Dear Mr. Answers,
Why, oh why, did Mr. Answers have to die???—Distraughtfully yours, the woefully under-informed mother of this blogger.
As much as it pains Mr. Answers to know that the demise of this blog will mean the end of what is apparently your only source of information about things no mother should be thinking about anyway, it turns out that the readers of Mr. Answers’ alter-ego, John “The Bomb” Shore, much prefer he keep but one blog.
John’s new solo blog, which will be located at http://www.johnshore.com (and called simply JohnShore.com) will incorporate both of John’s current blogs, Suddenly Christian and John Shore Land. Sometime during the coming week anyone going to “Suddenly Christian” or “John Shore Land” will be automatically directed to JohnShore.com.
Thanks to all of you who wrote in questions for “Ask Mr. Answers,” even though it was clear you were a bunch of total wiseacres.
Tags: dorks, geeks, losers, starbucks, tribal, tribe
Dear Mr. Answers,
It seems like everywhere I turn these days, someone is talking or writing about their “tribe.” I’m never quite sure what exactly that means. Do you know what it means when people today use that word?”—Baffled in Ohio
As a matter of fact, I do. It means they’re idiots. The primary relationship people who use that word have with other people is through the Internet. People who daily e-communicate with a great many more people than they ever talk to in real life have grown enthralled with that word, because instead of socially retarded affirmation junkies it allows them to feel like lean, mean, jungle-dwelling, loincloth-wearing, rainstick-wielding shamans just one animal call away from being instantly surrounded by resolute yet unnervingly calm members of their “tribe.” It lets them imagine that through shared values and ideals they’re primordially linked with a network of people who in real life have a panic attack if their network server blinks out for a nanosecond.
Last of the Mogeekans. Text Messages with Wolves. Warriors of the “I’ll Sue!” tribe.
All hail Chief Starbucks, stalwart leader of the ferocious Blackberry tribe!
Mr. Answers has just had a revelation.
He’s realized that he’s jealous because no one’s ever asked him to join their tribe.
Tags: '60's, Dr. Timothy Leary, Leary, LSD, Timoth Leary
Dear Mr. Answers,
Who was Timothy Leary?—Curious and Totally Not Trying to Get You to Do the Homework Assignment From My “History of the 20th Century” Class
As it happens, one of Mr. Answers’ online friends is ruby-throated, liberal hippie media mogul Brian Shields (see Do People Get Stoned at Work?). Mr. Shields (who also runs the mega-excellent site Today’s Cool News) does his media moguling for San Francisco’s venerable market lion KRON-TV. As coincidence would have it, Mr. Shields recently aired a piece about Mr. Leary on KRON! You can find that piece here: http://tinyurl.com/annhzh. (Mr. Answers has mixed feelings about revealing this, but the fact is that his very own mother used to party with Mr. Leary—who [in case you know almost nothing about the ’60’s] is famous for the counterculture phrase, “Turn on, tune in, drop out.”)
Dear Mr. Answers,
Isn’t “AC/DC” some kind of sexual term? Do you know what it means?—Rodney in Fresno
“AC/DC” is slang for bisexual. The letters originally used to designate this equal-opportunity approach to sexuality were BC and AD (“bi-curious” and “adios decorum”), but Christians and historians were not amused. Now electricians aren’t amused. It’s hard to please everyone—unless you’re an electrician AC/DC.
Over on his blog “John Shore Land,” the inimitable John has posted Presidents Day: Don’t Work; Don’t Imagine George Washington in Drag.
That guy just cracks me up.
Well, yes, mysterious visitor to Ask Mr. Answers, it happens that there is. And you can read about that sentence over on John Shore’s blog “Suddenly Christian” here. Thanks for stopping by!
Dear Mr. Answers,
I am a woman who is pretty confident that as usual this Valentine’s Day my boyfriend will not exactly overwhelm me with gifts and shows of affection. Why are men so lousy at celebrating Valentine’s Day?—Hoping but Not Hopeful
Dear Not Hopeful,
First of all, I should tell you that my answer to your question probably won’t be especially hilarious. It’s 2 a.m. where Mr. Answers is, and right now Mr. A. is just a tad sort of delirious from exhaustion.
The problem is not that men are lousy at Valentine’s Day. The problem is that men are too good at Valentine’s Day.
You are to be forgiven, Ms. Hoping, if you have accepted as truth the common misconception that men don’t really feel as deeply as women. Nothing could be further from the truth. The reason that men on average die five years younger than women is because men feel everything so intensely that in the end the stress of having to process it all makes their heart explode.
A man in love—and every man, at most every moment of his life, is deeply in love with someone—is absolutely, instinctively convinced that no one but he has ever loved with his infinitely sublime ferocity. The emotions of a man’s love are to him so powerful, so riveting, so blinding, so passionately personal that he finds almost physically repelling the idea that they should be turned into fodder for (of all things!) commercial profit.
So to a man, Valentine’s Day is like being gutted. If Hallmark made a big red Valentine’s Day Massacre card, men would buy them like hotcakes. Because that’s pretty much what every Valentine’s Day feels like to a man.
To a woman, love (sometimes) means getting dressed up and going out with her man to a fancy restaurant.
To a man, love (always) means sitting on the couch, watching TV, and just knowing that the love between he and his woman is so deep, intense, and permanent that as far as he’s concerned the only thing talking about it can possibly do is degrade it.
And if that man is told that on a certain day he has to act just like every other man, and do exactly what he’s supposed to do, which is to essentially prove his love—or, worse, display his love—in the exact same way that every other man in the world is displaying his love?
Forget it. Instead of a cute little Cupid arrow, you might as well spear him through the heart with an Actual Crossbow.
Mr. Answers would like to say more on this matter, but before he passes out he wants to arrange into an enticing display a dozen red roses, some chocolates, and a bottle of Mumm’s champagne.
When it comes to matters of the heart, Mr. Answers is as dense as any other man. But he hasn’t been married for 28 years for nothing.
Related post o’ mine (written last Valentine’s Day): Love is a Many Splinterd Thing.
Say, Mr. Answers, you seem to know virtually everything. So I figured you’d be the guy to ask: Shouldn’t the same people who take Paul literally on homosexuality also take Jesus literally on personal wealth?—Confused in San Diego
What kind of trouble-making hippie pinko liberal are you? What kind of question is that to ask? I don’t know why I put up with your type. I’ve got to stop.
As it happens, however, I do know someone—a natural theological genius, really—who, as luck would have it, has just asked that exact same question on his blog. I shouldn’t send you over there—but it’ll get you away from here, so for that post, go here. And don’t come back. Ever. Loser.
If you’re curious about why Mr. Answer’s alter-ego started keeping three blogs, he explains here: http://tinyurl.com/cov3a4
Tags: fetish, leather fetish, Mr. Answers, No life, rubber fetish, scary readers, sexual fetishist, shoe fetish
Q. What is a sexual fetishist?
A. Mr. Answers is seriously beginning to wonder about who, exactly, is reading him.
Anyway, “sexual fetishist” is a term speech therapists employed as an articulation exercise until the mid-1950’s, when their patients started suing them. Perhaps the therapists were unaware that a sexual fetishist is a person who associates with the sexual act an object which a normal person would be more inclined to associate with a bad garage sale. Although the three most common sexual fetishes are for rubber, shoes, and leather, almost any inanimate object can become the focus of a sexual fetish: lamps, bedroom slippers, clock radios, flatwear, and so on. The fact is that if you can find it in a JC Penny’s catalog, you can find someone who enjoys dressing it in lingerie.
While it is possible to have more than one sexual fetish at a time, multifetishism is not recommended. For one, it can put an undo amount of strain on one’s imagination, since as the number of objects de’ fetish increase, so does the challenge of working each object into one congruous sexual fantasy. For instance, a person possessed of fetishes for rubber, shoes, and leather might have to think for days before conjuring up what for him would be the ultimate sexual image: Bozo in a wet suit sitting on a cow. Of course, as with all endeavors, practice makes perfect: soon, just the fantasy of a cow wearing rubber galoshes might do the trick.
While it is possible for a sexual fetishist to be cured, it happens rarely. In Chicago recently a man with a leather fetish was spontaneously healed when a woman on the subway with him unwittingly snapped her purse shut on his nose. Early research suggests it’s possible to cure a rubber fetishist by dressing him in a rain slicker, fitting him into a tractor tire, and rolling him down a hill. Shoe fetishes are the easiest to cure: few can maintain their podiatric passion once they’ve contracted their first case of athlete’s nose.
Join the fan group of the alter-ego of Mr. Answers here.