Dear Rodger,
You're obviously a randy guy, so I just wanted to wish you the best of luck navigating this whole 21st century social networking scene via the Facebook and Adult Friend Finder silliness. Tip: If you meet a Tiffany from Ontario online (and she says she’s a tanning booth operator), hey, Tifany’s a dude, okay?
Signed,
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I’ll get an annulment
Dear Fool Me Once...,
Many thanks, my good fellow, for thy well wishes. I hath recevied many queries which do seek to know if I be encumbered with womanly company on a regular basis. I shouldst think that the better portion of these inquirers do merely wish to ascertain whether they might have a chance of joining me in my bed chamber one fine and heady night. None hath said thus explicitly, but I canst for sooth readeth between the lines. However, as 'tis possible that certain persons may only wish to avail themselves of the various stratagems I hath employed to acheive such great success as a lover, I shall most unselfishly share of my many wise pearls.
As any who hast read of these pages knoweth, I wast most supremely beloved by women (and occasionally men) in my past life. Thou wilt be much heartened to know that this success hath generally persisted into my new life in the brave new world of this 21st century. Of course, I hath had to learn unto myself new angles to follow whilst vying for the attention of wenches, and I shouldst think sharing of these experiences wilst be most helpful to those who do wish to follow suit.
When I wast first reinvigorated, I didst follow that same path I didst use to find much satisfaction previously. Namely, whilst I did walk about the village square of a fair day, I didst espy the lot of comely wenches in my vicinity and didst assigned unto them numbers. These numbers didst signify the order in which I shouldst like to bed said wenches. I canst not stress enough this next portion of my process: Thou must assign a number to EVERY wench in the square. Whilst at first blush't might seem untoward to consider the rooting of a woman who hath upwards of 80 years, once thou hast runeth through this exercise thou wilt see 'tis important to be thorough. I shall speak more to this subject forthwith.
Now, goest ye to thy number one wench and pincheth of her bottom whilst whispering some pithy and bewitching nothing into her ear. I didst most often employ "I likest thy crumpet, strumpet," and it didst work well for me. Thou wilt, through trial and error, find thy own fitting phrase.
Thou wilt know most quickly if the wench be game for thy staff. Simply readest of her face. If she doth smile, grin or blush, thou hast but to extend thy arm and lead her unto thy bedchamber. If she doth grimace, wince or strike thee, thou shouldst simply feign astonishment and mutter most earnestly, ""Zounds, mi'lady! I thoughtst thou wast mine own ladywife! A thousand pardons." Do not linger to learn if she hath accepted thy apology. Simply movest on to number 2 on thy list.
Repeat of this process until thou hast found a lusty and willing companion. 'Tis important to note that thou may very well reachest the bitter end of thy list before finding joy. Thus, as I hath said, includeth each and every wench about in thy initial littany. Thou might thinkst that thou woudst be better served to cleaneth of thy dwelling or arrangeth thy sock cabinet than to engage sexually with, say, a number 25 or 57. While 'tis true these wenches may be most old and/or gruesome, 'tis important to bear in mind that any living wench is good fodder for thy practice. It be mightily important to maintain thy stamina and technique, and ugly bitches be as good as princesses for this purpose.
I shouldst here note that I hath myself abandoned the process I hath just described. Whilst I do hold firm to its efficacy, in today's world it proveth difficult for me, for 'tis most hard for my mind to recognize that wenches may indeed be officers of the constabulary. 'Twas not so in my time, and thus I do often forget to first inquire of the strumpet of whom I pinch whether she be employed by the police. I hath been incarcerated four times on this score, and wish not to have this experience again. Methinks, though, that those who be natural born to this age wilst have no trouble identifying officers, and thus canst use of this technique without hinderance.
Now, since I hath been forced to take my trolling efforts indoors, as it were, I hath of late found new avenues to pursue. I was first upon my reawakening most reluctant to engage with the computer array which ist housed here in my domicile. Firstly, the scholars who do holdeth me captive thus do most waking hours employ't, and even if I were so inclined as to put it to use, my time wouldst be limited. Secondly, I hath seen the effect such great portions of time before the array hath wrought upon them. They be most scrawny and pale, and many blemishes to issue forth from there visages. Merry, I hath seen nary a one of them in the company of a winch. That said, I also knoweth they be not interested in manly companionship, for in the dull and wee hours I hath more than once spurred them toward a playful tussle to no avail.
Despite my inital misgiving, I hath slowly learned of the functions of the array, and hath employed it to make the acquaintance of many lasses. As many of them be far removed from my location, I hath not met the majority of them in the flesh. Of the three I hath met, two hath been, again, law officers. The other one wast a very comely and commanding woman of great stature and seductive eyes. Alas, she didst not wish to allow me entrance, but only that I wouldst tickle of her feet with a banana rind. I most eagerly complied with her request, thinking that it was but the prelude to a truly memorable night of deviance. Alas, after the rind did lose its slickness, she quickly left and said nary a word. 'Twas not the worst night I hath passed, but I must admitteth it didst leave me somewhat unsatisfied.
I am currently correspondence with a lass who liveth in a penal colony. I hath seen her image, and she be most desirable. Alas, she hath stated that we may not conjugate unless I take her as my ladywife--and then only once in each month. 'Tis tempting, but methinks 'tis too small a reward for the relinquishment of my freedom.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Teef
Rodger,
Since you’ve been reanimated, have you been seen by a dentist? I know you Brits aren’t big on the whole “Brite Smile” thing, but for goodness sakes, I hope you’re not walking around with Austin Powers chompers—that is, if you have any teeth left . What did you guys do for teeth hygiene back in your time?
Signed,
The Tooth Fairy
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Though methinks thou dost jibe at my expense, I shall in good faith enlighten thee with a most earnest and helpful answer to thy query.
While from my recent understanding 'tis true that the persons of my native isle have become most deliquent in their habits of mouthly maintenance, 'twas not always the case. For sooth, the persons of England (I canst not speak here to the dental regimes of the savage and unwashed Scots and Welsh) were once much admired for the goodly and healthy sheen of their teeth. However, what now be desirable--a palate of glistening white--wast in my time seen as most hideous. To have one's teeth be black wast the height of sophistication and priviledge.
Allow me to explain:
In the England of my first life, sugar wast a most novel and highly sought commodity. In the fashion of the time, any person who couldst afford it didst add sugar to any and every foodstuff available--eggs, wine, cheese, meat, ale, bread, etc. Thus, any such person who didst have the resources to eat of sugar regularly didst quite rapidly experience a profound blackening of the teeth. And so it came to pass that black teeth were not seen, as they are today, as a sign of decrepitude, but as one of high and prosperous stature. It followeth then without need of explanation that poor and peasantly people who couldst not avail themselves of sugar didst nonetheless also seek to blacken their teeth with whatever means they didst have at hand. Soot wast particularly plentiful and goodly for this purpose. It didst tend to make one's mouth most rank and one's breath most unpleasant, but, as hast always been the case, beauty dost come at a high price.
When I wast first reinvigorated after my repose in the bog, my teeth didst appear in there natural brownish state. Thus, I didst immediately seek to besoot them. However, there being no stoves or chimneys in my current dwelling, I wast forced to useth of mud. My captors (the so-called scientists who do watch and monitor my every motion) were most aggreived and perplexed by the practice, and didst entreat me to halt forthwith. They didst explain to me the current trend and suggested I use of an unction calleth Crest White Strips. I didst placeth of these films upon my teeth, but they being most minty and refreshing, I didst eat them afore they couldst do their work. Thus, my teeth still be of a brown and undesirable hue. I am told I shall need a goodly sum of money to have a dentician placeth wee plates upon my teeth in order that they should be evermore white and glisteny. I am currently at work on a plan which should avail me of these funds.
I shall reporteth on that score afore long.
Since you’ve been reanimated, have you been seen by a dentist? I know you Brits aren’t big on the whole “Brite Smile” thing, but for goodness sakes, I hope you’re not walking around with Austin Powers chompers—that is, if you have any teeth left . What did you guys do for teeth hygiene back in your time?
Signed,
The Tooth Fairy
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Though methinks thou dost jibe at my expense, I shall in good faith enlighten thee with a most earnest and helpful answer to thy query.
While from my recent understanding 'tis true that the persons of my native isle have become most deliquent in their habits of mouthly maintenance, 'twas not always the case. For sooth, the persons of England (I canst not speak here to the dental regimes of the savage and unwashed Scots and Welsh) were once much admired for the goodly and healthy sheen of their teeth. However, what now be desirable--a palate of glistening white--wast in my time seen as most hideous. To have one's teeth be black wast the height of sophistication and priviledge.
Allow me to explain:
In the England of my first life, sugar wast a most novel and highly sought commodity. In the fashion of the time, any person who couldst afford it didst add sugar to any and every foodstuff available--eggs, wine, cheese, meat, ale, bread, etc. Thus, any such person who didst have the resources to eat of sugar regularly didst quite rapidly experience a profound blackening of the teeth. And so it came to pass that black teeth were not seen, as they are today, as a sign of decrepitude, but as one of high and prosperous stature. It followeth then without need of explanation that poor and peasantly people who couldst not avail themselves of sugar didst nonetheless also seek to blacken their teeth with whatever means they didst have at hand. Soot wast particularly plentiful and goodly for this purpose. It didst tend to make one's mouth most rank and one's breath most unpleasant, but, as hast always been the case, beauty dost come at a high price.
When I wast first reinvigorated after my repose in the bog, my teeth didst appear in there natural brownish state. Thus, I didst immediately seek to besoot them. However, there being no stoves or chimneys in my current dwelling, I wast forced to useth of mud. My captors (the so-called scientists who do watch and monitor my every motion) were most aggreived and perplexed by the practice, and didst entreat me to halt forthwith. They didst explain to me the current trend and suggested I use of an unction calleth Crest White Strips. I didst placeth of these films upon my teeth, but they being most minty and refreshing, I didst eat them afore they couldst do their work. Thus, my teeth still be of a brown and undesirable hue. I am told I shall need a goodly sum of money to have a dentician placeth wee plates upon my teeth in order that they should be evermore white and glisteny. I am currently at work on a plan which should avail me of these funds.
I shall reporteth on that score afore long.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Palin
Dear Wise One,
Given your proven ability with twisting sentences and odd diction, could you please help me understand what Palin means in the quote below?
O'REILLY: Do you believe that you are smart enough, incisive enough, intellectual enough to handle the most powerful job in the world?
PALIN: I believe that I am because I have common sense and I have -- I believe the values that are reflective of so many other American values. And I believe that what Americans are seeking is not the elitism, the kind of a spineless -- a spinelessness that perhaps is made up for that with some kind of elite Ivy League education and a fat resume that's based on anything but hard work and private sector, free enterprise principles. Americans are -- could be seeking something like that in positive change in their leadership. I'm not saying that that has to be me.
Thank you,
A Non-Alaskan
Dear Non-Alaskan,
Thy query is most inspired and most timely. For just this noon, whilst I studied my television array, I didst clap eyes for the first time upon this Sarah Palin. It wouldst be of too small stuff to sayest only that my life hath changed. If I had here endless pages I couldst not come close to imparting the raging sea of emotion I didst feel in that moment. Thus, I shall not in prose attempt to touch't. I shall instead affix my fancy to the one instrument whose sole purpose ist to sayeth pointedly that which cannot be said with a million monotone utterings: Song.
For sooth, I take not lightly the task which I hath undertaken, and I hope thou wilt forgive the impetuous nature of my confession. But whilst I did gaze upon her, a fit of amorousness and betwitchment o'ercame me such as I hath never before felt, and in that feverish moment I didst see fit to most spontaneously pen this very ballad.
Nota Bene: Please be kind. 'Tis still but a work in much progress. Methinks it shall be sung to the tune of "Lo, How a Rose Ere Blooming." However, if thou findest the meter be not quite right, tryest ye "Hello" by the minstrel Lionel Ritchie. I hath heard Master Ritchie sing of this lament o'er the musical array of my neighbor. 'Twas a most remarkable experience, for it did raiseth in me at once the twin desires to both weep and vomit. Thus, 'tis most fitting, as I didst feel much the same upon first seeing the fair wench Palin.
What, ho!
Sarah be my true love's name
She dost carry the name of a Jewess,
Yet hath the mane of a French courtesan,
Who being most dainty and upright in public,
Wilst consent to and relish any act, natural or un,
thou wishest to perform upon her.
Her bespectacled visage also calleth to mind a Jew,
But an old man-Jew, who wilt not part with a shilling,
Just as she wilt not part with my heart.
Oh, how her mouth be a bow!
Would that I couldst untie't!
How I should swoon that I might then re-tie
It round that part of me which doth ache
Most for her.
And finally I would to be a great moose,
Who being shot and kill'd by her dost
Repose upon her stately table
While she eateth of him.
Eateth of me, Sister Sarah.
Eatheth of me!
I am but sure thou hath many questions regarding this fair work of art. And I am doubly sure thou wishest to heap plaudits upon me for being the progenitor of such a beauteous and powerful effort. However, to applaud or explicate this masterpiece any further than what God hath already made manifest in its nature would be to dash the reason for penning it in the first instance. Thus, I shall leave it there. And there I shall leave it thus.
Now, to the point: For aught that I can tell, Mistress Sarah do speaketh gibberish--even taking into account the lowly standard to which the Queen's English hath of late sunk. And yet it appeareth as though she hath penned a book of goodly size. I'm am much perplexed as to the matter of this book. I didst try most vigorously to deduced this from her speaking, but wast left stymied by the effort. 'Tis a sad thing, yet goodly in a way. As I hath not the knowledge of the true wisdom the tome doth hold, I be free to invent it for myself.
Thus, I shall chose to imagine it containeth images showing fair Sarah in various stages of undress--perhaps posing in a modern swimming costume whilst bearing a musket. I know: 'tis a most fanciful and far-fetched ideation. But 'tis mine own.
Given your proven ability with twisting sentences and odd diction, could you please help me understand what Palin means in the quote below?
O'REILLY: Do you believe that you are smart enough, incisive enough, intellectual enough to handle the most powerful job in the world?
PALIN: I believe that I am because I have common sense and I have -- I believe the values that are reflective of so many other American values. And I believe that what Americans are seeking is not the elitism, the kind of a spineless -- a spinelessness that perhaps is made up for that with some kind of elite Ivy League education and a fat resume that's based on anything but hard work and private sector, free enterprise principles. Americans are -- could be seeking something like that in positive change in their leadership. I'm not saying that that has to be me.
Thank you,
A Non-Alaskan
Dear Non-Alaskan,
Thy query is most inspired and most timely. For just this noon, whilst I studied my television array, I didst clap eyes for the first time upon this Sarah Palin. It wouldst be of too small stuff to sayest only that my life hath changed. If I had here endless pages I couldst not come close to imparting the raging sea of emotion I didst feel in that moment. Thus, I shall not in prose attempt to touch't. I shall instead affix my fancy to the one instrument whose sole purpose ist to sayeth pointedly that which cannot be said with a million monotone utterings: Song.
For sooth, I take not lightly the task which I hath undertaken, and I hope thou wilt forgive the impetuous nature of my confession. But whilst I did gaze upon her, a fit of amorousness and betwitchment o'ercame me such as I hath never before felt, and in that feverish moment I didst see fit to most spontaneously pen this very ballad.
Nota Bene: Please be kind. 'Tis still but a work in much progress. Methinks it shall be sung to the tune of "Lo, How a Rose Ere Blooming." However, if thou findest the meter be not quite right, tryest ye "Hello" by the minstrel Lionel Ritchie. I hath heard Master Ritchie sing of this lament o'er the musical array of my neighbor. 'Twas a most remarkable experience, for it did raiseth in me at once the twin desires to both weep and vomit. Thus, 'tis most fitting, as I didst feel much the same upon first seeing the fair wench Palin.
What, ho!
Sarah be my true love's name
She dost carry the name of a Jewess,
Yet hath the mane of a French courtesan,
Who being most dainty and upright in public,
Wilst consent to and relish any act, natural or un,
thou wishest to perform upon her.
Her bespectacled visage also calleth to mind a Jew,
But an old man-Jew, who wilt not part with a shilling,
Just as she wilt not part with my heart.
Oh, how her mouth be a bow!
Would that I couldst untie't!
How I should swoon that I might then re-tie
It round that part of me which doth ache
Most for her.
And finally I would to be a great moose,
Who being shot and kill'd by her dost
Repose upon her stately table
While she eateth of him.
Eateth of me, Sister Sarah.
Eatheth of me!
I am but sure thou hath many questions regarding this fair work of art. And I am doubly sure thou wishest to heap plaudits upon me for being the progenitor of such a beauteous and powerful effort. However, to applaud or explicate this masterpiece any further than what God hath already made manifest in its nature would be to dash the reason for penning it in the first instance. Thus, I shall leave it there. And there I shall leave it thus.
Now, to the point: For aught that I can tell, Mistress Sarah do speaketh gibberish--even taking into account the lowly standard to which the Queen's English hath of late sunk. And yet it appeareth as though she hath penned a book of goodly size. I'm am much perplexed as to the matter of this book. I didst try most vigorously to deduced this from her speaking, but wast left stymied by the effort. 'Tis a sad thing, yet goodly in a way. As I hath not the knowledge of the true wisdom the tome doth hold, I be free to invent it for myself.
Thus, I shall chose to imagine it containeth images showing fair Sarah in various stages of undress--perhaps posing in a modern swimming costume whilst bearing a musket. I know: 'tis a most fanciful and far-fetched ideation. But 'tis mine own.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Amazons
Rodger,
Thank you for letting us ask you questions. I have a philosophical question for you. If God is created in Man's image, what does he use his Male Apparatus for?
Sincerely,
Constellation of Orion Star Gazer
Dear COOSG,
Thou shalt not findeth it within the rigid and most inexorable pages of the modern canon, but there doth exist a certain apocryphal tale which speaketh directly to thy query.
Allow me to enlighten thee with a bit of history.
There wast a period of time, occurring both during and around that which I do now call my "first life," wherein my native island didst share a most upheavious and desultory relationship with the Holy Church of Rome. According to the whims and machinations of whomsoever didst serve in the role of monarch, England didst regard itself as Catholic, then Protestant, then Catholic, then Protestant again. Whilst to royal personages and the aristocracy these designations were but political fashions to be worn like so many ruffled picadillies, the common persons of the country were truly befuddled, and didst wonder most earnestly to which church they should bind their allegiances, and as it doth follow, their immortal souls.
Sensing this general drift of confusion, those in the leadership of both churches didst seek to curry favor with the general populace, and therefore didst offer unto it that which they thought might sway affections in one direction or another. For example, for a time the Catholic church didst hold firm to the decree that swine, cow, fowl and poultry were indeed fish, and therefore couldst be eaten even during Lenten periods. In response, the Protestant church didst announce postehaste that all creatures were indeed fish, including humans. In this roundabout way they did seek to do away with not only prohibitions surrounding diet and Lenten comportment, but also those regarding incest, sodomy and cannibalism--among many others. ('Tis a most difficult path of thought to follow, but it seemst the thinking amongst church leadership wast that, as fishes are well known to engage in the most heretofore odious practice of eating of one another, and therefore most likely engageth in all other forms of deviant behavior, the human brand of fish couldst not be found at fault for doing but the same.)
Aside from the more corporeal brands of enticement the churches didst employee to woo potential parishioners, they didst also seek to bestow upon the people written material of a religious nature which wouldst spark their dramatic and often prurient imaginations. As 'twas deemed sacrilidgeous to alter the Holy Bible in any way, they didst add unto the apocrypha, which always didst and still doth dwell about the fringes of the church, matter which wouldst today be sold alongside the most common and salacious romances.
One such piece of writing wast the Book of Tim. The provenance of said book was never firmly established, though 'tis thought that perhaps Mr. Thomas Cromwell himself did pen't. In the book of Tim, there is a certain period of history detailed which is not among the accepted stories of the Bible. It beginneth with the creation of heaven and earth. This much be the same. But betwixt the genesis and the time of Adam and Eve, there wast a new and, in mine own mind, exciting tale.
The Book of Tim doth assert that before Adam and Eve there dwelt upon the earth a race of giant amazons. These amazons didst live among the steamy jungles and rivers of a now lost continent. As their name doth suggest, there wast no men among there numbers. and thus they hadst no means of replenishing the earth with their progeny. According to the Book of Tim, 'twas the duty of God himself to dally with these amazons and impregnate them. Furthermore, 'twas the rollicking and most physically aggressive nature of these dalliances that didst mark our fair earth with the landscape it doth now possess.
The relations betwixt God and the amazons didst sour when God didst learn of the homosexual practices of the amazons and the great skill with which they pleased one another. He found it not so much morally objectionable, but didst lament greatly and become enraged that he wast never invited to partake in the merriment.
Thus, the amazons didst die out, and after many eons and much reflection, God didst see fit to populate the earth with humankind.
Thus, thy question be answered.
Thank you for letting us ask you questions. I have a philosophical question for you. If God is created in Man's image, what does he use his Male Apparatus for?
Sincerely,
Constellation of Orion Star Gazer
Dear COOSG,
Thou shalt not findeth it within the rigid and most inexorable pages of the modern canon, but there doth exist a certain apocryphal tale which speaketh directly to thy query.
Allow me to enlighten thee with a bit of history.
There wast a period of time, occurring both during and around that which I do now call my "first life," wherein my native island didst share a most upheavious and desultory relationship with the Holy Church of Rome. According to the whims and machinations of whomsoever didst serve in the role of monarch, England didst regard itself as Catholic, then Protestant, then Catholic, then Protestant again. Whilst to royal personages and the aristocracy these designations were but political fashions to be worn like so many ruffled picadillies, the common persons of the country were truly befuddled, and didst wonder most earnestly to which church they should bind their allegiances, and as it doth follow, their immortal souls.
Sensing this general drift of confusion, those in the leadership of both churches didst seek to curry favor with the general populace, and therefore didst offer unto it that which they thought might sway affections in one direction or another. For example, for a time the Catholic church didst hold firm to the decree that swine, cow, fowl and poultry were indeed fish, and therefore couldst be eaten even during Lenten periods. In response, the Protestant church didst announce postehaste that all creatures were indeed fish, including humans. In this roundabout way they did seek to do away with not only prohibitions surrounding diet and Lenten comportment, but also those regarding incest, sodomy and cannibalism--among many others. ('Tis a most difficult path of thought to follow, but it seemst the thinking amongst church leadership wast that, as fishes are well known to engage in the most heretofore odious practice of eating of one another, and therefore most likely engageth in all other forms of deviant behavior, the human brand of fish couldst not be found at fault for doing but the same.)
Aside from the more corporeal brands of enticement the churches didst employee to woo potential parishioners, they didst also seek to bestow upon the people written material of a religious nature which wouldst spark their dramatic and often prurient imaginations. As 'twas deemed sacrilidgeous to alter the Holy Bible in any way, they didst add unto the apocrypha, which always didst and still doth dwell about the fringes of the church, matter which wouldst today be sold alongside the most common and salacious romances.
One such piece of writing wast the Book of Tim. The provenance of said book was never firmly established, though 'tis thought that perhaps Mr. Thomas Cromwell himself did pen't. In the book of Tim, there is a certain period of history detailed which is not among the accepted stories of the Bible. It beginneth with the creation of heaven and earth. This much be the same. But betwixt the genesis and the time of Adam and Eve, there wast a new and, in mine own mind, exciting tale.
The Book of Tim doth assert that before Adam and Eve there dwelt upon the earth a race of giant amazons. These amazons didst live among the steamy jungles and rivers of a now lost continent. As their name doth suggest, there wast no men among there numbers. and thus they hadst no means of replenishing the earth with their progeny. According to the Book of Tim, 'twas the duty of God himself to dally with these amazons and impregnate them. Furthermore, 'twas the rollicking and most physically aggressive nature of these dalliances that didst mark our fair earth with the landscape it doth now possess.
The relations betwixt God and the amazons didst sour when God didst learn of the homosexual practices of the amazons and the great skill with which they pleased one another. He found it not so much morally objectionable, but didst lament greatly and become enraged that he wast never invited to partake in the merriment.
Thus, the amazons didst die out, and after many eons and much reflection, God didst see fit to populate the earth with humankind.
Thus, thy question be answered.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Latin or Greek?
Dear Sir,
What is your opinion--Should women be taught Latin or Greek?
Signed,
Concerned Gatekeeper of the Grammatical Verities
Dear GOTGV,
By way of preface, allow me to impart unto thee a pertinent matter regarding mine own history. Whilst it is manifest to any who do read of my words that I be a man of great learning and rhetorical graciousness, 'tis also true that I didst reach my current mastery of language whilst following a somewhat circuitous path. I have not learning in the traditional sense, you see. In fact, thou wilt be much shocked to learn I didst pass but only a fornight in grammar school. For upon the end of that short period I wast expelled for pissing into the stove that did serve as a means of heat for the schoolhouse in which my classmates and I didst learn. Mind ye, I did it not out of maliciousness or sheer obstinacy. 'Twas merely a jolly jibe I didst employ to rouse the spirits of my classmates, who were much beleaguered by the most uninspiring utterances of our schoolmaster. I wast then but 7 years of age, and as thou knowest, boys be transfixed by fire. 'Tis the same now as in my youth. 'Twas my aim but only to amaze my mates with the great crackling hiss that dost occur when thou squirteth upon a fire, and to dazzle them with the goodly clouds of steam that didst issueth forth.
However, as I hath said, I was but 7, and didst not take into consideration all pertinent variables . You see, 'twas the habit of my mother in those days to provideth unto her children a hearty charge of strong liquor of a cold winter morning. She didst believe, and I still be now inclined to agree, that drinking of spirits didst not only serve to warm and comfort a body, but to protect it from plague, cholera, dysentary and all manner of dis-ease which one was wont to encounter in Londontown. However, the particular morning of this incident I didst not only drinketh of mine own ration of liquor, but also didst unbeknownst to my mother steal and drink of the liquor of that portion of my siblings who were but babes and unable to voice any discernable complaint. Thus, whilst I didst feel most warm, comfortable and steeled against illness, my piss wast not far removed from kerosene.
Thou canst surely deduce how this tale doth end. Before the ashes of what had once been the schoolhouse didst settle, I wast whisked away from the home of my parents and forced to dwell for nigh on four years within the walls of Newgate Prison.
As thou canst imagine, whilst a wee lad in Newgate I didst suffer many hardships and indignities. They be too numerous to detail here. However, I didst also meeteth a man who would in these years become my mentor and boon companion. He wast called Father Samuel. He wast at one time a priest in the church of St. Mary Aldermanbury. Many years afore I didst meet him he was most unceremoniously defrocked and imprisoned for the offense of having spoken to his flock of the righteousness of the theses of Martin Luther. That, and he hath also trained those alterboys who didst serve under him to speak Spanish and dresseth in the manner of Katherine of Aragon.
With the guidance of Father Samuel, I didst not only avail myself of the right and goodly use of my mother tongue, but also the ancient and most learned languages of Latin and Greek. As Latin was, as it still is, used as the language of medicine, Father Samuel didst use my own body and the anatomy thereof to maketh goodly and very exacting examples. (I canst still feel the pinch of his fingers any time I do here uttered the word "scrotum.")
He didst teacheth me Greek by way of mathematical models wherein I didst measure various and sundry angles pertinent to our daily activities--namely, the circumference of my various holes in relation to that of his member. He wast a goodly instructor. Whensoever I might cry out, as I often did, he wouldst subtly remind that in this way the great masters of antiquity--Archimedes, Euclid, Pythagoras--didst also learneth of the motions of the heavens and earth. (And on the subject of learning, 'tis no mistake that the fraternal organizations of today's universities be called "Greek.")
Bearing all this in mind, methinks it be a good and right thing to teacheth ancient languages to wenches, but only if their teachers be their husbands. The details of the above account shouldst imparteth unto the why I believe this be the case.
What is your opinion--Should women be taught Latin or Greek?
Signed,
Concerned Gatekeeper of the Grammatical Verities
Dear GOTGV,
By way of preface, allow me to impart unto thee a pertinent matter regarding mine own history. Whilst it is manifest to any who do read of my words that I be a man of great learning and rhetorical graciousness, 'tis also true that I didst reach my current mastery of language whilst following a somewhat circuitous path. I have not learning in the traditional sense, you see. In fact, thou wilt be much shocked to learn I didst pass but only a fornight in grammar school. For upon the end of that short period I wast expelled for pissing into the stove that did serve as a means of heat for the schoolhouse in which my classmates and I didst learn. Mind ye, I did it not out of maliciousness or sheer obstinacy. 'Twas merely a jolly jibe I didst employ to rouse the spirits of my classmates, who were much beleaguered by the most uninspiring utterances of our schoolmaster. I wast then but 7 years of age, and as thou knowest, boys be transfixed by fire. 'Tis the same now as in my youth. 'Twas my aim but only to amaze my mates with the great crackling hiss that dost occur when thou squirteth upon a fire, and to dazzle them with the goodly clouds of steam that didst issueth forth.
However, as I hath said, I was but 7, and didst not take into consideration all pertinent variables . You see, 'twas the habit of my mother in those days to provideth unto her children a hearty charge of strong liquor of a cold winter morning. She didst believe, and I still be now inclined to agree, that drinking of spirits didst not only serve to warm and comfort a body, but to protect it from plague, cholera, dysentary and all manner of dis-ease which one was wont to encounter in Londontown. However, the particular morning of this incident I didst not only drinketh of mine own ration of liquor, but also didst unbeknownst to my mother steal and drink of the liquor of that portion of my siblings who were but babes and unable to voice any discernable complaint. Thus, whilst I didst feel most warm, comfortable and steeled against illness, my piss wast not far removed from kerosene.
Thou canst surely deduce how this tale doth end. Before the ashes of what had once been the schoolhouse didst settle, I wast whisked away from the home of my parents and forced to dwell for nigh on four years within the walls of Newgate Prison.
As thou canst imagine, whilst a wee lad in Newgate I didst suffer many hardships and indignities. They be too numerous to detail here. However, I didst also meeteth a man who would in these years become my mentor and boon companion. He wast called Father Samuel. He wast at one time a priest in the church of St. Mary Aldermanbury. Many years afore I didst meet him he was most unceremoniously defrocked and imprisoned for the offense of having spoken to his flock of the righteousness of the theses of Martin Luther. That, and he hath also trained those alterboys who didst serve under him to speak Spanish and dresseth in the manner of Katherine of Aragon.
With the guidance of Father Samuel, I didst not only avail myself of the right and goodly use of my mother tongue, but also the ancient and most learned languages of Latin and Greek. As Latin was, as it still is, used as the language of medicine, Father Samuel didst use my own body and the anatomy thereof to maketh goodly and very exacting examples. (I canst still feel the pinch of his fingers any time I do here uttered the word "scrotum.")
He didst teacheth me Greek by way of mathematical models wherein I didst measure various and sundry angles pertinent to our daily activities--namely, the circumference of my various holes in relation to that of his member. He wast a goodly instructor. Whensoever I might cry out, as I often did, he wouldst subtly remind that in this way the great masters of antiquity--Archimedes, Euclid, Pythagoras--didst also learneth of the motions of the heavens and earth. (And on the subject of learning, 'tis no mistake that the fraternal organizations of today's universities be called "Greek.")
Bearing all this in mind, methinks it be a good and right thing to teacheth ancient languages to wenches, but only if their teachers be their husbands. The details of the above account shouldst imparteth unto the why I believe this be the case.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Down and Out
Dear Rodger,
I have found myself in the most unfortunate position. I have lost my job and subsequently my home. My wife has left me and taken the kids with her. I am very much in love with her but feel that there is nothing I can do to win her back. My efforts to obtain employment have been fruitless and I am thinking of turning to alcohol or drugs to drown my sorrows. Any ideas on what I can do to win back my lovely lady?
Down and Out
Dear Down and Out,
I firstly do offer unto thee my deepest sympathies. My own Susanna didst abandon me many a time, and therefore I knowest there be nothing more vexing than a ladywife run amok. In their periods of wand'ring, errant wenches do seem to tappest into and avail themselves of the innately witchy and harpish skills they do all possess, but most often keep hid. For just as thou art relishing the sweet and licentious breeze of an unexpected second bachelorhood, thy ladywife senseth it and returnst forthwith, most usually having degraded from her already lowly state in both appearance and report. A most strange and eerie thing 'tis. It be almost as if she hath left for the express purpose that she might venture into the deepest woods and linger there with the runaway wenches of other villages, and that there they hath taken turns to beat upon each other with an ugly stick. Perhaps most distressing, when they do leaveth with children in tow, they do always returneth with children in tow. Couldst they not in their most lunatical truancy drowneth but one of them, or simply leaveth one in a particuarly dark copse as chum for bandits or gypsies? Be much encautioned, in fact, for I hath heard tell of wenches who didst flea with children numbering three and return with no less than five. The word hath now passed out of fashion, but these children who didst appear most mysteriously were calleth "amblekins." In my day there wast much scuttle that Queen Mary herself wast one.
Now, to thy query. 'Tis most strange to me that thou wishest thy wench to return. However, I do not judge. I am but here to humbly counsel as best I am able. Thus, doest thus:
First thou must securest a trade. As I hath here mentioned priorly, I wast borne into a great line of piss pot makers and sellers. 'Tis not a vocation for the faint of heart, but thou couldst do much worse. 'Tis but simple to maketh of the pots themselves. Any imbecile couldst do't. The true craft of the work doth come whenst thou must repairest a pot that hath been damaged. Thou wouldst be much surprised how the urinal stream of a man, if it hath been held for a goodly time, canst greatly bendeth even a stout pot of copper or tin. One boon of this trade is that thou canst watch from a secret and hidden remove whilst wenches do browse in thy shoppe and gander upon the pots there displayed. 'Tis most piquing to see how they squatteth over and testeth various pots for feel and comfort.
Second, thou must secure lodgings. 'Tis not the most desirous scenario in terms of thy health, but if thou movest into a village where plague hath recently wrought much suffering and death, thou canst find goodly bargains upon empty dwellings. Merry, if thou goest to a village wherein all those people who hath formerly dwelt hath been killed, thou canst chose any house that pleaseth ye and pay naught.
Third, confereth ye with thy ladywife's father. Considereth of this example: If thou didst make purchase of a goose from thy neighbor, and subsequently that goose didst develop a mighty distemper or refuseth to lay eggs, though wouldst seek counsel or remuneration from thy neighbor, wouldst thou not? 'Tis the same with wenches. As a goose doth pass from possession of one neighbor to another, so too does a wench pass from the chattel of her father to that of her husband. 'Tis much likely that when thy wench wast a but a lass, her father didst learn, through much trial and error, strategems that couldst make her behave with greater obedience and candor--strategems which thou hast not yet had enough hours to discover. Perchance he knoweth just the right amount of pressure with which to throttle her, or the type of broom with which to beat her upon the face and shoulders. If he knowest of these tricks not, it meanst that he hath spared the rod when thy wife was but young, and 'tis why she be now spoiled.
In this case, thou canst attempt to forceth him to pay monies unto thee for thy troubles. If he be poor and haveth no money, not all is lost. Asketh him to give unto thee another, better-tempered daugther, one younger and more comely, whose flesh be not stretched hither and yon by the kicking of babes within her.
By way of closing, rememberest this maxim tried and true: Be most careful of that for which thou hast wisht. Be ye sure that thou desireth thy ladwife's return. For while this counsel may indeed serve to furnish her homecoming, there be nothing thou canst do to make her leave again until it be in her mind to do so.
I have found myself in the most unfortunate position. I have lost my job and subsequently my home. My wife has left me and taken the kids with her. I am very much in love with her but feel that there is nothing I can do to win her back. My efforts to obtain employment have been fruitless and I am thinking of turning to alcohol or drugs to drown my sorrows. Any ideas on what I can do to win back my lovely lady?
Down and Out
Dear Down and Out,
I firstly do offer unto thee my deepest sympathies. My own Susanna didst abandon me many a time, and therefore I knowest there be nothing more vexing than a ladywife run amok. In their periods of wand'ring, errant wenches do seem to tappest into and avail themselves of the innately witchy and harpish skills they do all possess, but most often keep hid. For just as thou art relishing the sweet and licentious breeze of an unexpected second bachelorhood, thy ladywife senseth it and returnst forthwith, most usually having degraded from her already lowly state in both appearance and report. A most strange and eerie thing 'tis. It be almost as if she hath left for the express purpose that she might venture into the deepest woods and linger there with the runaway wenches of other villages, and that there they hath taken turns to beat upon each other with an ugly stick. Perhaps most distressing, when they do leaveth with children in tow, they do always returneth with children in tow. Couldst they not in their most lunatical truancy drowneth but one of them, or simply leaveth one in a particuarly dark copse as chum for bandits or gypsies? Be much encautioned, in fact, for I hath heard tell of wenches who didst flea with children numbering three and return with no less than five. The word hath now passed out of fashion, but these children who didst appear most mysteriously were calleth "amblekins." In my day there wast much scuttle that Queen Mary herself wast one.
Now, to thy query. 'Tis most strange to me that thou wishest thy wench to return. However, I do not judge. I am but here to humbly counsel as best I am able. Thus, doest thus:
First thou must securest a trade. As I hath here mentioned priorly, I wast borne into a great line of piss pot makers and sellers. 'Tis not a vocation for the faint of heart, but thou couldst do much worse. 'Tis but simple to maketh of the pots themselves. Any imbecile couldst do't. The true craft of the work doth come whenst thou must repairest a pot that hath been damaged. Thou wouldst be much surprised how the urinal stream of a man, if it hath been held for a goodly time, canst greatly bendeth even a stout pot of copper or tin. One boon of this trade is that thou canst watch from a secret and hidden remove whilst wenches do browse in thy shoppe and gander upon the pots there displayed. 'Tis most piquing to see how they squatteth over and testeth various pots for feel and comfort.
Second, thou must secure lodgings. 'Tis not the most desirous scenario in terms of thy health, but if thou movest into a village where plague hath recently wrought much suffering and death, thou canst find goodly bargains upon empty dwellings. Merry, if thou goest to a village wherein all those people who hath formerly dwelt hath been killed, thou canst chose any house that pleaseth ye and pay naught.
Third, confereth ye with thy ladywife's father. Considereth of this example: If thou didst make purchase of a goose from thy neighbor, and subsequently that goose didst develop a mighty distemper or refuseth to lay eggs, though wouldst seek counsel or remuneration from thy neighbor, wouldst thou not? 'Tis the same with wenches. As a goose doth pass from possession of one neighbor to another, so too does a wench pass from the chattel of her father to that of her husband. 'Tis much likely that when thy wench wast a but a lass, her father didst learn, through much trial and error, strategems that couldst make her behave with greater obedience and candor--strategems which thou hast not yet had enough hours to discover. Perchance he knoweth just the right amount of pressure with which to throttle her, or the type of broom with which to beat her upon the face and shoulders. If he knowest of these tricks not, it meanst that he hath spared the rod when thy wife was but young, and 'tis why she be now spoiled.
In this case, thou canst attempt to forceth him to pay monies unto thee for thy troubles. If he be poor and haveth no money, not all is lost. Asketh him to give unto thee another, better-tempered daugther, one younger and more comely, whose flesh be not stretched hither and yon by the kicking of babes within her.
By way of closing, rememberest this maxim tried and true: Be most careful of that for which thou hast wisht. Be ye sure that thou desireth thy ladwife's return. For while this counsel may indeed serve to furnish her homecoming, there be nothing thou canst do to make her leave again until it be in her mind to do so.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Love Embargo'ed
Dear Mr. Goodwyn,
My boyfriend is coming to stay with my family for Christmas, but my parents won't let us sleep in the same room! Instead, they're making him share bunk beds with my little brother. I don't want to fight with them, but it seems like a silly rule. My friends are calling it the "Love Embargo" - so embarrassing! What should I do?
Signed,
Love Embargo'ed
Dear Love Embargo'ed,
Though 'tis not much employed amongst even the venerablest apothecaries, I knowest of a preparation which, if manufactured with great care and precision, canst render lusty and aswoon the most frigid and abstemious personages.
Follow ye this recipe (I be so poetical in nature I do but rhyme most accidentally):
Findeth a goodly sprig of foxglove. Taketh from it six or seven of the largest flowers.
Crush ye the flowers with a mortar and pestil until they be made a fine powder. Placeth the powder into a brass bowl.
Bedew the powder with a goodly amount of spittle, then coverest the bowl with the pelt of a grey stoat.
Waiteth for this preparation to fester, nigh on thirty hours and six. Whensoever the powder doth take on a browish hue, addeth to it a pint of water and stirreth of it most vigorously.
Now the preparation be complete.
Whilst thy kinfolk do make merry in celebration of Christmastide, watchest thou closely that which thy parents do drink. At some late point in the evening, perhaps after thou hast completed the goodly Christmastide activities which most families do enjoy--sharing of a playful dalliance 'neath the mistletoe with thy uncle or re-enacting the ass-riding of Mary and Joseph--thou shouldst take action. Emergeth ye with fresh flagons of drink for thy mother and father, but only after thou hast into them placed a smallish portion of thy foxglove tonic. They need not drinketh heartily. But one or two goodly sips shouldst be enough.
Within an hour's time, thy mother and father shall begin to behaveth queerly. Perchance they might nibbleth of ear other's ears, or thy mother might begin to pull mightily upon thy father's beard, all the while speaking in hushed tones of her own beard and how she wiseth the twain shall meet anon.
When all have retired, station thyself at the door of thy parents' bedchambers. Within a short time, though willst hear the slapping, tickling and cooing that doth accompany a goodly couple who be in the midst of most true and candid congress.
Of course, I do recognize it may be most troubling for thee to hearest thy mother and father whilst they do frolick amorously. I didst myself encounter this situation oft in my youth. I do recall feeling much frustrated in that I couldst with mine ears hear the proceedings, but as the bedchamber door be closed, see them not with mine eyes. 'Tis much like listening to the nightengale's sweet song and viewing not its beauteous appearance, or clapping thy eyes upon a sweet crumpet and eating it not. 'Tis vexing indeed, but thou most turn thy attention to the task at hand.
Now, as thy foxglove preparation indeed be powerful stuff, thou canst be assured thy parents shall not stir from their quarters for at least one day, and perhaps two. Thus, thou canst stealest away to thy bedchamber with thy lover in tow and worry not for thy privacy.
Here I should much like to maketh note of a caveat.
Take ye great care to quickly dispose of that portion of the tonic that do remain. Most especially, ensure that thy beau dost not drinketh of it. As he art already young and most lusty, he needeth it not to plow unto thee most mightily and for a goodly period. Of even more import, if he do drinketh of it and then retire to the bedchamber of thy wee brother, thou couldst have disaster upon thy hands. Thy brother shall be most injured of psyche and body. Merry, he shall not sitteth down again for some time without great distress. And thou wilt be rendered unto thy beau most unnecessary. For once a man doth tasteth of the flesh of a young boy, 'tis most impossible to persuade him to seek pleasure again from a woman. I hath seen this scenario played out many a time, and 'tis much to be avoided.
My boyfriend is coming to stay with my family for Christmas, but my parents won't let us sleep in the same room! Instead, they're making him share bunk beds with my little brother. I don't want to fight with them, but it seems like a silly rule. My friends are calling it the "Love Embargo" - so embarrassing! What should I do?
Signed,
Love Embargo'ed
Dear Love Embargo'ed,
Though 'tis not much employed amongst even the venerablest apothecaries, I knowest of a preparation which, if manufactured with great care and precision, canst render lusty and aswoon the most frigid and abstemious personages.
Follow ye this recipe (I be so poetical in nature I do but rhyme most accidentally):
Findeth a goodly sprig of foxglove. Taketh from it six or seven of the largest flowers.
Crush ye the flowers with a mortar and pestil until they be made a fine powder. Placeth the powder into a brass bowl.
Bedew the powder with a goodly amount of spittle, then coverest the bowl with the pelt of a grey stoat.
Waiteth for this preparation to fester, nigh on thirty hours and six. Whensoever the powder doth take on a browish hue, addeth to it a pint of water and stirreth of it most vigorously.
Now the preparation be complete.
Whilst thy kinfolk do make merry in celebration of Christmastide, watchest thou closely that which thy parents do drink. At some late point in the evening, perhaps after thou hast completed the goodly Christmastide activities which most families do enjoy--sharing of a playful dalliance 'neath the mistletoe with thy uncle or re-enacting the ass-riding of Mary and Joseph--thou shouldst take action. Emergeth ye with fresh flagons of drink for thy mother and father, but only after thou hast into them placed a smallish portion of thy foxglove tonic. They need not drinketh heartily. But one or two goodly sips shouldst be enough.
Within an hour's time, thy mother and father shall begin to behaveth queerly. Perchance they might nibbleth of ear other's ears, or thy mother might begin to pull mightily upon thy father's beard, all the while speaking in hushed tones of her own beard and how she wiseth the twain shall meet anon.
When all have retired, station thyself at the door of thy parents' bedchambers. Within a short time, though willst hear the slapping, tickling and cooing that doth accompany a goodly couple who be in the midst of most true and candid congress.
Of course, I do recognize it may be most troubling for thee to hearest thy mother and father whilst they do frolick amorously. I didst myself encounter this situation oft in my youth. I do recall feeling much frustrated in that I couldst with mine ears hear the proceedings, but as the bedchamber door be closed, see them not with mine eyes. 'Tis much like listening to the nightengale's sweet song and viewing not its beauteous appearance, or clapping thy eyes upon a sweet crumpet and eating it not. 'Tis vexing indeed, but thou most turn thy attention to the task at hand.
Now, as thy foxglove preparation indeed be powerful stuff, thou canst be assured thy parents shall not stir from their quarters for at least one day, and perhaps two. Thus, thou canst stealest away to thy bedchamber with thy lover in tow and worry not for thy privacy.
Here I should much like to maketh note of a caveat.
Take ye great care to quickly dispose of that portion of the tonic that do remain. Most especially, ensure that thy beau dost not drinketh of it. As he art already young and most lusty, he needeth it not to plow unto thee most mightily and for a goodly period. Of even more import, if he do drinketh of it and then retire to the bedchamber of thy wee brother, thou couldst have disaster upon thy hands. Thy brother shall be most injured of psyche and body. Merry, he shall not sitteth down again for some time without great distress. And thou wilt be rendered unto thy beau most unnecessary. For once a man doth tasteth of the flesh of a young boy, 'tis most impossible to persuade him to seek pleasure again from a woman. I hath seen this scenario played out many a time, and 'tis much to be avoided.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Ronald
Rodger,
I'm fat, ugly and unemployed. I'm so lonely I just can't take it anymore. I've got nothing going for me. How do I begin to change things?
--Ronald
Dear Ronald,
As a young lad in Londontown, I didst in the course of my regular carousing and merry-making oft enjoy the company of a man called Ronald Pumfrey. He wast a good and jolly fellow, and much sought by the menfolk of Shoreditch as a drinking companion, being possessed as he was of a gift for the relating of tales at once suspenseful and bawdy, humorous and tearful. His good humor and wicked jest wast more infectious than the syphilis that didst in 1615 render mad a goodly portion of the vicars and alterboys in Fleet Street. His jibes and raconteuring were of such quality that he couldst in the course of an evening avail himself of a square meal and many pints of good ale--and make payment for naught. Those men who were about him didst fairly clamour to settle of his debts at night's end.
The charity and goodwill Mr. Pumfrey didst enjoy was quite a boon unto him, and most ironical in that he needed it not. For sooth, he wast the most successful pimp of Shoreditch, and didst have in his stable two-score comely whores who couldst in but a week's time line his purse with much of three pounds. I didst see with mine own eyes how the whores didst fight amongst themselves and jostle to be but close to him. To a wench they didst wish of life solely to be his ladywife, and failing that, to have him ride them most strenuously for as long a duration as wouldst not render him dead. Merry, he paid them not a penny, but still they didst happily shag every Tom, Dick or Harry who didst pass by, only that they might stay within his good graces.
Perhaps that which wast most remarkable concerning Mr. Pumfrey wast the very appearance of his personage. Firstly, he wast quite short. I should be much surprised if he couldst hunker upon the toilet for a goodly shit and have not this toes dangle high above the floor. He also was much bloated and corpulent, and foul odors didst issue without every orifice of his person. But one eyebrow he didst possess, and it runneth in a most crooked and inconsistent track from just above one ear to near that portion of the opposite side of his face where his hair didst begin to grow. His visage haveth great craters caused by cowpox, and of teeth he had but three. And yet never I saw a man more confident in his demeanor, more full of respect for his own person.
In short, he wast not laid low by that which God hath failed to bestow upon. He tooketh the few gifts he didst but have and turned them into bounty.
I relateth this tale because the outstanding personage within in wast called Ronald, as art thou. However, there endeth the similarities. I counsel thee to commit suicide.
I'm fat, ugly and unemployed. I'm so lonely I just can't take it anymore. I've got nothing going for me. How do I begin to change things?
--Ronald
Dear Ronald,
As a young lad in Londontown, I didst in the course of my regular carousing and merry-making oft enjoy the company of a man called Ronald Pumfrey. He wast a good and jolly fellow, and much sought by the menfolk of Shoreditch as a drinking companion, being possessed as he was of a gift for the relating of tales at once suspenseful and bawdy, humorous and tearful. His good humor and wicked jest wast more infectious than the syphilis that didst in 1615 render mad a goodly portion of the vicars and alterboys in Fleet Street. His jibes and raconteuring were of such quality that he couldst in the course of an evening avail himself of a square meal and many pints of good ale--and make payment for naught. Those men who were about him didst fairly clamour to settle of his debts at night's end.
The charity and goodwill Mr. Pumfrey didst enjoy was quite a boon unto him, and most ironical in that he needed it not. For sooth, he wast the most successful pimp of Shoreditch, and didst have in his stable two-score comely whores who couldst in but a week's time line his purse with much of three pounds. I didst see with mine own eyes how the whores didst fight amongst themselves and jostle to be but close to him. To a wench they didst wish of life solely to be his ladywife, and failing that, to have him ride them most strenuously for as long a duration as wouldst not render him dead. Merry, he paid them not a penny, but still they didst happily shag every Tom, Dick or Harry who didst pass by, only that they might stay within his good graces.
Perhaps that which wast most remarkable concerning Mr. Pumfrey wast the very appearance of his personage. Firstly, he wast quite short. I should be much surprised if he couldst hunker upon the toilet for a goodly shit and have not this toes dangle high above the floor. He also was much bloated and corpulent, and foul odors didst issue without every orifice of his person. But one eyebrow he didst possess, and it runneth in a most crooked and inconsistent track from just above one ear to near that portion of the opposite side of his face where his hair didst begin to grow. His visage haveth great craters caused by cowpox, and of teeth he had but three. And yet never I saw a man more confident in his demeanor, more full of respect for his own person.
In short, he wast not laid low by that which God hath failed to bestow upon. He tooketh the few gifts he didst but have and turned them into bounty.
I relateth this tale because the outstanding personage within in wast called Ronald, as art thou. However, there endeth the similarities. I counsel thee to commit suicide.
What's a Girl to Do
Dear Rodger,
A fair wench like myself has appreciated your steady and earnest counsel. I am faced with a dilemma. While I am not a loose woman, per se, I find myself physically attracted to various men, and desire them sexually. I do not care to be a loose or immoral woman, but alas, I am a human with basic needs. Your advice is appreciated.
Sincerely,
What's a Girl to Do
Dear What's a Girl to Do,
Unlike the greater portion of men in mine own time, I didst, and merry still most faithfully do, understandeth the need of wenches, just as men, to rid themselves of the sexual humours that do well up within them. For sooth, 'tis most dangerous that said humours shouldst become stagnant and fester. 'Tis this very condition that doth lead unto leprosy, and a great many other ailments that do plague and beleaguer both man and wench.
However, the mechanisms involved be greatly differing betwixt the sexes. Most men care not to learn themselves of these differences, for 'tis of no import to them. And as most wenches hath not availed themselves of even grammar school, and thus canst not readeth of the latest learnings concerning medicine and anatomy, they be much benighted concerning even their own bodily functionings.
As I be learned in all matters that doth concern bodies human, and most particulary those of wenches, alloweth me to enlighten thee.
Wenches haveth hell within their wombs. Merry, 'tis not hell proper, but a much shrunken and miniature version of that place where Lucifer doth dwell. And to that point, there be within this tiny hell also a wee and impish devil, a nephew to the aforementioned Prince of Darkness. He hath the name of Geoff. Geoff doth stoke the flames within a wench's womb. The measure of the stoking and the heat of the desire felt by the wench be directly proportionary to the sins said wench hath committed. Thus, the sisters of a priory or an aged spinster shall have but a meagre warmth within their loins, and with great ease they shall duly ignoreth it. However, when a wench be greatly prone to sin, she shall have within her an inferno that doth make her writhe with fits of passion and strumpetry. She canst only find relief of these flames by having them bedoused with the cooling seed of a man. When Geoff doth detect the presence of said seed, he doth repose for a time, content as he is that the wench hath been forced to supplicate herself to sin by lying with a man.
A fair wench like myself has appreciated your steady and earnest counsel. I am faced with a dilemma. While I am not a loose woman, per se, I find myself physically attracted to various men, and desire them sexually. I do not care to be a loose or immoral woman, but alas, I am a human with basic needs. Your advice is appreciated.
Sincerely,
What's a Girl to Do
Dear What's a Girl to Do,
Unlike the greater portion of men in mine own time, I didst, and merry still most faithfully do, understandeth the need of wenches, just as men, to rid themselves of the sexual humours that do well up within them. For sooth, 'tis most dangerous that said humours shouldst become stagnant and fester. 'Tis this very condition that doth lead unto leprosy, and a great many other ailments that do plague and beleaguer both man and wench.
However, the mechanisms involved be greatly differing betwixt the sexes. Most men care not to learn themselves of these differences, for 'tis of no import to them. And as most wenches hath not availed themselves of even grammar school, and thus canst not readeth of the latest learnings concerning medicine and anatomy, they be much benighted concerning even their own bodily functionings.
As I be learned in all matters that doth concern bodies human, and most particulary those of wenches, alloweth me to enlighten thee.
Wenches haveth hell within their wombs. Merry, 'tis not hell proper, but a much shrunken and miniature version of that place where Lucifer doth dwell. And to that point, there be within this tiny hell also a wee and impish devil, a nephew to the aforementioned Prince of Darkness. He hath the name of Geoff. Geoff doth stoke the flames within a wench's womb. The measure of the stoking and the heat of the desire felt by the wench be directly proportionary to the sins said wench hath committed. Thus, the sisters of a priory or an aged spinster shall have but a meagre warmth within their loins, and with great ease they shall duly ignoreth it. However, when a wench be greatly prone to sin, she shall have within her an inferno that doth make her writhe with fits of passion and strumpetry. She canst only find relief of these flames by having them bedoused with the cooling seed of a man. When Geoff doth detect the presence of said seed, he doth repose for a time, content as he is that the wench hath been forced to supplicate herself to sin by lying with a man.
Here Geoff may choseth of two courses. If the wench be truly insatiable, and Geoff knoweth she shall seek again to be ridden in short order, he shall resume to stoke the flames and again renew the cycle of lust and sexuality. 'Tis a good thing unto Geoff, for he knoweth such a wench shall be eventually consigned to hell. If the wench be sated by her encounter and shall seeketh not another man quickly, Geoff be much vexed, and shall punish her by within her constructing a baby child.
In order to completh this lesson, I should here quickly relate of the functionings of man. Man hath heaven in his seed. His duty, charged upon him by God, is to but lieth with the greatest number of wench he can secure, and thus offer unto them some period of time, short though it may be, to be cooled of their desires. Thus they may have some brief respite to reverse the foul course that be their nature. 'Tis most unlikely, but God not only scorneth but pity wenches, and he offereth unto them man to lead them in paths of righteousness.
Now, to thy point.
Thou art most obviously a grievous sinner. If thou canst mend thy ways, make of a regular and most humble confession and otherwise curtail thy felonious undertakings--be they larceny, avarice or gluttony--thou canst have relief of the burning betwixt thy legs and perchance reacheth of paradise. However, I feeleth within my bowels that thou art most irredeemable and shall not venture unto this goodly path. Thou shall seeketh to continue upon the way of the wicked and take great and laborious pains to have thy choice disrupt not thy pleasurable pursuits.
Though it be much of an imposition to me, I shall here most generously offer my services to thee. I hath been known, and merry it couldst be corroborated by many an incorrigible slattern if they were but still alive, to cure wenches of their wanton sluttery. With but a single passing of my tongue about their nether beard or a mighty thrust of my manhood within them I canst cool their fires so that they might take repossession of their wits and seek a most honest of Godly path. I am much convinced I couldst plow thee into the nunnery. Simply cometh ye to my village and asketh for Rodger. All about do know me and my reputation.
Merry, comest thou to Virginia, so that thou mightst commeth in Virginia.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Single and Undressed
Dear Rodger,
I broke up with my boyfriend in a manner that has left him angry and in no mood to see me. But he still has a lot of my things in his apartment, including my favorite dress, and several "unmentionables." How do I get my things back?
- Single and Undressed
Dear Single and Undressed,
'Tis unwise for a wench of thy lax and dubious honor to possesseth vestments of a fancy and expensive nature. Prone as thou art to engageth in sexual congress with any man who doth cross thy path, then take thy leave and entereth back unto the street in various stages of undress, thou wilt surely afore long be possessed of nary a single slatternly frock with which to warm or otherwise cover thy ravished flesh. Thou shouldst maketh or purchaseth bodily furnitures of the cheapest and most plentiful materials thou canst find. Think ye of burlap or even tanned and ruddy parchment. This plan shall then haveth two express advantages. Firstly, thy poor and meagre apparel shall signal to any menfolk who be nearby that they may at once at without protest mount thy body and do unto it that whichever they so desireth. Secondly, these garments may be then ripped easily from thy body or otherwise tattered whenever thou havest the desire to lie on thy back and gazeth upon the ceilings of various and sundry bedchambers, and it shall be of no consequence to thee. Thou canst merely emptieth thy potatoes from their goodly sack and fashioneth a new coat for thy body even before thy loins hath cooled.
I broke up with my boyfriend in a manner that has left him angry and in no mood to see me. But he still has a lot of my things in his apartment, including my favorite dress, and several "unmentionables." How do I get my things back?
- Single and Undressed
Dear Single and Undressed,
'Tis unwise for a wench of thy lax and dubious honor to possesseth vestments of a fancy and expensive nature. Prone as thou art to engageth in sexual congress with any man who doth cross thy path, then take thy leave and entereth back unto the street in various stages of undress, thou wilt surely afore long be possessed of nary a single slatternly frock with which to warm or otherwise cover thy ravished flesh. Thou shouldst maketh or purchaseth bodily furnitures of the cheapest and most plentiful materials thou canst find. Think ye of burlap or even tanned and ruddy parchment. This plan shall then haveth two express advantages. Firstly, thy poor and meagre apparel shall signal to any menfolk who be nearby that they may at once at without protest mount thy body and do unto it that whichever they so desireth. Secondly, these garments may be then ripped easily from thy body or otherwise tattered whenever thou havest the desire to lie on thy back and gazeth upon the ceilings of various and sundry bedchambers, and it shall be of no consequence to thee. Thou canst merely emptieth thy potatoes from their goodly sack and fashioneth a new coat for thy body even before thy loins hath cooled.
If thou art intent upon retrieving thy "unmentionables" from thy spurned lover, doest thus: Appear ye at his home in a manner most disheveled, taking care to cough much and expel goodly portions of phlegm and spittle from thy mouth. Impart unto him that through thy many dilliances thou hast contracted the plague. Further say unto him that the village physician hath decreed that thou must secureth and burneth all materials which hath contacted thy putrified flesh. As he is no doubt savvy to thy lusty nature, he shall be not incredulous. Nor wishing to fall victim to thy pestilence, he shall render unto thee thy garments forthwith.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Swine Flu
Hey Rodger,
I'm worried about catching swine flu. I'm even more worried that my doctor is too incompetent to treat me if I do get it. I'm thinking about more natural remedies--or even ways to fight it off before I get infected. I know back in your day people were more savvy about herbal medicine. Any ideas?
Don't Wanna Get Sick
Dear Don't Wanna Get Sick,
'Tis a goodly and most germane inquiry. Many personages, both regal and peasantly, be much afeard of this swine pestilence. Thou be in possesion of much luck, however, for I be versed in matters medical and wast much sought after in the Virginia Colony as a layhealer and reader of nostrils.
Follow ye this recipe:
Take ye a handful of rue, and as much the same amount of common Wormwood, and bruise them a little.
Put ye them into a pot of Earth or Tin, with so much Vinegar as shall covereth the herbs.
Keep ye this pot close covered or stopped, and when thou dost fear any infection, dip into this Vinegar a piece of a sponge, and carry it in your hand and smell to it, or else put it into a round ball of Ivory or Juniper made full of holes of the one side, carrying it in your hand use to smell thereunto, renewing it once in a day.
If ye heed this counsel, thou shouldst be spared.
(MODERATOR'S NOTE: As best I can tell, this is an old recipe for curing the plague. Needless to say, it will NOT cure or prevent swine flu. If you have symptoms, seek professional medical advice immediately.)
I'm worried about catching swine flu. I'm even more worried that my doctor is too incompetent to treat me if I do get it. I'm thinking about more natural remedies--or even ways to fight it off before I get infected. I know back in your day people were more savvy about herbal medicine. Any ideas?
Don't Wanna Get Sick
Dear Don't Wanna Get Sick,
'Tis a goodly and most germane inquiry. Many personages, both regal and peasantly, be much afeard of this swine pestilence. Thou be in possesion of much luck, however, for I be versed in matters medical and wast much sought after in the Virginia Colony as a layhealer and reader of nostrils.
Follow ye this recipe:
Take ye a handful of rue, and as much the same amount of common Wormwood, and bruise them a little.
Put ye them into a pot of Earth or Tin, with so much Vinegar as shall covereth the herbs.
Keep ye this pot close covered or stopped, and when thou dost fear any infection, dip into this Vinegar a piece of a sponge, and carry it in your hand and smell to it, or else put it into a round ball of Ivory or Juniper made full of holes of the one side, carrying it in your hand use to smell thereunto, renewing it once in a day.
If ye heed this counsel, thou shouldst be spared.
(MODERATOR'S NOTE: As best I can tell, this is an old recipe for curing the plague. Needless to say, it will NOT cure or prevent swine flu. If you have symptoms, seek professional medical advice immediately.)
Wish They Would Make Up Their Minds
Dear Mr. Goodwyn,
I appreciate the earnestness of your advice. I have friends who have been dating on and off for a long time. I can never tell when they are together and when they are separated. It is hard for me to make plans with either of them because I can never tell what state their relationship will be in when it is time for the event. Do you have any advise for me?
Best,
Wish they would just make up their minds
Dear Wish They Would Just Make Up Their Minds,
If there is but one rule that always beeth true, 'tis this: Strumpets be fickle. It soundeth to mine ear as if the slattern of whom you speak be of a particularly shrewish disposition, playing wantonly as she doth with the affections of thy manly and much bewearied friend. For sooth, I have much doubt that a goodly man canst truly befriend any woman, much less a shrew who is young and still doth bleed with each new moon. And there be the crux of the problem: Wenches be much affected by the moon, and will not only become bloody with its waxing and waning, but shall undergoeth such changes of report and personality that they canst be in one instant as a badger and the next as a cooing dove.
In short, thou shouldst not be friends with wenches. They be too inconsistent to offer fellowship or assistance to a right honorable man. They are best employed to taketh care over thy hearth and home and young, and to service thy manly needs whenever thou so wisheth.
However, as this wench hath not yet married and is most evidently liberal in her habits pertaining the bedchamber, it is doubtful that she shall ever be tamed. She is as a wild horse who doth mightily resist the bridle. As thou knowest, however, a wild horse doth give the most exciting and invigorating ride. Tis a safe and goodly wager that she be much skilled in the art of pleasing a man, possessed as she is of much practice.
Therefore, thou shouldst counsel thy manly friend to cast away this strumpet, as she be naught but trouble unto him. Then straight away thou shouldst seek to bed her thyself. 'Tis not treachery on thy part, for 'tis true that she be a most pernicious vexation to thy friend, and he hath not the mettle to make her gallop in a right and goodly manner. Take heed, however. As she be wild, and as I hath imparted, made most variable by the moon, thou must first checketh her temperment before thou attempteth to mount her. When thou dost meet her, simply placeth thy hand within her vestments and squeezeth of her breat. If she do buck, wait ye for the moon to change its face and try again another day. If she find this pleasurable and do whinny, climb upon her and spare not the use of the whip.
I appreciate the earnestness of your advice. I have friends who have been dating on and off for a long time. I can never tell when they are together and when they are separated. It is hard for me to make plans with either of them because I can never tell what state their relationship will be in when it is time for the event. Do you have any advise for me?
Best,
Wish they would just make up their minds
Dear Wish They Would Just Make Up Their Minds,
If there is but one rule that always beeth true, 'tis this: Strumpets be fickle. It soundeth to mine ear as if the slattern of whom you speak be of a particularly shrewish disposition, playing wantonly as she doth with the affections of thy manly and much bewearied friend. For sooth, I have much doubt that a goodly man canst truly befriend any woman, much less a shrew who is young and still doth bleed with each new moon. And there be the crux of the problem: Wenches be much affected by the moon, and will not only become bloody with its waxing and waning, but shall undergoeth such changes of report and personality that they canst be in one instant as a badger and the next as a cooing dove.
In short, thou shouldst not be friends with wenches. They be too inconsistent to offer fellowship or assistance to a right honorable man. They are best employed to taketh care over thy hearth and home and young, and to service thy manly needs whenever thou so wisheth.
However, as this wench hath not yet married and is most evidently liberal in her habits pertaining the bedchamber, it is doubtful that she shall ever be tamed. She is as a wild horse who doth mightily resist the bridle. As thou knowest, however, a wild horse doth give the most exciting and invigorating ride. Tis a safe and goodly wager that she be much skilled in the art of pleasing a man, possessed as she is of much practice.
Therefore, thou shouldst counsel thy manly friend to cast away this strumpet, as she be naught but trouble unto him. Then straight away thou shouldst seek to bed her thyself. 'Tis not treachery on thy part, for 'tis true that she be a most pernicious vexation to thy friend, and he hath not the mettle to make her gallop in a right and goodly manner. Take heed, however. As she be wild, and as I hath imparted, made most variable by the moon, thou must first checketh her temperment before thou attempteth to mount her. When thou dost meet her, simply placeth thy hand within her vestments and squeezeth of her breat. If she do buck, wait ye for the moon to change its face and try again another day. If she find this pleasurable and do whinny, climb upon her and spare not the use of the whip.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Just a Piece of Meat
Dear Rodger,
My wife is a passionate woman…and I’m thrilled, believe you me. The problem is that ever since I brought the video camera into the bedroom, she’s like a prima donna… she can only perform while the camera’s rolling. I know, I shouldn’t complain… but I’m beginning to feel like she prefers the camera to me. It’s crazy… I’m basically married to a porn star everyman’s dream come true… but sometimes it hurts when she treats me like an extra. How do I get her interested in me again?
Signed,
Just a piece of meat
Dear Just a Piece of Meat,
I hath made previous note amidst these pages that my departed ladywife, Susanna, didst in life display a most robust and corpulent carriage. Think ye of the goodly wench who doth appear occasionly upon the television array, Kirstie Allie. When I didst first clap eyes upon her, I didst swoon for thinking 'twas my dead wife come back to chasten me! 'Twas not, of course, but Susanna didst appear much the same. Whist this comparison may maketh thy mind turn most quickly away from thoughts of a sexual nature, 'tis not to sayeth that Susanna wast not herself lusty. For sooth, in her day, she be lusty indeed. Merry, though she hath been dead nigh on 400 years, I still do think on her when in solitude, or in the company of those persons who be drinking of coffee at the Starbucks in my street, I stroketh my flesh in a most vigorous manner. I do also think on her when on occasion I seeth walruses or gnarwals lolling about icy shores upon the Discovery Channel.
It may be of great surprise to thee, but I didst have a most similar and distressing problem with that same good ladywife of mine who I hath mentioned above. I need not sayeth that in such time as Susanna wast alive, we had not the picture muskets thou dost now employ to preserveth true and natural life. However, we didst have in the Virginia Colony a goodman nameth Lionel Newcombe, a blacksmith and circumcisor of boy children. For the pleasure of observing (and for sooth, any endeavor in which I be denuded is much pleasurable) a goodman and his ladywife in the midst of conjugal felicity, he wouldst in turn produce a most uncanny image of said congress. (I hath hear placed one such image I hath kept in my vestments and which hath survived the bog.)
Susanna wast bewitched with these images, and nay couldst not engage in goodly rodgering without the presence of Mr. Newcombe in our chambers. I didst become much aggreived. Mind you, I cared not about our audience. In matters of this type I be inclined to say "The More The Merrier." The heart of my complaint wast that, as Mr. Newcombe wast indeed a most true and illustrious artist, he didst require much of four hours to complete his work. In this time I didst grow much wearied of gazing upon my ladywife, who didst grow sweaty and rank after such time. My twig and berries didst become most chaffed, and my body general wearied under the strain.
Thanks be to God, my predicament was thus resolved when Mr. Newcombe wast killed by a savage native whose squaw he didst attempt to render in a drawing whilst she did squat and make water.
As for thee, my counsel is that ye do sell the images that ye and thy wife doth produce unto those men who have not wives or are too hideous of appearance to ensnare a comely wench. Whensoever thou dost see a goodly profit, thy wife wilst tire of the arrangement. Wenches be peculiar in that way.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Slander
Dear Rodger,
What’s up with the way you talk? Seriously, dude, it’s like listening to friggin Shakespeare or something. I know you were stuck in a bog for a few hundred years and all, but you’re in America now. For Chrissake, speak English!
Dan
Dear Dan,
A profane portion of those who doth send correspondence unto me, perhaps four of every five, seek, like you, neither counsel nor enlightenment. Nay, they do wish but only to mock my personage with most crankish and unkind utterings. 'Tis a most cowardly thing.
Look ye at a sampling of the slanders I must endure:
Hey Rodger,
Go fuck yourself. No--wait, wait, wait. Okay, now go fuck yourself.
--Ed in Chicago
Rodger,
I looked up homosexual in the dictionary and found that same stupid picture of you that you have on your site. I was like, "Huh? What is this d-bag doing in my dictionary?" Then I realized I picked up the faggot dictionary by mistake. How did I get the faggot dictionary in the first place? Your dad left it here. Why was your dad at my house? He came over to hump my gay retarded brother.
--Yvette
Rodger,
Pirates are fucking gay! Stick your wooden leg up your ass and walk the plank, you fucking plonker.
--XXX
Mr. Goodwyn,
I blame you for 9/11. You are not a citizen. Go back to England.
--Bill O'Reilly
Though I be much aggreived by these aspersions, I am still generous of nature. Thus allow me to offer a bit of enlightenment to those who doth seek to humble and abuse me: Though thou makest the jibes, the butt of them be on ye. I understand not what this slander means, and I shall not undertake to catch its drift. I shall treat it as wind from a whore's ass and merely set it afire for mine own amusement.
What’s up with the way you talk? Seriously, dude, it’s like listening to friggin Shakespeare or something. I know you were stuck in a bog for a few hundred years and all, but you’re in America now. For Chrissake, speak English!
Dan
Dear Dan,
A profane portion of those who doth send correspondence unto me, perhaps four of every five, seek, like you, neither counsel nor enlightenment. Nay, they do wish but only to mock my personage with most crankish and unkind utterings. 'Tis a most cowardly thing.
Look ye at a sampling of the slanders I must endure:
Hey Rodger,
Go fuck yourself. No--wait, wait, wait. Okay, now go fuck yourself.
--Ed in Chicago
Rodger,
I looked up homosexual in the dictionary and found that same stupid picture of you that you have on your site. I was like, "Huh? What is this d-bag doing in my dictionary?" Then I realized I picked up the faggot dictionary by mistake. How did I get the faggot dictionary in the first place? Your dad left it here. Why was your dad at my house? He came over to hump my gay retarded brother.
--Yvette
Rodger,
Pirates are fucking gay! Stick your wooden leg up your ass and walk the plank, you fucking plonker.
--XXX
Mr. Goodwyn,
I blame you for 9/11. You are not a citizen. Go back to England.
--Bill O'Reilly
Though I be much aggreived by these aspersions, I am still generous of nature. Thus allow me to offer a bit of enlightenment to those who doth seek to humble and abuse me: Though thou makest the jibes, the butt of them be on ye. I understand not what this slander means, and I shall not undertake to catch its drift. I shall treat it as wind from a whore's ass and merely set it afire for mine own amusement.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Under Pressure
Dear Rodger,
I’m a handsome and charming business executive, and I could have all the women I want. However, I’m a married man. You could say I’ve slipped in the saddle a few times… but I always come home to my wife, me none the worse for wear, and she none the wiser. But things are getting complicated. For the past 2 months, I’ve been diddling my secretary (excuse me, executive assistant). In the heat of passion, I may have promised a promotion… one I’m not authorized to give. It’s been a few weeks, and I think she’s on to me… she’s making noises about telling my wife about us. I can’t have that, yet I can’t promote her either. Would I be a total dirtbag if I set her up to get fired?
Signed, Under Pressure
Dear Under Pressure,
In mine own day I didst hear a certain expression pass the lips of all manner of men--shopkeepers, innkeepers, lords of stately manners, aldermen, bailiffs, etcetera. I am much convinced it shall soundeth quaint to thy modern ears, but methinks it appropriate given thy recent indiscretions: Shitheth Not Where Thou Eatst. Alas, I fear this goodly counsel hast found thee too late, for thou hast already layeth great and steaming terds upon thine own worktable.
I see but one path thou canst now take. 'Tis sinister indeed, but I hath myself employed it to great success whenst I did impregnate a certain fishmonger's daughter, who hath in her motherly humours gone mad and didst make grievous threats that she might make known to both my wife and mistress my dalliances with her person.
Secure ye a smallish doll resembling thy village parson. Into it stick pins of various size and length. Carry said doll to the village parson and deliver it upon him with fanstastical tales of how thou had heard thy strumpet cast spells upon his head, and how thou didst see thy strumpet in congress with Lucifer of many a moonlit night in the woods. He shall be abhorred of it, and forthwith demand the seizure of the strumpet by the bailiff. Unless she hath family of high and illustrious rank, she shall burn within a fortnight.
And in future, be of a steady and incautioned disposition. Dally ye only with wenches who hath entered into thy realm illegally. Then thou canst make threats of banishment if she be mouthy and impetuous.
I’m a handsome and charming business executive, and I could have all the women I want. However, I’m a married man. You could say I’ve slipped in the saddle a few times… but I always come home to my wife, me none the worse for wear, and she none the wiser. But things are getting complicated. For the past 2 months, I’ve been diddling my secretary (excuse me, executive assistant). In the heat of passion, I may have promised a promotion… one I’m not authorized to give. It’s been a few weeks, and I think she’s on to me… she’s making noises about telling my wife about us. I can’t have that, yet I can’t promote her either. Would I be a total dirtbag if I set her up to get fired?
Signed, Under Pressure
Dear Under Pressure,
In mine own day I didst hear a certain expression pass the lips of all manner of men--shopkeepers, innkeepers, lords of stately manners, aldermen, bailiffs, etcetera. I am much convinced it shall soundeth quaint to thy modern ears, but methinks it appropriate given thy recent indiscretions: Shitheth Not Where Thou Eatst. Alas, I fear this goodly counsel hast found thee too late, for thou hast already layeth great and steaming terds upon thine own worktable.
I see but one path thou canst now take. 'Tis sinister indeed, but I hath myself employed it to great success whenst I did impregnate a certain fishmonger's daughter, who hath in her motherly humours gone mad and didst make grievous threats that she might make known to both my wife and mistress my dalliances with her person.
Secure ye a smallish doll resembling thy village parson. Into it stick pins of various size and length. Carry said doll to the village parson and deliver it upon him with fanstastical tales of how thou had heard thy strumpet cast spells upon his head, and how thou didst see thy strumpet in congress with Lucifer of many a moonlit night in the woods. He shall be abhorred of it, and forthwith demand the seizure of the strumpet by the bailiff. Unless she hath family of high and illustrious rank, she shall burn within a fortnight.
And in future, be of a steady and incautioned disposition. Dally ye only with wenches who hath entered into thy realm illegally. Then thou canst make threats of banishment if she be mouthy and impetuous.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Moms Suck
Dear Rodger,
My mother took my TV out of my room. She is such a skank. I hate her. Just because I flunked a couple classes. I don’t even get why she’s so pissed...
Moms Suck
Dear Moms Suck,
I hath too a televsion array within my quarters. Hereupon I do daily espy the stout and hardy strumpet Martha Stewart. She maketh foodstuffs that do greatly befit my tastes and bedecks all about with fanciful embellishments. She prepareth such the bedclothes upon a bed that it do beg to be frolicked upon. Oft I do engage in solitary and manly pursuits whilst I do look upon her, merry to such the degree that I do oft make myself quite sore. I should be great enraged shouldst someone see fit to deprive me of fair Martha.
The matter then is whether thou canst overtake thy mother in a match of strength. Mine own mother hast more than seven feet in height and legs betwixt which she could most easily when provoked crush a man or boy. If thy mother be much the same, then take thy chastening as it comes and protest not. If she be but slight and dainty, shower blows upon her until she doth relent.
My mother took my TV out of my room. She is such a skank. I hate her. Just because I flunked a couple classes. I don’t even get why she’s so pissed...
Moms Suck
Dear Moms Suck,
I hath too a televsion array within my quarters. Hereupon I do daily espy the stout and hardy strumpet Martha Stewart. She maketh foodstuffs that do greatly befit my tastes and bedecks all about with fanciful embellishments. She prepareth such the bedclothes upon a bed that it do beg to be frolicked upon. Oft I do engage in solitary and manly pursuits whilst I do look upon her, merry to such the degree that I do oft make myself quite sore. I should be great enraged shouldst someone see fit to deprive me of fair Martha.
The matter then is whether thou canst overtake thy mother in a match of strength. Mine own mother hast more than seven feet in height and legs betwixt which she could most easily when provoked crush a man or boy. If thy mother be much the same, then take thy chastening as it comes and protest not. If she be but slight and dainty, shower blows upon her until she doth relent.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Chastity
I was just wondering how you got your name. I don’t know too many people named Rodger. But, I have heard the term “Rodger you roundly”. What exactly is the etymology?
Love, Chastity
Dear Chastity,
My father was called Rodger, as was his father before him. 'Twas a common and manly name of Londontown. Both of my forebears were well and widely known about the streets as sellers of piss pots. I too apprenticed in this trade, but was thus forced to make sail for the new world, along with my wife, as means of escape from a frivolous and untrue warrant of buggery. (I didst only make the playful pass of a carrot into the bunghole of John the baker's son, but the cellar being most unlit and shadowy, he thought I did seek to mount him as my ladywife.)
I am most pleased and humbled to learn that my name hath survived lo these many years whilst I did repose in the bog. I am indeed the namesake of the merry and manly act of "Rodgering." I was much sought by my neighbors of the Virginia Colony as an amorous companion, being possessed as I was--nay, am--of great skill and virtue in the art of flogging. I be greatly indebted to God that he didst construction me in so lovely a fashion that neither woman nor man nor beast might look upon me with without desire. Indeed, I was thus escaping the stockade when I didst stumble into that fateful bog which hath rendered me as Lazarus. I saw it not, but there was much scuttle about the village that the mayor's finest goat did bring forth a kid that didst greatly resemble my personage. The parson, deeming this a most ugly and unholy thing, didst summon me to be thus placed in the stockade and purified by fire, as the witches of the northern colonies.
(It speaks not to the point at hand, but I should like to say that such was my reputation that I was summoned forth to venture to the north by a coven of said witches. In their company I didst drink blood and hear tell of new and lusty techniques that I might bring back to my benighted neighbors.)
Thus is my name. Please turn thy mind's eye on me when it dost next pass that it be done to thee.
Love, Chastity
Dear Chastity,
My father was called Rodger, as was his father before him. 'Twas a common and manly name of Londontown. Both of my forebears were well and widely known about the streets as sellers of piss pots. I too apprenticed in this trade, but was thus forced to make sail for the new world, along with my wife, as means of escape from a frivolous and untrue warrant of buggery. (I didst only make the playful pass of a carrot into the bunghole of John the baker's son, but the cellar being most unlit and shadowy, he thought I did seek to mount him as my ladywife.)
I am most pleased and humbled to learn that my name hath survived lo these many years whilst I did repose in the bog. I am indeed the namesake of the merry and manly act of "Rodgering." I was much sought by my neighbors of the Virginia Colony as an amorous companion, being possessed as I was--nay, am--of great skill and virtue in the art of flogging. I be greatly indebted to God that he didst construction me in so lovely a fashion that neither woman nor man nor beast might look upon me with without desire. Indeed, I was thus escaping the stockade when I didst stumble into that fateful bog which hath rendered me as Lazarus. I saw it not, but there was much scuttle about the village that the mayor's finest goat did bring forth a kid that didst greatly resemble my personage. The parson, deeming this a most ugly and unholy thing, didst summon me to be thus placed in the stockade and purified by fire, as the witches of the northern colonies.
(It speaks not to the point at hand, but I should like to say that such was my reputation that I was summoned forth to venture to the north by a coven of said witches. In their company I didst drink blood and hear tell of new and lusty techniques that I might bring back to my benighted neighbors.)
Thus is my name. Please turn thy mind's eye on me when it dost next pass that it be done to thee.
No More Patience for Saint Mary
Dear Rodger,
I’ve been married for 20 years. My husband has a strange habit that drives me crazy… he calls my naughty bits Saint Mary. I know I should have brought this up to my husband a long time ago, but, I was too shy at first, and then it seemed too late, and now here I am 20 years later and I just can’t take it anymore. If I hear “Lookout, St. Mary, I’m goin in!” one more time, I don’t think I can be responsible for what I might do to him. What should I do to get him to knock it off?
No More Patience for Saint Mary
Dear No More Patience for Saint Mary,
Thou shouldst take heart in the holy and beautiful nature of thy husband's name for thy old hat. The Virgin Mother is Queen Among Women, and thou must be possessed of a great gift to receive such an honor from they husband. Mightst thou have an image of thyself that I might gaze upon? I should be much enlightened on this subject and more able to offer my counsel if I might know intimately that of which I speak.
I had not yet seen a whale before crossing the western ocean to the new world. When I did espy this great and mammoth creature, I did henceforth fashion the name of "blowhole" for the part of my wife Susanna that I did most enjoy--as she was of a vast and ponderous constitution. Heretofore, I did call it "the oxlips", "shepherd's pie", or occasionally, "the red sea."
As thou canst discern, No More Patience For Saint Mary, in comparision, thy lot is rosy indeed. Thou shouldst give thanks to thy husband in profusion.
I’ve been married for 20 years. My husband has a strange habit that drives me crazy… he calls my naughty bits Saint Mary. I know I should have brought this up to my husband a long time ago, but, I was too shy at first, and then it seemed too late, and now here I am 20 years later and I just can’t take it anymore. If I hear “Lookout, St. Mary, I’m goin in!” one more time, I don’t think I can be responsible for what I might do to him. What should I do to get him to knock it off?
No More Patience for Saint Mary
Dear No More Patience for Saint Mary,
Thou shouldst take heart in the holy and beautiful nature of thy husband's name for thy old hat. The Virgin Mother is Queen Among Women, and thou must be possessed of a great gift to receive such an honor from they husband. Mightst thou have an image of thyself that I might gaze upon? I should be much enlightened on this subject and more able to offer my counsel if I might know intimately that of which I speak.
I had not yet seen a whale before crossing the western ocean to the new world. When I did espy this great and mammoth creature, I did henceforth fashion the name of "blowhole" for the part of my wife Susanna that I did most enjoy--as she was of a vast and ponderous constitution. Heretofore, I did call it "the oxlips", "shepherd's pie", or occasionally, "the red sea."
As thou canst discern, No More Patience For Saint Mary, in comparision, thy lot is rosy indeed. Thou shouldst give thanks to thy husband in profusion.
I Prefer Sausage
Dear Rodger,
My boyfriend says our sex is too vanilla. He wants to bring in my best friend for a threesome. I said, “hey, why don’t we bring in YOUR best friend for a threesome?” He got all freaked out and said “I’m not gay!” to which I replied, “Well, I’m not either.” He seems to think girl-on-girl doesn’t make you a lesbian, but boy-on-boy action surely makes you a fag. How can that be? Haven’t we made any progress toward gender equality at all?
Signed, I prefer sausage
Dear I Prefer Sausage,
It is the right of every goodman, given by God Himself, to do unto his ladywife that which he so choseth. If he be inclined to ply her as an ox, it is well. If he doth further desire her to weareth the yoke of an ox while he doth ride upon her, it is also well. It is right and good that she should maketh the sound of an ox while said riding doth occur. In all else she should be silent. (Note thou well this last pronounce, I Prefer Sausage.) She should not speaketh of that which doth take place in her goodman's home. She should most especially and without exception tell not the village parson. Nor should she tell the village parson that her husband hath made great with child two or three of the native savage girls who doth gather near the village well to play and bathe.
A goodly number of my neighbors in the Virginia Colony, so aptly named for our frigid and unhappy Queen Bess, were of a puritanical dispostion. I did, on many occassions, exchangeth hot and angry words with said neighbors on the matter on "unnatural" couplings of men with men and women with women. I do not, methinks, needeth to impart on which side of the debate I did fall. It should be manifest, however, that I hath taken the argument, for am I here but resurrected, as Christ Himself, while they doth supplicate themselves as Lucifer's whores since such time as 400 years past.
Do as thy husband commands, I prefer sausage.
My boyfriend says our sex is too vanilla. He wants to bring in my best friend for a threesome. I said, “hey, why don’t we bring in YOUR best friend for a threesome?” He got all freaked out and said “I’m not gay!” to which I replied, “Well, I’m not either.” He seems to think girl-on-girl doesn’t make you a lesbian, but boy-on-boy action surely makes you a fag. How can that be? Haven’t we made any progress toward gender equality at all?
Signed, I prefer sausage
Dear I Prefer Sausage,
It is the right of every goodman, given by God Himself, to do unto his ladywife that which he so choseth. If he be inclined to ply her as an ox, it is well. If he doth further desire her to weareth the yoke of an ox while he doth ride upon her, it is also well. It is right and good that she should maketh the sound of an ox while said riding doth occur. In all else she should be silent. (Note thou well this last pronounce, I Prefer Sausage.) She should not speaketh of that which doth take place in her goodman's home. She should most especially and without exception tell not the village parson. Nor should she tell the village parson that her husband hath made great with child two or three of the native savage girls who doth gather near the village well to play and bathe.
A goodly number of my neighbors in the Virginia Colony, so aptly named for our frigid and unhappy Queen Bess, were of a puritanical dispostion. I did, on many occassions, exchangeth hot and angry words with said neighbors on the matter on "unnatural" couplings of men with men and women with women. I do not, methinks, needeth to impart on which side of the debate I did fall. It should be manifest, however, that I hath taken the argument, for am I here but resurrected, as Christ Himself, while they doth supplicate themselves as Lucifer's whores since such time as 400 years past.
Do as thy husband commands, I prefer sausage.
I Am Captive
I am thus punished, by decree of the bloated and farty Judge Agnes, to stay within my quarters and provide counsel to whomsoever seeketh it for a period of two hours each day until such time as one thousand hours hath passed. A brown boy of dubious parentage and serious disposition doth stay closeby, plucking into his machine that which I say. He is slight and doth possess a most girlish mouth, but though I beckon he will not play.
I am indeed possessed of a sharp and nimble intellect, and any who hear it will be much girded and inspired. But I fear my words, without aid of my voice, melifluous and enticing, will have but the shadow of their natural power. It is as a wench with a great and milky bosom who hath no crevice for to receive the man she entices.
I am indeed possessed of a sharp and nimble intellect, and any who hear it will be much girded and inspired. But I fear my words, without aid of my voice, melifluous and enticing, will have but the shadow of their natural power. It is as a wench with a great and milky bosom who hath no crevice for to receive the man she entices.
I Wear Not Vestments of This Nature
I am come hence to protest the image of my personage displayed herewith. My visage, goodly and most handsome in life, here showeth a sallow and foppish ass. Should I have occasion to visit in thy company, be ye man or wench, thou wouldst scarce pass one minute before wishing to pass thy hand through my hair and lay kisses upon my eyes and mouth. After two minutes hath passed, thou wouldst pray god to observe and touch my netherest regions.
The picture showeth vestments that cling upon my throat in what is meant to portray a stately comportment. In sooth I do wear my garments much relaxed, so that my chest and the hair that issueth forth might be admired. Often of an evening I do not wear garments at all, but repose in natural and manly nudity. 'Tis good for my constitution and that of those who might be at hand to witness that which god hath thought good to create.
The picture showeth vestments that cling upon my throat in what is meant to portray a stately comportment. In sooth I do wear my garments much relaxed, so that my chest and the hair that issueth forth might be admired. Often of an evening I do not wear garments at all, but repose in natural and manly nudity. 'Tis good for my constitution and that of those who might be at hand to witness that which god hath thought good to create.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Moderator: Welcome to Ask Rodger Goodwyn
Greetings, and thank you for your interest in Ask Rodger Goodwyn. My name is Juan Suskind. As moderator of this experiment, my job is to ensure that your time here is as entertaining and enlightening as possible.
I use the word "experiment" not by accident. You see, my colleagues and I form the team that found and reanimated Rodger last year, and we will use the data cultivated from this advice blog as part of our doctoral dissertation in anthropology/physiology from the University of West Central Virginia. I won't bore you with the specific scientific information we hope to glean, but suffice it to say that we're all watching with great, and admittedly nervous, anticipation.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should share with you the fact that this experiment is not wholly scientfic in nature. Allow me to explain:
As you might imagine, the last year has been very difficult for Rodger. I don't think I need to elaborate on that point, but I will ask you to quickly imagine waking up tomorrow morning to find that the year is 2399. Needless to say, Rodger has had some trouble adjusting, and as a result, he's found himself at odds with local law enforcement more than once. In deference to Rodger's privacy, I won't go into the nature of the offenses in question. I would, however, like to commend the patience and understanding of Judge Morris Agnes, who took Rodger's extraordinary circumstances into consideration and sentenced him to community service rather than the jail time we'd expected. While Rodger has openly admitted to having a somewhat felonious past, Judge Morris ruled that, as no records from 1620 survive, his former transgression could not be held against him. In a further act of humanity, Judge Agnes agreed to our proposal that this blog be accepted as said community service. While he did point out that this arrangement was advantageous in that it would serve to keep Rodger from dealing directly with the public, I sensed his decision was also influenced by his genuine compassion.
Thank you for bearing with me. Now that we've got the background out of the way, here's how you can participate:
Quite simply, this is an advice column, and it functions just like thousands of other advice columns the world over.
1. Send an email detailing your question, problem or concern to askrodgergoodwyn@gmail.com. (I promised not to bore you with with scientific aims of this experiment earlier, but I will say here that the greater the breadth of subjects covered, the greater the opportunity for interesting and usable data. In other words, nothing's off limits.)
2. If your email is chosen, it will appear on this site along with Rodger's response. All emails, whether chosen to appear on the site or not, will be promptly deleted. Your email address will not be used in any way, shape or form.
3. Please include your first name and location in your email. If you wish to use a pseudonym, please provide one.
Again, thank you for your participation. We look forward to receiving your emails.
I use the word "experiment" not by accident. You see, my colleagues and I form the team that found and reanimated Rodger last year, and we will use the data cultivated from this advice blog as part of our doctoral dissertation in anthropology/physiology from the University of West Central Virginia. I won't bore you with the specific scientific information we hope to glean, but suffice it to say that we're all watching with great, and admittedly nervous, anticipation.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should share with you the fact that this experiment is not wholly scientfic in nature. Allow me to explain:
As you might imagine, the last year has been very difficult for Rodger. I don't think I need to elaborate on that point, but I will ask you to quickly imagine waking up tomorrow morning to find that the year is 2399. Needless to say, Rodger has had some trouble adjusting, and as a result, he's found himself at odds with local law enforcement more than once. In deference to Rodger's privacy, I won't go into the nature of the offenses in question. I would, however, like to commend the patience and understanding of Judge Morris Agnes, who took Rodger's extraordinary circumstances into consideration and sentenced him to community service rather than the jail time we'd expected. While Rodger has openly admitted to having a somewhat felonious past, Judge Morris ruled that, as no records from 1620 survive, his former transgression could not be held against him. In a further act of humanity, Judge Agnes agreed to our proposal that this blog be accepted as said community service. While he did point out that this arrangement was advantageous in that it would serve to keep Rodger from dealing directly with the public, I sensed his decision was also influenced by his genuine compassion.
Thank you for bearing with me. Now that we've got the background out of the way, here's how you can participate:
Quite simply, this is an advice column, and it functions just like thousands of other advice columns the world over.
1. Send an email detailing your question, problem or concern to askrodgergoodwyn@gmail.com. (I promised not to bore you with with scientific aims of this experiment earlier, but I will say here that the greater the breadth of subjects covered, the greater the opportunity for interesting and usable data. In other words, nothing's off limits.)
2. If your email is chosen, it will appear on this site along with Rodger's response. All emails, whether chosen to appear on the site or not, will be promptly deleted. Your email address will not be used in any way, shape or form.
3. Please include your first name and location in your email. If you wish to use a pseudonym, please provide one.
Again, thank you for your participation. We look forward to receiving your emails.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
