Kvetchuns

"We have a problem, we're looking for a word that describes what you do." Neo Illogism

2006-10-10T05:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Neo, Nothing neo about your problem. You think you have a problem with what we do? Well, guess what, we have the biggest problem with what we do. And still, we keep doing no matter what? What? We have no idea. We keep trying to come up with words for what we do, but all we end up doing is coming up with words for what we think other people do and nothing to help us get any closer to understanding what we do. The long and the longer of it is, we spend a great deal of time grappling with what we do while trying to get closer and closer to what we really want to do. What's worse, we're not quite sure we know what we want to do. Every time we think we know what we want to do, we only end up getting even farther away from what we should be doing. Should, should. should! That word again. That's another problem we have with what we do. We always think it's not what we should be doing. Naturally, we have no idea what we do; we're always trying to do what we should be doing. Which brings us back to the question of what do we do to solve your problem? We think. We agonise. We worry. We deny. We wait. We wait. We wait. We wait. We grate. We do not mate. Yes, that's one thing we just do not do. We do all the things that make it impossible to mate. And that solves an important side of what we do. You now know what we do not do. Back to what we do. We write. We write. We write. We try not to write. We wish we didn't write. And then, we write. We write. We write. Some people say we do not write. We sometimes wonder, is that what we do? We write to find out if writing is not what we do. We question. Yep, that's something we most certainly do. We answer. Yep, that fucking too. We do not provide the right answers, but we definitely answer to humans' nature. It's what makes us write. Write. And write. We spend most of our miserable life answering. We answer all the questions that life demands of us. At least, we try to. We wish we didn't have to. Oh yeah, we wish. Hmm. Yes, we definitely wish. We wish all the time. We, even, wish we didn't wish. And because we wish and do not wish to wish, we write. Write. And write. So many word years later, we're still not sure what we do. Are you beginning to understand what we do? If so, do tell us. It would be a very neo spin, we're sure, on what we do. Of course, we could have saved you all this talk from us trying to tell you what we do by simply telling you what our not-so-friendly but very wise inner voice Conscience Confucius once said when, in a weak moment, we asked him what we do. He said, "The only thing you do is what you don't want to do. You're too afraid to do what you want to. The day you start doing what you want to do, you won't need another word on what you do." After that, we were too afraid and confused to ask him anything. Still, if you're still looking for a word for what we do, try muse. Waste. Cut. Paste. Copy. Edit. Undo. Do. Redo. Rail. Fail. Gaze. Debase. Wank. Tank. Hide. Cry. Try. Try? Try...hmm, interesting word that. Probably, the perfect word to describe what we will never do, while trying to. Conscience was right, we're too fucking petrified to. Your garbose Agony.

"I have worries. I don't know what to do with them." Worry Wart Hog

2006-10-10T00:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Worry W. Hog, You have worries? No worries. Just give 'em to us. We collect worries. Other people collect stamps, coins, ideas, books, money, bodies, scalps, designations, degrees, music and the like. We prefer worries. We're pretty sure you don't care much for your worries. We know you'd rather be rid of them. We know that's why you've come to us. We know how little people care for worries. We know people are too little to care much for worries. Unfortunately, worries demand that people care for them more than people care to. That's the thing about worries. They're high maintenance. Very. Worries take your mind off more important things. So take all your worries of your mind and give 'em to us. We don't mind. It's why we got into this business of dealing with agonies. We used to be in many other businesses before this. We got into all these businesses, typically, to deal with the many worries we were faced with in life. Unhappily enough, these other businesses we were in just couldn't deal with the worries we thought they'd help us banish. Every time we worried about something, we turned to our business for help. Everytime we turned to our business to help us with our worries, we ended up neglecting the business of the business. All our businesses felt let-down, were a let-down and let us down with a thud on a bed of more worries. As a result, we always ended up distraught and helpless with the state of affairs we found ourself in. Our businesses ended up getting ruined. Everything went down the tube. All we were left with were worries. Nobody bothered to help us. Nothing came our way. Everything was broken. We were broken. Then, we picked ourselves up and looked around. And when we look around we realised, the most valuable things we were left with were pure, priceless, gold-standard, unadulterated, big, small, medium sized, chunky, nuggetlike, spotless worries. Everywhere we turned, we were faced with more lonely, orphaned, unwanted worries needily staring us back in the face. Our heart melted. We were hooked. We couldn't say no to the poor critters. Besides, why look a gift horse in the mouth? And so, we decided to turn to worries for the solution to all our worries. Happily enough, they didn't let us down. Very soon, we turned all our worries into a big, successful, blue and chipper business of worries. What's more, we channelled this world full of worries into our business of worries. Now, when we worry, it's just more raw material for the profit centre of Worry Gory Inc. When anyone has worries, it's just more raw material for the company of prospering worries. Free. Every worry only adds to the bottomline. Freely. Willingly. Gladly. Happily. Efficiently. Our bottomline is everybody's worries. Pithily speaking, our selling line is our bottomline. Trust us, you have no business being in worry. Stick to your core competencies. Worrying is ours. Just remember, don't worry. It's none of your business. Your business like Agony.

"I'm a block head. Please give me a list of websites to block." Block Head

2006-10-07T04:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Block Head, As the great shoet Leonard Knohen would growl, "Everybody knows how to get to the sites they want to. Everybody knows one more proxy than you can block. Everybody knows the minefields you lay are all crock. Everybody knows the Internet is free. Everybody knows you're way too free. Everybody knows you have nothing better to do. Everybody knows you don't have a fucking clue. Everybody knows you're rubbish. Everybody knows you're squeamish. Everybody knows you're paranoid. Everybody knows you brain is null and void. Everybody knows, everybody knows, everybody knows all the things you never will. So go ahead and block one more site if you bloody will." Still, if your problem is the need for one more site to block. One more chance to to show no one in particular you're an idiotic block jock, help you we will. What to do? We're the Funcle and our job is to put people out of their agony. Even if all they're attempting to do is dish out pure pointless agony. Open your mind and prepare to have it filled. On second thoughts, don't. Close your mind, completely. To block anything, you must get to the one site that attracts all the things you're out to block. And that site is the human mind. Some people call it Google, but we don't think we're there yet. That's a vision of a newman mind we'll reserve for a more dystopian future. Umm, please wake up. No zoning out in this room. We're very sorry. We shan't go to the places you can't, even, comprehend right now. Let's get back to the simpler present. And to the mother of all sites we were talking about. The site which attracts all sites: Your mind. Blocking it is the perfect block to block every site you don't approve of. Without a mind to infest, there will be no site for a site to take up residence in. Unfortunately, once the mind is open, it can only be likened to a bottomless see. A see that is open to seeing everything and everything. A see that we ride, bravely, on a daily basis with our dear, dear surfer friend Bay Botch, the ultimate surfer dude. Bay Botch always tells us, while we're all at see, "Dude, the Internet, much like life, is a bloody beach. No matter what you do, the waves will keep coming. Under such morecumstances, the only thing you can do is keep surfing. If you can't surf with the tide, if you can't ride the waves, don't try to swim in them. You will drown." Wise stuff, eh? To think, it comes from a surfer dude. That's the power of the Internet. Block it. Don't mind it one bit. Or you might end up shocked out of your nonsenses by an open mind. And that's not something a block of head will find easy to deal with or control. Your seefaring Funcle.

"I want to be black and white. Can I?" Off Colour

2006-10-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Colour, That's an interesting question. It's nice to meet someone who is unbiased and seeks the middle ground. It's a good thing to see the world in shades of gray. Unfortunately, most people see things in a black and white that's not gray. We hope you, too, are not seeking to be the black and white that most people see things in. Wait a minute. By any chance, are you seeking to be a zebra? We think a zebra is a most balanced animal. A trifle showy, but very balanced. We have no issues with people who want to be zebras. Actually, we have no issues with anyone. It's people with issues who have us. Speaking of zebras, when we look down the tubes humanity is heading, we can fully understand why someone might want to make the crossover and be a balanced animal in shades of black and white. Though, we're pretty sure you don't want to be a zebra. We just threw in that thought so you know it's not such a bad option. Anyway, in case you do want to be a zebra, we can hook you up with a switch doctor we know from the Serengeti. His name is Kaka Animal Rights. His speciality is dealing with human wrongs. He deals in the spirits of all the animals humans have so far massacred. He can very easily exchange your inhuman human spirit for that of a humane animal. What you must be careful of, though, is that he has a no-refund policy. So think about it. The option of being an animal that's not part of the rat's race that is humanity might be tempting, but you'll always have ratty humans to contend with. Come to think of it, as a human, too, you have the inhumanity of humanity to contend with. Hmm. Zebra. Not a bad thought. Give it some thought, look left, look right and then cross. That said, we suspect what's really bothering you is the fact that most things look better in black and white. Especially people. In black white, your warts don't show up. In black and white, your flaws look like character. In black and white, all women look like Greta Garbo or Madhubala. In black and white, and with a cigarette dangling from the side of your mouth, any man can so very easily pass of for Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant or Guru Dutt. Sigh. Why? Ah well, we're reminded of a time long gone by when we were fraternising with a photographer who fornicated with us only when she had her shades of gray on. On the days she wore her normal blue lenses, her judgements about the way we looked were rather coloured. We used to wait for the days she'd put on her black lens for the left eye and white lens for her right eye and see things in sensibly moderate shades of gray. Those were the days she'd call us Humphrey and have sex with us like we were Cary and ask us about Guru over a whisky until it turned sour. Those were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end. But, they did; the minute she realised we were not much more than a coloured Asian from a developing country somewhere in South Asia. And that she was a blue-eyed, blond-haired, pink-lipped, white skinned lass from a Caucasian beyond we couldn't even dream of aspiring for. Her name was Barbie Fucking Whites and she was a figment of everyone's coloured imagination. What we're trying to say dear fellow is that you cannot have the best of both worlds. You cannot be black and white. If you try to be black and white, you'll end up in neverland. And once you end up in neverland, there's no way back. So don't kid yourself. Colour is the only black. And white is the only colour that's right. Of course, there's always Kaka Animal Rights. His bol-free number is FREESPIRIT-800. He's always open. And then closed. It's your call. Your graying Funcle.

"Why does Bollywood make a song and dance of everything?" Bolly Parton

2006-10-02T20:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Bolly Parton, We're tempted to deal with your problem with a song and a dance. We think that would make you forget all your problems. Unfortunately, song and dance is not something we're very good at. Come to think of it, we aren't too good at solving problems, either, but that is not your problem. What we will do is turn your problem over to our falter-ego, the very unreliable boresspondent from Bollywood, Psychobabble Pasha. Take it away, Psycho. Tank ooh, Funcle Dada. Oye Bolly! Psycho Pasha hair. How it is? Want to act in fillums? Come down to Bumbai. We will show you lats of things in fillum city. And you can show us your things in your body city too. (Wink, wink.) Please escoose our pronunciation, but we're not very educated. Only very rich. Rich in Bollywood sesperiences of the unreal kind. So what Pasha says is this, singingly, dancingly and very tunelessly. You have praablems? Don't make a song and dance about it. Just song and dance about it. Song and dance is the perfect formula to ensure people do not make a song and dance about their praablems. If someone is making next to nothing a day, show him a song set in Swisserland. It will take him to Swisserland for five minutes and make him forget the years and years of subsistence living he has to live through. It also makes up for the fact that most people in India cannot go to any beautiful place because they can't bilaadi afford to. If somebody has one too many mouths to feed, show him a marriage movie full of songs and excessive consumption of fatty foods by very fat people. It will salve his food praablem and make him forget his starving family. Another thing about Bollywood, it's part of a very wise culture of denial and not saying anythings in a straightforward manner. We're very decent. So we must show everything without showing. Let me esplain. Instead of showing people lovingly fondling bubbles in the privacy of their homes, we believes in showing people squeezing fruity bubble substitutes like oranges, lemons, round vegetables and, even, watermelons in public places. You know what is bubbles? Boobles, big ones on the chests. Yes, that only. Then, instead of doing the perfectly normal things like waking up on a lovely morning and making love, we believes in showing people waking up and being mind-transported off for minutes and minutes of violent and painful rolling over each other down powder snow hills, rocks, in farms, on haystacks and in other exotic and not-so-exotic locations in fillum city. All in the space of a few minutes. Instead of telling someone exactly why they are unhappy or hurt about something, we will explore the pathos of it all in screechy song and preachy melodiraama. Besides, Bollywood movies and peeples tend to be rather long and winded. So song and dance is the perfect time to dash off to catch your pisser. Yes, yes, cutting out song and dance would cancel the need to introduce piss-breaks, but that would piss people off. And that's why it cannot be done. Arre, this praablem of yours will take very long to esplain and salve. I thinks it is best if you sing and dance for a solution. Bester still, you just take a quick course in heaving and vulgaring and come off to Bumbai. We will show you the stuffs and see if you have the stuffs to song and dance and salve your, and India's, praablems. It is the bestest way. Finally. Oye Funcle Dada, she is songing and dancing! Praablem salved. Where is thee bathroom? Your Psychobawla Funcle.

"I'm a newspaper. Why do people take me for a dump?" Crap Question

2006-09-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Morning Crap Question, We gather you're a morning paper? Or should that be craper? What to do, dude? Shit happens. Hee. Hee. Never mind the shitty jokes, we know exactly what you mean. Damn, we're good at this crap. We always seem to know what everyone means. Makes us fucking wonder why nobody ever understands what we mean. Anyway, fuck all that crap. Let's deal with your crap. Or, more accurately, other people loading you with their crap. Or, even more crackurately, other people taking you for crap. Or, even further punningly, people dumping their crap on you. Or, bloody personally, you taking us for a dump to deal with your crap. Okay, enough of all that shit. Please don't mind us dumping all these puns on you. Good fucking Lord, We better stop this shit. Okay, okay, so what was your question? Ah yes, why do people take you for a crap? Hmm. We got it. A blast from the past tells us we need to deal with this by going back to the days we spent in the Centre for Digestive Pissorders. Our Master Mistah Smelly Knows used to say "Humans are very anal retentive. They need some stimulating crap to let go of all their crap." Your question makes us ponder anew on that seminal piece of shitvice. And it all goes down like this. People need crap to eject all the crap inside them. They need to take their mind off their own shit to exorcise their own shit. People can let go of their shit only when they get a hold of other people's shit. When people look at shit, it makes them shit in and out of their pants. It's why they consume all the crap you bring them on a daily basis. It's what the Agony Funcle Shrincorporation calls 'The Shitulation Shatalyst Syndrome'. Please note: A competitive school of unthinking calls this same shit we've just dumped on you the 'Observer Effect'. What the fuck is that shit? Well, it's some shit that some physishits have come up with, where observations on happening shit makes shit happen. Shit, we think we must quickly trademark our shit. Who knows, someday, someone might decide to call us a physishit, too. Boy, that's when we'll feel like hot shit...hey, don't go away! We have a little more shit to help you deal with this people shit. The easy way out of the shit you're going through is to go blank. Go blank, and people won't know what the shit you're thinking. They'll have no way of reading you. They'll have nothing to look at and dump on. I repeat, simply, if you hate the crap around you, just chill out and clam up. When you clam up, people will clam up and be forced to go elsewhere with their anal-retentive shit. Now that's what you call cool shit, eh? No fucking shit. Sorry for indulging in all this verbal diarrhea, but you asked for this shit. Your severely funstipated Funcle.

"Is 'No' the most popular word in the English language?" Yes Man

2006-09-30T21:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Yes, Why do you feel that way? Do you happen to be in advertising? No, no. Please don't take it personally. Don't go away. Don't be miffed. Don't get angry. Don't hold it against us. We are asking only because we need to understand where you are coming from. We need to know why you feel the way you do. We're only trying to help. Yes, we do know that advertising is a no-no to most sane people in the world. We're asking only because your problem seems to be very similar to that of a copywriter who came to us in the not-so-recent past. This poor fellow felt utterly rejected because almost everything he proposed ended up being rejected. We told him not to take things so personally. That only made him even more distraught. He told us, he got into advertising because he wanted to do something he cared for. He didn't want to do something mindless. He wanted to take things personally. He wanted to create. He wanted to change lives. He wanted to make people feel. We laughed at him, very loudly, luridly and uproariously. And then, very seriously, told him to, immediately, get out of the business. Fortunately for him, he did. Unfortunately for him, he ended up going back to it. Desperately for him, he had little choice. We didn't blame him. We felt very, very sorry for him. We tried to help him. We couldn't. The bloody thing about this bloody business of dreams is that it ends up conning, even, the dream makers. Once you're in it, you can't get out of it. Worse, you can't stay in it, either. Spend a while in advertising and everything else becomes a complete no-no. Spend a while in advertising and advertising becomes a no-no. On second thoughts, don't spend any time in advertising. Spend a while in advertising and not only does everything else becomes a no-no, you end up being a complete no-no to everyone else. So fucking don't. Good thing you're not in advertising. That said, your query does seem very advertising. Hmm...we've got to do something about this psudonym business. Maybe we'll introduce name verification. But then, people will feel afraid to come to us with their problems. They will fear being exposed. They will have to reveal themselves. And in this world driven by advertising, that's a complete no-no to, almost, everyone. You must be from advertising. Your name says advertising. Your angst screams advertising. (In very bold and very large exclamation marks from advertising.) Your conflict says advertising. Speaking of conflict, consider the conflict of all conflicts in advertising: In trying to get people to say 'yes' to all that you peddle for all kinds of strange and shady peddlers, you end up having to subject yourself to a life of 'nos'. (Wah, wah, what a conflict! Waa, waa, what a conflict!) There is nothing else in life where you have to hear more 'nos' than in advertising. You're encouraged, urged, pushed to say 'no' to rules and then pushed, urged, encouraged to say 'yes' to all the rules. It's a strange, strange world this advertising. Thank God you're not in advertising. Are you? No, please don't tell us you're in advertising. No, we do not have a solution for your problem if you happen to be in advertising. No, you have no hope. No, we cannot help you. No, we will not try again. No, don't come back to us again and again. No, not another 'Yes man' and his angst. No, we will not go back to advertising. No, we can't take it anymore. No, we didn't mean to end up like this. No, this is too much. No, we're not getting hysterical. Good God, we are. Sorry. Very. We didn't mean to break down like that. We didn't mean to expose our soft underbelly like that. We are strong like this. We are lying like this. We have no choice. We must. Yes, we used to be in advertising. Yes, we're still in advertising. Yes, we are advertising. Yes, we are all those people who come to us from advertising. Yes, 'no' is the most popular word in the English language. (If you fucking, bloody, bullshit, crapshoot, whatever happen to be in advertising.) No, we will not ask ourselves another question. Yes, we will continue to hide behind other people's questions. No, we will not try to treat us. Yes, we will continue to cushion ourselves from the real world with more branded merchandise. Yes, we're ready for the next kvetchun. And no, it better not be from advertising. Your hidden Agony.

"People say money talks. Why doesn't it talk to me?" Blank Account

2006-09-29T23:17:00.000-07:00

Dear Blank, It's unfortunate that money has never talked to you. It's quite an experience to see money talk. It's one of the most fluent and, probably, the smoothest languages known to mankind. In fact, money talks even better with the woman of our kind. How do we know all this? From personally inexperiencing the experience of money talking to us. Put fucking simply, and sadly, we know what it's like not to be talked to by money and, if we may add, people with money. And, sometimes, knowing what it's like to be rejected by something is best way of fucking feeling what it's like to be accepted. Now that might not make sense to you, but if you consider how little sense all this talk of money makes to us, it all might make sense to you. Say what? Say this. It's the 'Rejectoff Principle of Experiential Acceptance' at work. Please note, this is not an untrustworthy principle we've fudged up from our fetidly fecund brain. Trust us, and it, it was handed down to us by the Borefather of Principled Living, Thorn Rejectoff. Now fuck that and consider this: No matter how nice we are to money, it refuses to talk to us or, for that matter, speak for us. Over the years, we've tried to communicate with money in many ways. We've tried to reach out to money many a time. We've pursued money with the hunger of a dog pursuing pussy. Incidentally, we've also pursued pussy with the hunger of a man pursuing a bone. Yep, to no avail. As a result, we're inclined to guess money is like pussy. It only talks to a certain kind of pursuer. And that pursuer is not us. It's the pursuer who can make money fucking talk. Are we talking of money or pussy? Same fucking difference. Rest assured, we fully understand what you are trying to because money, pussy and all things related have never spoken to us. Maybe, as the Monetary Mindtist Hardup Poorsky used to say, "You need to play hard to get to get." And so, perhaps you ought to try playing hard to get. Maybe then you will get. Maybe then money will talk to you. Have you ever tried playing hard to get with money? The few times we came close to playing hard to get, it only seemed all very impossible to get. Are we sounding trite, bitter and discouraging? We don't mean to. Go back to the Rejectoff Principle of Experiential Acceptance and misunderstand that it's just our way of trying to be encouraging. Speaking of encouraging things, there is one thing we've never tried, to get money to talk to us. The thing is, we learnt of it only after we had gotten too old to, even, try to try it. You, though, sound like a young fellow hungry enough to try it. Maybe you'll be more open to it. Get yourself a battery-operated, mind-decontrolled money-driver. It's a little something you need to install in your brain. Once you install this money-driver in your brain, it turns you into a dumb, monnunicating object that shuts up, and the mind down, in the face of any money. People say, dumb objects that let money do all the talking are very good at making money talk. We believe it's a rather steep price to pay for a money shot. Then again, we're all talk. Compared to us, it makes a lot more sense to go with money that talks. Besides, no matter what, we'll always talk to you. On the other hand, if you want money to talk, then you know what you gotta shut the fuck up, pay the price and do. Your very broke and broken Funcle.

"Why do superheroes wear their underpants outside?" Hero Giri

2006-09-29T05:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Hero Giri, Good question. Very good question. A question that is long, long overdue. You've put the finger on the question that has been troubling mankind from the time superheroes have entered our lives. In fact, we, the Father of all issues, has often wondered why nobody asked us this question. People come to us with all kinds of issues of that are hardly obvious and hardly in need of very urgent attention. Obviously, it took a real hero to to muster up the courage to ask this very obvious and in-your-face question of a superbly delicate kind. Make no mistake, it is, indeed, a very delicate question with possibly life-changing consequences. (You will see.) What is this great Freudian urge that makes these heroes of superhuman strength, noble intentions and altruistic lives assault us with their sexuality in such a manner? Is it a Freudian intention? Or is it something else? Let us investigate. But before that, let us all take a moment to thank you, profusely, for bringing this issue up front. Quiet! A moment is passing. Thank you. It has passed. And now, it's your turn to thank us. We have it. Our brain that moves faster than the eye can see has come up with the answer to this vexing intrusion into our lives. After a lightning moment of speedy investigation we believe the following are the reasons these great men and women of superhuman tendencies indulge in this manner of superficial exhibitionism. Prepare yourself for this superblast of irrevelations of a superfuncle kind. On a marketing level, there is a distinct possibility that all the underwear companies in the world have gotten together and forged a secret contract with the superheroes of the world for the most obvious of product placements. In a fashion faux-pas aside, we have it on record that all superheroes love wearing tight clothes and do not enjoy wearing thongs. Wearing tight clothes with large underwear is an invitation to reveal thy visible panty liner. We all know how disgusting it is when women reveal thy panty liner. We do not want to know how it might look if men were to do the same. Superheroes, in their love for crime-fighting, choose to wear their briefs outside to protect us from this fashion crime. It goes without saying that superheroes do not wish to look like ballet dancers. Nothing more need be said on why we do not need more ballet dancers of a superhuman, or any other, kind in our world. Observantly enough, we have observed that most female superheroes tend to keep their knickers in a twist inside their outfits. Reliable sources inform us they do it, or don't, because their boobs are in-our-face enough to communicate their sexuality. So far, no male superheroes have agreed to have boobs and keep their knickers inside. We wait for the day the great warrior Nogun Shemale decides to make its debut on this politically incorrect Earth. Until then, we'll have to make do with the conventional superheroes of the male and female kind in our midst. Another important point we must mention is that superheroes have an superacute need to colour co-ordinate their outfits. It would be most monotonous for us if they were to zip around in skin-tight outfits of one colour. It needs to be added that under no circumstances is it enough to have skin tight outfits in multiple colours sans a triangle of block colour on the supercrotch to set it off. No, we cannot have triangles being drawn on skin-tight outfits. The great Superfashionistah Cutlet Kabalah ordains that triangles have to be in separate pieces of sartorial inelegance known as outerwear underwear. And that brings us to the end of our investigation into the inner workings of the superhero mind. We thank you for posing this super question. Interestingly enough, we identify you as the next possible superhero in our midst. Perhaps you can call yourself Inside Information, the man who gets inside the minds of criminals and reminds them of the good they can do. Mind it. And while you're putting your mind to it, try not to get your innerwear into a twist. The last thing we need is another superhero with an existential dilemma. Superman and Spiderman have given us enough of that. Your superknows Funcle.

"Is sad the new happy?" Sadly Mistaken

2006-09-29T03:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Mistaken, You are not mistaken. Sadly. Sadly, sad is the new happy. Happy? You have no business being so. Sadly. You should be sad. And that's the only thing that should make you happy. Why? Silly, because sad is the new happy. Believe it or not, you don't have a question. You have the answer to today's life-changing question. Why is everyone so sad? Why can't we be happy? Isn't there anything to be happy about? Let's look at the evidence on hand. Impartially. Bush is in charge. Sad. Osama lives. Sad. There are no WMDs. Understandably sad. Sport is business. Sad. Jobs suck. Sad. We always have to settle for less than we deserve and so end up with even less than we settle for. Very sad. Maureen Dowd rules. Oprah rules. Fluff rules. Fucking, fucking, fucking very, very, very sad. You are reduced to coming to us with your problems. Pure agony. We're reduced to solving people's problem. Pathetically sad. People think we're here to solve their problems. Foolishly sad. Bollywood rules. Grotesquely sad. We believe the hype. Sad. Swollen heads are the order of the day. Painful. Money talks. Predictably sad. Small mercies are what people have to look for solace in. Sigh. The rich are getting richer and the poor poorer. Yawningly sad. Wayne Rooney is out of form. Metatarsally sad. The Australian cricket team is getting even more arrogant. Let's cry about it over a beer. There will be more channels on TV. There's will be even less to watch. Nothing will ever be original. If it is original, it will not sell. If it does not sell, it's not worth doing. Sad. Sad. Sad. Sad. Boringly sad. Lawyers are more powerful. Free will only be what you might get if you buy something very very overvalued. Diamonds are, still, a girl's best friend. Friends are like diamonds: Overvalued. There will never be another John Lennon. Bob Dylan is doing lingerie ads. The Who are back together again. The Stones will not stop milking their past. Why? Why? Why? Why? Dammit, why? Elvis lives. Eww, that's sad. Indian cricket will continue to look for a replacement for Kapil Dev. Moronically sad. Anil Kumble will keep trying to turn the ball. Soporifically sad. Cricket is the only sport Indians will ever be interested in. Mind-numbingly sad. Indian hockey will always be stuck in the past. Shamefully sad. Religion is God. Somebody else will always make more than you. Enough is never enough. The mind will never be without fear. Hair colour rules. Conversations will become dumber than door knobs. Looks are all people care for. People are getting stupider, daily. The list will go on. And on. And on. Until you die. The end is near. Fortunately. On the basis of all the evidence, we're forced to conclude, sadly, that Sadly, you are mistaken. Sad is not the new happy. The End is the new happy. This is the end, my friend. Be happy. Your happy agony.

"Who is this Mojo and why do people lose it?" Art Barfucle

2006-09-27T20:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Barfuncle, Mojo is that thing which helps us answer all questions. Mojo is that thing that will have helped you answer your own question. People lose their mojos for a variety of reasons. In films, people lose their mojos to push the plot. In life, people lose their mojos so they can lose their jobs. In love, people lose their mojos, so they can have sex with other people who can help them find it. In future, people will lose their mojos so they can wallow in the past. In reality, we do not know why people lose their mojos. In all honesty, we don't even know what is a mojo. In fact, many, many things are a mojo. In stance, a mojo is a fuel. A mojo is an excuse. A mojo is food. A mojo is hunger. A mojo is a gene. A mojo is an instinct. A mojo is a song that makes you happy. A mojo is a joke that makes you smile. A mojo is a face you want to come home to. A mojo is that whore who makes you forget how fucked your day has been. A mojo is a game of squash. A mojo is the words you vomit out on a blank page that lighten your mind. A mojo is a shopping spree. A mojo is the cheque at the end of the month. A mojo is the boss whose positive words make you run harder. A mojo is the rat race that keeps you competitive. A mojo is an ego. A mojo is an idea at the end of a long, hard think. A mojo is not a simple question. A mojo is definitely the answer to many questions. Can we help you with your question? For once, we're not sure we can. For once again, we don't have a solution to somebody else's agony. Maybe we've lost our mojo. We wish we could send you away with a solution and smile, but we're stumped in the face of no mojo. If we knew what a mojo really, singly, specifically was, we'd go out and grab it. If we knew why people lose their mojos, we'd go out and find ours. We're very sorry Art, you're just going to have to find your way to your own mojo. And once you find it, don't lose it. We may not know what a mojo is, but we certainly know how it feels to lose it. Trust us, you don't want to. But first, you've got to find it for yourself. And while you're out trying to hunt it down, stick with what the great mojo hunter of Ho Joe Fuxly used to say, "If you can't find ya mojo, fuck it." We have no idea what he meant, but that's the nature of Mojo. You don't know it, until you have it. And you bloody well know it, when you don't. Your nojo Agony

"Why the fuck have you gotta serve somebody?" Job Dylan

2006-09-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Dylan, Even the great Dylan had to serve somebody. Even when he was writing his pop philosophic 'You gotta serve somebody', he was serving somebody. Even when he wasn't serving anybody, he was serving himself. That is the reality of life. You may be a preacher, you may be a teacher, you may be a screecher, you may be a moocher, no matter what you are, you gotta serve somebody. You may be a ho, you may be schmoe, you may be a bozo, you may be gonzo, no matter what the fuck yo, you are serving somebody. As the great mooner Billy Koel once said...hmm, now what did he say? Oh yeah, never mind, what he said. It doesn't serve the purpose of illustrating the point that you gotta serve somebody. The point to be noted though, is that when he was saying what he said, he was serving somebody for a large amount of money. If you don't fucking serve somebody, you are not serving yourself. You can only serve yourself when you are serving somebody. We may be a writer, we may be a blighter, we may be a fighter, we may be nothing more than a typewriter, no matter what we fucking are, we've always fucking served somebody. God fucking knows why we have to? Speaking of the blighter, even he serves somebody. Yes God. You might ask who does the great Lord above serve? Well, apart from the fact that the great Lord above is little more than a figment of somebody's manipulative imagination, he is there because he serves the purpose of that manipulative imagination. No matter what or who or where the purpose of that fucked up imagination is taking us, God is serving it. Then there's the great science seller Richard Hawkins who says, "The only reason we are here is to keep our genes going. Our bodies are little more than delivery machines for the genes they carry. Our minds make our bodies do what they do so they can serve the purpose of optimum gene survival. No matter what you may think you are doing, you are only doing what your genes are directing you to do for their continued survival." God bless Science. We'd like to end this service with a throwaway line from the very dead shunknown shoet Slob Milan. Slob loved to say this to nobody who cared to listen. Hunched on his couch that took him nowhere, he'd stare into the distance and amuse, "Do, do, do-do. Da, do, da. Do, do, do-do? Hah, bah! I do not." Go back to that every time you're forced to deal with the angst of serving somebody. It will serve you well. Your well done Funcle.

"Why doesn't the mirror ever lie? Everyone else does." Reflect Shun

2006-09-25T22:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Shun, Would you believe us if we told you that we're often faced with the same question? It's why we don't look at the man in the mirror anymore. We shun all mirrors. We prefer not to reflect. But now that you have asked us this deep, deep question, we're forced to, once again, reflect. On reflection, this is what we see for you. The thing about a mirror is it has no heart. In our experience having a heart is not a good thing. A heart makes you feel and when you feel, you are forced to do things that make you feel better. Hmm. On further reflection, we're, once again, forced to fall back on the leanings and the learnings of a great mind to solve matters of the heart, heartlessly. The mind we're going to introduce you to is that of a great Norwegian Dillosopher with no heart. Since he's not very well known, you may call him Bergman. No, he's not Bergman, but Bergman is, probably, the only Scandinavian fellow you know of. No, Bergman is not Norwegian, but who cares? They all seem the same to people who don't look at anything other than mirrors and Bollywood. Anyway, so this man who is not Bergman is someone we have broken bread and made cold blue cheeze with. We tend to break bread and make cheeze with unknown people. It's why most of our thoughts remain unknown, unrecognised and cheezy. So this gent whom you can call Bergman, but whose name is, actually, Sullen Sasgard, used to say, rather sullenly, and I quote, "When you look into the mirror, don't. Look beyond the mirror. Look at all the things around you the bloody mirror deflects you from looking at yourself. Don't reflect. Deflect. Look at the size of your breasts. Deflect. Look at your biceps. Deflect. Look at your chest muscles. Deflect. Look at your six-pack. Deflect. Look at your vanity. Deflect. There's nothing better to look at into the mirror than your vanity. Deflect. Vanity always lies. Deflect. That is the essence of deflectionary reflection. Ja. And when you look at the pure vanity your mirror reflects, it will never speak the truth. Ja. Deflect." Hmm. We wonder what he meant by that. But hey, that's the magic of Norwegian dillosophy. It rarely appeals to you at an obvious level. In fact, it rarely appeals to you at all. It's why you can safely assume it's all Bergman. So deflect that and turn to these things that will appeal to you. Get yourself a bunch of magic mirrors. These are mirrors that always lie. They are also known as friends. Magical friends who will always reflect things you want to hear. Things you want to see. Things you don't have to reflect on. Leave all this philosophy and dillosophy for the Bergman's and the Sullens of the world. Leave all this reflection tifflection. Why fight with reality when you can revel in superficiality? By all means surround yourself with mirrors. Just don't pose any questions. Just pose. Life is meant for posers. Reflect on that. And then, deflect. Ja. Your shuniyan Agony.

"Why is George Bush in charge of our world?" Off On

2006-09-18T06:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Off, You'e back. You're on. Couldn't come up with an answer for that problem, could you? Told you. Now you really have a question. And it's a question you've not been able to figure out for yourself. Well, neither have we. Nor has anyone. In fact, we'll solve your question by taking your mind off the seemingly all important question by plying you with seemingly more all important questions. This is a technique of self-yelp we learnt during the many years we spent among the Zen Masters of the Whee Tao Clan. You should go down there sometime. It's a happy place full of happy thougtfulls. It's from one of these great thoughtfulls that we learnt how to tackle most of the most questions. Over to him. Over to the Great Zen Quester Shoo Who Why Whee who loved to wisely say, wisely, "There is no answer like a question to answer the question. So question the question for more questions that answer." Think about that. And while you're thinking about that, think about this. Why are women on top? Why are more women not on top? Why are men animals? Why are men such dick heads? Why are humans not animals? Why is sex the ultimate aphrodisiac? Why does sex need an aphrodisiac? Why is sex? Why is Bin Laden Bush? Is Bush Bin Laden? Who is Bin Laden? Why is Bin Laden not Bush? Is there a Bin Laden? Why do all jobs except handjobs suck? Why do all bosses suck? Why can't we suck our own dicks? Why must we develop? Why can't we go back in time? Why is it so important to go forward? Have you forgotten your original question? Is your original question at all important? Aren't you better off without any questions? Weren't you better off when you came to us without a question? Could you please repeat the question? Are you still looking for an answer? Isn't the Great Zen Quester truly great? He really is. You really should internalise his quest. Once you do, your every question will become your every insignificant question. Your every answer will become your inconsequential answer. And you will never go back to the original question. The real question is, what is a question? Are you still in this world? Don't be. Because when you're not in this world, Bush is not in charge of your world. We'll leave you with another thought from another set of travellings we learnt while travelling in our world with the Master Penny & Pincher from the East, Big Bahana Kan Joos. He used to say "Every time you have a question, save it." Your zentalksicating Funcle.

"I'm a jilted lover. I love you." Heart Fart

2006-09-17T06:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Heart Fart, We have three words for you: We don't love you. Umm, okay, we don't count. So it's, kind of, three words. Oh, never mind. You're just messing with our mind. And we're not here to be messed with. We're here to help messed up minds. So, if you don't mind, please stop playing with our mind. Please stop playing this game. We urge you to find someone else to play with. Once a lover, always a dreamer. No matter how many times you come back to us, we know your game. You are obsessive. You are idealistic. You are passionate. You are a fool. You are not in love with us. You are in love with the idea of us. You are in love with an image of us. You are in love with being in love with us. You are stupid. You are pathetic. And you are foolish to pretend you are in love with us. You are incapable of being in love with us. There is only one person who loves us. There is only one person we believe in. There is only one person whose unconditional love we will accept. And that person is not you. It is us. Nobody else can be there for us. Nobody else is stupid enough to fall in love with us. Nobody else can be trusted to fall in love with us. So please stop deluding yourself into trying to delude us into deluding each other that you are in love with us. By constantly coming back to us you are only causing us immense pain. Yes, we are here to help you, but not at the cost of us. By trying to repeatedly make us believe in love and that you are in love with us, you are mercilessly breaking through the carefully constructed wall we have carefully constructed to protect ourselves from all manners and womanners of your kind. Do not drag us into your world. Do not make us feel. Do not show us the wonderful things that love can reveal. We cannot afford to let words like love into our lovely loveless life. We are here to help people. We are here to be strong. We are here to be omnipotent. Love makes us impotent. Love weakens the human mind. Love blinds. Love binds. Love only reminds. Dammit! All this talk of love has made us very weak in the knees. We are unable to stand it any more. We need to sit down. Please don't come back to us ever again with your loving proclamations. We do not want to be reminded of the good old days. The good old days only make us happy. And when we are happy, we cannot be agony.

In passing away, we'll leave you with an exceptional para boli of a thought in the words of the great jolted Spanish lover of ole times Sorro, and I quote, "Don't horse around with mi cabeza and speak of the us riding into the sunset. The sun has set on this stud." Your jolted ole Funcle.

"I want to be a South Indian star. Any starters?" Rajendra Nathan

2006-09-17T05:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Rajendra Nathan, You may want to be a lot of things, but it's best not to expect any of those things to happen. Once you get that into your head, you're well on your way to becoming something. If that something happens to be a South Indian star, here are a few tips to help you along the way. It's a good thing your name is Rajendra Nathan. In case you wanted to be a Bollywood star, we would have advised you to drop the 'Nathan' and turn it into 'Kumar'. Legend has it that many aspirants to the post of Bollywood superstardumb have used the superpower loaded elixir 'Kumar' to strengthen their claims to superstardom. Records show that the magic potion 'Kumar' has helped a lot of very average non-performers go on to become 'Jubilee Kumars'. 'Jubilee Kumars' are people who deliver jubilee hits with even greater frequency than the nohers of India can deliver babies. Of course, since you want to become a South Indian Superstar, none of that is of any relevance to you. That said, it's always a good thing to know your History no matter where the Geography of your ambitions take you. Now that you know the History of the Jubilee roots of your name, let's try and help you on your way to becoming a South Indian Superstar. The first thing you cannot be is a 'Superstar'. Somebody else has already taken care of that for generations to come and gone. You cannot be a 'Star' either. There's another colourful gent who has decided he is the 'Star' of South Indian cinema. You may not be the 'Captain' of South Indian cinema either. We're not sure why you might want to be the 'Captain' of South Indian cinema, but even if you want to, you cannot. That, we're sure of. That label has been taken. We suggest you sit yourself down and come up with some suitable labels that you can prefix your name with. In our vast experience of South Indian galaxy waching, we can't think of you making it without labels and can certainly think of a few labels you can prefix your name with to help. Please make a note of them. And don't share them. Or someone else might take them. Ready? Action! Try 'Jubilee' Rajendran. If that's a tad too retro for your tastes and doesn't appeal to you, do consider 'Big Daddy' Nathan. If that seems a bit too hip and a bat three hop for your tastings, how about 'Little Captain' Rajendra? (Assuming you are smaller built than the avoirdupois 'Captainised' gent in South Indian filmdom.) If your ego is too massive for 'Little', would you like to go with 'Mallaivar' Nathan? Or does 'Madras Cuts' Nathan fit your bangs better? Wait a minute, 'Black Mambalam' Rajendra does seem quite appropriate and lethal too. No, hang on, we're liking 'Master Beta' Raju too. How about you? Think about these 'before' things. Do keep the dialogue going and keep us posted on the progress of your first, crucial steps into the world of South Indian Superstardumb. We're always there to help. Along the way, you might be able to help us break in too. Don't forget us. We're thinking 'Tragedy Kutty' Agony goes well with our image for South Indian stardom. How's that, for starters? Wogay, enjai Mama. Do come again Ma. Your extra helping Agony.

"I don't have a question. Why am I here?" Off On

2006-09-17T05:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Off, Ah, another existential stranger. Looks like Dubya and his stranger ways are catching on. No matter. We're always there for the better. So, you don't have a question? If you don't have a question, the only advice we can give you is off you go! Hee, hee. Seriously, why are you here? That's the question. So, you do have a question. See, how helpful we are. Immediately. Which brings us back to the question you didn't have. Why are you here? Is it our drop-dead gorgeous looks that have drawn you to this space? Is it our deep, rich baritone that you have heard good things about and in? Is it our rapier-like wit? Or it it all of the above. Most likely, it's none of the above. Put simply, all of the above is true, but you wouldn't know about that, would you? This is not that kind of space. We don't let superficial matters such as those of the above get in the way of the sincere, straight from the heart, unbiased advice we dish out to helpless souls loking for some help. Maybe you have a very perfect life. Maybe that's what bothers you. And if it doesn't, it ought to. Maybe you can't understand how your life can be so beautiful and without any weighty questions that need answering. Maybe that's your question? Looks like we've solved your problem by planting a problem. Sorry, but we have to do this kind of thing. We're a doctor of one kind. And what's a doctor if he can't create a problem that needs to be cured. So, there's your problem. We've solved your initial problem of a lack of a problem by finding you a problem that needs solving. And now, it's time to solve your problem. Your problem is that you have no problem. And when you have no problem, you have a problem because you can be sure somebody will create a problem for you. People will not let you be without problems. That's their problem. And will, soon, become your problem. So hang in there. We're pretty sure you belong here. Eventually, everyone is in life for some agony. Your question is why don't you have questions? If you have a mind, you must have questions. And if you don't have questions, you may not have a mind. Don't mind it, but you probably live in a fool's paradise and that's your problem. Come back to the real world. And when you do, you'll have some real problems. Then again, you don't have to. Just don't tell the rest of the people in the world how to get to where you are. Because if everyone else got to where you are, they'd have no questions. And then, we'd have a problem. Meanwhile, since you wonder why you have no questions, here's one you might want to wander about. Why is George Bush in charge of our lives? Think about that. It's the mother of all questions. Any question? Come back. We will, as always, be ready to ply you with an answer. Your offul Funcle.

"The rains are coming. What should we do?" Eye CC

2006-09-16T04:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Eye, We see what you mean. Keeping an eye on your primary objective we can see only one way out of your problem. We think it's best you organise some cricket matches that will be cancelled on account of rain thus saving yourself the trouble of doing anything while trying to make money. The good thing about organising such matches is that they don't need to be played. Only paid for. Players will come to play and get paid for playing with time. You will organise the whole thing with much fanfare and get paid for organising nothing. The host country will get some much needed exposure and get paid for it. TV companies will sell the rights for matches that will never be completed and get paid for it. The main sponsor will advertise his name in big and bold and then get into an IPO. The paying public will pay for all this and get nothing. People will tune in and see ads. People will come to the ground and all they'll see are billboards. People will wait for matches to start and all they'll be fed are commercial messages. Players will then make prepared statements on how the game shouldn't have been ruined by the weather knowing fully well that the game was meant to be ruined by the weather. The paying public will pay for the game and go back home cursing the weather for ruining a perfectly good game of cricket knowing nully well that the weather is the last thing they should be cursing for ruining the perfectly good game of cricket. Do you see what we mean? You should. You've done this in the past. So why the wide-eyed kvetchun? Ah, we see. You see this as a kind of confession box. We've dealt with people like you in the past. No issues. May God bless you with all your tresspasses. And now that you have confessed, play on. Your crichety Funcle.

"I'm a trucking asterisk. Can I tackle the previous kvetchun?" Fine Print

2006-09-16T03:05:00.000-07:00

Dear Fine Print, What kind of intrusive behaviour is this? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. First, you come to us with your problem. Then, after we solve your problem, you come back all smart, fine and recovered and try to take away our sole source of livelyhood from us by jumping into bed with our kvetchuners? No, no, no! Yes, yes, yes, we understand the relevance of your existence in the context of the previous kvetchuner's problem. But we have already provided a solution to the gentleman's problem. Yes, yes, we know you can jump in to help the fellow by bunging yourself in every time the gent feels like using a trucking bad word. But using quaint euphemism like trucking is also a way out of his problem. In fact, trucking is a better solution to the gent's speaking problems than a trucking asterisk every time he wishes to use a trucking bad word. Do you trucking get the point we're trucking trying to make? Stay out of our business and keep your trucking intrusive intentions to yourself. In case you're so keen to get into our line of work, go find another place to do it. Don't come to us pretending you're a trucking kvetchun and then try to steal our kvetchuners away from us. As the Great Zen Master Damager Duh-Wee said, a problem is just an opportunity for another kvetchun. We grasp the paradigm shift you are trying to engineer here. We're too wise for it. Mind your own business. And if you don't have one, start something. Don't poke your starry-eyed head into ours. Your closed-for-business Agony.

"I hate bad language. How the truck can I get away from it?" Trucking Thooth

2006-09-16T03:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Trucking Thooth, In life, how you manage a situation is the key to managing a situation. No, we didn't come up with that duminal quote. It was something we learnt from Zen Master Damager Duh-Wee. Think about that and then think about paradigms. If you hate bad language you've got to change the paradigm of what you consider as bad language. What is bad language yesterday is not trucking bad language today. What is bad language today is not likely to be bad language tomorrow. Consider this, in the days gone by women who used bad language were considered very bad. Nowadays, men who do not use bad language are considered to be women. How's that for a trucking paradigm shift? Here's another paradigm shift you will want to think about. In the days gone by, girls who were dirty weren't supposed to be. Girls who were slutty were locked up. Girls who were aggressive were shameful. Nowadays if girls are not dirty, aggressive and slutty, they're shameful. Point is, you're a fucking pansy man. You're a fucking loser. You're a fucking fop. You're a fucking faggot. You're a fucking softy. You're fucking civilised. There's no place for people like you in this fucking uncivilised, slutty, whorish world. Now, fuck off and learn some good language that's bad. Your shitriolic Funcle.

"I'm a pot smoker. I hate you." Trepeat Offender

2006-09-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Trepeat, No, it's not you who should be hating us. We hate you. Now you've really gone and done it. You made us hate the one set of people in this world we did not hate: Pot smokers. First, you start by hating people who don't smoke pot. Then, you hate people who drink. Then, you hate people who smoke, but not pot. And finally, you hate your own kind. Where is all this hate going to take you? Deeper and deeper into your own world, we guess. Which isn't such a bad thing. It's where you're likely to find the solution to most of your problems. and not, from other people. The more you look around, the more people you are likely to find worth hating. In fact, we can see why you hate us. You've spent way too much time coming to us. Familiarity breeds contempt. And the more time you have spent with us, the less we're liking you. And the less we're liking you, the more you're likely to hate us. It's a good thing you hate us. We were becoming a bit of a crutch for you. You were coming to us with every little problem. That is not a good thing. When you have someone to go to with all your problems, everything becomes a problem. Including that which is not a problem. Only because somebody is there as long as there is a problem. Now that you have effectively eliminated us as the go-to person for all your problems, you will think twice about problems and try not to see them as problems. Our technique of problem solving has worked for you. By making you hate us, we have helped you solve your problem by not having anyone to go to with your problems. When you have no one to go to for your problems, you will start ignoring your problems. The problems may not go away, but at least you won't see them. You should love us. On second thoughts, don't. Hate us. That is the solution to all your myriad problems. Your finished Funcle.

"I'm a pot smoker. I hate smokers." Repeat Offender

2006-09-14T22:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Repeat, You really must learn to stop coming to us with all your problems. You hate smokers, you hate drinkers. You change names. You hate yourself. You have issues. How typical of a pot smoker. Such is life. Which probably explains why you smoke pot. If you want to know what you should do with your hate for smokers, we suggest you contact the side of you that hates drinkers and came to us for a solution for the same. Once you contact that side of you, replace that side of the advice for drinkers with the word smoker. If all that sounds very confusing, get used to it. It's what pot does to you. This world is not for thinkers. It's made for smokers and drinkers. If you can't join them, shut the cock up and sit in your hole and escape into a world full of pot-fuelled imagery. You may also want to try and accept smokers by partaking of smokes once in a while as chasers. You cannot do a thing about things that society considers okay, except hate them. Alternatively, you can wait for the day when society will accept pot smokers. After that, you can hate pot smokers, too. After all, once society accepts pot smokers, what's the fucking point in being one? Meanwhile, please don't smoke up this room will all your negative energy. Chill out, man. It's what you're supposed to as a pot smoker. We hate saying this, but we're beginning to hate pot smokers. Your lovable Agony.

"I'm a pot smoker. I hate drinkers." Pot Kettle

2006-09-14T22:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Pot, You remind us of someone else who came to us with a pot related problem. Due to the copious quantities of pot we have smoked in our childhood days, which never seem to end, we do not remember what we told him, but we do remember him as a foul-mouthed, angry pot smoker. We can understand why people like you, and him, are angry with the state of affairs. The thing with pot smokers is that the haze they get their heads into makes it impossible for them to clearly see the hypocritical nature of the world we all live in. As a pot smoker you forget all that you are expected to deal with in an unfair world. A pot smoker does not see the impossibility of functioning in a world full of transparent entities. Governments have found a way to tax alcohol for many years now. As a result, they have bought social acceptability to the disgusting practice of drinking. If pot could be taxed, the day wouldn't be very far when authorities would find a way to make it socially acceptable and very cool. If pot could be taxed, you'd have business deals sealed over it. If you can find a way to make the government some money out of pot, the government will find a way to make pot smoking the new drinking. The key is to make sure as many people as possible make money out of something. The minute the powers-that-be and their bitches are making money out of it, society will be fed the canard that it's okay to do it. Until then, the only piece of advice we can give you is to laugh, quietly, at all the drinkers who pay huge sums of money to get high without realising how much cheaper and healthier it is to get high on a little doobie. Just don't get aggressive about it. When it comes to aggression, drinkers will always be better at it. And don't preach. You'll only ended sounding like a pot calling a kettle black, which you are. Besides, when it comes to what's right and what's not, what's legal always is. Right. Your doobious Funcle.

"I'm not a team player. What should I do?" Group Fucked

2006-09-14T22:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Group, Honestly, you're fucked. Are you? Never mind. Jokes apart, your fucked. There is no hope for you. You're going to be very alone. Don't pretend you like that, but you have no choice but to pretend you like that. You're going to be very unsuccessful. Don't pretend you like that, bu you're going to have to pretend you like that. And you're going to be a writer. Don't pretend you like that, but...you get the drill. And the drift. Anyway, once you end up being nothing more than a writer because you can't be anything more, you're going to be very unsuccessful. If you don't want to be fucked, we urge you to pucker up and suck up. If you don't want to be fucked, we urge you to pucker up and shut up. If you don't want to be fucked, we urge you to pucker up and kiss ass. If you can't do any of that, you're going to end up in a group of people who won't pucker up and are fucked. This world is for team players. even writers have to be team players. If you can't write for a team of people, you're only going to be writing for yourself. And if you're only going to be writing for yourself, you're fucked. Join the gang. It's perhaps the only team you'll ever be part of. And perhaps the only way you'll ever learn to be part of a team. Of course, by then it'll be too late. And well and truly fucked. Your singularly fucked Funcle.

"I want to get out of Direct Marketing. Call now!" Oh & Em

2006-09-13T21:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Oh & Em, We do not appreciate the unholy hurry you are putting us through to help you with your problem. Do you realise this is your problem and not ours? You really must learn to be patient. You must give people time to respond to your problem. You are the one asking for something. It's best you don't push people into giving it to you. Or else, they'll really let you have it. When you learn to stop pushing people into doing something, you will find your way out of direct marketing. So don't get your knickers into a twist. Cut the coupon. Cut the crap. And wait for your turn. We're very miffed by this attitude of yours. We need to go away and think about it. We suggest you do too. And don't you dare inundate our mailbox with your questions. Go now! Your unresponsive Agony.

"I want to kill myself." Killed Bill

2006-09-13T21:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Bill, Sorry, but we need to understand the question properly, and probably. first things first, are you asking us how to kill yourself or are you asking us how not to kill yourself? Seconds things next, do you want us to stop you from killing yourself or do you want us to provide you with an easy way to kill yourself? Third things next to next, do you want us to provide you with the many reasons there are for killing yourself or do you want us to provide you with the many reasons there also are for not killing yourself? Fear not, we can provide you with them all. In five colours and in conveniently packaged sizes with a 5-year warranty or guarantee, whichever you can not understand better thrown in for pure effect. Spend a little time thinking about these questions we are urgently posing you. Needless to say, don't needlessly kill yourself over them. Because if you kill yourself over them, we won't be in any position to provide you with an answer to the problem you have come to us with. And being unable to help someone who wants to kill himself would most certainly kill us. Certainly. We live to help. Your help less Funcle.

"I'm a f***ing asterisk. Read me." Fine Print

2006-09-11T22:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Fine, We're not quite sure what your problem is. You see, we're unable to see the true nature of it. Perhaps you should be a little more obvious. Maybe you should ask obelisk. He might be able to give your problem a bit of structure. As of now, we're only seeing stars. If you want us to help you, you're going to have to stop hiding behind them. In our experience, nobody reads the fine print. Nobody reads between the lines. Nobody reads. And neither will we. You want a solution to your problem, come back to us minus the asterisks. Until then, we will not trust you. Without trust, there can be no solution. And trust is not something an asterisk inspires. We hope you understand. We're sure you will understand. And if have trouble doing so, please read the fine print. Since you expect us to, we, too, expect you too. Your fine, fine Funcle.

"What's wrong with Peter Crouch?" Tall Order

2006-09-11T22:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Tall, Let's discuss this over a tall one. The taller the one, the better. Being Peter Crouch, this might take some time. Peter Crouch is that kind of character. A real character if there was one. A character with so many characteristics one can't help but make merciless fun off. God, what a character. By any chance, do you happen to be Peter Crouch? Something tells us you might be Peter Crouch and are too ashamed to admit it. We don't blame you. We can understand why you might be loath to be yourself. The kind of comments you are subjected to would make anyone lose every ounce of confidence in oneself. You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at yourself. On second thoughts, don't. Just wondering, though, can you look at yourself? Hahahahahaha! Umm, excuse us. If you can look at yourself, you must be a very strong man to not be ashamed of what you see in the mirror. Peter Crouch is a tall order. Isn't he? Aren't you? Save it. We don't want to know. We already do. Still, we're trying to help you here and the first piece of advice we will give you is be ashamed of yourself for being ashamed of yourself. Well, we guess you are ashamed of yourself. So we're on the right track. Maybe. What's wrong with Peter Crouch? Hmm. Good question. Let's start with what's right with Peter Crouch. Umm, let's see, we need to think about this. Very hard. We have to be careful here. Very very. You can't just say something is right with Peter Crouch. You just can't. We don't want to be ashamed of ourselves for saying so. Well, let's start with nothing. Nothing is a good way to go. That way, we'll have nothing to be ashamed of. And nothing to justify. So nothing it is. Nothing is right with Peter Crouch. Steady now. Don't collapse on that unsteady frame of Peter Crouch. Peter Crouch didn't come here for sugar-coated pills, did you? Besides, we managed to find something right, even, with Peter Crouch. It's hard, man. This is Peter Crouch we're talking about. And, probably, too. You are Peter Crouch, aren't you? Never mind. Don't say it. We'll have a hard time gettting past that. We won't be able to. We'll probably burst into tears. And laughter. In equal measure. Nothing personal. Besides, you're not Peter Crouch, are you? And if you are, it's good for you that you're trying not to be. Just don't tell anyone you don't have to meet you are. Face up to the fact that you will always be laughed at. Get used to being an oddity. Never expect people to take you seriously. Peter Crouch has no right to be taken seriously. Seriously. Just because you happen to score goals doesn't make you a footballer. So what if nobody else on your team scores any goals? At least they look like footballers. You don't look like a footballer. If you don't look like a footballer, you're not a footballer. Scoring goals is not an English footballer's job. Looking like a footballer is a footballer's job. He must have a girlfriend who looks like a footballer's girlfriend. He must know how to celebrate properly, and not the way Crouchie does, after scoring a goal. Look at Beckam. Look at Lampard. Look at Ashley Cole. Look at their girlfriends. Look at you, Crouch. And then, don't look at you. When people look at Peter Crouch, people think it doesn't take much to be a footballer. You make footballers look flawed. And human. Flawed humans don't want to look at flawed humans. And neither do they want to look like flawed humans. When they look at you, they look at someone who shamelessly devalues the value of eye-candy in this eye-candy driven world. No six-pack abs. No tree-trunk like thighs. No calf muscles. No muscles. No style. No chiselled features. No acquiline nose. No buns of steel. No. No. No. All arm and legs. What the fuck is right with Peter Crouch? What kind of advertisement for football is Peter Crouch? Who the heck is going to buy anything from Peter Crouch? How the fuck can we have a footballer we can't buy anything from? The first thing a footballer has to be is a model. Not a footballer. Maybe Crouch should consider becoming a cricketer. Then again, English cricket, too, is becoming a model sport and a sport for models. Be a sport, Peter, get out of sport. Get into something that you can do behind closed doors. Freak shows. The circus. Anything but the media circus that is life. Or wait for the day when football will, once again, be about football. Just don't hold your breath. You might end up cracking those brittle ribs of yours. Which might not be such a bad thing. At least, that will let someone foppish footballer worth looking at take your place on the catwalk called football. Umm, you are Peter, aren't you? Never mind, as a matter of principle we don't let the identity of our patients get in the way of our solutions. Your Peter Principled Funcle.

"Why don't you do paragraphs?" Para Phrase

2006-09-10T21:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Para, The Great Grammarian Philosopher Para Bola once, and only once, said, "The key to helping slow minds read is to do paragraphs. Slowly." He also happened to say this very slowly. As a result, by the time he had finished saying it, we had, quickly, left the room. And that's why we don't do paragraphs. Even though, we do read them. After all, why deprive other famous, published and paragraphed people the pleasure of being famous and published because they are paragraphed. Slowly. Does that answer your question? We certainly hope not. When it comes to questions, we don't do questions either. In fucking fact, we don't do a lot of things. We don't do hard work. We don't do ambition. We don't do women. We don't do men. (They're both fucking mistakes of evolution.) We don't do regular jobs. We don't do jobs. We don't do what we want to do. We don't do what we don't want to do. We don't do business as usual. We don't do ordinary things. We don't even do life. We don't do much, much bigger things in life. We don't do anything in life. So why the fuck should we do something as dolittle as paragraphs? And how is that your problem? Is that your problem? If it is your problem, we'll make the difference of doing something about it. But not in paragraphs. After all, we're here to solve your problems, right? Still, we can't see how us not doing paragraphs is your problem. Then again, if we look more carefully, we might see how that is your problem. You are probably from the slowly stewing Para Bola school of slought. For the sloughters among you, slought is 'slow+thought'. (For more such quoughts, including 'quought', goose down to the wordmint at blogspot dot com.) Back now to the parabolaist that seems to be you. We can see how for paraproblematics like you, not doing paragraphs would make our carefully puked out rants, advises and tirades harder to read, comprehend and do. Do you read me? Obviously you don't. Maybe you would if we did paragraphs. Slowly. Do we care? Add it to yet another thing we don't do: Care. Does all this not doing we do mean we should, at least, do paragraphs? Maybe we should. Maybe if we did paragraphs, we'll get to do a lot more in life. Maybe all we need to do to do more in life is a bunch of fucking paragraphs. Slowly. Do you think paragraphs are the keys to getting published, praised and widely read? Do you bloody really think so? Maybe paragraphs are the key to good writing. But, at the time of writing, we don't think so. Maybe, if we do paragraphs, we shall be magically transformed into a gripping disher-out of pithily put out pieces that will help the whole world, his dog and his bitch do a lot more than paragraphs with their lives. Will that solve your problem? All the more reason we won't do it. We won't do a fucking thing about us to solve your problem. Instead, we'll do something better. We'll tell you the key to solving your problems. The key to solving your problems is not to identify other people's problems, but to start with your problem. Your problem cannot be someone else's problem. Your problems will not go away if you wait for other people to do something about them. You have to grab your problems by the balls of your problems and squeeze the shit out of them. It is from this shitty mess you have squeezed out that a solution to your problem will emerge. You have a problem with why we don't do paragraphs? Here's a rule you can abide by to help solve your problem. Paragraphs are rules. As a rule, we don't do rules. So do yourself a favour. Don't get into a dobate with us. You, still, have a problem with us not doing paragraphs, here's something you can do to solve it. Don't do yourself the chore of trying to read us.

As the Great Hinspanic Grammarian Drunk Para Dola once, and only once, spat out, viciously, "Paragraphs paralyse. Para Mi? Para Thoo!" And that's the final wordy on paragraphs. In a paragraph. Mi para gone Agony.

"I'm the war on terror. Why am I afraid?" Bin Das Bush

2006-09-09T03:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Bin Das, Sigh, once again, Agony Funcle, has been called upon to put yet another soul out of its agony. Let's go. We've got work to do. First things first, some introspection. Who are you fighting? You need to first answer that question. The question is not why you should be afraid. It's who you should be afraid of? The way we see it, you should be most afraid of yourself. As the war on terror, you're creating more terror than fighting it. We've been observing your progress closely for some time now. We're not suprised to see you here. We expected you to, eventually, come to us. We remember the glory days when you had little to be afraid of. Now all we remember are gory days. But during the glory days, you had something to be proud of. You had a clear enemy. People were on your side. People supported you. You were the protector. Your enemies were terrified of you. You knew who your enemies were. Unfortunately those days seem far, very far, very far way from forgotten. Forgotten is closer to anything they seem like now. Had those days been forgotten, they'd be a lot closer than to the state of affairs you find yourself in now. You have every reason to be afraid. You thought you were some big cat who could do whatever you felt like doing. Well, all you are now is a fraidy cat. If all this is making you feel miserable, it's okay. You deserve to feel some of the pain you've been dishing out. Every time you felt insecure about something, you dredged up the war on terror. Every time you were terrified of losing power, you brought out the war on terror. Every time you felt like you were being overtaken by the circumstances surrounding you, you brought out the war on terror. The war on terror is no longer a war on terror. It's just a fucking cliche. You thought you were exterminating terror. You've only ended up creating more terror. Before you, people had to come up with a good reason to embark on a terror campaign. They had to think of something, some justification for causing mayhem. Now they don't need any reason. They just use the war on terror to spread more terror. The war on terror has only created more terror. The war on terror has become the terror. The war on terror was supposed to make this world a safer place. It has only ended up filling this world with more people bent upon causing even more terror. You're not the war on terror. You're the irony, the grotesque irony, and the ugly irony of the war on terror. Fortunately, you have one thing you don't have to be afraid of. You will never go away. Thanks to the war on terror, the war on terror is here to stay. You're not as foolish or as mindless as you make yourself out to be. You started the war on terror to ensure the war on terror never ends. Good job, war on terror. You have nothing to be afraid of. People are normally afraid of something if it threatens their future, their existence, their life. In your case, the war on terror has given the war on terror a new lease of life. Every death from the war on terror continues, perpetuates and gives birth to more wars on terror. The war on terror feeds on the fear of the war on terror. You're like that great monster we can't quite put a finger on that feeds off its own fears and gets stronger every time it gets more fearful. (Don't be afraid to tell us which one.) Just be very afraid of the war on terror, war on terror. It's what will keep you going. Internalise this: You are afraid because your genes have recognised fear as the only way to ensure their survival. For your genes to thrive, prosper, multiply and live for ever, they need to cultivate in a culture of terror. Just remember, fear is the key. And don't be afraid to thank us. It won't hurt you. Once in a while, it's okay to forget fear. It'll help keep your genes on their toes. Fear not. Fear more. Fear on. We fear for you. Are you with us? If so, you have nothing to fear. If not, be very afraid, which, as we explained, is a good thing. And now, time to give it a rest. We're bushed. Your bindaas Funcle.

"I want to live somebody else's life. How to?" Live Aid

2006-09-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Live, We're very good at wanting. In fact, the human race is built on the desire to desire want. So do not fret your life over what you think might be a problem. The positivity inherent in us urges you to negate the thought completely. It's not a problem. It's a solution. Without wanting, there can be no problems and without problems there can be no solutions. All solutions are problems and all problems are solutions. No problem. That you want to live somebody else's life is very biologically natural and there are a clutch of ways in which you can do this. You can do so vicariously by locking yourself up, not interacting with anyone and only watching other people's live on television, the internet or by consuming, voyeuristically, all and any other forms of media that exist solely for the purpose of informing needy, the needy and very fucking needy people like you who have no lives, about how they can live their lives by watching other people live theirs. Needy people also need other things. Other things like religion. So if religion is your thing, you have more than a few options. For instance, if you happen to be a Hindu, you can kill yourself and come back in another life. For a Hindu, this is the easiest way to live somebody else's life. If you don't like the life you come back in, you can kill yourself again and try again. The circle of life in Hinduism can go on and on and on, until you give yourself the right life you'd like to live in. Once you have been delivered the right life, you will have no more lives. As you can see, it's not such a bad thing to be a Hindu. You get many lives and many turns at living lives when you are one. No other religion offers you these kinds of multiple choice questions and answers to life. Hinduism will also tell you that questions are the answers to life. Just like problems are solutions in disguise. You're right, Hinduism is indeed the Management Guru and Capitalism of all lives. So take your pick. And time. You have many turns. On the other hand, if you happen to be a Christian, we urge you to do all you can to get crucified. Yes, crucify us for saying this, but cricifixion is the way to go. It is the way to salvation. It is the rightful path. Umm, no, that's in Jainism. Sorry, for the confusionism. What to do? That's Religion for us. And you. So, crucify us. And let's get back to the crucifixion of Christianity. Look around and look for a suitable set of fiends to crucify you. Once you do so, beatifically bless them in pain and come back as the son of man: The ultimate pain. Unfortunately, that's the only other chance you will have to live another life. Christianity ain't that generous when it comes to choices in life. As a crucified Christian, you cannot come back as the son of a tiger or a lion or an elephant or the king of any castle or jungle. You can only come back as the son of man. We're not even sure whether you will come back as the son of a rich man. Or a handsome man. Or a happy man. Or a gay man. No, you will never come back as the son of a gay man. In Christianity, there is no place for gay men or anything to do with gay men. As you can see, Christianity is a bit of a limited gamble. It's up to you to decide whether the pain and painful joy of crucifixion is worth the one time gamble of coming back as the son of some normal man. Perhaps you can try and plan the trip back to Earth after life in such a way that you end up as the seed of Donald Trump or whichever other virile, good looking, rich, straight, strong man you'd like to be the son of. If Christianity and Hinduism are not your games, then are you a Mussalman? We're not sure what Islam's stance of living other people's lives is, but we do know that some Islamists have a rather extreme view of life. If you happen to be from that school of Islamic unthought, it's best you call it quits for the sake of sacrifice. You see, if you sacrifice your life to take other people's lives, you get coffinfulls of destroyed lives. Admittedly, it's not the best way to live another person's life, considering it's lifeless goods, but it is a way all right. The tenet is: Sacrifice your life for many more destroyed lives. A bit convoluted, eh? We agree. Hey, that's life. No matter whose. Now get the fuck out of our face and get a life. Your lively Funcle.

"I expect nothing. What do you expect?" Great Expectations

2006-09-08T20:11:00.000-07:00

That's Great, We expected more. We expect more. A more lucid question. A less zen-like question. If you don't expect anything, why the question? You're great. You're asking me questions for nothing? Great move. That's interesting. That's you. Greatness aside, aren't you supposed to be the one asking the questions. Umm, that's right. You are asking me the question. But it does seem a tad different from the kind of questions we're used to being asked. Hmm, what did we expect? Well, from someone who expects nothing...umm, this does seem complicated. Let's try and simplify it. You want to know what we expect? How will that help you? You think how we feel might help you? That's interesting. Is is because you feel nothing? You want help, right? Maybe not. You don't say much, do you? Do you expect us to answer that question? Are you in some kind of trouble? You seem remarkably at peace from the kind of question you have posed us. You seem rather Buddhist in your line of questioning. You don't seem to have any issues. You definitely need help. How can you not have any issues? How can you be so much at peace with yourself? And if so, why the question? We expect an answer. Actually, no. We expect questions. And you have posed us a question. Hmm. We are flummoxed. We're confused. We've never come across anyone who expects nothing and poses us a question. We need to get back to you after we get back to the drawing board. This is interesting. We'll be back with your question, answer, both. Sigh. Do you expect that? Never mind. Nothing. Still no sign of that bolt from the blue. Well, we expected a bolt from the blue with an answer to your wise, wise question. It didn't happen. We, too, should stop expecting anything. When we expect something, we're also factoring in the expectation of disappointment. We see why you expect nothing. The question then is, what if you expect nothing and get more than you bargained for? Aren't you ever disappointed when you don't get anything? How do you deal with that? Are we getting a hang of your question? It does seem to us like we are. We've got it! We think we know what you're problem is. You have trouble with expecting nothing in a world that expects everything. You feel at odds with this world. And you definitely are. You don't like the fact that the world seems so small and so petty and so superficial. You wish you weren't so righteous about it. You wish you didn't choose the path you are on. You are conflicted. Aren't you? Yes you are. You just don't know it. You don't think you are, but you are. You wonder why you can't expect more? See, we're good. We catch all problems, no matter how deep they lie. It's why we're also called Dr. Whyche. We know the whys and the hows and the whynots and the whybes of all psyches. Why not? It's what we do. Why? We have no idea. We just do it. It's what we expect from us. Unlike you, we do not expect nothing. We cannot. We wish we could. All we end up with, though, are unexpected questions. So let's get back to your nothing question. Your problem is you aren't willing to face up to the fact that you are the problem. You really are. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for making people feel so terrible about themselves. You ought to stop this pontifical attitude of most resistance you have chosen to live by. The path to true happiness is pointless. You need to be pointed in the right direction. The right direction is a life that is truly pointless. A life that is unhappily full of tripe is the life we must all fully and foolishly live. Only when you're unhappy can you be fuelled by your desires. Only when you have desires can you achieve more. Only when you achieve more, can you feel big among your peers. Only when you feel big among your peers can you feel the true emptiness of all of life's backward bending bendevours. Only when you feel empty can you feel nothing. When you feel nothing, you've managed it. Achieving and feeling nothing in life is perfectly fine. Expecting nothing from life is not. We have nothing to add. We trust that's what you expected. Thanks for nothing. Yours, Agony Funcle (MT).

"I want to fly. How's the air up there?" Erica Bong

2006-09-08T04:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Bong, Ever heard of the 'Zipless Fuck'? Why? It's the easiest way to get high. And get someone else high. We think it's the first thing you should try and get some of, to get high. There's this lady called Erica Jong. You sound like someone who might like her. You should read her 'Fear of Flying'. It's an interesting book on how to get over it. And over as many as you can lay your hands on. If you can't read, get someone to read it out to you. It's quite the aphrodisiac. And it can get you quite high. It can also drop you like a hot potato. It's a book you should take to heart. And never forget. It's not a book for people who want to fly in a cage. It's about flying out of cages. You sound like someone caged. Though, our experience has taught us that being in a cage can sometimes be the best thing to be in, in this big, big, big world. You ought to try it. In case you find that too flighty, too free and too philosophical for your closed mind, there are other ways we can teach you to fly within the confines of your closed spaces. You can try becoming a 'Flying Model'. It's a very limiting way to get high. No, it's not. It's the most fucking limiting way to soar. A 'Flying Model' is a sad, sad euphemism for an Air Hostess. An Air Hostess is a sad, sad euphemism for in-flight server. An in-flight server is a sad, sad way to make a living while being ogled at by all kinds of people every time you walk past them. Becoming a 'Flying Model' will let you see many places around the world. It will help you plumb the depths of objectifuckation. It will give you a chance to meet important looking men you can try and snare to settle down with later. It's one of the things you must do when you become a 'Flying Model'. You must keep your pretty lashes peeled for prospective males you can settle down with when you're not good looking enough to be a 'Flying Model' or anything else. You must also be prepared to peel those lashes off when you're not good-looking enough to be a 'Flying Model'. Opting to be a 'Flying Model' isn't a bad way to fly, but it is a very sad way to be brought down to earth. That said, it's a very good way to make use of your looks while you still have them. If you're brutally honest about using what you have while you still have it, you might want to consider it. If you're brutally honest about having not much more than what you have to become a 'Flying Model', you might not be hurt by the utter lack of respect that comes with that kind of flight. (If you're not brutally honest, you're sensible and in good company.) If you decide to do it, recognise the hazards of choosing such a way to fly. You might end up being groped by old men you'd rather not be groped by and not be groped by men you wouldn't mind being groped by. Then again, if a woman wants to move up in life in this world, it's an occupational hazard she has to get used to. So you may as well let them do it to you while you're seeing different places and getting high. and in different places. (Instead of, to get high.) You might also have to service the pilot while he's on auto-pilot, which is not very unusual in any professional. Most people in the cockpit are on auto-pilot. Most people in charge of the cockpit expect to be serviced. It does seem like the pits, but every job has its downsides. So go for it. Servicing will serve you well. You might even develop a taste for it. Another way to get a taste of the air up there is to simply light up a bong. Admittedly, it's a momentary high that is quite addictive. It's a high that takes more and more to get repeatedly high. And out of you. It's much like any other thing that gives you a high. The first time is great. The next time might be better. But things never really keep getting better. As with every high in life, getting high is just a way to get down. Incidentally, you may also wish to consider a career in advertising. It may not help you fly, but it's one of the best places to get little highs. There's always a scam ad to be done every incosequential month. It doesn't matter if you spend 99% of your time doing tripe, one pointless ad for a non-existent client done with no pracical constraints whatsoever and only for some piddling award will make you feel on top of your incestuous little world. If none of these useful tips we have given you seem remotely useful to you, we think it's best you work your butt off and expect nothing. Be utterly pessimistic about everything you do. Have no hope in humanity. Think nothing nice about anything. Ensure nothing makes you any happy. If something makes you a tad, bit, minuscule, little, pissant happy, focus on how fucked up everything apart from that happiness is. Disgust yourself with everything in life. Pray for death. Don't expect to be rewarded with, even, death. One day, you will die. It's the surefirest way to be free. After all, isn't that what flight is about? Time to fly. Your grounded Funcle.

"I'm going to be a man. What is the meaning of this?" Boy Wonder

2006-09-07T19:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Wonderboy, Hmm. Ahem. Sigh. Damn! Sorry. We're just tired of boys who want to be men and asking us how to be so? Don't we have enough men in this world? Do we fucking need more fucking men in this man's world? Honestly, we have no idea how to be a man. We're not man enough to be a man. And we're man enough to admit it. What we can teach you to be, is man enough to not be a man. Are you man enough to take it? We're man enough to tell you that it's okay to be a woman enough to be a man. Why couldn't you ask us how to be a man when you become a man? Hmm. Ahem. Sigh. Damn! Sorry. Looks like you did ask us that. We're just so used to men who want to be men that we tend to zone out when we hear from men who want to be men. We welcome you with open arms. You're a man who wants to be a man. Now that's a sensible man. Boy, we could do with more men like you who are still boys. No, you fool! We're not that kind of perverted man who's into boys. We're just tired of men who only know how to be pretentiously grown-up men and don't have the fucking balls to be boys. We really could do with less men who want to be men. Are we confusing you dear Boy? Don't be. This isn't half as hard as it is going to be being a man. Then again, if you're looking for something easy, just be a man. It's very easy to be a man and not be a man. To be a man, you just have to go out and conquer. You must forget you have a heart. You must be a big swinging dick. You must jettison all feelings of feelings. The only feelings you must have are unfeelings. You must get your tear glands excised and have them replaced with an extra set of sweat glands. To be a man, you just have to make sure you move up and up and up and fucking up the corporate ladder. To be a man you must get yourself an additional set of voice-boxes and speak loudly for no rhyme or reason. You must not show any interest in matters cultural and sensory. You must not go anywhere near poetry. You must embrace all stereotypes. You must also chest-butt while embracing stereotypes. To be a man, you must keep amassing money enough to buy yourself a harem. To be a man, you have to be the man in the pride of lions. To be a man you have to be the quitessential animal. You must show off your biceps. You must reek of testosterone. You must walk around with your balls on your face. Okay, you needn't walk around with your testicles in your face, but you must be prepared to show how big your testicles are. You must also want to own cars. You must be able to fell a tree with your tree-trunk like arms. To be a man, the only thing you must fear is being a man. Because to be a man in a man's world, you have to ignore all the things that men say make a man and find the things that your heart says makes for a good human being. A real man is not a man. A real man is a human being. A real man is a human being who isn't an animal. A real man is a human being who is an animal and is man enough to recognise that he is an animal. A real man is a man who isn't afraid to not be a man. A real man is someone who isn't afraid to be a failure. A real man is a man who isn't afraid to be afraid. A real man is someone who will not do anything that has to be done to show the world he is a man. Are you man enough to understand what it takes to graduate from being a boy to man without being a man? Are you man enough to be a woman? That's my Boy. You're da man! Now go and build those arms and shoulders and abs and thighs and calves and heart and everything else. You'll need them to bear the cross you will have to walk around with if you choose to be a man among men in a fucking man's world. Your emasculine Funcle.

"Should I go in for a sex-change operation?" Shogun Shemale

2006-09-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Shir, Eppudi? What say you? Do you like it? Are you seeing stars? Don't. For the uninitiated, that is you, 'Shir' is a term coined for people like you. 'Shir', is 'Sir' meets 'She'. And that is you. You meets 'He' meets 'She' meets respectful form of address for you is 'Shir'. Understanding Misster? By now, you must know what 'Misster' is. Good, you are getting to where we are. Not that we would advice it. For what we are is not what you want to be. Even if what you are is also not what you want to be. That is, unfortunately, what we all are. Hmm. Sigh. Fuck. Never mind. By the way, do look up what 'Eppudi' means. Don't ask us 'Epuudi'. Ask Google 'Eppudi'. That's 'Epuddi' you will find out what 'Eppudi' means. Are you getting clued into 'Eppudi'? Yes. No. Seeing stars. Again? Good. It's why you come to us. For answers to stars. Even Pluto came to us when he stopped seeing planets and started seeing stars with asteroids thrown in for effect. You may notice we are not anywhere near addressing your problem. You may not notice that this is one of the outre techniques we adopt to address outre problems of your kinds. You may, understably, not understand what 'outre' means. It isn't 'outer' spelled wrong. It is just 'outer' spelled outrely. Are you still with us? Why? Ah yes, your problem. What's your problem, man? Man, that's your problem. Or is it? Why is your problem? Is it a problem? How is it a problem? Who is the problem? Are you the problem? Are they the problem? Now, do you see the problem? You should. Allow us to attempt to get to the nub of the problem. A good way to understand problems when you can't see them is to question them, again and again. When answers do not seem easily, readily, shelffully available, the best way to make the question go away is to question it. The more you question the question, the closer you will get to the problem in the problem. The more problematically you get into the problem, the less it becomes a problem. The less it becomes a problem, the closer it is to no longer being a problem. The no longer it is to being a problem, the shorter it is the problem. The shorter it is the problem, the more likely it is of being replaced by other, taller problems. Now do you see less your problem? While you attempt to see your fast disappearing problem, let us attempt to see how we can make the two of you disappear. It's interesting that you are considering going in for a sex-change operation. Do you feel hard done in by the sex you have been given? Perhaps you aren't being sensitive enough to your partner's needs. Perhaps you aren't being insensitive enough to your partner's needs. Perhaps you should take turns being insensitive and sensitive to your partner's needs. If you're always sensitive to your partner's needs, your partner is likely to get tired of it. If you're the contrary, always, your partner is likely to tire of that also. If you are a bit of both, alternatively, your partner will, eventually, tire of that also also. It's true, no matter what, any sex is fucked. Maybe it's the sex you have been given. Often, when you're given something, you take it for granted. So that's, questioningly, why you are, maybe, seeking a new kind of, perhaps, sex. Maybe. All this talk isn't pointless. What it's pointing to, is the need to question everything totally, properly and minutely. Question it. Question that. Question it and that. Question it, that and the other. Question the other, that and it. From all directions. Back to front. Front to back. Mouth to mouth. Mouth to front. Back to mouth. Question everything. Analyse it to death. Obsess over it. You won't find any answers, but you will definitely kill it. Once the problem you are seeking has been killed to death, you'll know the answer to the problem. In case you don't, it's the question. The question in everything is the answer to the problem. By all means, go in for a sex change operation. See how fucked it is being a woman. Hate the fact that you have become what you never were. Don't go in for a sex-change operation. Continue to hate what you are. Think about it. Either way, you'll hate what you are and are seeking to become. You'll only like what you aren't. You'll crave for what you don't have. You'll never value what you have. You'll never get what you have. You'll never get what you want. You'll never get what you want. You'll never get it. Whatever it is. It's best you let it be. Considering that's what we all are. Revel in the being of it. Let it be. It is the ultimate question to the answer for the it. It's all for now. Just being itself, Agony.

"What can I say, I'm perfect. What can I say?" Perfect Fool

2006-09-05T21:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Perfect, What a perfectly valid quesiton. What a perfectly unthinkable question. Don't even think about it. Don't question it. Don't make it a question. Don't make any questions. Don't make anything of questions. How perfectly foolish of you to not know that all, any, many, whatever questions asked are not asking for answers. Only trouble. Yes, we've thought about it. No, we've thought about everything. And yes, it didn't get us anywhere. The problem is not being perfect. The problem is being perfect. The problem is thinking about being and not being perfectly unthought. The problem is perfect. It's worth thinking about it because it's not worth sparing an iota of thought to. In fact, that's the problem with everyone. Everyone thinks they're perfect. It's not that they are not. We are, we all are, you are perfect. But only, if we don't think about it. In a perfect world, everyone would be perfect. In a perfect world, nobody would think about it. That's perfect. The thought process? That's imperfect. That's the root cause of all imperfections. Our advise to you would be to work on the thought process, by not thinking about it. Eject the thought process for perfection. Our further advise to you would be to say little. Our secondary advise to you would be to think little. Our repeated advise to you would be to say little and think little. Our remindary advise to you would be to never forget it. Perfect people don't need to say much. Perfect people are perfect because they do not say much. In our experience, when you open your mouth, you're likely to start the cycle of imperfections. When you question yourself, you're imperfect. When you have doubts about your omnipotence, you're cracking. When you rock your perfect boat, you're making holes in it. When you look for holes in anything, you're sinking. And when you're sinking, you're not thinking. Thinking? Wrong. You're thinking. You're forgetting. There's a perfectly thoughtless scientific reason for it all. We weren't given a brain to use. We were given a brain only so we could think we're perfect. Not think about it. Think about it. On second thoughts, don't. Think about why you shouldn't. Don't. Oh dear. Damn it! See what kind of trouble thinking can get you into? It puts into motion a chain of uncomfortably thinking thoughts. And, very soon, thinks spiral out of control. Things get out of hand. The minute you start using your brain. Period. (Period aside, the minute you start using your brain you'll see how inadequate it is to deal with the things around you.) The minute you start using your brain, people will start using theirs by not. And when everyone starts using their brains by not, the world gets populated with thoughts in extreme discomfort. Thoughts that are extremely uncomfortable in a blissfully thoughtless world. Misunderstandably. And a world full of misunderstood uncomfortable thoughts has no place for zombies. This planet is not for thinking zombies. Only zombies. Not only are thinking zombies oxymorons, they are useless morons. They will be systematically erased. Like thoughts. Thinking exposes other people to their inadequacies. Inadequacies that make them question the perfect status quo. Inadequacies that expose their inability to think about their inadequacies. When people feel they are inadequate to deal with you and your brain, you are imperfect. They are not imperfect because they cannot deal with it. You are imperfect because you cannot deal with their inability to deal with it. You are imperfect because you make them feel imperfect. You are imperfect because you question their idea of perfection. You are imperfection personified because you question their idea of nothing personified. You are only perfect when you have the sense to not make sense of it all. You are nonsense when you start to look for sense, because then you see the nonsense in it all and become it. Not only that, you also start to wonder how you fit into the scheme of stuff that's populated nonsense. Analyse this: You are perfect if you do not fit into anything. If you do not fit into anything, you are imperfect. And then you'll see how much trouble thinking about it all can get you into. Don't say it. Don't think it. Don't speak. No doubt. You are perfect. Your logically foolean Funcle.

"I'm imprisoned by the 'Abhimanyu Effe'." Half Wit

2006-09-05T00:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Half, We, kinda, understand what you mean. We, sorta, see it in your quest. We, perhaps, think it's a question couched in a quest for knowledge hindered by the walls of life and progress. A thoroughly noble endevour, we believe, that is destined to be stymied by the fully loaded half wits of this world. Whatever you start is destined to be incompleted, for no fault of yours. All your good intentions are doomed to an unfulfilled demise, for no fault of yours. If the people around you were not comfortably ensconsed in their comfortable cacoons of sleepy mediocrity, you wouldn't be subjected to this indoctorine of incomplete realities. We are the idealists of this world of shattered wheels. Our job is to sream the big picture and be beaten down and massacred by the petty circumstanders that surround us. We have to accept the moment of madness which brought us into this world and tread boldly onto the the hamster-wheel of the war against human thoughtlence. We are the thoughtsolent of this world. Incidentally, the effect that you so truly attempt to brand as the 'Abhimanyu Effect' didn't reach it's logical conclusion. It was hijacked by other more articulate, connected and powerful souls. Such is the fate of everything in life. Along the way, everything is cursed to be waylaid by others. We believe our 'Abhimanyu Effect' is now somebody else's 'Mozart Effect'. We believe a certain Don Campbell has trademarked and trademarketed it as his own. We believe this is the chakra of life and accept it. We have no choice. The West gave us trademark laws and took what is ours for themselves. It might have something to do with what we were deprived of when we were in the womb of underdevelopment during the time these momentous changes were taking place. And then, when we came into this world, we found ourselves handicapped by what was beyond our control. The only thing we can do when faced with this spinning reality is soldier on bravely. Our job is to rush in where horses, warriors, tanks, Dubya and other fools fear to tread. Our job is to do what we're meant to do and hope the people after us will avenge us. We are not destined to succeed, only be sacrificed. We have been brought into this world to be sacrificed so that the people who come after us may learn something from us. We know none of this will ever happen, but we cannot do much about it. It is not our fault that our mother country went off to sleep when the lessons of life were being imparted to them by the great warriors of yesteryears. It is not our fault that there were no great warriors in the years before us to prevent the present circumstances from getting so far beyond our control. It's why we never finish any book we start. It's why we never keep any job we take. It's why we never finish any relationship we get into, only get finished. It's why we only start wars. It's why we comfort ourself with small victories. It's why we fucking are such losers. It's why you must excuse, pardon and not mind our French. It's why our father lived an incomplete life. It's why our mother died without living her life to the fullest. It's why so will we. We are the foolish Abhimanyus of our time. And so, listen well my dear brether, you shouldn't feel to bad about your state of affairs. Look at it as a heroic endevour that will be remembered after you're gone, mayfuckingbe. Just make sure your pregnant wife doesn't get any sleep. Your spin doctor, Agony.

"I'm getting all the wrong breaks. I don't get it." Breaking Point

2006-09-04T19:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Point, What's your point? Be thankful you're getting some breaks. Most people go through their whole unfulfilled, pointless, useless, frustrating, two-bit, fucked up, wonderful life without a single break. These are the people you should take comfort from. These are the people, on the fringes of society, you should look at and feel good about yourself. Surround yourself with losers. They'll make you feel good. Don't be with people who can teach you a thing or two about the things you know little about. That'll only make you feel inadequate, foolish, lost and broken. The bright side about feeling inadequate, foolish, lost and broken is that the adequate, intelligent, successful and fixed people who you thought you could learn a thing or two about being adequate, intelligent, successful and fixed from will not be around you once they realise you are inadequate, foolish, lost and broken. It might seem like a very harsh thing to be subjected to from people you thought were your friends, but they're doing it for your own good. Get used to it. And don't get used to it. Because if you get used to it, you won't learn a thing from it. And if you don't, you won't be able to deal with it. Hmm. Never mind. Back to the people. They're deserting you so that they can be with people more adequate, intelligent, successful and fixed people who will make them feel inadequate, foolish, lost and broken, very soon. It is the way of the world. Everyone only tries to be more adequate, intelligent, successful and fixed than the other. People are always moving on to be with people above them. Eventually, every single person on this blooming planet is destined to feel like the person, you, they left behind. It's why we come into this world and leave this world alone. Understand the intricate mechanics of this virus of humano-immuno-deficiency that leads to this kind of human behaviour. Is there no way out? How dare we question our omniscience? Of coure, there is a way out. It's the way of the opposites. Does that sound zen? How dare we question ourselves? Of course, it is zen. And utterly unimplementable, which is why it is. So. So, don't listen to us. Now listen. Carefully. The only way to master such moves it to be contrarian in your strategy. If people gravitate towards other successful people, your job is to go the other way. If people gravitate towards you, your job is to gravitate towards people who don't. To understand how this kind of contrarian investing works, read books on contrarian investing. Once you've read many books on contrarian investing, do the exact opposite. After all, the idea behind contrarian thinking is to do the opposite of what is being popularly prescribed as contrarian thinking. If you think you're getting all this, don't think so. Do you read us? Don't. It's the key to reading us or anything. Over a long and tortuous journey of contrarian belief systems, you will realise that all the breaks you thought were the wrong breaks are, actually, the right breaks. What is wrong is right. What is right is wrong. What is successful is not. What isn't is. What is being prescribed is not to be followed. What is to be followed is to be opposed. What seem like one word principles to live life by is the road to destruction. The road to destruction will lead to success. If it sounds confusing, it's not. If it's not confusing, it is. If you're getting all the wrong breaks, you're right. If you're ready to leave, don't. If you're not, we are. If you're not getting any of this, you are. Not your zenius Funcle.

"I'm a young achiever. What can I say?" Kid Rocks

2006-09-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Rocks, Rock on! And we are, we think, saying it with the use of the appropriate hand gesture that goes with it. Yep, that one. The one which is a cross between the finger, the fingers, the other finger sign and that finger signed and this finger...good Lord, where the fuck are all these fingers? Fuck the fingers. We seem to have gotten them into a twist. Best we stick to knickers. We're sure you know what we mean. Do you? Hmm. We're not so sure you should have. Truly, you are quite a precocious comprehender. We are beginning to understand the politics of you, our dear young achiever. On that note, here's the finger for you, man. Fuck you and your young achievements. Yeah, man. That finger one. Rock on! Just don't get used to it. Young achievers should cultivate that ability to not cultivate it. The ability to lose the ability to achieve sooner than others. It's the karmic revolution of evolutionary tryology. And zoology. Dammit! How the heck does one spell that thing? By the fucking way, are you also a voracious speller? We mean, zoo-awe-logy, phonetically speaking. Anyway, that's besides the point. But the point besides the point besides is, shouldn't the damn thing have three 'O's? Fuck that. Let's just keep rocking on down this bumpy road, man! Let's not get into the speed-breaking spellantics of it all. The point is, don't rock on, too much. Better not to get comfortable being a young achiever. Achieve a state where any new achievement makes you uncomfortable with it. Get so uncomfortable with it that you make a mess of it and eject it from your life. Eject it before it ejects you. (Trust us, it will.) Start preparing for the fall. Better still, stop achieving. Furthermore, stop trying to achieve. More over more, start slacking. Furtherover moreover, do something else to deal with it: Nothing. To get started on nothing, start doing less. Start winding down. Little steps towards no steps. Don't get wound up. Lose the passion. Control the passion. Kill the passion. Don't be impassioned. Question the passion. Get sick of the passion. Fuck the passion. Fuck passion. Let's talk hunger. No, let's not talk hunger. Kill the hunger. Introduce yourself to the sorrow of the morning after. Learn to start writing loser poetry. Like the scowl. Cut the smile. Glow the frown. Clip the wings. Lose the urge to fly. Get ready to die. Dump the cloyetry. Okay, that might be a bit drastic, but try and understand the deeper implications of what we are alluding to, while not saying. What you can start with are small mantras like this will not last. Every success you manage will be the last. Life is too fast. Another peak is destined to be, very soon, another blast from the past. I must remember to live in the past. Don't mind it, we're only telling you all this since you asked. Had you not asked, we wouldn't have bothered. And since you asked, here's more from our time which has passed. Please understand the last four are not mantras on how to deal with what will, very soon, be your part of your whory past. They were just us explaining what we were telling you since you asked. Aren't you sorry that you asked? Good. It's a good way to understand the value of what you will be very sorry for everything that you are today and will be, soon, a distant memory from the not so recent past. On a more positive note, enjoy the achievement while it lasts. On an immediately sobering note, do not enjoy it. On an explanatory note, the reason you must not enjoy it is because then you start missing it when you don't have it. And you will not have it. Be sure about that. You will not have it. And that's just so your doubly sure of that. You will not have. That's just in case you missed it. Don't miss it. And that's in case you do, which you will. Because when you don't have it, not only will you miss it, you will hate it. you will hate it more than you ever enjoyed it. And then you will hate the fact that you enjoyed it. So, you may as well enjoy it while it lasts, which it won't. Evidently, it's not about what you can say anymore. It's more like what can we say? Not much more than off you go. We must be on our way. And so must you. As a young achiever, you still have a few miles to go before you start losing sleep. We sincerely hope we were able to fill your swollen head with the right deflatory cues. When you're down in the dumps, do fucking remember to give us our due. For if you are a young achiever, the hard knocks of life are very much lining up in a long, long, long fucking queue. And that's our cue to leave the fucking stage to you. Phew. Your knockered Funcle.

"I am Catholic. Find meaning in this." Virgin Meri

2006-09-02T06:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Meri Virgin, Teri toh! You, of all people, are asking us this question? You? You are the mother of all that you are. You are the meaning of this. You are the reason for thy etres. You are a miracle that man created in the name of God so that man could create God. You are the mother of all fuck ups. (And we do not mean that in a blasphemous manner. Only in the religio-conceptual manner.) You are what make people follow your faith. And you are asking us this. You are enlightening. Allow us to enlightern you. Make no mistake, Meri Ma, this is a miracle. A true miracle. A miracle of God-drinking-milking proportions. We gratify thyself for this miraculous turn of events. So rest easy. We see the crisis you might be going through. In the face of so much aggressive religious marketing from followers of Gods that drink milk and from followers of Gods that bring down tall buildings, we can see why you may be going through a promotional, existential and futur-centric dilemma. Please enter the confession box so we may confess our jargontastic strategio-marketing plan for you. For the sake of essential differentiation to enhance psychographic targetting, this will be a confession of an opposite kind. We will marketingly confess our crapegies for your socio-economic benefit. We will confess and bless you with a proper strategic plan that might help you unearth the hidden meanings in your holy psyche. The first thing you must do is pat thyself on thy back for having introduced the ambient role of ambient media presence in the form of a confession box. Unlike other forms of tactical advertising, the confession box is a truly big idea. It is an idea with legs even better than yours. It is an idea with mass-market appeal. It is an idea that, like all true big ideas, appeals to the mass common denominator. The great thing about a confession box is we can say what we please, knowing fully well that we aren't talking to a piece of stone or some lifeless object. There's great strength is sharing one's darkest deeds and feelings with a fellow human being and knowing that the fellow human being will do absolutely nothing about it, apart from listen and dish out some advise that one is under no obligation to follow. Ne'er has there been a more tangible placebox than a confession crox. Then again, a stone idol is a pretty good piece of religious ambient media, too. The problem with a stone idol is it comes in many brand extensions, which, eventually, dilutes the message. The concentratedness of the confession crox is what makes it a powerful tool of marketing. The confession box, we confess, takes the cake. So please don't mind it. Anyway, you have no right to. You only have the right to listen. You listen, while we confess our feelings about what you mean to us. After that, we both can shamelessly and blamelessly go back to our old ways. Ah, for the unburdensome powers of religion. Anyway, the meaning of what you are is a very hard one to answer. Some of the views you hold are totally at odds with the practical principles of humanity. For instance, look in the orphanages around the world and you will see the lack of meaning in what you are. You look at bastards around the world and you will find examples of what you shouldn't be. (Once again, we mean that word, which we dare not repeat, only in the religio-conceptual sense.) You look at people paying for their youthful mistakes and you will see what you are preventing people from being. We will, for the sake of peace, abort this train of thought. After all, abortion is something your kind are totally unable to comprehend and discuss. Admittedly, we may seem rather liberal in our use of views towards you. Trust us, we're being conservative. If we decided to be liberal, we would go to hell. In fact, we are in hell. And on that note, we request you to go to hell. We see no meaning in anything that you or milk-drinking and tower-humping brethren do. It burns our stake-ridden heart to think of the the fools that buy into your kind of marketing. You are worse than the most shill kind of advertising. We opt out of this presentation. The meaning of all this is the presence of the lack of any meaning whatsoever in any of what you psycho-religio-marketers preach. Thank you for listening to our confession. Please do not involve us in your promotional ways. Your faitheist Funcle.

"I am a Creative Director. What should I do?" Seedy Somebody

2006-09-02T05:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Somebody, Obviously, you're a so-so somebody and so we'll be respectful to you. Not too mucking fuch. Just a wee bit. Or, at least, we'll bloody try to. Don't blame us if we can't. Or don't. Dude/Dudette/Whatever, we aren't in the business of respecting anyone. We're all about giving honest advise. And if you want honest advise, you don't want respect. Know what we mean? Probably not. Up there, where you find yourself, the air tends to be really dense and the head very light so you're not very likely to know a thing about what anything means. No issues. All that matters is that it doesn't matter if what you want is respect, with honest advise you will get no respect. Besides, as a Creative Director, you probably get way too much of that sycophantic animal called respect. And if you happen to be fair, your thick white, pale skin profuckingbably gets oodles of it from all fucking genuflecting quarters. So don't come down here looking for anymore of that disgusting animal. Is that clear? Good. Now sit the fuck down and listen to us. Hmm, so you're a Creative Director. Hmm, so you probably work in an advertising agency. No, make that, you definitely do not work in an advertising agency. As a Creative Director in an advertising agency, that's what you must be doing. Rather, not doing. Glad we got that agreed upon. It's important that we agree, to move forward. As a Creative Director, you must be getting a lot of agreement. So this shouldn't be so hard to comprehend. Though, it might be just a tad hard to do. Well, like we agreed, you don't work in an advertising agency, but definitely do shirk in an advertising agency. What the fuck do you do? No, we're not asking you. In our position, we do not fucking ask. We just tell. What we were doing, when seeming to repeat the question you posed to us, was just asking fucking aloud for our stupid, underling-minded mind's benefit. So, once again, what the fuck do you do, chump? No, don't answer. Keep quiet. We're the one providing the answers. First question to pose for the answer: What did we do when we were Creative Fucking Director? Hmm. Yes, yes, we too were that animal that you now are. But only for a very, very short while. Like in everything fucking else, we weren't too good at being a CD either. The thing is we weren't seedy. We worked our butt off. We fought for what's right. We, even, thought for what's right. We stuck by our team. We stuck by our team. We stuck by our team. Oops, sorry, we didn't mean to get stuck on that. But, we did fucking stick by our team. We didn't care for clients. We didn't care for suits. We only cared for the brands we were championing. And that's why we sucked. Now, we know better. We've seen many, many successful Creative Directors. We know what it takes. We also know fucking well what it doesn't take. And we shall generously share all that crockvise with you. Obviously, you aren't doing a terribly good job of it, which is why you're asking us. Good move. Bad move: You're probably making the mistake of trying to work on the job you have, somehow, landed yourself. We suggest you go back five lines in this nonveration we're having between us, read the few lines of rants we've puked all over this piece of shitty paper and make sure you do the exact oppositie of all we proudly, bitterly and vituperatively said we did as a Creative Fucking Director. And that's pretty much all you need to do. Now get the fuck out and just don't do it. Your righteously wrong blagvertising Agony.

"I build skyscrapers. What am I?" Sky Hi

2006-09-01T04:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Hi, Hi there. Agony here. Heh, heh. We trust you appreciate our quickly thought out pokey little jokey greeting. We've always been a friendly sort of person. And to come across someone with such an appropriately friendly name is a true, true pleasure. Hi there. Funcle here. Heh, heh. No harm in saying hi again, is there, Hi? Heh, heh. We could do this forever. Don't worry, we shan't. Still, you will agree that it's always nice to be friendly in this world. God knows, this fucking world has no fucking friendly fucking people because it's so bloody fucked up and full of lying motherfuckers who are friends only for selfish reasons. So, hi there. Okay, we better stop and get down to helping you. After all, that's what we're here for. Apart from that, we're also here because we couldn't get anywhere, but that's not the issue. That's just the father of all issues. The issue on hand now is, who are you? Considering your second name, are you Chinese? Never mind. We won't get into ethnicities and ehtnivillages. We are unbiased. We will not let a person's origins skew our method of dealing with the person's problem. Are you male? Never mind. We won't get into sex. Not just because we never get any, but because we never let a person's sex skew our method of dealing with the person's problem or fucking with the person. No, no, it's not meant to sound like that. So forget that and hear this. Hi there. All we wanted to say is we really don't care. Heh, heh. A tad poetic too, eh? Don't care too much for it. We don't. In fact, nobody fucking really does. Which is why you are up there and we are nowhere. But, but, please don't care distracted. Our method of dealing with all issues is to try and make the issuer forget about the issue and then spring the solution for the issue. It's kinda like pulling a tooth. Heh, heh. We're in quite a painfully jokey mood today. You still there? Hi. We do care about your existential dilemma. We envy you. My, my, you build skyscrapers. You are hungry for phallic symbols. You may have a miniature phallus. You may not be a man at all. You might like large cars. You may have a king-sized ego. You may be a queen. You may be very messed up. You may not be any of that, but you do build skyscrapers. What are you? Yes, that's right. That's what you are asking us. Forgive us for posing the issue right back to you. That we no can do. What you can do, to get a deeper and better understanding of what you may be, is a few weeks with the absurdists and the existentialists. We urge you to try Camus. If you don't care much for Camus, may we suggest you contact the Sheikhs of the Arab world. Not because they get killed by Camus' Mersault, but because they won't care much for what you are. They'll just make you forget what you are. They will kill all your individuality with their money. They're so full of themselves, they will piss on you with a contract after a contract after a contract after...you get the long and the long of it. Yep, you got it. They're just like you. They love big cars. They love tall buildings. They have king-sized egos. They don't have what we cannot mention because if we do, they will cut off our what we cannot mention. All said and done, they are you. They will own you. And you will become nothing. After that, you wil not be you. And that you which is not you will be you. Seeing what we seem to have gotten into with you and the other you of you, we think you really should delve deep into the non-existential side of you. Are we getting through to you? Hi, you there? Looks like we lost all of you. Where the fuck are you? We miss you. Heh, heh, guess we shouldn't have been so jokey with you. You've left us too. Just like the rest of you. Fuck you. Your low-life Funcle.

"Insecurity is my middle name. How do I change that?" Bastard Child

2006-08-31T04:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Child, Please note, we haven't stooped to calling you a bastard, you little insecure bastard. We know how much that would hurt and make you feel like all your names are insecurity, you little bastard. We understand your predicament very well, you bastard. It's one of the reasons we're, actually, subtly, sneakily, fuelling your insecurities, you bastard. Doesn't make sense, does it? Think about it, you bastard. Once you have your insecurities fuelled by more insecurities, you will have only insecurities. After that, you will find it much easier to deal with your insecurities, because you will see nothing but insecurities. Leaving you with little else to deal with, apart from insecurities. And then, you will get totally used to any frigging insecurities. Are you comprehending thy insecurities? You may ask why and how is it that we undertand the salient principles of these insecurity, and you, so well? Well, you little bastard, insecurity is not our middle name, but insecurity is our full name. Don't believe us? Ask the wise men of insecurity, and they will tell you that it is one of the root causes of agony. Well, now that we've gotten to know each other a little better, let's get right down to getting you out of our hair. We would like to ask you a few things before trying to help you. Not because we're overly interested in your predicament, but because we do not want to be seen as one of those Gurus who dish out advise without understanding fully, completely and properly the reasons, circumstances and grounds for a sad bastard's problems. Please listen carefully to our queries and don't bother to answer us. It won't get through to us. Nothing ever does. We're too insecure to let any of that two way communication take place. And that's why we indulge ourselves in one-way conversations of a non-responsive, regressive nature. It's a lot easier that way. To help you, it's best we don't get into a conversation, dialogue or argument with you that will only add to our insecurities. All we will do is answer all the questions we pose and provide you with all the solutions. It's only us who will reach you, reach out to you and shelter you from all your problems so that you may face them without the need for any shelter or us. Clear? Amazing! So tell us, why do you feel like insecurity is your middle name? Is it on your report card? Is it on your birth certificate? Is there any proof of it? Is it on your school leaving certificate? If it isn't on any one of those very important documents, we urge you to go to your local municipality and put it on them. Without your complete name on these very important documents, you will find it impossible to do much in life, which will only add to your insecurities. No matter what you say, if your middle name is not on an important piece of paper, it can never be accepted as your middle name. And if you do not have an accepted middle name, you will not have the security of being a fatherfull person, you little bastard. Not being a fatherfull person is the imperfectly documented recipe for distasteful insecurity. That said, you seem pretty sure that insecurity is your middle name, so we suspect your documents are in order. In which case, the only person who should be blamed for the state of affairs you find yourself in are your parents. In particular, your insecure father. Consider that. Seriously. Something that might make you feel less insecure is blaming your parents for everything. Most people feel very good when they absolve themselves of any responsibility and blame their childhood for everything that makes them insecure. You might want to keep telling yourself that. Try telling yourself many times a day that insecurity is your middle name because it's your father's name. It might not offer you much comfort, but at least it will make you feel like you are what you are only because of your father. We know that will fuel, even further, your deep-rooted insecurity and surround you with a cacoon of insecurities. In our nature, a cacoon is the perfect place to find security. Problem? Solution. Your soluble Funcle.

"I want to write a book. What do you think?" Book Bound

2006-08-31T01:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Bound, You don't want to know what we think. There, we've said it. That said, it's time to tell you what we think. You want to write a book? Why? What the fuck for? Who gave you that hair-brained idea? Who planted that iota of unthought in your potato head? What makes you think you can write a book? Don't you know there are many, many, many, fucking many writers who want to write books and never get around to writing them? Don't you know there are many, many, many, fucking many writers who want to write a book and write it and never get around to publishing them? Don't you know how much discipline it takes to write a book? Haven't you read our considered and considerably fucked thoughts on the inconsideration of being that fucking disciplined enough to write a book? If you haven't, we suggest you wait for our book that will never, never, never, fucking never be published and will contain those very same considered thoughts that you will never, never, never, fucking never read. Don't you know that to write a book you have to write something substantial every day? Don't you know that to write a book you have to read at least one book? Don't you know how much more than one book you have to read to write a book? Do you think you can write a book without spending ten times the amount of time it takes to write a book on reading many, many, many, fucking many things apart from books? Don't you know how notoriously hard it is to find a book you can get through? Don't you know your attention span cut to shreds as it probably is by TV and other form of instant distertainment is incapable of reading even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fucking fraction that it takes to write a book? Don't you know there are no topics left worth writing a book on? You probably know all these things, which is why you have come to us. Which makes us wonder, is there any other reason you have come to us? Hmm. Did you by any chance think we will write that book for you? Are you famous? Come to think of it, we might just write that book for you. Are you really famous? Do you have contacts? Are you a superstar? Are you a movie star? Are you an English cricketer? Are you Wayne Rooney in a humble mood? Are you Kevin 'Instant' Pietersen? Are you the next big thing? If you are any of those fellows or someone like one of those fellows with an agent who wants to make you a quick buck by coming out with a book on your incredibly short career full of little achievements, you have every right to write a book about just about anything without writing one. And you have come to the right person. Not only are we a ghost of the person we once used to be, we're more than willing to ghost write any bloody minor achiever's book. Dammit, we'll write any book. Just tell us to write a book. (Please, please, please, fucking please.) You want to write a book? That's a great idea. An even better idea would be to let us write it for you. It doesn't matter if we get no credit for it. It doesn't matter if nobody knows we have written the book for you. If you're charitable enough, as you most certainly seem to be, please add our name to the list of thousand people you'd like to thank for having written your book. That might be the only bloody pathetic way we'll ever write a published book. That might also be the only way you'll write your book. As we had mentioned earlier, everyone wants to write a book. It takes a person with a lot of contacts to eventually write one. In the absence of contacts or any achievement in some other high-profile field, you need sheer writing talent. Obviously, that's not something a loser like you possesses. Why else would you come to a kindred soul like us? Your book bound Agony.

"I'm fair & lovely. Where do I go from here?" Unfair Kvetchun

2006-08-31T01:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Kvetchun, Indeed, you are right. That is an unfair kvetch. Considering the unfair world we live in, there couldn't be a more unfair kvetch than the one you have just posed to, and for, us. You deserve to be pulled up for it. But we're not of that disposition. We're compassionate, kind and very, very fair. Our experience as a very, very dark personality has made us very fairly disposed to your disgusting kind. Since we have absolutely no bloody ill-feelings towards your empty, superficial good-looking and unfair kind, we abjectly apologise instantly for calling you disgusting, but we do not think we or you should be blamed for the negative feelings people like us feel towards your kind. It is only natural. Everywhere we look around, your kind seems to have a larger share of life's pie. Furthermore, everywhere we look around, your kind seems to have the whole pie. It bears repeating because everywhere we looking around again and again, your kind just takes the cake and the whole fucking bakery. What the bloody hell is the world coming to? Excuse us for our unruly, ugly, dark rage. It bears repeating that we have no negative feelings towards you. It is, after all, very unfair on our part to blame you and your fucked up ilk for being little more than superficial and fair and lovely. In case you do not see that happening whereever you are, you are, obviously, in the wrong neck of the woods and should instantly rethink, thoughtlessly, about which neck of the woods you should refuckinglocate to. You should also immediately tell us where this mythical place you find yourself in is? Point is, if you are not making the most of what you are, you are not in India. If you are not in India, that is the place you should go to from whichever fair and foolish part of the unfair world you are currently in. India is where the action is, baba. The stockmarket index is set to hit 1 billion points. The economy is booming. P. C. Chidambaram is pushing investing. The women are giving. And the fair are prospering. While the white world may be exotically disposed towards a darker shade of whiteness, the unfair people of the incontinence of India are helplessly disposed towards all things white. Believe it and yes, it is one of those rare places on this fucked up Earth where the men try to look like women and women try to look like something out of this world. Believe it and yes, it is one of those totally fucked up places on this motherfucking Earth where marriage proposals are decided on the basis of skin whiteness. God knows what happened to the old-fashioned virtues of caste, money and money. (He really must, because we certainly don't.) All this to say, shortly, we urge you to pack your bags and head right off to India. It doesn't matter what you may possess in your cranium or in your pocket, if you are fair and lovely, you stand a very good chance of making it fairly very big in India. It's true. Large corporate houses have made billions from your name. Lesser corporate houses have even gone to the extent of making disgusting commercials full of foppy looking males working themselves up into a lather to look fair and handsome. Bollywood is built on the fair practice of fair trade. Thanks to this neck of the woods, the quaint, archaic and, now, obsolete term tall, dark and handsome has undergone a warped Micheal Jackson like makeover in this land of the formerly lovely eastern dark. In parting, here's an even more encouraging parting shot in the arm for you, confirmed reports confirm that more large corporates are doing their best to make the obsession with your kind even more biased and open. No reports have come through regarding the implausible impossibility of this kind of racial profiling being proscribed. All this should make it as white as daylight to you that India is where you should go from here. Please don't repeat the kvetchun. We might kill you. Not that we hate you or anything. Your fairly fucked up Funcle.

"I'm greedy. I'm desperate. I need help. Help!" Hungry Mouth

2006-08-31T00:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Mouth, We don't know how to say it, so we'll say it the only way we don't know how to. Go easy. It's not that hard to solve your problem. Put simply, it's easy. As easy as one, two, three, four and five, actually. One: If you're greedy for sex, find a whore. Pay her. Or him. If you like her, or him, stick with her. Or him. Try and find an expensive whore. Don't let her, or him, out of your sight. Very soon, you'll have no money. And then, you won't have her. Or him. That'll leave you completely shattered. After that, you won't have the balls to be greedy. S/he'll be gone with them. Two: If you're greedy for money, go straight to the stock exchange. Follow the market. Wait. Don't invest right away. Wait for some more time. Look around. The only people you'll see, are people making money. The only people who will be talked about, are people making money. The only people who will talk, are people making money. Not just small money, but hand-over-fist kind of money. Wait. Wait till you can't wait any longer. Wait till everyone you know is making money. Wait till everyone you know and don't know has made money. Then, jump in when the lure is irresistible. By then, the market will have made everyone money and will be preparing for the downturn. And you'll be the poor sucker caught in the downturn, losing money. Not just money, but hand-over-fist money. Of course, you won't know what to do with this sudden downturn of events. As a result, you'll end up very shattered and very suicidal. Of course, you won't give up. You'll throw more money after bad money. And lose more money. Not just more money, but more hand-over-fist money. After that, you won't have the balls to be greedy; they'll be making their way down your mouth to form a lump or two in your throat. That should cure you of your greed for money. Three: If it's stability you crave for, take up a job. Do all that it takes to stick to it. Suck up to the people around you. Rub your nose into the ground for that fucking salary they pay you at the end of the month. Do it long enough to get used to the stability of a fucking salary. After that, you'll be so mindfucked, let alone greed, you won't have the fucking hunger for anything in life. Better still, you'll be dead. In our life experience, that is a surefire way to end greed. Four: Try and identify what, exactly, is it that you so crave for. If you think hard enough, you'll see that there are too many bloody things you're greedy for. Think a little harder and the list will just keep lengthening. Think for some more time and you'll be so discouraged by the number of things human beings like you crave for that you'll hate yourself. Once you hate yourself, you won't want anything. Not even yourself. End of greed. Five: You're greedy for knowledge. Yeah, right. What crock! Fine, maybe you are so foolish that you're greedy for knowledge. Well, seek it. Read. Talk to people. Read. Collect bookmarks. Read. Join a library. Read. Think deeply about things. Read. Understand the way the world works. Read. Train yourself to be an intelligent person of knowledge. Read. Grow wise with your knowledge. Read. And then try to apply it. You'll be snubbed, kicked, ridiculed, slapped, booted out and rejected. And rejected. And rejected. And fucking rejected. Post that, we can bet you won't feel the need for any of that crap greed for knowledge or any knowledge at all. If none of this seems remotely like the greed you're greedy for, maybe you're just greedy for answers to everything in life. In that case, keep coming back to us. Our answers are sure to leave you so dazed and confused that you won't have any more questions. Any questions? Thought so. Incidentally, we hope it's not food that you are hungry for. If so, we apologise profusely for the callousness. Please do visit us. We're a great cook. We'll take care of it. And shut your grubby mouth. It's, perhaps, the only thing we know how to take care of. Your unstomachable Funcle.

"I want to learn discipline. I...hang on, I've got a call. I'll be back. Please stay with me." Missciplined Mauji

2006-08-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Mauji, The least you can do is complete your questions before we proceed to blahnswer it. It's very undisciplined of you to interrupt our session for a phone call. We take strong issue with this kind of behaviour. We have often to tried to explain to people who don't really come to us at all that when you come to us with your problem, you've got to leave all your other problems behind. You see, when you come to us with your problem, which rarely happens, we will, almost inevitably, proceed to create a slew of fresh problems for you. Which is why it's imperative for your mental safety that you don't complicate or communicate your problems with the problems our problems will create for you and not come to us at all. Our biggest problem, honestly, is honesty. And when we try to solve your problems with our honesty, we only end up creating more problems for you. Come to think of it, it's very sensible of you to deal with more important matters, like a phone call, while we are seriously trying to make a hash out of solving your problem. You see our problem? Good, now we have a real problem, unlike your problem. The problem with people like you is that you know your problem, but will never do enough to get rid of it. We have come across many, many people like you and nothing we say seems to help them. (Sensibly.) And yet, we shall waste your time trying to provide you with a solution for your problem. Since you haven't completed your question, as usual, we will proceed to solve your problem without knowing what your problem is. Not that it is very clear, but very clearly your problem is you are too undisciplined to think in a proper manner to arrive at what your problem is. (In that respect, you are much like us.) You think you are undisciplined, but don't have the time to be disciplined enough to identify the issue you think you have after having identified it quite well. The best way to deal with the issue you haven't told us about is to be bold enough to realize it is not an issue. When you don't think it is an issue, it is not an issue. Only people who think they have issues, have issues. The ones that don't are perfect, because they think they are issueless, no less. We think. Don't you think so? Think about that, while we think, with or without you, on your problem. Discipline is an issue only with people who know they're undisciplined. Once you have faced up to the fact that you are real and undisciplined, much like everything that's real and undisciplined, you're well on your way to solving your problem. Indiscipline is not a problem you should try very hard to solve. Because once you become disciplined, it is impossible to live life. As the great proletarian saying goes, 'When in discipline, do as the undisciplined do.' Please make a disciplined note of that saying. For, or against, you are not likely to find it anywhere else, thankfully. Back to the indiscipline of this session on discipline. Disciplined people end up suffering all kinds of unnecessary hardships under the guise of being disciplined. For instance, disciplined people will not buy into simple creature comforts and thus end up being idiotically disciplined, misfitted and discomfitted creatures of nothing. Disciplined people will try to attain Nirvana because they are incapable of attaining much else. Disciplined people will not keep in touch with other normal people because they think that is the way to foolhardily maintain the indiscipline of disciplinedly not making phone calls. Disciplined people will try to lead a life of useless principles, which will make them complete pissfits in this chaotic, randomly undisciplined dysfunctioning world. We hope you are still on that very important phone call of yours. Thank you for not letting us discipline you. Obviously, you have missed nothing. This session on discipline has been brought to you by the Histree Channel - Showing you all the short cuts to becoming a relic. And no, we will not stay with you. We are too disciplined, closed and alone to enjoy any of the things that normal, undisciplined, happy people enjoy. In fact, we're too disciplined to enjoy anything. Elliptically speaking, Agony.

"We don't have the guts to do anything. What to do?" Guts & Gori

2006-08-28T23:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Guts & Gori, A real pleasure to be of service to the first couple of question ever posed to the 'Father of all Issues'. We're touched by your love for each other. Clearly, you have identified our core competency and your core incompotencies. We don't like mentioning it, but we're, above all, a marriage counsellor. Which is why we mentioned it to demonstrate to you that if you're looking for a place to learn about guts, looks no further. We're not only the 'Father of all Issues', we're also the 'Father of Guts'. You will, surely, agree that it takes guts to mention things one doesn't like mentioning and then proceeed to be pompous about having the guts to mention that one has guts to mention the things one doesn't like mentioning. Not only that, it also takes guts to string together a wholly unintelligible sentence like that and make it sound like we are not being so. We shall continue in this gutsy vein and reveal our experiences with people like us that we do not like to bandy about as us. Back to marriage fucking counsellors. Oh no, we do not dislike the bastards at all. Please do not be under that impression. No, not at all. We fucking insist. Banish the bloody thought. Okay. Good. Anyway, so we choose not to bandy that we're, too, a marriage fucking counsellor because our experience with marriage fucking counsellors has been rather appalling. Allow us to share, yet again, our fucking experience with you in the hope that it may give you the courage to deal with your fear full experiences. The way we see it, marriage counsellors suck. Thanks to our marriage counsellor, our Gori ran away with the cad. The cad charged us humungous amounts for every session with the cad and convinced our Gori that she was better off with a cad with our bank balance, which, by the end of our sessions with the blighter, was no longer ours, but added to his bank balance. On hindsight, though, we agree emptyheartedly with the state of affairs, and the cad. After all, if that's all our Gori was after, she's better off with the cad. Of course, we couldn't accept the assessment of the cad, which is why we hid the fact that we chose to turn marriage counsellor-cum cad. Instead we dishonestly bandy the fact that we're little more than the 'Father of all Issues' and are here to fucking help all comers. Thanks for coming to us with your issue. Please prepare to pay us a not-so-large sum of money once we finish with the first of the many, many money-sucking sessions we will have over your issue. You can be sure, we will not be finished with you, until we finish you. Quite frankly, we do not think you do not have the guts to do anything. You have chosen to come to a perfect stranger with your problem. That takes guts. You have chosen to take the first step and will proceed to share intimate details about your life with a perfect stranger. That takes guts. You have chosen to reveal to a perfect stranger that you and your lovely gori are having problems in and out of bed. That takes foolish guts. Come, come, do not be so hard on yourselves. You fools have a lot of guts. You fools also have no brains. Instead of sitting down and talking like sensible human beings, egolessly, about the state of your problems, you have chosen to wash your dirty lingerie in a public forum. Thrice again, that takes guts. How can you say you have no guts? We're sure you and your Gori are with each other only because you both know you can't do any fucking better. That takes a lot of guts. Then, think about this, you are together. Boy, that takes guts. Then again, the fact that you haven't chosen to be alone, shows what cowards you both are. Clearly, you both possess no guts. May we suggest you schedule a personal appointment with us? If after all this, you decide to go ahead and schedule more sessions with us, it'll go along way in proving to yourselves that you do have the guts to do anything. You know what to do. Next. Your nutsy Funcle.

"Help! My bookmarks are overflowing me." Nooky Browser M.D.

2006-08-27T05:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Nooky Browser M.D., Please do be going and learning some gooder English. We do not apprecate peoples who come to us with questions posed in badly questioned English and worsly written spelling. Are we clearing ourself with you? Good. Coming now to your question. Are your bookmarks overflowing you? That is a good question. Why are your bookmarks overflowing you? That is another question. Are you collecting them too much? That two is the third question in the first too questions. If you are collecting your bookmarks too much, then they are very likely to be overflowing you. You see, the thing about bookmarks is they are not very obstructing and obtrusive. They grab your attention at the first and then hide away at the later. Very soon, you are realizing that you are having so many frigging bookmarkings that you are not personally marking them anymore. The result of not marking bookmarks is that when you do notice them later, you start wondering how much of them you have been missing. You again see, bookmarks are great followers of Shakespeare. They tide and time for no man, not even people with names that have M.D. Something we casually marked carefully while responding to your query on bookmarking? We are wondering to ourselves what does M.D. stand for? And answering, to ourself, is it being Mad Doctor? Or is it Minor Doctor? It doesn’t really matters, because whatever doctors are there do not matters to us. We have marked doctors for life and will never be bookmarking them, which is why we were waylaid into asking. Please do not be mind our asking. Coming back to your asking, the solution to it would be to quit the exercising of thy rights of bookmarking. Ahem, yes, you may be noting that we, also, are a little rarely liking quoting Shakespearing. But no more on that fakespear and more on your bookmarkings that are going overflowing. As we were saying, when you are too much bookmarking, you may be better off offing the bookmarking. Of course, the problem we are jolly well agreeing is that when you are not bookmarking you are likely to may end up forgetting what you are liking and so have been bookmarking. But we are on our feet now thinking that it is better than remembering to bookmarking and not much doing after all that bookmarking. Are you understanding? Gooding. The badding of not bookmarking is that you will be constantly searching for the things you are liking and are no longer bookmarking. As always, you lose much when you lose some. You will, though, be gaining a few things. You will gain the unfeeling of not being overflowing by your bookmarking. You will also be gaining the ignorance that is coming from not bookmarking. Then, you will be gaining the headache that will be on-setting from having to be looking for the sites and sounds and things that would have been better off remembered by bookmarking. Most of all, you will not be having to tolerating the answerings from us in English that we is you mimicking. You are such a fooling. We are also bigly fooling. Go back and do some more reading. Then, you might be improving your Englishing and not have to be worrying about silly thingings like bookmarkings that you are overflowing. Hope we are helping. Thanking you very muching for asking. It was great making of you funning. Your slanguist Funcle

"There is no match-fixing in cricket. What should I do?" Thuggies Adda

2006-08-26T21:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Thuggies, Naam ho toh, appke jaisa. Wah, wah, what a lovely name you've given yourselves there. Rawther appropriate too, we say. Ne'er a truer name spoken. Being Thuggies, Sirs, you're trying to convince us that there is no match-fixing in cricket? Sirs, kya Sirs? Give us another one, Sirs. Chalo Sirs, for agony's sake we'll assume there is no match-fixing in cricket. What about fancy fixing? Chalo for agony's sake, we will assume there is no fancy-fixing in cricket? What about management-fixing? Chalo for agony's sake, we will assume there is no management-fixing? What about micro-fixing? Chalo for agony's sake, we will assume there is no micro-fixing. What about commercial-fixing? Chalo for your sake, we will assume there is no match-fixing in cricket. Let us now try to fix your problem. So what should you do when there is no match-fixing in cricket? Hmm, how about nothing? How about letting teams play to their true potential? How about not worrying about which section of the audience needs to be entertained? How about not scheduling matches as per the whims and fancies of the television channels? How about not confusing people with technology that is meant to hide and not reveal? How about taking the legalese out of cricket? How about not bending backwards to please certain lobbies? How about not changing rules to suit certain countries? How about not doing all that's wrong to make chuckers medically passed bowlers? How about not turning cricket into a business? How about taking a few steps back to the days when cricket was a sport? How about bringing the gentlemen back into the gentlemen's game? How about turning it back into a game it was from the game it has become? How about not asking us questions the answers for which you don't want to hear? How about not gagging people who want to speak the truth? Obviously, we're not being very helpful with this train of thought, are we? We'll try and do better with the next. Isn't it nice that there is no match-fixing in cricket? Isn't it nice that everything is fair and square in the great game? Isn't it nice that transparency has so transparently been restored to the great game? Isn't it nice that people are being entertained so truthfully? Isn't it nice that the spectators are not being taken for a ride? You should be proud of yourself, Sirs. You have done your job. You have restored the bismirched name to the fair game it used to be. Ulp, excuse us. What we meant was you should be proud that the fair name has been restored to the bismirched game it used to be. Umm, well...oh, never mind the semantics and the sarcastics. All that matters, is that the people watching the game are happy. The people playing the game are happy. Everyone is happy. Why are you pretending to be unhappy? Ah, we see why you are pretending to be unhappy. As true businessmen, you must wonder how else can the game be milked for more money. No worries, Sirs. You have taken some wonderful steps in the right direction. For instance, this 20/20. It's a gambler's dream. Place all your bets on it. Devote all your energies to it. Lure all the gullible people to it. Make it the horse-racing of cricket. It is the horse racing of cricket. It's a version of the game that's less about pure skill and more about taking chances. It's where the bookies, the players and the gamblers can make, even, more money. It's the casino royale of cricket. You are doing all that needs to be done, Sirs. Happy Sirs? Thank you for taking the mickey out of us. Thank you for wasting our time. Thank you for reminding us how powerful you are. Thank you for taunting us with your rhetorical question. Now please wipe that faeces off your smirks. And don’t come to us with your specious questions. This is a place for serious problems that deserve serious looking at for even seriouser answers. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask us. No thanks for asking. Yours impotently, Funcle.

"Why doesn't my God drink my milk?" Good Lord

2006-08-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Lord, Let us bray. We have sinned. Many times. And are going to sin. Even more often. Please forgive us, again, for all the sins we have committed. Again. Please show us the path to your abode. Maybe. And thank you for all the milk of human mindless you have bestowed upon us baby. May God be with you. In the name of the Blather, The Broad and The Holy Spirit. Shamen. There, we feel better now. Our Lord told us never to take the his Lord's name is vain. Thank you Lord for letting us devote a little time to our Lord before dealing with your problems with your God, Lord. So Good Lord, you say your God doesn't drink your milk? We shall desist from descending into anything vulgar here beause in Lord we trust. We trust you are giving your God the right kind of milk. Have you checked whether it is pasteurised milk? If so, maybe you should desist from trying to feed the good God processed crap. Reliable sources tell us that The Lord is totally against big corporations and processed foods. While our Lord may not be the same as your God, we'd like to believe that they come from the same selfishly selfless gene and have similar beliefs when it comes to the Arudhatitold evil that big corporations do. Perhaps you should change the brand of milk you are trying to shove down your God's throat or trunk or whichever orifice your God prefers to have his/her/it's milk. In fact, we urge you to not go for another brand of milk. Most brands are promoted with fallacious forms of advertising. They are totally untrustworthy. We urge you to carefully consider purchasing an unbranded, organic cow and housing this said holy animal in your living room. Make it a point to feed this cow you purchase, unbranded, only unbranded and organically grown grass. On a good day, you may try and feed it some tofu too. Tofu is the preferred choice of food for many well-known organic peoples and we're quite sure the cow will take to it ravenously. The cow will also appreciate the sentimentality you will be showing by opting for tofu. You see, tofu is also the preferred meat of these very well known organic peoples. Once your cow is convinced of your organic, eco-friendly and non-meat credentials, it will gladly give you the perfect kind of milk. Needless to say, you must impregnate your cow and force the cow to give birth to a calf. No cow without a calf can ever give any milk. No, we do not encourage you to impregnate the cow. We suggest you stick to the God-given rules of impregnation. Bestiality is not something any God will tolerate under any fucking circumstances. Unless, the devotee happens to be a sheep-farmer. In that case, anything goes. That said, if you, not being a sheep farmer, stoop to such desperate depths of a holely anti-God nature, no matter how good the milk your bestially impregnated cow yields, the Good God above will not drink it. We hope you are taking all this down. It is very important that you follow the correct rituals down to the last teat. The right procedures leading to the perfect teat will provide you the perfectly purest form of milk that no fair, racially sensitive, politically correct, liberal minded God will ever be able to resist. Please keep us posted on how things develop. Enjoy the ride. Gullible, foolish, miracle-crazed people like you deserve a good one. Something us humans are so very capable of providing. Your Silligious Funcle.

"I'm Pluto. What next?" Plutonic Relationship

2006-08-24T20:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Pluto, We're very tempted to say what the scientist of the world have asked you to do, as in, chalo, chalo, yahaan say phuto! Of course, you have no idea what that means, even though, you know the feeling. Stumped? Awesome. That's why we're here, to stumper the stumped and then unstump them. Stumper, what da fuck is dat? Super. Since you're getting stumper and stumper by the minute, we shall further elaborater. 'Stumper' is the next stage of being stumped. Unstumped? Good. Coming now to your originaler question of what next, now that you have been told to phuto? But first, a quick primer on 'phuto'. 'Phuto', in the not-so-ancient 'Bambaiya' dialect of the ancient language of Hindi means 'get the hell out of here', rudely, callously, astronomically and scientifically. We're sure you know the feeling, right? Good. Which is sure to raise another question in your mind full of more weighty questions like what is this rude-sounding thing called 'Bambaiya'? Time for some more unstumping from the Father of all issues. 'Bambaiya' is 'Bambaiya' for 'Bombayspeak'. 'Bombayspeak' is oldspeak for 'Mumbaispeak'. 'Mumbaispeak' is a kind of Hindi spoken only in Mumbai. And Mumbai is the the new name for Bombay. Are we clear? Really? Doesn't matter. Really. Considering you don't matter no more. Ah well, get used to it. Unemotionally, scientifically, and unscientifically, speaking it's the way this world operates. They use you as long as you're useful enough, big enough, significant enough and till they are ignorant enough about other weightier things. The minute they find other more interesting, bigger and more significant matters, you cease to matter. You are cold. You are dark. You are solitary. You are distant. You are unapproachable. Boy, you were lucky. Be thankful, they paid attention to you for this long. It's rare for people like us to pay much attention to people like you. People like us prefer big things. For instance, big hips are preferred by some Earthlings. Big breasts by most Earthlings. And big planets by the big astronomers. Come to think of it, you shouldn't be too miffed. Before now, you were a loner. Now, you're a huge part of a gang of little fellows. You're now the biggest fish in a smaller asteroid pond. You can lord over that pond. You were nothing in our pond. As that big fish in the human marketing pond, Al Ries and Jack Trout, would say, you are now better positioned to exert more influence. You have no reason to feel down and out. You used to be down and out there. But now, you're the Thing in the Kuiper Belt. How cool is that? Very fucking cool, that's how cool. You've just been given a fresh lease of life. You've been released from our oblong orbit of Astronomical Karma. You can now relaunch yourself as T.A.F.K.A.P., (The Artist formerly known as Pluto). You were a renegade among mortals. You can now be the Prince of Asteroids. Just don't get too comfy. You never know what heartless humans have in store for you next. Goodbye, my lonely soulmate. You are no longer like us. We like you. No more.With stars in our eyes, Funcle.

"I'm a career woman. Should I get married?" Miss Fortune

2006-08-23T21:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Fortune, Even if you don't want to get married, there will tons of losers who will gladly want to marry you. Of course, the issue is would you want to marry a loser? And if you are considering that question, another question crops up and begs for secondary consideration two, which is what is a loser? Is a loser someone who doesn't have a career? Or is a loser a loser who will lose every ounce of self-respect and conscience for a career? If you can solve this most complex of human conditions, you might find an answer to the original question we posed you in response to your original question. You catch what we're saying? If not, you may want to consider posing this question to a gentleman of questionable intelligence like Michael Noer. Chances are, you will not find an answer of a satsifactory nature from the gent who likens all wives to whores and seems utterly convinced with his unfortunate delusion that all career women are likely to cheat. Obviously, this world is full of very insecure men like him who will lap up such drivel. So we urge you to please, immediately, disregard that option and stay with us. No, no, we're not suggesting that you consider our proposal to get married to us. No, no, we did not make any such proposal. No, no, we wouldn't dream of offering ourselves as a sacrifice on the altar of your career aspirations. We wouldn't let you go forth and conquer lands that we failed miserably at conquering. Besides, we have no interest in doing all the cathartic cleaning and lovely cooking at home while you go and bust your ass with all the arseholes that you will definitely have to deal with while trying to make a career out of your life. Why should we choose the easier option of staying at home and doing far more interesting things with our life while women like you are endangering their lives in the hostile environs of the alpha-male infested corporate jungle? Umm, we apologise for getting a bit carried away. We forgot this was not about us. We always forget that nothing is about us. If only we remembered, more often, that we are nothing and so nothing can be about us. Back to you. So you were saying...ah yes, you were wondering whether you should get married? A very good question, indeed. We, too, were wondering whether we should get married? Unfortunately, every time we wonder on the situation, we are faced with women who seem to want to be like us and would like us to be unlike us. You see, we're not a career woman. In fact, we're not a career man, either. So much so, that we, sometimes, wonder whether we're a man at all. We're not a career man. Should we get married? Your questionable Agony.

"We need a name for our baby. Any thoughts?" Thotless Couple

2006-08-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Couple, A couple of things, think more. And then, think Brangelina. Think neologisms. Think Puri. Think Fury. Think Suri. Think about the future. Think IBM. No, don't think IBM. Think about what people will say. Think about the atom bomb. Think about the end of the world. Think about birth certificates. Think about fucking school admissions. Think about unfortunately named people. Think Dicks. Think Pussy Galore. Think. Think. Think. And if you still can't think of anyhing, think no more. You've come to the right place, we think. Great, now that we've got all that uneccessary thinking out of the way, time for a real good unthink and some thoughtless advice. Quick question, why not kill the baby and save yourself all this thinking? Not only will you save yourself the thinking, you will also save yourself a ton of money. Not only only will you save yourself a ton of money, you will also save yourself the trouble of dealing with a whole load of shit. I'm telling you babies, babies shit a load. So why deal with baby shit? You've got a shitload of shit to deal with in life anyway. You've got to make sure your spouse doesn't stray. You've got to make sure the housework gets done while the two of you are at work and trying to stray. You've got to think about what a pain the baby will be when you two get fucking sick of each other and want to end the coupling. You've got to think about who's fucking you guys when the baby is keeping you up all night and depriving you of sex with each other. You've got to, never mind, you really should get rid of the baby. Don't believe us? Here's more shit to make you. On second thoughts, let's not. Let's give you some encouraging shit to save the baby. Hmm...ahem...well...damn it! Looks like we can't think of a single reason you should keep the damn critter. What were we thinking? Oh yeah, keep the baby. Babies make great toys. You can manipulate the critter and try to make him/her what you never were or will ever be. You can fuck with the kid's mind. You can home-school the baby and make sure the outside world doesn't get a chance to mess with the kid, while you're messing with it. You can blackmail the kid into believing it owes you guys for the wonderful life it is going to live. You can also plump your hopes of an insurance policy in your old age on the kid when it grows us. Right, we see lots of good reasons to keep the baby. That apart, the baby is perhaps the only thing you can call your very own in this world. Everything else is just an illusion of ownership. The baby is not. The baby is your flesh and blood. The baby is you. And the damn baby will be the reason you will be torn apart and forced to stay together. What a ball of joy it will turn out to be. You really must think of a nice name for it. Don't waste your time coming to a fool like us for ideas on such sweet little things. You had the bloody baby. You thought about it, we hope, before deciding to have one. Now go and bloody think about it some more. Do us, and the baby, a favour. Give the poor child a nice name. God knows you haven't done it any favours by bringing it into this stinking, fucked up world. Oh and one more thing, the ball of flesh has got to live up to the name you people give it. So don't go and think of something morose like Agony. Thank you for asking. Please come again. Your baby's loving Funcle.

"I miss her. What should I do?" Mr. Misserable

2006-08-22T19:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Misserable, You miss 'Her'? Who doesn't miss 'Her'. Everybody who is single misses 'Her'. You're not the only person who is single and misses 'Her'. 'Her' encompasses the the overall gravitude of the human condition. If you don't know the meaning of 'gravitude', join the gang at wordmint.blogspot.com. But back to 'Her.' As we were holding forth, forthwrongly, 'Her' is the essence of the miserableness of the human conundrum that is we. And 'Her' is a piece of airy-fairy crap. So let us get back to some real 'Her' crap. Let us consider the unlikely possibility that a sure-fire loser such as you who is doing not much better than missing her is not single. Hahahahahahohohohohehehehehahaha! Sorry, we didn't mean to laugh uproriously at you like that. Ahem. We're now suitably serious. Of course, if you are not single and you still miss her, there is something far more serious to ponder about. Allow us to ponder for a millisecond and come up with a seriously suitable response to your seriously fucked query. Got it! We're too good. We're ubergood. We're supergood. We're Superman Returns. Oh no, Superman Returns is so gay. So we're just repetitively many good. We're back with you. That said, it is swiftly so true that our mind thinks faster than the Phantom's eye can see. Obviously, you have no idea what we are yammering on about, which could be one of the reasons you miss her. Never mind. We're sure you're missing all the pearls we are judiciously subtly throwing your way. And so, we shall be obvious. We shall dumb it down. We shall slap your miserable face with solutions to the serious problem you seem to be facing. Have you wondered why you miss her? Since you likely have little else to do, we're pretty sure you probably have wondered ponderingly, and ponderously, enough about the issue. We suggest you go back to the writing board and ponder over all the reasons you miss her. Once you do that, you wil realise, miserably, that you are the miserable reason you miss her. Once you realise, miserably, you're the reason you miss her, you will secondly realise you can't do a frigging thing about it. Once you realise you can't do a frigging thing about it, you will thirdly realise how helplessly unmissable you are. And once you realise how helplessly unmissable you are, you will fourthly, and finally, realise that she doesn't miss you one bit. That's when it will dawn on you how pointlessly helpless and hopeless, it is to miss her. In case all this doesn't work for you, consider going back to where you left her. There's a very good chance that that will go a long way towards alleviating your miserable problems. Just don't be too sure. You see, what you don't see is whether she misses you at all. Take a little time out to consider the possibility that she isn't missing you one bit and is in fact forgetting you by going off with someone else who isn't foolish enough, loser enough and isolationist enough to moon about romantically useless matters like missing her. Instead, there's a very sensible chance that she is with a very sensible bloke who cares about more practical things like what one must do to ensure that nobody misses anyone. In which case, there's no fucking point missing anyone, is there? Silly fellow! Your problem is not you miss her. You've just fucking missed the bloody bus. Bus, we'll stop now and leave you to your miserable life. And go write ourselves a letter or something. Sigh, we miss her. Hahahahahahehehehehhohohohoho! Sorry. We didn't mean to laugh uproriously at ourselves, either. Your Agonising Funcle.

"I'm immigrating to Canada. How should I prepare for this trip?" Cold Comfort

2006-08-22T02:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Comfort, So you too have decided to join the bandwagon. You know, this isn't the first time somebody has come to us with this kvetchun. We come to ourselves all the time with this kvetchun, even after having gone way past the stage of needing an answer to this kvetchun. Hmm,how do we answer this kvetchun? Honestly, of course. We know no other way. Which is why we're stuck in this one way street of life. But enough about our kvetchuns, on to your kvetch. There are many ways to prepare for Canada. The easiest way, of course, is to prepare yourself not to go there. And like all easiest ways, it is the toughest way to prepare. To not be enamoured by what the Great White seemingly has to offer for us dark souls is a task not for lesser humans like us dark souls. It's hard to think the world out there is not better than the shitty world you find yourself in currently. As the great cliche which comes and refuses to go goes, the grass is always greener on the other side, even when hidden under a thick coat of very white prejudices and snow. So we will quietly not try to discourage you from going. Instead, we shall pound you with all the encouragingly discouraging options you will have at your disposal when you go there. If you are a computer programmer, you will end up going to a country which will always remind you of how much better it is for code-pushers of your kind in the country you did not manage to go to, US of fucking A. If you are not a computer code-pusher, you will be stuck wondering what you are expected to do in a country that invites qualified people but has no clue what to do with them. If you are not good-looking, you will be very lonely. If you love cricket, you will be lost. If you are dark, you will be little more than a curiosity. If you are a writer, you will be a loser. If you are submissive, you will be tolerated. If you have a mind, you will be berated. If you are educated, you will be asked to go back to University. If you are old, you will be up shit-creek. If you are young, you will be encouraged to learn how to speak in a foreign accent. If you are a Sikh, you will become a car salesman. If you speak French, you will be hounded out of all provinces and into Quebec. If you are in Quebec, you will have no great jobs to look forward to. If you are considering quitting a good job in the place you currently are in, we urge you not to. If you are planning to do it for yourself, you are a fool. If you want to do it because your kids might be better off growing up in a western country, you are a fool and don't deserve the one life you have been given to live and are considering sacrificing for your kids. If you are an Indian woman, you will be the flavour of the month. If you are an Indian woman, prepare to be fucked. If you are a Canadian woman, come to India. If you're not a woman, you're fucked. If you have contacts, you will make it anywhere. If you think you'll make more money there, you haven't been looking around you. If you are coming from India, you ought to be in India. If you are not happy in the place you are in, you will not be happy anywhere. If you are happy in the place you are in, you will be happy anywhere. If you can be happy anywhere, why go any place else which is going to be just like anywhere? If you don't like what we've told you about Canada, be thankful, you didn't ask us about Australia. If you think this is the end, it's just the beginning. If you think you can be fully prepared to go to a foreign country, you are wrong. If you are unable to get the drift of our conversation, you deserve to go there and find out for yourself. Go forth and hanker, my child. There's no place better than Canada to help you grow up. Warmly freaking Funcle.

"Any ideas on what's the best way to make a movie?" Idea Less

2006-08-21T01:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Less, We have no idea how to help you, but what we can do is offer you a few time-tested ideas borrowed from other more experienced sources. Actually, that's not a bad idea at all. You want to make a movie? Here's a great idea. Borrow a bunch of ideas from other movies. Lock yourself in your little hole with a whole bunch of hit DVDs. For a little intellectual pretension, throw in a few foreign language DVDs. Not because any of the foreign film ideas will be remotely workable, but just so you can drop the names of all that foreign cult crap in the right places and during the conversations you will try to have with people who won't be listening to a word of all that intellectual cult crap you'll anyway just have to passionately spout. Trust us, it works. Not that we ever managed it, but beause we didn't do any of that and we didn't manage anything. During the days gone by when we tried our best to pass off our original ideas as our ideas, we were always met with stinging disapproval and a clutch of 'better' ideas from other people's ideas. Are you getting any ideas? We certainly hope they're not fresh. Not to belabour the point, but what we're saying is if you're trying to write a movie, or get a movie made, it's best that you load your cranium with a whole bunch of other movie ideas. Watch as many movies as you can lay your hands on and make copious notes. Make sure none of these notes you make contain anything stirringly original. That will only make them utterly undoable. The rule for getting anything done is, if it hasn't been done before, it fucking means it just cannot be done. Don't you get it? If something can be done, it's done. So let's do more of it. Right? Wrong. Which is what makes it so fucking right. Well, at least, that's what we've learnt. Since we're stuck with the agony of doing a fucking agony column, and little else, it must mean they were wrongly right and we were rightly wrong. In case, you find that a bit hard to swallow down your foolishly stubborn original gullet, just do a sequel to a great movie and call it '-1'. Why '-1'? Because that way you will be killing two turds with one stone. You will appeal to all the unoriginal folk that make movies by pandering to their base desires of milking a hit with a sequel. And you will be pathetically satisfying your pathetic urge for pathetic originality with little more than an originally pathetic title. Besides, the very very very least you can do when making a crap sequel is come up with an interesting title that tries it's best to break the rule of thumb which says no bloody sequel will make any money worth making so if you're trying to make a sequel let it be a sequel that's not a sequel. Mindfucked? Good, you're ready to make a movie. Your filmily fucking Funcle.

"I'm a poet. I want to be a poet. Can you help me be a poet?" Soppy Joe

2006-08-20T23:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Soppy, Good Lord, what a non-existential soulful fool you are! Ah, glad we got that out of our system. Now coming to your problem and other problems. First of all, you've chosen to write, which is bad enough. Worse, you now want to be a poet. What the bejeebusjesufeesus is wrong with you? Understand this, poets make no money. Poets think being drunk or potted out or drunk and potted out is the only way to be. Poets wallow in self-pity. Poets spend all their time thinking of soulful things. Poets make no money. Oh, we already said that. Still, it's well worth repeating. Again. Poets make no money. And since poets spend all their time thinking, they find it impossible to make the money people can make by doing anything but thinking. God fucking knows what you are thinking? Whatever it is that you are thinking, it's very clear you aren't doing the right kind of thinking. Here's more dope of the right kind to get you unthinking. Poets become famous only after they die. That too, very rarely. Poets hardly get any sex, which is why they write about all these sombre things that overcome them because they get no sex. Furthermore, poets think they're better than writers. It's bad enough being a writer of poetry without thinking you are better than a writer of more useful forms of writing. Incidentally, writing in circles doesn't make you a poet. Nor does writing in straight lines. (In case you thought it was all about writing in shapes. It's not. It's more about form.) Just saying you are a poet and you want to be a poet and similar circular seemingly deep statements of the ambiguously vacuous same kind don't make you fit enough to be a poet of any kind. And what makes you think you are or can be a poet? Did some lovesick woman in her weakest moments tell you you were one? Be warned. If you believe what women say about your writing, you're in for a very short lifetime of long-drawn out penury. Women do not think rationally. They only like a kind of writing that will provide you with nothing in life. They will indulge all the heartfelt crap you pass off as powerful writing. They will try to prevent you from being a hack who writes for little more than money and turn you into a soulful poet who never writes for anything or anyone but himself. They will show you how to dream dreamy dreams of a life sans the pressures of kowtowing to corporate morons. They will suggest utopian options like becoming school-teacher in a idyllic hill-town. They will feed your idealistic brain with thoughts of working towards making the world a better place. Be very careful and very afraid of such big-hearted women. They will offer you a glimpse of a wonderful life that can be yours for the taking. They will also tell you that they will work very hard to make this life possible just for you. You will be tempted to give up being a well-paid hack and turn into a contented, creative, productive and writerly human being. It's a life very few are fortunate enough to manage. You want to be a poet? Good on you. Good fucking luck to you. Just make sure you find an intelligent, ambitious woman who can help you deal with the real world and let you not have to. That's all we have to say to you. Anything else you force yourself to do is destined to be an intellectually empty pursuit meant to do little more than add large sums of fucking money to your gloating bank balance. The choice is clear and only yours to make. Couple of more things, learn to write in visually pleasing line breaks and read with a hand-rolled cigarette of the doobie kind dangling from the corner of your mouth. Off you go. Yours for no rhyme of reason, Agony

"My only father is dying. I don't know what to do?" Only Son

2006-08-19T20:09:00.000-07:00

Dear Son, We're glad you chose to write to us during this difficult time in your life. We feel honoured that you think we might be able to help you. Though, we wonder what we can say to make you feel better. We assume, you're writing to us as a last resort. Unfortunately, it's what most people do. Still, we're here to help you. You've probably been to all the doctors in the land and outside. They've probably pumped your father with all kinds of poisons they call medicines. Chances are, you've helped them kill your father by overdosing him with all the medicines they most certainly would have prescribed. You don't have to share the gory details with us, but we're pretty sure that the doctors who said they would be able to save your father are probably holidaying, as we speak, in the Bahamas or some such exotic desifuckingnation. We wish them the worst we can imagine. And more. We can understand why you have come to us. They alongwith all your friends and relatives have most likely abandoned you. Don't worry, they'll be back for a piece of the pie once your father is gone, ready as ever to offer their help and support when you need it least. In the meantime, let's see what we can do to make your life a little less miserable. What you must try and do is everything to make your sad father happy. In case you are still single, we advise you to add to your misery by getting married. Your father will be very pleased if you do so. He may not say it, but he will be. How do we know? We just do. You see, most Indian parents consider getting their children married off to be the ultimate achievement of their lives. They find it very hard to die in peace without ruining your life before leaving theirs. We urge you to sacrifice your freedom, your desires, your future and your dreams at the altar of your father's impending death. So what if his life is almost over? That shouldn't come in the way of you ruining yours. You must do it for him. If you don't, his soul will not rest in piece. Never. God fucking knows what that means, but since it's what the fucking wise men and old fucking fogeys of our land say, it must be bloody true. For the sake of his intangible and unprovable soul, please do get married. In case that's not something your dying father has asked you to do, don't stop yourself from doing it. Everyfuckingone wil tell you that even if your father hasn't asked you to do it, it's definitely what he would like you to do. And if you don't do it, they will blame you for your father's untimely and unahppy death. How they know these things, we don't fucking know. We just know. Once you decide to get married, it'll be time for you to die. After that, you won't have to do anything for your father. You will be on your way to join him. Isn't that what you want? Never to see your father go? Always to be with him? Exactly. Don't wait too long to do what it takes to make your father feel like he has done what he is suposed to do for his son. And if you do what we're advising you to, if you're very lucky, you'll be gone before him. Frankly fucked Funcle.

"I am a book. Help me." Book Mark

2006-08-19T04:56:00.000-07:00

Dear Mark, We're not sure what kind of help you're seeking here. The tone of your letter, though, sounds urgent. And so, we're going to try and read between the lines. We gather, from what we read, that your problem is you're not being read. Are we reading you right? Good. Well, you see, the thing is people don't have time for old fogeys like you. We don't blame them. With the advent of sexy new item numbers like SMS, camera phones and the Internet, who has time for old hags like books? Why the heck should people waste their time turning pages when they can, with a lot less effort, get a lot more sex. Just ask yourself this, why start a relationship if you can get what you're getting into a relationship for without the relationship? Do you read me? Does it hurt? Sorry, Mark, we're not known for pulling our punches. We say it like it is. If the net can give you as much and much more than what you can give you, would you opt for someone like you? Face it, Mark, you're a lot more accessible as an e-book. So why the fuck should I waste my time getting to know you? Go ahead, say it. Ouch! There, does it feel better? I hope not, because there's more pain coming your way. So brace yourself for it. Consider this, Mark, you're a lot cheaper as an e-book. So why the fuck should I pay the price of a lifetime committment with you? Sure, you can tell me that you can only cuddle up with someone like you. That you, a cup of hot chocolate and a warm blanket is what makes life worth living. That there's a whole different feeling in turning the pages of a real you. To which we'll say, save it Mark. Quite frankly, that's all marketing speak. Humans don't have time for the real things in life anymore. Humans have stopped feeling. All they're looking for is quick fixes. Humans are into the use and dispose age. Everything has been reduced to the status of a sanitary napkin, a pad, a condom, an instant gratification. Humans have become collectors of things, quickies and stuff. If they don't like something, they want to trash it. And it's a lot easier living that kind of life via a computer hard disk. A computer can store more than a bloody, lovely, intimate bookshelf ever will. A quick handjob, as opposed to the whole she-bang, is often all human beings want. Thankfully, you're not any of that Mark. You're a long term relationship. And that makes you a real pain in the arse. Sorry Mark, it's time to get rid of all the excess baggage and come back as a slimmer, sleeker, disposable short-term relationship. Do you read me, Mark? You better. Or else, nobody is ever going to read you. Goodbye and good luck. Your well-read Funcle.

"I'm trying to be Charles Bukowski. I need help." Some Charlie

2006-08-19T00:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Charlie, You're damn right you need help. How much do you know about Bukowski? Do you know that his gravestone reads "Don't try"? Do you know what that means? It means don't try to be Charles Bukowski. It means don't try something as hare-brained as being like him. His wife, of course, will say it means something far more romantic, but it's best that you pay no attention to his wife because Charles Bukowski never really did. He was a serial womaniser. He didn't care much for women or the institutions that society lays so much emphasis on. He was also a confirmed misanthrope. So, for a start, don't try to be Charles Bukowski. Just be him. He had the right idea of humanity. He knew how much human beings sucked. And so, he drank himself to death. It was the only way he could escape from ugly reality. In the light of your question and all these intimate details about the man we've shared with you, here's what we propose you do. Drink yourself silly. Take a series of jobs you'll never want to keep. Keep a series of jobs you shouldn't take. Hate writing from the bottom of your heart. Love writing from the bottom of your heart. Be conflicted. Don't be conflicted. Be. Don't be. Wallow in self-pity and angst. Play the role of the intense sufferer to the hilt. And pray that someone falls for the crap. In case nobody does, keep at it. It's the only way you'll be able to escape from the mess you willfully got yourself into. Once you start being Bukowski, you'll never manage to be anyone else or anything. It's a journey to the point of no-return. And one you cannot return from. Every time you try not be like Bukowski, you will be reminded of the many reasons you should be like him. Every time you try to take up a regular job, you'll hate yourself for it. Every time you go back to being with normal people, you'll want to drink yourself back into the stupor away from normalcy. We firmly believe anyone who doesn't try to be like Charles Bukowski needs help. This is not to say anyone who tries to be like Bukowski doesn't need help. On the contrary, everyone who tries to be like Bukowski needs all the help and encouragement he or she can get to be more like Bukowski. And that's what we're here to provide you with. Here are a few more tips on how to be Bukowski, and more. Try mescaline. Try pot. Try heroin. Try mindfuck. Better still, don't, as the great man would say, try. Just do the whole fucking shebang. Once you've done 'em all, you'll see all too clearly why there's no point trying to be like Charles Bukowski. Rather, it's best to be Charles Bukowski. Dead. And you will be. Before you know it. Happily. Always encouraging Agony.

"I read that women with breast implants are more likely to commit suicide. Should I go in for one?" Breast Wishes

2006-08-17T23:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Breast, Always a pleasure to talk to breasts. That apart, we'd advise you, if you do decide to go in for one, to go in for two. One breast implant would seem like a very silly compromise. Admittedly, it would lessen the possibility of your committing suicide by 50%, but it wouldn't really make for a very enjoyable life either. In fact, if you decide to go in for one, we gaurantee you that you are more likely to commit suicide. After all, you do realise what going in for only one breast implant would mean. Better to go in for a masectomy instead. Between going in for one breast implant and a masectomy lies a very tricky choice of less suicide or less breast cancer. A choice so tricky is clearly beyond the purview of our discussion and so we urge you not to waste your time considering it. Instead, we urge you not to make any compromises. You either go in for two breast implants and increase your chances of committing suicide but reduce your chances of contracting breast cancer or don't go in for any implants, thereby increase your chances of contracting breast cancer and losing your minuscule, useless breasts to a single or double masectomy. While you consider the implications of the quick fix we have just put you in, allow us to consider your real question. Should you go in for two, not one, breast implants? Yes, we too have read about that seminal study which revealed women who go in for breast implants are more likely to kill themselves. Well, what can we say? You, probably, are already suffering from and know of the consequences of not having a decent pair of knockers in this testosterone-dominated world. You, obviously, know that not having a decent pair of knockers doesn't make life that much fun to live. No boyfriends, no expensive gifts, fewer promotions, saturday nights at home and the company of only chocolate ice-cream in front of the boob-tube. Worse, if you have a boyfriend, he's looking at other breast-implanted breasts while pretending to look at your little titty-bitty ones. How much fun can that kind of a life be? Not much. Our own carefully experienced research has also proved that women with smaller breasts really have to work much, much harder to make something of their lives. They're also less likely to be married to rich men. Women with smaller breasts have to focus on much harder tasks like using their brains to get by. Would you rather do something as silly as that when air-head options such as getting breast implants, two not one, exist? Moreover, why go for the sensible thing when more of our own experienced research has shown that the sensible option doesn't really end up being the sensible option in the long run? As that great economist we don't care much for but love to quote said, in the long run we're all dead. Put simply, big breasts or no breasts, you're likely to be dead from killing yourself because you decided to go in for big breasts or from killing because of losing your breasts to breast cancer. In other words, going in for breast implants, two not one, might increase the chances of your killing yourself, but it will reduce your chances of contracting breast cancer. Not going in for breast implants might mean you stand a greater chance of losing your breasts, one or two, to a masectomy. Either way, you're fucked. My advice would be to go for the boob job and get yourself some real fucks before you decide that you're so mind-fucked that you want to kill yourself. After all, in the long run, one way or another, we're all fucking dead. Hope our little tit-a-tit helps. Yours niplomatically, Funcle.

"Everyone thinks I'm stupid. What should I do?" Stupid Cupid

2006-08-17T00:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Cupid, You mean, that's a problem? Whatever gave you the impression being stupid was a problem? You should be glad people call you stupid. You have no idea how far you can go with your stupidity. You should also be very careful with the people who try to make you feel bad by calling you stupid. You should look very suspiciously at these people. There's a very good chance that they're smart people who're very envious of you. They might well be calling you so to try and provoke you into doing something stupid, which they can then learn from. Trust us when we say this, some of the stupidest people in the world end up being very powerful and very successful. See how far George Bush has gone with his stupidity. See how far the American people have gone with their stupidity. See how far Bosses have gone with their stupidity. Which Boss in the world is not stupid? See, what we mean? Of course, and as always, we shall substatiate what we are saying with irrefutable logic. The reason why stupid has always been the blackest black is very simple. Stupid people don't make other people insecure. As a result, stupid people always get promoted. When you're stupid, people don't feel threatened. When you're stupid, you're popular. People tend to like people who they feel are less capable than they themselves are. We advise you to wear your stupidity like a badge. Wear a T-shirt that advertises your SQ, that's Stupidity Quotient, Stupid! Distribute T-shirts that say 'I'm with Stupid.' Make sure you stick with the people you distribute these T-shirts to. Make sure the 'stupid' in the 'I'm with Stupid' is in all capital letters. And just in case you're too stupid to know what that is, here's what all capitals look like STUPID. What else? Ah yes, when people ask you something or for your opinion on something, make sure you say "I don't know". It's the safest safest ever thing you can say in the world. The less you profess to know about anything, the better it will serve you. And yes, this is very important, make sure you blink your eyes vacantly, every time someone asks you something, and then say the magic words. "I don't know". The same words. The three magic words. Every single time. Are you getting all this, you fool? Good. Along the way, if you can also get yourself a pair of tits, big ones, stick 'em on your chest. They go very well with stupidity. And don't fret over your stupidity. The stupidest thing you can do in this world is to strive to show people how intelligent you are. Only stupid people try to do that. The truly stupid, cruise through life making the most of their stupidity. Here's hoping you're intelligent enough to understand these valuable life lessons we're dishing out for free. You're a cool guy Cupid. We love you. Don't ever change. Your envious Funcle.

"I'm always lost for words. Any ideas?" Mr. Silent Typer

2006-08-16T23:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Typer, Have you ever tried to analyse why you might be lost for words? Could it be because of what you are faced with? There could be many reasons why you might find yourself lost for words. Do any of the following situations sound familiar to you. For instance, you're lost for words when you're faced with a sobbing lover. In such situations, it's best to start sobbing two. This normally makes the person who is sobbing stop sobbing. Once that person stops sobbing, she will blink and wonder why you, a grown man, are sobbing? As soon as you see her stop sobbing, stop sobbing. After all, only women are allowed to sob, not grown men. Not even when they are faced with women who will do nothing but sob. Of course, once you regain your compusure and stop sobbing, she will start sobbing. Note, do not fall for this tactical ruse. Respond in kind. And restart sobbing, quickly. This absurd process could, happily enough, go on forever, which will make it absolutely unnecessary for either of you to say anything at all. The result of all this relay sobbing is that you will not be lost for words. On the contrary, if you indulge in such behavioural patterns, words will have no use for you at all and both of you can then lead the rest of your life in this dumb manner. If that sounds unlike anything you have experienced, maybe this will strike a chord with your experience. Do you have a pussy? Is it an aggressive pussy? Does she despise you? Does she control you? She might have got your tongue. Has she got your tongue? In which case, there's not much you can do about your predicament except put the bloody pussy to sleep. And if your pussy happens to be your girlfriend, put the bloody relationship to sleep. Clearly, your pussy and your girlfriend are not compatible with each other and you. From what we have seen, they have most certainly conspired to rid you of your tongue. We advise you to immediately get rid of them. Once you do this, you will slowly notice your tongue coming back to you. Just make sure you don't, ever, put it in the place the sun don't shine in again. Does all that sound a tad too graphic to you? Does none of that sound like your problem? Perhaps you're just destined to be a writer. Why don't you shut the fuck up and write? Trust us, being lost for words is not such a bad thing. In our experience, not saying much is a lot safer than always having something to say. Over time, you'll see that the virtues of being dumb far outweigh the transient pleasures of all talk. Wisely hurting Agony.

"Help! I'm being verbalised." Google Boogle

2006-08-16T21:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Google, First things first, what is the meaning of the term verbalised? Could you please google it and find out what kind of results the word throws up? While we do pride ourselves on knowing the meanings of most words, when it doubt we prefer to advise people to google things. We suspect googling is the best way to find out about anything. When you google for something, you not only get what you are looking for, you also end up being exposed to a whole bunch of wonderful new things. For instance, if you decide to google something up and enter the wrong spelling, Google will, very helpfully, ask you whether you were googling for something else. If you don't wish to google for something, you can always go for the 'I'm feeling lucky' option, which is a silly albeit fun option to googling something. We're quite amazed that you with a name like google has never thought of googling for most things in the world. Why come to us when you can simply google up the solutions to all your troubles? Unless you are The Google and are asking us to solve your problem with respect to people making a verb out of your very exclusive brand name. Ah, now we get the meaning of the word verbalise. So that is the matter we hear you, the Great One, are considering sueing people for. For using you as a verb? Are you? If so, we profusely apologise for misusing your brand name oh Great One. We also apologise for assuming you were a maverick company that didn't care for such silly things. We further apologise abjectly for thinking you were a company full of smart people who were smart enough to see the obvious benefits of letting your brand name become a generic verb. We instantaneously apologise for thinking you were savvy enough to know that history has shown that only the most popular and iconic brand names in history get...umm, verbalised. If you take our advice, we say you should be very happy that people are, as you would put it, verbalising your brand name. What that will do is even more firmly imprint your so very exclusive brand name in the people's minds and make it unforgettable and omnipotently inclusive. In the light of this proven finding we find it quite odd that you're asking for help with respect to this rather beneficial un-problem. Unless, of course, you're threatening to sue people only because you see this as a very smart way to stay in the public eye. Honestly Mr. Google we can think of much nicer ways you can try and stay in the public eye with. Come to think of it, we can't think of why you'd want to do anything to stay in the public eye. You don't see Apple threatening to sue Adam or, for that matter, God for using their brand name, do you? Don't you get it? People can't get enough of you. So much so, that people have turned you from a mere brand into an iconic verb. How cool is that? Very, very cool, we think. And very, very uncool, we think, of you to talk about such corporate and fuddy-duddy terms like sueing. If you don't desist from doing such things, you will very soon become the face of corporate shilliness and not the dream company that everybody wants to work for. Honestly, we'd so love to be verbalised. It would be so heady if people were to, some day, say they'd like 'to funcle' something up. Or if people were to say something like how they've been 'funcled'. Admittedly, at this point in time the verb 'to funcle' doesn't mean jackshit, but as more and more people start to google us up, we think the day is not far when we, too, shall be verbalised. In the meantime, we suggest you do something useful like, perhaps, google "google" to see what gets googled up. Thank you for your time. And no thanks for wasting ours with your shillanthropy. Oh yes, in case you do not know the meaning of 'shilliness' and 'shillanthropy', please google it. It'll show up as one among the 1364 neoligisms that some jobless wordsmiths from India have thought up. And yes, please feel free to sue us. We, more than you, could certainly do with the free publicity. Yours verbally, Funcle.

"I am circumsised. Am I in trouble?" Cutpiece Charlie

2006-08-15T20:08:00.000-07:00

Dear Cutpiece, Depends on what you're up to. If it's sex, sleep the fuck around. Go forth and conquer. Research has proved that circumsised males are better protected from contracting the HIV virus. Think about that while we go and get a quick job done. We'll be right back in one piece less. Hang in there. Still there. How's it hanging man? So, you were asking whether a circumsised wee-wee is a safe thing to have? Well, if the Kennedy of our generation says so, it must be safe. Bill Clinton says a circumsised penis is a safe thing to have as a counter to AIDS. He should know, no? Just make sure your partner doesn't know, not that you have a circumsised penis, that's something she/he will most certainly discover, but the fact that you're sleeping around. Though, he/she would probably understand. You see, unoffical research has proved that a circumsised penis provides and receives more pleasure than a non-circumsised one. There are, unfortunately, some places on this planet where you could get into trouble for having a circumsised wee-wee. There's a country in South Asia peopled by animals who try to pass off as men where under conditions of extreme pressure and hatred, they will make you take down your pants to determine whether you are from a community they're out to get. If you find yourself in this country during the many times that this country experiences pogroms against the minority community, try to pass yourself off as a Jew. The people conducting the pogroms aren't very civilised, but if you tell them you're a Jew and from that other country they'll probably let you off, solely because you come from a community and country that happens to terrorise and is against the same community these animals happen to be against. No logic, pure perverted hatred. Note, there's a very good reason we're trying to be very careful and very ambiguous here. We don't want to identify the country/countries. We don't want to get into any trouble. And we don't want to be subjected to any further agony. So careful where you go with that little fellow, Mr. Cutpiece. And very careful before you pull your pants down in certain countries, except if you happen to be sleeping around, In which case, you have less to worry about now. All thanks to some crazy-ass research. Yours diplomatically, Agony.

"I hate sex. What should I do?" Pee Weewee Herman

2006-08-15T19:24:00.000-07:00

Dear Weewee, I've got two words for you: Enjoy it. You don't know how lucky you are to not like sex. Most people in this world will go to the most ridiculous lengths to get sex. When you like sex, you tolerate crap jobs for the money, which, you hope will buy you sex. When you like sex, you will subjugate yourself in the face of the vilest bilge from members of the opposite sex, in the hope that you will get some. When you like sex, you will lather your face will all kinds of chemicals, in the vain hope that you will get some. When you like sex, you will stoop so very low to conquer, in the hope that you will get some. When you like sex, you will kill your soul, in the hope that you will get some. When you like sex, you will imagine all kinds of things are wrong with you because you don't get some. When you like sex, you will genuflect your way up the corporate ladder, in the hope that you will get some once you're on top. When you like sex, you will ruin existing relationships, in the hope that you will get some more. When you like sex, all morals will get ejected for a little more sex. When you like sex, you will stop looking at yourself in the mirror and see yourself only through the eyes of the people who you think will, might, maybe give you some more sex. When you like sex, you will fake orgasms and a lot of other things in your life. When you like sex, you will be settle for a life of mostly agony, in exchange for a few fleeting moments of pleasure. When you like sex, you will willingly dislike yourself. You're blessed. You're free. You are released. You are totally great, Paaji. We suggest you start up a self-help practice and render some yeoman service to mankind by teaching the rest of us pathetic souls how to be like you and detest sex. You make us feel very small Weewee. Very, very small. Please do tell us how you got yourself to hate sex? We too would like to get it out of the way and focus on the more important things in life. We think if we started hating sex we might become a great person. Unfortunately, right now, we feel utterly inadequate in the face of you and are unable to help you. On the contrary, we ask you, we love sex. What should we do? Can you help us? Yours very humbly, Funcle.

"I'm gay. Will that help me become a CEO?" Bitter Moon

2006-08-15T02:17:00.000-07:00

Dear Bitter, We're not liking one bit where you're going with your question here. Are you suggesting people become CEO's for reasons other then merit. You're not alluding to the CEO of Pepsico, are you? Do you happen to know her. We don't, but reports suggest Indra Nooyi is an incredibly capable woman and that she has been elevated to the post of CEO by sheer dint of her work and excellent skills as a manager. You're not saying she has become CEO because she's a woman or some such inflammatory thing, are you? You might want to suggest that she has become CEO because she happens to be Indian and that Indians are the next set of suckers the American fast food and junk food giant is looking to exploit, but surely her femaleness has nothing to do with that. Surely, the Indian Government is not going to be swayed into taking some soft decisions because they will now have an Indian, and a woman at that, to deal with. Yes the Indian politicians have shown a weakness for that kind of shit in the past. Yes Rebecca Mark came and took them for a royal ride on the Dabhol power project, but I urge you, rather sincerely, to desist from stooping so low and insinuating that the good folk at Pepsico have made Indra Nooyi CEO because they expect her to lobby some special favours from Indian politicians. Trust us, no Indian farmers are going to be exploited. No Indian water resources are going to be polluted. No poor people are going to be taken for a ride. We suggest you take such bitter thoughts out of your head Bitter. Instead, we advise you to focus on your job and work very very hard to hide you homosexual tendencies. The corporate world is not ready for unbiased decision-making. They're still working on making token concessions to feminism and politicians. Back to work. Quietly. Your righteous Funcle.

"My son tells me he's gay. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do." Unhappy Dick

2006-08-14T22:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Dick, Don't be a dick. So what if you're son is gay? Let him be what makes him happy. How does that affect you? Does it affect your sex life in anyway? There's a very good chance that his sexual choices might even be as a result of your sexual choices when he was a kid. Have you ever thought about that? Read up a bit on what makes people gay, it might give you something other than your son's sexual choices to think about. On a less negative note, here's a happier thought. In a few years from now, you'll probably be dead and gone. So why make the few years you have left on this planet a living hell when there's a very good chance you'll be on your way to hell for whatever you may have subjected your son to which may have contributed to what he is today. So don't bother with something you're not going to be part of soon. People like you desrve to die. Please don't mistake us. We have nothing against you. We're just very against people who refuse to acknowledge that they may well be the cause of the problems they think other people have. Besides, respected Dick, you should be proud of your son. He has come to you and told you he's gay. Few sons have the guts to talk to their parents about such things. Parents tend to be so fucking controlling and puritanical about such things, not to mention hypocritical, that they end up knowing little about their kids' real lives. Parents just bloody prefer to believe what they'd like to believe. You should be thankful your brave son decided to prick your delusional bubble. Imagine if you'd found out from someone else. Worse, imagine if you didn't find out, but always suspected there might be something different about him. Just imagine how hard that would have been to deal with. Your respectable friends would keep asking you all kinds of uncomfortable questions about your son's marital status. Now, you can just tell them he's fucking gay. That should shut them up. Of course, they might end up wondering whether you had something to do with it. Well, deal with it. And if you can't, please do write to us. Take a little time off, think about the bad old days and let us help you exorcise yourself of what you may have done in your younger days to your helpless children in their younger days. Thank you for helping us get it all out of our system. If there's anything you'd like us to help you get out of your system, the mind is open. Yours no-longer-in-agony, Funcle.

"Statcounter is tormenting me. Help!" Number Cruncher

2006-08-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Number Cruncher, What do you mean Statcounter is tormenting you? Don't you think you're being a little indulgent here? I mean, you've written to a blogger telling the blogger than Statcounter is tormenting you? Do you have any idea how painful that might sound to a blogger? Understand this, all bloggers are tormented by their Statcounters. Bloggers live for their Statcounters. A blogger without a Statcounter is not a blogger. What's the use of starting a relationship with a Statcounter if you're not willing to be tormented by it? You knew very well what you were getting into before pasting that malicious piece of code into your blog. Did you think Statcounter would generate the big numbers for you by itself to please you? I suppose you thought you were doing a very noble thing by disabling the feature that allows you to inflate your own Statcounter. Well, serves you right for trying to be over smart and not deluding yourself. If you decide to get into a relationship with Statcounter, prepare to delude yourself. Disabling your own IP address is a surefire way to ruin your self-esteem and diminish your Statcounter's. What disabling your own IP address means is that you're hoping many people will visit your blog and make your Statcounter say nice things about you. What that also says is that you're an utter idiot. Clearly, you're a fool and deserve the pain Statcounter is dishing out to you. Honestly, we don't feel very inclined to continue talking to such a nincompoop, but since we're nice, we'll give you some quick tips. If you'd like to go for the 'cold turkey' method, instantly remove the malicious piece of code from your blog and live the rest of your life wondering how many people are reading your rantings. It's easier to fool yourself when you have no way to cross-check the impression you're giving yourself about yourself. On the other hand, if you're too dependent on Statcounter and cannot do without it, prepare to hit the super-highway. Make it a point to visit as many blogs as inhumanly possible during the day and leave behind as many offensive comments as humanly possible on each of the blogs you visit. What that will do is make the other poor Statcounter-driven folk come scurrying down to your blog and see what one earth you're going on about? Make no mistake, they'll probably not spend more than a second on your blog, considering the bilge you're blog is most likely to be filled with, but at least their visit will register on your Statcounter and inflate it, alongwith your pathetic ego. Just make sure you don't go to your Statcounter page and try to see how long they're spending reading your tripe. That will only end up depressing you even more. If you keep at it and keep visiting the millitude of blogs that are created on a daily basis and keep your stock of offensive comments flowing, your relationship with your Statcounter is sure to keep you happy. Just don't make the mistake of trying to analyse it. Incidentally, thank you for strengthening our relationship with our Statcounter with your visit. Now get out and work on yours. We're sure, like you, your Statcounter, too, feels most neglected. Stats-fuelled Agony.

"People say I'm easily satisfied. Is that bad thing?" Miss Action Satisfaction

2006-08-13T20:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Action, How about giving us your telephone number? We'd like to handle this query on a one-on-one level. Just kidding. Actually, We're not. It's great to meet someone who is easily saisfied. In this day and age of over-achievement, it's refreshing to meet people who don't want more. You must be a very popular Miss. Honestly, we don't think your problem is a problem at all. That doesn't mean you should stop contacting us. We think you're just the kind of person who should write to us, often. Most of the time people are most dissatisfied with the solutions we so thoughtfully dish out for their bloody problems. They keep writing back to us asking us to elaborate on various micro-matters of the suggstions we give them. It really gets to us. I mean, it's not like we don't have other things to do. We may be jobless, but being so is a full-time job, you know. In your case, though, we'd really appreciate it if you could tell us more about why you think you are easily satisfied? Do you hang out with losers? Are you the kind who doesn't care whether the man you're dating has a car or not? Do you pay all the bills? Are you the kind of woman who doesn't expect her man to bring home the bacon? Will you slog your butt off while the man of the house sits around the house in his jockeys wasting his life away? We'd really like to know these micro-details of your easily satisfied persona. In fact, we suggest you immediately make a trip down to our private chamber and allow us to hand-hold our way through your problem. Needless to say, it will be no problem at all for us. The perennial underachiever in us is pretty sure you will be very satisfied with the deep personal attention we will pay to your non-issue. No issues at all. We sincerely hope you are not satisfied with our response and will take the trouble to keep the dialogue going. Quite frankly, when it comes to your problem, we're most dissatisfied and desperately hope you are not satisfied. We don't think you have a problem, but you can be sure we're more than willing to look into it and create a problem. We also hope you're not old enough to solve your own problems. Eager to please, Dirty Funcle.

"I have an orginal idea. What should I do?" Shydea Shastri

2006-08-12T19:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Shydea, Above all things, lovely little moniker you have there. By any chance, is that your original idea? We're asking because, quite frankly, nothing is really original. Originality is over-rated. Originality is a pain in the arse. And nobody has any time for anything original. Coming now, to your question, do you still want it answered? I guess you do. I guess you're one of those earnest sorts who thinks orginality is the mother of all inventions. No way, but no sweat. Allow us to quickly lead you down the garden path. So you think you have an original idea? Snigger, snigger. So did we. Umm, sorry, what we meant to say was, that's awesome. Of course, it's not the most original thought in the world to think that one has an original idea, but we shall allow you to enjoy your utterly tired delusion of originality. Well, here's what you can do with your original idea. If you want it to be butchered and cut down to shreds, take it to people. They will look at your original idea and the first thing they will ask you to do is change it. You, being the passionate, naive sort will fight tooth and nail for it. Two words. Fucking don't. If you fight tooth and nail for your idea, they'll ignore you. Then again, if you don't fight for your idea, they'll ignore you. Are we being downbeat? Fine, let's get high on your idea. Look at your idea. Think about it. See how it fits into the way the world currently works and don't google it up on the internet. If you do that, you're sure to discover about a million others who have the same idea in different avataars. You will also discover cynical folk who will say things like originality is over-rated. Ignore these people. Fall in love with your idea. Nurture it. And then, send it across, fearlessly and shamelessly to 'azillionideas@gmail.com'. It's, perhaps, the only place in the world where your idea will get a hearing, unchanged. No matter how crappy your idea is, it will not be changed. It will get all the respect it deserves and die a quiet, unobstrusive death. Glad to be of help. Best of luck to you and your idea. By the way, if you'd like to improve your idea, do send it across to us. We've been at the recieving end of so many improvements, that we've dropped the idea of being original and taken up the comfortable option of being a changemaster. My lines are open. Always. Yours defeatedly, Agony.

"I work in advertising, should I continue?" Floppy Writer

2006-08-12T02:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Floppy, Hold that thought. Well, did you think about it? Did you get your answer? Tough one, eh? What is your question, anyway? Are you wondering, very candidly I must admit, whether your working in advertising is the problem or are you asking whether you should continue to work in advertising? If you held that thought long enough you ought to have found the answer for it in the question. Allow me to elaborate, because I have no doubt working in advertising must make you a very troubled soul and completely unable to think straight. Which should, once again, answer your question. Still thinking? Stop. Your dear old Funcle shall put you out of your misery. Yes, working in advertising is a problem, but it's not as big a problem as working elsewhere or even just working. You see, and this is how we see it, advertising is perhaps the only profession that's honest enough to admit its dishonesty. Advertising makes no bones about the fact that it's the business of spin. Imagine if you were a journalist. How very hard that would be on your conscience. You'd think you are working in a noble profession when what it actually is is plain spin couched in self-rightous boring copy. Imagine if you were a banker. You'd be telling people you're growing their money when what you're actually doing is growing your money. Which might not be such a bad thing, actually. At least you'd be making pots of money under which you could drown your conscience. But that's not really the point. That's a different question for a different time. Back to imagining some of the things that could be far worse than working in advertising. Imagine if you were a doctor. You'd think you're curing people when what you're actually doing is ensuring they stay sick enough to keep coming back to you. Which isn't such a bad thing, actually. You'd be making many pots of money and a lot more than you will ever need to drown your conscience with. But that's not really the point, once again. So back to the point on why advertising is actually the noblest of most professions. It's honest as hell about the fact that it's spin and it doesn't pay you that well. It puts you out of your misery faster than the other professions by making you obselete a lot faster, thus releasing you from the circle of spin. Better still, it doesn't pay very well leaving the people who are in it, in it purely for the love of it. Love. Release. Honesty. Penury. What more can you ask from a profession? No wonder it sucks. Not only does it make no bones about the fact that it's dishonest, it doesn't even bloody play you well enough to compensate enough for eating away at your soul. I used to be in advertising, should I continue? Helplessly yours in agony, Funcle.

"I want to raise interest rates. What should I do?" Bull Bernanke

2006-08-11T20:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Bull, Hang in there. I need to go consult the newspapers before dishing out any advice to you. Aren't they the people you generally look for for guidance? So what made you come to us? Still, glad you decided to drop by. Don't go anywhere. We'll be back with next month's newspapers. You there, Bull? Good. Here's what we have for you. The low down is we think it's best to keep people guessing. Next month's newspapers point out what you're going to do, but don't reveal your hand just yet. Let the common investor go through the pain and heartburn of a fluctuating market. Let the insiders know exactly what you have in mind. Let the insiders make all the moolah. Along the way, make a bit of moolah yourself too. And then, once you've benefited from all the uncertainity drop the bomb. Listen to everything people say to you. Make sure you don't have a mind of your own. Worry about how the people of USA will see you. After all, it matters not a whit what the economy really needs. What's important is how the media portrays you. Will they think you're a dove? Will they think you're a hawk? Will they ask you to show your balls? Or will they wonder how you sleep at night? These are the weighty issues that should really be on your mind. Not the fact that what you do now will have long term implications. No, no, that is none of your concern. You just want to make sure the news of the day makes you look good. Are we on the same page Bull? Awesome. Now go get yourself a good night's sleep, while the rest of us have sleepless nights wondering what's on your mind. Hope that helped, beause whatever it is that you're setting out to do is most certainly not. Antsily yours, Agony.

"I'm unable to put on any weight. I'm reed thin. Can you help me?" Slimmer Shady

2006-08-11T03:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Slimmer, with a name like that, why worry about your problem? Most people have a very hard time being who they are. Most of the time they're trying their damnest to be someone else. In your case, you have no such issues. You are what you are. What we see is what we get, which might not be very appealing but still at least it's not deceiving. Fact is in this modern fucking it's refreshing to come across somebody who not hidden behind some facade. I'm sure most people have no trouble trusting you. Your problem is really not a problem. On the other hand, if you insist on creating problems for yourself and believing you have a problem, we have no choice but to help you problemise your lack of any problem. And so, reluctantly, we will. We'll start our process of creating problems for you by suggesting you join a gymnasium and discover how hard it is to put on muscle. Once you do that and give up, try and eat a whole bunch of fatty foods. If that doesn't end up clogging your arteries and killing you, it will most certainly give you an upset tummy leaving you even thinner than you already are. We're pretty sure you have tried to do both of what we have just suggested to you. It's what most thin people subject themselves to first. Since you've come to us, which is something people do only when all else fails, we'll give you a few more interesting methods to help you put on some weight. Next up, we urge you to find a rich girl and get her to marry you. What that will do is ensure you don't have to work for anyone or go to work ever. Not going to work will surely reduce your stress levels and that, normally, leads to weight gain. Of course, if you're not going to slog your butt off for your woman, the only rich girl who would be willing to marry you is someone who is very ugly, very deformed or very fucked up, which might make your life into a living hell and ruin any chances of you having any peace of mind so necessary to put on weight. In case you think there is no hope for you, don't lose hope. We're not here for nothing. We have a master stroke that has always worked for people like you. Start telling yourself that you have Marfan's Syndrome. After that, your problem will no longer be a problem. And finally, we'll say this. We're unable to put on any weight. We're reed thin. Can you help us? Empathetically Shady Funcle

"I'm a terrorist, what should I do?" The Terrorist

2006-08-11T01:08:00.000-07:00

Dear The, Interesting first name you have there. Your parents must have felt very strongly about you. Imagine, naming someone 'The'. Does that make you special? Why did they call you 'The'? Are you 'The' one? What were you called in school? Never mind the questions. Coming to your question, it's an interesting one. It's also a silly one. What do you mean, what should you do? There is so much wrong in the world that you can set out to set right. As a terrorist, you have the God-given right to co-opt God on your side and launch a Holy war. That way, you can always fall back on one of life's oldest cliches and make a section of this poor sodden bunch of losers on our planet believe you are The Hero and somebody else is The terrorist. Though, that might be a tad confusing for the world in general, and for you in particular. After all, how would you deal with a situation where somebody else becomes you and you become somebody else altogether? Confusing, eh? So let's try and suggest a few other things you can do. How about targetting bloggers and blowing up a few trains? The way that works is that when you blow up trains, some governments think the best way to get you is to blacklist a bunch of blogs. Think about that. A lot of people in mainstream media hate bloggers and if you decide to target bloggers in this unique way, you might even get them on your side. And once you have mainstream media on your side, it's practically impossible to go wrong or do any wrong. If that sounds too subversive to you, how about strapping yourself with a bunch of explosives and jumping into a Volkswagon? The great thing about this suggestion is someone will do a viral film about how ultra-strong the car is give you the worldwide fame that you seek. Moreover, once you do this, you won't have anything left to do and won't have any more difficult questions you need answered. In effect, you will kill one bird with one stone, which is a lot better than killing two birds with one stone. We kinda like to think of ourselves as bird lovers, so the fewer birds you kill with one stone the better. Think about these suggestions The. Most others would kill for the kind of ideas we dish out here for free. Helpfully yours, Funcle.

"I can't get along with anyone. I'm very lonely. Please help me." Alone Ranger

2006-08-09T20:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Alone, You are not alone. Remember, the world is full of lonely losers like you, who probably don't like you or, for that matter, themselves. Keep that thought for company. That thought apart, there are plenty of things you can do to alleviate your suffering. The first thing you ought to do is stop looking at it as a suffering. Try and get joy out of being alone. If that doesn't work, think of what you enjoy doing and make it your hobby. Do you enjoy blogging? You'll find plenty of company in the lonely world of blogging. Do you enjoy talking to yourself? There's nothing like talking to yourself to forget about how lonely you are. Moreover, our vast experience tells us there are few things more enjoyable than the sound of your own voice, especially when you are with yourself. No, make that only when you are with yourself. If that doesn't work, you need help. The reassuring thing is, you've come to the right place. Keep talking to me. Initially, I won't charge you, but if you get on my nerves, I'll take you to the cleaners. Then again, you seem to be a kind of person who's quite disgusting to be around, so I'll give you some more ideas that'll make sure you don't get anywhere near me or other people, and yet will never feel the absence of them. Have you ever tried jerking off? Chances are, that's all you probably do. In which case, try and jerk-off to a different person every time you jerk off. This way, you'll think you've got a whole fucking world of attractive people at your beck and call. If that doesn't work, take up writing. Not only will it make you think you're very creative, it'll end up frustrating you so much that you'll kill yourself. Killing yourself normally is a very good way to stop being lonely. Some of the most famous basketcases in the world have ended their lonely tryst with life by killing themselves. You're sure to meet them once you go the same way. Enjoy the trip. Funcle.

"Come what may, I can't make money. Any ideas?" Poor Sod

2006-08-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Poor Sod, No wonder you can't make money. Only a silly sod like you would expect other people to reveal to you the secrets of making money. The first rule of making money is not to tell others how to make money. To make money, somebody has to lose money and if everybody started telling one and other how to make money, how on earth are you going to find enough people to lose money? More people have to lose money for some people to make money. So if you want to make money, find a whole bunch of losers and stay very close to them and keep telling them how great they are. That way, you'll be the first to benefit from their delusional losses. Don't tell anyone, but that's precisely why we've got into this line of unwork, so I can meet as many losers as possible. The other way to make money is...umm, no, there is no other way to make money. Oh, okay, since we like you and believe in you, we'll tell you one other way to make money. Invest whatever you have in the stock market. The only problem with this other money-making strategy is that the only people who will make money in the stock market is other people. Think about that. And while you're at it, if you have some money you'd like to invest properly, contact me. Fiscally yours, Funcle.

"I'm honest. Help me." Miss Honest

2006-08-09T05:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Miss Honest, Allow me to correct you. You're not honest. You're stupid. Only stupid people are honest. You ask for my help, but what you're asking for is redemption. And if redemption is not what you're seeking, I urge you to consider it. Redemption and release is the only recourse for people like you. If I sound harsh, don't feel bad. I'm only being honest. People like you have no place in this world. People like you make people unlike you feel bad about themselves. And when people unlike you feel bad about themselves, they take it out on people like you by ensuring that people like you never make it in life. Because if people like you make it in life, they make it very difficult for people unlike you. Don't mistake my harsh tone, it is my job to help you and the only way I can help you is by trying to hammer into that thick skull of yours the extreme error of your ways. Please don't make it any harder on the rest of us. You don't want to be end up being felt sorry for. It's a good thing that you've written to me. At least, it shows that you recognise your problem. I'll say this is an encouraging beginning. The next thing you should do is change. Or perish. That's all I can say. Honestly Funcle.

"I'm a frustrated writer, what should I do?" Writer Blocked

2006-08-09T03:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Blockhead, We're all frustrated writers. What do we do? That's not to say that you can't do a thing about it. In fact, you've done the perfect thing by coming to us for a solution. We're not in the business of providing quick fixes for nothing. We've been doing it from the time we started experiencing the frustrations of being a frustrated writer on a nauseatingly regular basis. In our experience, and from the advice we've dished out to plenty of kindred souls like you, the only thing to do when you're a frustrated writer is find an outlet for your frustrations. Chances are, as a frustrated writer, you probably don't have much money. Chances also are that since you call yourself a writer, you've chosen this lonely avocation/vocation/profession because you're probably too ugly to be in something less frustrating. Personal experience tells us that when you're an ugly, frustrated, unpublished writer, the best thing you can do to alleviate your suffering is to start up a multitude of blogs. The great thing about doing this is that you can confuse people into believing you're the owner of a piece of property, albeit on the web, that is widely read and very popular. Also, you can adopt a tone of voice that is macho, attractive and most unlike what you are in real life. As a result, people will start thinking you're all the things you're not in real life. And finally, the great thing about starting up many blogs is you give yourself a very good chance of becoming a 'google celebrity'. What is a 'google celebrity'? It's the only kind of celebrityhood that frustrated writers can ever hope to attain. What it is, put simply, is the pathetic kick you get out of seeing your name thrown up by the world's coolest, hottest and mostest premier search engine in the world. Have enough blogs and you will turn up in enough searches. That way, you'll keep your hopes up of being discovered by someone somewhere who might, just might, take a liking to one of the many blogs you will struggle to maintain. Furthermore, that someone might even hand you a book contract or some kind of contract, which might turn you into a published writer. Just don't count on it. Don't get your hopes up. Stay frustrated and let that fuel your blogging. It's the enjoyment you take from the process of blogging that will eventually relieve you of your frustrated writerly state. Either that or death from bitterness. Best of luck. Now get going and make sure you start at least 15 blogs in the next 7 days. Yours personally, Funcle

"I'm a fucking pot smoker. I want to fucking stop. What the fuck should I do?" Potty Mouth

2006-08-08T20:43:00.000-07:00

Dear Potty, First things first, lemme light up a doobie and get back to you on that. In general, it doesn't take us more than a few hours to finish smoking a doobie. So my advice is that you go and light one up, ponder on the implications of the question you have had the fucking temerity to pose to us and come back to this fucking joint in a few hours from now. By then, I most fucking certainly will have an answer ready to fucking ply you with. Got that you fucking pot head. Yeah man. We're liking the fucking question. Stay with us. You there, Potty? We're back. How's it going, man? You still want to quit? Don't be silly, dude. Why quit. You don't want to deal with the real world, do you? You don't want a real job, do you? You don't want to take up other vices like living, smoking ciggies and consuming alcohol, do you? You just want to move on to better things like heroin, meth, crack and other higher level drugs, don't you? So just keep toking man. And let life overtake you. Once you realise there's no chance of catching up, spend the rest of your time toking and blogging. That's what you wanna do, dude. So don't you fucking come here all sober, contrite and determined to quit because you're not meant to be sober, contrite and determined to quit. You're just a fucking pot-smoking slacker. Don't waste your time aspiring to be anything like a real achiever. There you go. How's that for some sensible advice. Hope you can figure that out through you pot-induced haze. Now get the fuck out of my time. I need a smoke. Cheers, Funcle.

"I'm married. I want to have an affair. What do I do?" Mr. Harried

2006-08-08T09:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harried, Hmm. Obviously, you know that you're going through what a lot of married people go through. The simplest thing to tell you would be the hardest thing for you to do. So I'll start with the simplest piece of advice. Don't do it. I'll follow that up with another piece of advice, don't don't do it. The most sensible thing to do would be to do it and get it out of the system. The question then is, what if you wanted to do it again? Would it be advisable to do it again? That's a different question and you'll have to come back to me with it when you do it again. For now though, the simplest thing to do in such a difficult situation is to pick someone who wants to stay married and have a really hush-hush affair with him or her again and again and again. Safely. Hey, let's be safe here, okay. No multiple partners. And no, I'm not being judgemental or anything. Just safe, in more ways than one. If you know what I mean. (Wink. Wink.) That way, everyone gets the best of all worlds. (Wink. Wank.) Hope this helps. And if it doesn't, please don't blame me. There's a reason my first name's Agony. Goodbye Funcle