| Humor Fiction posted May 16, 2015 |
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Advice Column
Wisdom From Wickwire
by michaelcahill
FORMER CONTRIBUTOR TO HIGH TIMES MAGAZINE
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
Wisdom From Wickwire
Johnny Wickwire here. I'm ready for any question on any topic. As always, I give my take and then "WIREPOWER" kicks in with their own takes from last week's queeries. I can't be responsible for what my readership has to say, but I can be irresponsible and print it as it comes in!
A Billy Bob Rockefeller Stump writes in from Drove Right Through It, Arkansas:
My Grams tells me when Nelson Rockefeller was a stumpin' for votes down here, she done drew him in with a possum pie. Long story short, he liked the pie and I'm livin' proof of it. I hears he's a rich feller and I was inqueerioyon as to how I might make his acquaintining and get in on the loot?
Well, Rock Jr., mosey on over by the dilapidated off-red barn and grab yourself a shovel. Old Rambunctious Rockefeller's been dead for a long time. May not be much for chewin' the fat with you at this stage of the game. But, I'd suggest a good lawyer and a DNA sample would be the best place to start. If Grams turns out to be truer than duck-squirt in a pond, then you may yet get that new tractor you been daydreamin' about for twenty-two years.
From Dementia Praecox in San Marino, California:
I fear my husband of eight months has been unfaithful to our wedding vows. I told him when we married he'd still be able to spend time with the boys. But he spends all of his time with the boys. I make allowances for him since he has only one testicle, but I'm getting calls from women day and night looking for him. In spite of his aesthetically unbalanced package, he's still quite the lion in the boudoir. Am I just suffering from delusions and living in a world of my own making?
Well, Dementia, I'd say you may be justified in your fantastical paranoid perception. I never understood what a man saw in a bunch of other men unless men was what he saw. I'd be suspicious if I were you. I'd suggest some good old stalking. Follow him around and if you find him with another women say, "You've got your ball cheating on me with this floozy. I'm gonna kick you in the ball as soon as you stand up." Well, that was gratuitous I admit. I just had to go there. But, I'd say you got yourself a cheater, dump him. He's sure got his ball cheating on a nice lady like you.
From Dirk Dark in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan:
I have a 1968 Dodge Charger with a 487 hemi engine. Would you say hot pink is an unmanly color? I contend the car is so male it doesn't matter what color it is. Shouldn't I just paint it whatever color pleases me? What the hell do I care what these people think?
I couldn't agree more. In a world that's hung up on conformity, I find it a breath of fresh air to hear a man willing to be different. You have my admiration.
Uh oh … Bodacious Bodine from Bakersfield!
Hey, Wickwire, why don't you give me your address so I can come and kick your ass? You and your stupid advice cost me my girl. Come clean, tell her the truth? You idiot! She didn't much care for the truth. Maybe she'll get a kick out of dressing me like an infant? She couldn't stop laughing when she found me posed in that diaper. C'mon, Wickwire, where do you live?
Aww … there, there now. Here's your blinky, give it a hug. I don't fight babies. Whew! What's that smell? Bad baby!
Well, I guess some people never get over their childhood traumas. It seems some of you don't appreciate my expert advice. Here's some responses to last weeks questions … from you!
From Andy Spunk in Georgia
This is in response to the old lady in Pasadena, California. They call me Buck and if I had a dollar for every time I've heard that name I'd be rich. Just an example of what I can bring to a conversation. At our age, talk is important. How 'bout a date?
From Arm Lancestrong in Juno, Alaska.
For the dude hating his neighbors. If you moved next to me there'd be an empty house next to you in two days. You're the problem, idiot. There's something seriously wrong with a fool who doesn't appreciate his nude sun bathing neighbors. I could see it if they were eyesores, but you admit they're beautiful young women. You need therapy.
From Barack Obama in the blue room at the White House.
Hey there, Johnny. You dropped the ball on the cat lady. If she's got twenty-three cats in her one bedroom apartment, let her keep them. If she got rid of them to be with Latent In Laredo, she'd never forgive him anyway. Sorry, Johnny, you got that one wrong.
From good old Bodacious Bodine. (Get a life Bodacious!)
I'm imagining your head on a spike in my front yard. You claim to be a chick magnet. I'd like to put that to the test.
Well, that's it for this week. Remember, if you were as cool as me, you'd have your own column. Peace!
My Advice Column contest entry
Wisdom From Wickwire
Johnny Wickwire here. I'm ready for any question on any topic. As always, I give my take and then "WIREPOWER" kicks in with their own takes from last week's queeries. I can't be responsible for what my readership has to say, but I can be irresponsible and print it as it comes in!
A Billy Bob Rockefeller Stump writes in from Drove Right Through It, Arkansas:
My Grams tells me when Nelson Rockefeller was a stumpin' for votes down here, she done drew him in with a possum pie. Long story short, he liked the pie and I'm livin' proof of it. I hears he's a rich feller and I was inqueerioyon as to how I might make his acquaintining and get in on the loot?
Well, Rock Jr., mosey on over by the dilapidated off-red barn and grab yourself a shovel. Old Rambunctious Rockefeller's been dead for a long time. May not be much for chewin' the fat with you at this stage of the game. But, I'd suggest a good lawyer and a DNA sample would be the best place to start. If Grams turns out to be truer than duck-squirt in a pond, then you may yet get that new tractor you been daydreamin' about for twenty-two years.
From Dementia Praecox in San Marino, California:
I fear my husband of eight months has been unfaithful to our wedding vows. I told him when we married he'd still be able to spend time with the boys. But he spends all of his time with the boys. I make allowances for him since he has only one testicle, but I'm getting calls from women day and night looking for him. In spite of his aesthetically unbalanced package, he's still quite the lion in the boudoir. Am I just suffering from delusions and living in a world of my own making?
Well, Dementia, I'd say you may be justified in your fantastical paranoid perception. I never understood what a man saw in a bunch of other men unless men was what he saw. I'd be suspicious if I were you. I'd suggest some good old stalking. Follow him around and if you find him with another women say, "You've got your ball cheating on me with this floozy. I'm gonna kick you in the ball as soon as you stand up." Well, that was gratuitous I admit. I just had to go there. But, I'd say you got yourself a cheater, dump him. He's sure got his ball cheating on a nice lady like you.
From Dirk Dark in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan:
I have a 1968 Dodge Charger with a 487 hemi engine. Would you say hot pink is an unmanly color? I contend the car is so male it doesn't matter what color it is. Shouldn't I just paint it whatever color pleases me? What the hell do I care what these people think?
I couldn't agree more. In a world that's hung up on conformity, I find it a breath of fresh air to hear a man willing to be different. You have my admiration.
Uh oh … Bodacious Bodine from Bakersfield!
Hey, Wickwire, why don't you give me your address so I can come and kick your ass? You and your stupid advice cost me my girl. Come clean, tell her the truth? You idiot! She didn't much care for the truth. Maybe she'll get a kick out of dressing me like an infant? She couldn't stop laughing when she found me posed in that diaper. C'mon, Wickwire, where do you live?
Aww … there, there now. Here's your blinky, give it a hug. I don't fight babies. Whew! What's that smell? Bad baby!
Well, I guess some people never get over their childhood traumas. It seems some of you don't appreciate my expert advice. Here's some responses to last weeks questions … from you!
From Andy Spunk in Georgia
This is in response to the old lady in Pasadena, California. They call me Buck and if I had a dollar for every time I've heard that name I'd be rich. Just an example of what I can bring to a conversation. At our age, talk is important. How 'bout a date?
From Arm Lancestrong in Juno, Alaska.
For the dude hating his neighbors. If you moved next to me there'd be an empty house next to you in two days. You're the problem, idiot. There's something seriously wrong with a fool who doesn't appreciate his nude sun bathing neighbors. I could see it if they were eyesores, but you admit they're beautiful young women. You need therapy.
From Barack Obama in the blue room at the White House.
Hey there, Johnny. You dropped the ball on the cat lady. If she's got twenty-three cats in her one bedroom apartment, let her keep them. If she got rid of them to be with Latent In Laredo, she'd never forgive him anyway. Sorry, Johnny, you got that one wrong.
From good old Bodacious Bodine. (Get a life Bodacious!)
I'm imagining your head on a spike in my front yard. You claim to be a chick magnet. I'd like to put that to the test.
Well, that's it for this week. Remember, if you were as cool as me, you'd have your own column. Peace!
A Billy Bob Rockefeller Stump writes in from Drove Right Through It, Arkansas:
My Grams tells me when Nelson Rockefeller was a stumpin' for votes down here, she done drew him in with a possum pie. Long story short, he liked the pie and I'm livin' proof of it. I hears he's a rich feller and I was inqueerioyon as to how I might make his acquaintining and get in on the loot?
Well, Rock Jr., mosey on over by the dilapidated off-red barn and grab yourself a shovel. Old Rambunctious Rockefeller's been dead for a long time. May not be much for chewin' the fat with you at this stage of the game. But, I'd suggest a good lawyer and a DNA sample would be the best place to start. If Grams turns out to be truer than duck-squirt in a pond, then you may yet get that new tractor you been daydreamin' about for twenty-two years.
From Dementia Praecox in San Marino, California:
I fear my husband of eight months has been unfaithful to our wedding vows. I told him when we married he'd still be able to spend time with the boys. But he spends all of his time with the boys. I make allowances for him since he has only one testicle, but I'm getting calls from women day and night looking for him. In spite of his aesthetically unbalanced package, he's still quite the lion in the boudoir. Am I just suffering from delusions and living in a world of my own making?
Well, Dementia, I'd say you may be justified in your fantastical paranoid perception. I never understood what a man saw in a bunch of other men unless men was what he saw. I'd be suspicious if I were you. I'd suggest some good old stalking. Follow him around and if you find him with another women say, "You've got your ball cheating on me with this floozy. I'm gonna kick you in the ball as soon as you stand up." Well, that was gratuitous I admit. I just had to go there. But, I'd say you got yourself a cheater, dump him. He's sure got his ball cheating on a nice lady like you.
From Dirk Dark in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan:
I have a 1968 Dodge Charger with a 487 hemi engine. Would you say hot pink is an unmanly color? I contend the car is so male it doesn't matter what color it is. Shouldn't I just paint it whatever color pleases me? What the hell do I care what these people think?
I couldn't agree more. In a world that's hung up on conformity, I find it a breath of fresh air to hear a man willing to be different. You have my admiration.
Uh oh … Bodacious Bodine from Bakersfield!
Hey, Wickwire, why don't you give me your address so I can come and kick your ass? You and your stupid advice cost me my girl. Come clean, tell her the truth? You idiot! She didn't much care for the truth. Maybe she'll get a kick out of dressing me like an infant? She couldn't stop laughing when she found me posed in that diaper. C'mon, Wickwire, where do you live?
Aww … there, there now. Here's your blinky, give it a hug. I don't fight babies. Whew! What's that smell? Bad baby!
Well, I guess some people never get over their childhood traumas. It seems some of you don't appreciate my expert advice. Here's some responses to last weeks questions … from you!
From Andy Spunk in Georgia
This is in response to the old lady in Pasadena, California. They call me Buck and if I had a dollar for every time I've heard that name I'd be rich. Just an example of what I can bring to a conversation. At our age, talk is important. How 'bout a date?
From Arm Lancestrong in Juno, Alaska.
For the dude hating his neighbors. If you moved next to me there'd be an empty house next to you in two days. You're the problem, idiot. There's something seriously wrong with a fool who doesn't appreciate his nude sun bathing neighbors. I could see it if they were eyesores, but you admit they're beautiful young women. You need therapy.
From Barack Obama in the blue room at the White House.
Hey there, Johnny. You dropped the ball on the cat lady. If she's got twenty-three cats in her one bedroom apartment, let her keep them. If she got rid of them to be with Latent In Laredo, she'd never forgive him anyway. Sorry, Johnny, you got that one wrong.
From good old Bodacious Bodine. (Get a life Bodacious!)
I'm imagining your head on a spike in my front yard. You claim to be a chick magnet. I'd like to put that to the test.
Well, that's it for this week. Remember, if you were as cool as me, you'd have your own column. Peace!
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