner and wish them well in their day.

If this leads to a physical threat, raise your hand and take on a stance of “Brother, you know not what you do!”  in the style  of Harvey Keitel, admonishing his flock in Martin Scorcese’s old movie, The Last Temptation of Christ.  It is always useful to have a model in mind when you make a magnanimous gesture. It may even get uglier. If so, employ one of Ghandi’s tactics and sit on the ground. Do not allow yourself to be hurt, but don’t resist either.  Do the right thing, a la the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. Hopefully, a crowd will encircle you that includes a burly off-duty policeman. If that doesn’t happen, play dead, or convince the person that it is time for your nap. It is always amazing what people will accept at face value. The important thing is to keep them guessing and preferably under the impression that you cannot be bullied, or that you are mentally unbalanced and capable of untold destruction if pushed to it.

The best alternative, however, may still be the flight reaction. But usually it does not come to that. What is the worst that can happen? You die. There are worse things than death,( which I won’t get into at this juncture.) Suffice it say that even if you did die, you would know (how, I have no idea!) that you did the right thing. You did not insult back.  You did not steep to their level. You acted with dignity, forbearance, a smattering of intelligence, bluff. You danced well. You went out in style (whatever that means) Could they say the same? It is more than likely that they will at some point regret what they said or did to you, or they may even become born-again and go on to years of meetings in dank basements with badly dressed overweight people .

You will have changed the person. they might never insult another person again, or at least in the same manner.  You have made a difference!

=====================

MY PSYCHIATRIST, Doctor Ishbin Starke

When I told my psychiatrist “ I can’t stand it anymore. I want to jump in the river and drown.”  He advised me to have a good meal an hour before I do.

 I told him my life is a blank page. So he handed me a copy of War and Peace.

I don’t know if my psychiatrist is cruel or kind. At my last session I said, “Doctor. Tell me the truth. Will I ever feel any better?” He helped me to the door.

I quoted Hamlet to my shrink “  I said to him with tears in my eyes “Oh, to sleep. Oh! Perchance  to dream.”  “Perchance?” he said. “Perchance you’ll pay your bill on time.”

Doctor Starke says that anal sex  shtinks.

I am not totally convinced of Dr. Starke’s credentials.  Rather than his diplomas on his wall he has pictures of funny  bunnies.

I said, Doctor. Come off it. Don’t you think calling me an egotistical, narcissistic asshole pushing it. What have I ever done to you? He said, you came to see me, didn’t you?

I am having second thoughts about Doctor Starke’s ethical standards after he asked me what I thought would work best to erase someone: poison or a bullet to the back of the head?

I must admit I always feel a tad nervous whenever Doctor Starke says to me: “Can we try this experiment?”

I don’t mind Doctor Starke chewing gum while I am telling him about my anxieties and fears but I only wish he would stop blowing bubbles.

Doctor Starke has some very firm views about child–rearing.  He believes disobedient children should not be seen… or heard from… again.

Doctor Starke always calls a spade a spade. He also calls them “darkies” and  “lapsed white people.”

I am finding out that Doctor Starke has a sensitive side as well. He breaks down in tears every time he sees a movie in which a Nazis is snubbed.

Doctor Starke does not just sit on his big comfortable chair all day. He is an activist and has started a movement called ‘ War Criminals Of The World Unite.’

Doctor Starke thinks the Holocaust was a cruel lie meant to blemish Aryan superiority.

Doctor Starke thinks that the statement made by the president of Iran, Achmaminijad, who said that “Israel is a stinking corpse that should be wiped from the face of the earth,” was taken out of context.

I asked my shrink, the ex-Gestapo member, Doctor Ishbin Starke. I said, “Doctor. I can’t control my emotions. What must you think of me?  He said, “I try not to think of you.”

===================================================