1. How dare you!
How Dare I? How dare you!? You have the NERVE to walk into MY home AND TELL me WHAT I can YELL and what I shouldn't EMPHASIZE? You dare TO talk to me like a man who JUST had sex with the gas tank OF HIS own car?! AND insult MY bear wife?! Sir, not how dare me-- HOw dare yoU?!
2. Who died and made you King?
Edward Miller the III, he was King before me, and he was killed tragically trying to repair a harness for a horse that suspended the horse midair so that he could lie beneath it, and I must warn your readers, this part becomes graphic: he would look up into the eyes of the horse above him for hours on end, trying to communicate fragile thoughts and secrets whispers. And spare me the fucking "horse whisperer" jokes. He killed 70 men in war once, it's depicted on our family crest, which is a man serving poisoned hot chocolate to a rival family at their home (70 of them). And then below that says "Mater Fuqer, Servientes Calidum Scelerisque Est Bellum" which is Latin for "Mother Fucker, Serving Hot Chocolate Is War."
3. How did it get so bad?
Was it ever good? I mean, it all started out pretty bad and got worse from there. I guess part of it is my own unending arrogance coupled with the fear that I won't ever be able to stop mentioning erectile dysfunction in mixed company. I'm talking about when I'm at a picnic for Xerox and Hewlett Packard. Sadly, I know it will get worse. I made a historically significant music album people won't pay attention to, they just keep saying I was "not bad in that train movie." Pretty soon I'm getting teardrop tattoos and then tear duct tattoos right next to them. I just bought a Nissan Juke and I think I have to put a pizza ad on the side of it to help make the payments. I only take solace in the fact that I've never hit rock bottom because I heard right below that is a euphoric feeling where everything seems "pretty rad for a white guy”--- even pullin' bear feet outta my bear wife's bear mouth.
4. What would you tell them?
What they want to hear.
5. How does she do it?
I think it's the way she moves....slithering back and forth, sometimes under the dinner table to lick her palms and then rub the ankles of the dinner guests. Sometimes I think it's the way she walks, with the wind whipping through her hair, her, whipping her hair back and forth, whipping cream through it all. Other times I think it's the way she talks, garbled, with gravel and maraschino cherries stuffed in her mouth, repeating over and over "chuwee bunhee" which means either "Chubby Bunny" or "Chumbawamba Bungee" which I take to mean that the great musical group Chumbawamba operates a bungee jump now. But hell, if I knew that, I wouldn't be paying a bear dressed as a woman 30,000 dollars a year to pose as my wife, would I?! Or at least I would be able to offer her a medical benefit plan that fits her needs. I just can't afford dental until Yogi Bear 3D2 comes out. Ya dig? And them bear teeth is nasty!!! Whew. Look like a' ol' rusty bear trap in there! Ironically she keep bitin' bear feets! I mean, how did it get so bad?! I guess look at my answer to question
This article was originally published March 2012