Dodo Eggs

Dear Dr. P,

Thanks,   Wonder Wizard (Slayer of Evil)

Dear Wizzer,

Dr. Pokorny.

Dear Dr. Pokorny,

My wife has taken to wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts everywhere.  You know, I’m OK with the sweatshirts as long as she’s rocking a well-fitting pair of jeans but the sweatpants HAVE TO GO!!!  Yesterday I caught her with a fanny pack filled with M&Ms.  At this point, she looks homeless.

I can’t honestly think of a single good reason for women to wear sweatpants.  They say they’re comfortable.  Oh really?!  Well you know what else is comfortable…SILK NIGHTGOWNS!!  Yea, you want comfort, honey?!  If you find anything silk, I’ll buy it for you!

My daughter has even started wearing sweatpants!!!  I’ll never marry her off and get her out of the house!  Look…she’s not very bright.  Yesterday I asked her if she had ever used a cookbook.  “Sure!”  She excitedly replies.  Then she brought me the phone book with all the delivery places dog eared.  Put her in a pair of sweatpants and she’ll need to find a boyfriend online.  

When both of them are sitting on the couch they look like a couple of plush toys!  ( Panic Level 1)  When we’re in the grocery store, I go hang out in the snack food isle so I won’t have to walk with them!! (Panic Level 2)  Now a couple of my friends are asking if we’re expecting again!!! (Panic Level 3)

Can you help me?

Sincerely,  Bob McCormick
Dear Bob,

What your wife doesn’t realize is that she is transmitting an Attractiveness < Convenience ratio that is NOT healthy.  Let’s face it, for women it takes a lot more work (make up, form fitting clothes, plastic surgery) to look alluring than it does for men.  To which, all men collectively say, “That’s too bad.”

Some women figure this out on their own.  The others must NOT be told – we’ve lost a few good men that way.
 
While some females can look nice in sweatpants, it is generally understood that sweatpants are a NET LOSS.  If you take Woman A, who looks nice in sweatpants, you can guarantee she looks blistering in anything else.  It bears repeating…sweatpants are a NET LOSS.  There are always better options.

So what’s a man to do?  Since most men are too scared to broach this subject with the women in their lives drastic actions must be employed.  Take all the sweatpants in your house (Yours too – you don’t look so hot in them either.) to the back yard and burn them.  Then offer the women in your life gift certificates to any popular clothing store.  If they come home with more sweatpants, burn them too.    

Yours Truly,

Dr. Pokorny Esq.

Dear Doctor Pokorny,

 I’m dating this girl right now and I really like her but something has been bothering me lately.  I’m worried about how she might look when we get old – like mid-thirties.  Geesh, I like pretty women just like the next guy and I really don’t want the one I hitch my wagon to become…less pretty. 

 I guess my question is…how do you know she’ll be pretty even after we reach middle age, you know, late twenties?  She doesn’t have to look like she’s eighteen forever as long as she looks at least ten years younger that she actually is.  Yea, I could live with that.

      Your fan,
      Homer Humdinger

Homer~
 
 As we age some things begin to lose their sweetness.  I’ll use sleep as an example.  When my son was four years old, I would go up and check on him at night before going to bed myself.  If he was uncovered, had limbs hanging off the bed, or was awkwardly placed I’d reposition him.  Most of the time I was gentle.  On other occasions, I’d pick him up and spin him in mid air like an unbaked pizza crust!  He would land on the bed and never come to – I’m not kidding. 

 Now imagine what you would feel like if you woke up after sleeping like that!  The quality of a person’s sleep erodes over time until your like me – up every hour with a prostate that forces you to pee constantly.  Barking dogs three blocks away can wake me up!  Now nothing short of a medically induced coma can make me sleep like my son did.

 So how does this answer your question? 

 Love making will unfortunately mean less to you as you age.  Eventually you come to value your lover for the friendship you share.  You find meaning in your relationship through common experiences and a rich reservoir of memories.  You’ll walk through the park on a cool but sunny autumn day looking at each leaf as a day you have spent together – innumerable and each one beautiful.

 In other words, you’ll become a woman.

 Since you’re still a man, here are a few tips on selecting a female that’s going to look good for the long haul.

 #1 – Don’t underestimate the value of a little self-consciousness.  You don’t want anyone too obsessive here but if she comes home one day with clothing that is sized a little bigger than you’d like innocently ask, “So, who are the maternity clothes for? (pause)  Is your mom expecting?!”

 #2 –   Tell her you’re going on a health food kick and that you’re giving up fast food completely.  (You don’t have to – just don’t let her see you with any.)  If she doesn’t offer to give it up too, you’re in trouble.

 #3 – Ask her to do a little grocery shopping with you.  Tell her you need help finding things.  Give her this list for the grocery store:  bananas, celery, zucchini, cottage cheese, and tuna.  If she pushes the cart straight to the Doritoes or Oreos then says, “What were you looking for again?”  Run.

  #4 – Examine Mom.  Babies turn the woman’s body into a construction site.  What happens after the buildings complete?  For too many women, the extra materials go into her landfill / hindquarters.

 #5 – Have you seen her without make-up and her hair wet?  If not, you may be in for a surprise.  End your next date by hitting her in the face with a five gallon bucket of water.  This might set your relationship back a bit, but you’ll sleep better.

       Sincerely,
       Dr. Pokorny  

Dear Doctor Pokorny,

My buddies and I use the classic game Rock, Paper, Scissor to settle everything.  You know…who gets to chase the best looking bridesmaid or who has to clean our dorm’s kitchen.  It’s gotten to the point where we have begun calling each other by their favorite play – like my friend Dwayne – we call him “The Rock.”  My name is Ed so of course people call me “Scissorhands” – which was only funny the first time.

Ok, so here’s my problem – we need a new way of deciding things.  Is there another game we can play to make small and large decisions in our lives?  I mean – just by reading this letter you should be able to tell that there’s no way we reason our way to a correct decision.

Thanks and if you answer my question I’ll get you a free pizza from the place I work – if you live in Scuttlebutt, Connecticut.  If you don’t live in Scuttlebutt, I’ll deliver the pizza myself but only if you’re within, like, uh, twenty miles of town.  That’s as far as I can get in a half hour, you know what I mean?

Edward – Scuttlebutt, CT

Edward-

Have you ever tried flipping a coin?!  Of course, a guy like you probably doesn’t have any money.

Despite the ridiculous nature of your question, I do have a soft spot for the game that aided me with the tough choices of childhood.  As my classmates and I advanced through the grades we added one rule to the game each year until junior high when we started making decisions with our hormones.  Here are the adjustments that made Paper, Rock, Scissors into something a bit more intriguing.

1^st Grade-

KARATE CHOP- Bring our fist down towards the palm and at the last second open the side of your play hand to the palm / Yell, “Hi-ya!”

WHAT IT BEATS- Nothing really…except your crayons.

WHAT BEATS IT- Everything.  This is just a play for the slow kids who didn’t know how the game worked.  The kids in the know would encourage the stooge to karate chop – the stooge would get excited and do the best, loudest, most dynamic karate chop he could – then everyone would tell him he lost.

RESULTS- Lots of, “Go back to Kindergarten, you tourist!”

2^nd Grade

SIMULTANEOUS PLAY- Bring your play hand down on your open palm at the SAME TIME!

RESULTS- Some kid in Akron, Ohio, was finally able to beat Sammy “the Sloth” Malone.  Once Sammy was barred from playing a full three seconds after the first player, his career as a professional Rock, Paper, Scissors player went downhill.  He now lives in Chicago.

3^rd Grade

FISH- Bring play hand down on palm and open it at the last second / instead of letting the hand rest (that would be paper) flop it around.

WHAT IT BEATS- Nothing.

WHAT IT LOSES TO- Nothing.  Make this play over and over again to drive your friends to distraction.  Once they get frustrated call them a “big baby.”  Laugh…repeat.

RESULT- A harmless game of Rock, Paper, Scissors would often be set aside for Fist, Face, Bloody Nose.

4^th Grade

ATOMIC BOMB - Shaping hand hits palm with the back of the wrist / all fingers on the playing hand go up into the air.  Adding a “BOOM” afterward makes your point and then rubs it in.

WHAT IT BEATS- Atomic Bomb beats Rock, Paper, Scissors, Fish.

WHAT IT LOSES TO- Nothing…at least not yet.

FALLOUT- When Rock, Paper, Scissors became Rock, Paper, Scissors, Atomic Bomb, the game became nearly unplayable.  Slow witted kids would still try the occasional Scissor only to have it blown to bits buy the Atomic Bomb.  The United Nations finally stepped in and issued a non-binding resolution number #0002B, which banned the use of the Atomic Bomb play.  It was summarily ignored.

5^th Grade

FALLOUT SHELTER- Bring play fist toward open palm / just before the fist hits the palm bend wrist forward and back / the fist should fly right past the palm.

WHAT IT BEATS- Only Atomic Bomb.

WHAT IT LOSES TO- Rock, Paper, Scissors, Karate Chop, Fish

RESULT- With atomic weapons threatening to destroy Rock, Paper, Scissors, our class decided to develop the Fallout Shelter play.  It was a rousing success.

6^th Grade

BEST TWO OUT OF THREE- You must count aloud to three then say, “Shoot.”  Something as important as who gets the last donut cannot be left to a single play.  Allegations of cheating and delayed selection can tear apart friendships and destroy lives.  The Best Two Out of Three development allowed each party to more closely watch the other for fraud.

RESULT- People still cheat only now it takes longer to play Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Ed, Just try a Magic Eight Ball Keychain.

Sincerely, Dr. Pokorny

Dear Doctor Pokorny,

My husband and I are going through a bit of a rough patch.  I have a hard time getting him to come home from work in time for supper.  We hardly ever talk anymore and when we do it seems to be on subjects that require no thought or commentary.  He never tells me what he’s thinking anymore!  I feel like we’re going apart.  We’ve had eleven good years and I’m hoping for many more.  Sometimes I cry myself to sleep with him snoring right beside me.

I’m cooking a meatloaf tonight (one of his favorites) and I need it to be good.  Can you help?

Sincerely, Mrs. Loser in Love and Loaf

 
Dear Loser,

I was in a restaurant recently for lunch and I ordered meatloaf.  My portion came out perfectly…the slice was geometrically perfect with ninety-degree corners so exact you cold use it as a brick.  The sauce was smooth on the meat as well as on the palette.  When I cut into it with my fork and the texture was even throughout just like…a can of Fancy Feast Cat Food! 

I studied the middle of that restaurant’s meatloaf looking for some difference between it and the Wild Boar flavor of my cat’s favorite food.  I failed!

By the patron saint of meat (Saint Butch or Cleaver; I can’t remember which), I implore that all meatloaves should be a chaotic medley of thick onions, beef that’s been more massaged than ground, palette jolting peppers, sandpaper coarse crackers, and cheese.  I decree that they should bend forks under their weight!  Good meatloaf should rampage through one’s digestive system like a run-a-way Mack truck with servings of tofu and humus lying dead on the sides of your intestines!

If you think about it, meatloaf is really the perfect food.  Just look at the recipe.

1) Six pounds of high fat ground beef  (Meat food group…check!)

2) Three sleeves of whole wheat (optional) seasoned crackers.  Use oats if you want to add hair to your chest.  (Grains!)

3) One whole red onion & one whole green pepper…and ketchup, lots and lots of ketchup  (Vegetables!)

4) One and a half pounds of cheese.  (I like cheese.  Don’t you?)

5)   A dozen eggs. (Vitamins?  Who knows, just add them)

Mix and bake until golden brown.  Serve.

If you need any additional advice, just let me know.
      Doctor Pokorny

DEAR DR. POKORNY,

Here is a picture of a lamp I purchased recently off an Internet auction site. I don’t mind mentioning that the bidding became pretty intense near the end and ended at a scorching $14.25. (Once the other bidder found out he was bidding in US dollars instead of pesos he dropped out.)

The next thing I want to say is that you can’t have it. I’m serious. Please don’t respond by low-balling the appraisal in an effort to convince me to sell. It won’t happen and you’ll just have to spend the rest of your miserable life with my lamp’s picture under your pillow or whatever places you put your kinky things.

The lamp is in fairly good condition. It has a variable setting! The first twist of the knob turns the light on, the second makes it flicker, and the third makes the bulb flash then pop. I’ve checked with all the department stores around here and apparently you can’t buy lamps with these options any more.

The shade isn’t original. The one before burnt after I used the third option.

THANKS FOR LOOKING,

BART FIEBLECORN

DEAR BART,

This is a personal advice column! What in the $#^@$ makes you think I do appraisals?! Aw, heck why not, no one else has written this week.

You lamp is a rare product of the short-lived Ugliass Lamp Company circa 1971. Once word got out that they worked best of the bathtub electrocution method of suicide, they flew off the shelves in some of America’s most depressed communities. Unfortunately, this ruined the lamps and Ugliass found it difficult to grow its customer base. The company filled it’s own tub late in 1972.

I estimate the lamp’s value at a nice round 5.32 give or take a few pesos.

If you don’t trust my opinion, your best option is to contact Sotheby’s Auctions in New York and find out how close to their property you can set of a rummage sale. Whatever you do, just make sure you take the first offer there’s a pretty good chance the paint they used in those things has polycentric topiaries that can be absorbed through the skin and cause sterility.

YOURS TRULY,

DR. POKORNY

Dear Pokorney,

My name is Cole B-.  I’m a business owner (I own two self-serve car washes and two automatic ones.  Impressed?  Circle YES \ NO) and many people consider me relatively good looking.  I drive a nice car, which I keep very clean.  All these things should help me find the right woman but it’s really been difficult. 

So far, I’ve been married four times and broken off several engagements.  I’m only thirty-four.  It’s gotten to the point where my mother, the only superior woman, is looking into cloning herself for me.  Is that creepy? 

You might think that I’m the common denominator but I couldn’t disagree more.  I’m fine (see first paragraph) the problem is finding the right fit with some of the crazy women in this world!  I date them, screen them, background check, and even give them a psychiatric exam.  (They think it’s pre-marital counseling but the doc is on my dime.)  I just need ONE decent woman and I’m set.

Look at this list.  Is this too much to ask?

1. She’s got to be 19 (or look 19) years old and hot.

2. She needs to see me as a real catch and she needs to feel lucky to have me.

3. She has no behavior that I deem, “Maddening.”

4. In-laws must own an automotive body shop.  (My automatic carwashes haven’t been fine tuned yet.)

I’m willing to go three out of four.  Where do I go to find the right woman?

Dear Cole B-,

The dog pound.  Have you thought about getting a pet?  If you go down to the nearest animal shelter, you should be able to find a female that meets your exacting standards.  And if that doesn’t work then check into these guys who sell pedigreed animals to suckers.  I know five years is a lot for an animal but if age becomes an issue remember, “Putting an animal down is cheaper than alimony.”

Four times, huh?  You know what they say about, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again?”  Well, maybe you should quit. 

Marriage isn’t for EVEYONE and it’s much better to be alone than in a difficult relationship.  Wouldn’t you rather come home to a quiet home with a nice sound system than a contentious spouse whose volume and tune is way out of whack. 

Oh yea, and move away from you mom.

Sincerely, Dr. Pokorney

Dear Doc Pokorny,

I’m having a hard time getting my husband, Mark, to do all the things he should.  For example, our porch swing has been making a horrible squeak for the last three weeks and he just won’t seem to take care of it.  When I ask him, he kind of blows me off and says he’ll get to it whenever he feels like it.

And he’s so careless when it comes to using the bathroom!  Sometimes I go in there and it doesn’t seem like he aims at all!  So I told him that I wanted him to sit when he pees.  We women have always done it and it doesn’t seem like too much to ask for Mark to do it just when he’s home.

Like a mature adult, I talk to him all the time about these things.  He just shrugs and blows me off as if he’s heard it all before.  I know he has but what else am I supposed to do!  He just doesn’t listen to me anymore.

I guess where I’m going with this is…how do I get better control of my husband?

I’ve taken his stupid, little video game system and hidden it.  That made him angry but it didn’t accomplish what I wanted it to.  I’ve laid on guilt trips and withheld “affection.”  Until further notice, I won’t wash any of his clothes either.  Daytime television tells me to talk to him so I’m back to that.

He just shrugs.  Should I try a cattle prod?

With Frustration, 

Betty Carpenter

Dear Frustrated,

I’m currently writing a book called, “How to Make Your Husband Inwardly Hate You” and I would love to have you write the forward and design the dust cover.

Making yourself a royal pain in the posterior is not going to work on your husband.  My eyes began hurting as soon as I started reading your letter so I can only assume that Mark can’t stand to hear your voice anymore.  In fact, he’s daydreaming about what his life would have been like if he hadn’t married you…right now.

Do you realize that like anything else, your husband makes associations between things?  How do you suppose your husband would finish the following matching quiz…

Here’s a novel concept…DON’T MAKE IT DIFFICULT TO LOVE YOU!  Make your requests known then leave it at that.  Short of hypnosis, you really can’t control your husband’s behavior anyway.

And if you really did marry a deadbeat, well, it looks like you’re screwed.

Sincerely,

Dr. Pokorny

Dr. Pokorny,

My name is Thomas Zimmerman and I’m the dessert chef at one of the fancier restaurants in my hometown.  I’m very good at what I do which means I have a real hard time keeping my fingers out of my work.  I’ll whip up some perfectly fluffed cream for a batch of gourmet éclairs and I’m constantly dragging two fingers through the middle of it.  Bread pudding, cheesecake, baklava…It doesn’t matter; I’m eating some of it!

The health department doesn’t know anything about this so keep it on the “down low.”

You might think that I weight about three hundred pounds but that’s where you’re wrong.  I spend a lot of time on the treadmill at the local gym working to keep off the weight.  It seems to be working.  In fact, I think I’ve even become smaller, more nimble.

So here’s where things become interesting.  I was mowing my lawn one day when this small Asian man comes shuffling down the sidewalk.  He’s wearing a long, red, silk robe and even has the long Fu Manchu beard going on.  He stops on the sidewalk in front of my house and gives me this strange look.  Before I know it, he’s throwing small pebbles at me.  They’re not thrown very hard but they still sting a bit.

I start dodging them.  Left!  Right!  Pretty soon, I’m like dodging every one!  The old man cant’ hit me anymore!  It was so cool!

When I finish mowing, he comes up to me and tells me I have all the tools to be a world-class ninja.  He told me he’s never seen anyone sidestep rocks like that before!  Apparently, I began looking like some sort of blur.

The old man told me that I could sign up for a six-week ninja class for only $62.99 and that normally he charges about a thousand dollars?  He’s only given me one week to make up my mind.  Look, he was short, wore silk, had little sandals, and carried a walking stick.  I think he’s legit.

What do you think?  (Professional Ninjas make about $220,000 a year!  And once you figure out throwing stars and climbing drain pipes, the rest is all black underwear!)

Normally I omit the proper names of those who write me but just in case someone from the Health Department is reading this advise column I’ll include yours.  The spoon licking, hand dipping pastry chef is THOMAS ZIMMERMAN.  The return address on his letter was 1435 Main Street in Las Vegas, Nevada.

About the ninja school, HECK YEA!  I can’t think of anything cooler than throwing sharpened coasters at men with semiautomatic pistols!  And did you know that numb-chucks got their name because of what happens when you accidentally hit yourself in the ying and yang?  AWESOME!

Also, you can sneak into the bedrooms of the neighborhood kids and scare them out of their flannel pajamas!  At least until their parents get an alarm system, large dog, windows that lock, or their father shoots you dead.

Just make sure you get a receipt from the old man.  You can take some educational expenses off on your taxes.  The outfit also makes a great Halloween costume just be sure none of the kids get their hands on your throwing stars while your handing out candy.

Yours truly,

Dr. Pokorny

Dear Doctor Pokorny,

Hi!  How are you?  I am fine.  Anyway, I’m currently sitting in a hospital room with my newborn baby and they won’t discharge me from the hospital until I’ve chosen a name for him.  I want it to be a unique name that sets my child apart as the special child I know he really is.  Sam, Roy, or Jamal Smith seem so stale to me and I’m flirting with Funtae Smith. The name means someone who likes to have a good time.  I’ll bet no one else will ever have the name Funtae!  What do you think?

Thanks.
Undecidia Smith 

 
Dear Mrs. Smith,

I apologize for the lengthy wait between receiving your letter and my response.  I needed to show your question around the office and get a little feedback on your selection of the moniker Funtae.  The reaction generally went something like this …

“What?  I don’t get it. (12 times)”

“You’re kidding me. (11 times)”

“What box of cereal did that come from? (2 times)”

“Oh that poor, poor child. (females)”

“Hey, that’s the Russian word for barstool! (Eugene)”

Remember, names are a little like sweaters.  Sure, you can knit one that’s homemade and unique but EVERYONE will be able to tell when one sleeve doesn’t go as far as the other or the strips turn into more of a zig-zag. 

Please don’t crowd out your son’s achievements by forcing him to head his resume with the name Funtae.  A name should add distinction and not cause distraction.  There is an absolute chance that perspective employers will go no further.

Mrs. Smith … remember that while you have a legal responsibility to care for your child, there is no requirement for you child to love you in return.  In a purely professional sense, I like you less and less each time my eyes skip across such a stupid name.  You would do much less damage to your child’s future by naming him Tracie, Kelly, or even Sue.

And this is from someone who knows a thing or two about stupid names.

Sincerely,
Dr. Doctor Pokorny

NOTE TO READERS:  The name Funtae was NOT just conjured out of mid-air (at least by me).  It was the name of one of the babies I saw in the hospital nursery.  No joke.