Moderator: Update

Happy Holidays,

I apologize for the recent lack of activity on Rodger's advice blog. I'd hoped to have something solid to report before breaking the silence, but unfortunately I have only this to tell you:

Rodger is missing. He was last seen at his home on December 20th. Myself and the members of my team speculate that he may have gone to visit a women he met online, but we can't be sure. An email bounced back into Rodger's inbox shortly after he was last seen, and that's really all we have to go on. It read: "I shall 'Rodger' you anon. Please do not washeth thy person afore my arrival." Unfortunately, he typed only "Meggy of the northern regions" in the field for the recipient's address, so we have no email address to trace.

We did find a photo of an unidentified woman saved to his computer, and we think this may be "Meggy." (I've included it here.) If you know her, please contact us immediately.

It's a long shot, but here are some physical details that might help you recognize him on the off chance he's in your area:

Name: Rodger Goodwyn

Age: 420 (Looks 30-35)

Height: 5'6

Weight: Eight stone

Race: Caucasian.

Distinguishing characteristics: Bushy red beard

Last seen wearing: Ruffled off-white tunic with dark gray doublet, black leggings, black and white striped slip-on Vans.

If you have seen Rodger or have any information regarding his whereabouts, please contact your local law enforcement agency and file a report.

Many thanks,

Moderator

In Love But Poor

Dear Rodger,

Christmas is coming, and I don't know what to get my girlfriend. I don't have very much money, but I would like to get her something special. Please help.

Sincerely,

In Love But Poor

Dear In Love But Poor,

One canst partake of many treats, wonders and spectacles during Christmastide. There be foods to delighteth every palate, songs of good cheer, strong wassail for the drinking and heavenly white snow to lay cover o'er the frozen ground. These blessings be great indeed, and we all shouldst give thanks for their bounty. However, once in every great while, a true Christmas miracle dost occur that proveth poor the more common joys we do so eagerly venerate.

Rejoice, for such a miracle hast befallen thee, In Love But Poor.

As fate would have it, I have just this day procured a trinket which methinks shouldst delighteth both thee and thy ladyfriend. It be both a glory to behold and a true bargain--even for a man of modest means. I hath here placed an image of said trinket for thy perusal. Thou canst see 'tis most brilliant, and yet for sooth the image dost but hint at the splendor it possesseth when thou gazeth upon it in true and close propinquity.

If thou canst believe't, I didst find this comely ring upon the street. In fact, 'twas trod upon by a vagrant man then runneth over by a motor carriage afore I couldst dart into the thoroughfare and seize it. The fact that it didst maintain its shape and most lovely sheen didst in that moment convince me of the providential nature of my discovery.

I wast not assured of what I might do with my newfound windfall. I thought I might perhaps offer it unto one of the strumpets who do nightly walk in various stages of undress through the more impecunious sections of my fair towne. It may indeed have fetched me more than a year's worth of slap and tickle, depending on the wretchedness of the wench I didst chose. However, as Christmastide is a season of giving and charitable pursuits, I see now that thou hast greater need of the ring than I.

For this reason I shall part withal for the meagre sum of one-thousand American dollars. Thou needest not thank me. The knowledge that thou and thy ladyfriend art truly happy in this holiday season ist all I shall need to be repaid. That and one-thousand American dollars.

Please do not hesitate to contact me regarding this most kind offer. For sooth, I do feel more than a bit mischevious, and doubt this treasure shouldst last long in the midst of the various and sundry whores about.

Porn

Hey,

I've been reading your blog for the past two weeks and I noticed a posted sketch by Mihály Zichy, a 19th century artist. So ... is that like hot futuristic porn to someone who died (or whatever) in the early 1600s?

What DID early settlers do (if anything) for porn?

--amateur art historian

Dear Historian,

I shall not bore thee with the particulars of how't came to pass, but I now find myself quite literally captive in my own home. The local magistrates have seen fit to confine me to these premises for a period of six weeks. Furthermore, they have affixed to my ankle a small machine that dost transmit over the air my exact location at any given moment. This machine canst also ascertain whether I have partaken of spirits or ale. My initial attempts to disable this device by unrinating upon it didst only serve to moisten my socks and offered no relief from it's tyranny. Thus, I am resigned to passing long and lonely hours with only the computer array for company.

Given my current lack of options in terms of entertainment, I hath become quite adept at maneuvering about the great electronic ocean. I am most amazed at the general zest and selection of carnal distractions one canst find. No matter a man's taste, he canst find images, moving and non, that do portray the very acts and scenarios that do most speak unto his desires.
I do consider myself a most learned and worldly fellow, and if thou hast read of these pages I believe thou wilt be inclined to agree. However, there be, to paraphrase that which The Bard himself didst say, things in heaven and earth that I hath never dreamt of in my philosophy.

Now, by way of example, I do find myself gazing upon a goodly page of smut entitled "The Long and Winding Road." I canst not say certainly, but it appeareth to me that this material ist directed towards those men who do derive enjoyment from the ritual viewing of what I understand to be called "colonoscopies" of wenches. Apparently, a moving picture array of very diminutive size ist passed into the hindquarters of a wench and doth record images of the tubes and workings therein. I gather this is done in the first place as a medical procedure to ascertain whether said wench ist great with child. It seemst to me the undertaking couldst be eschewed if only those who seek to answer this question didst employ a bit of patience and simply await the showing of the babe within the wench's belly. In any case, it appears that men do pay upwards of $30 American dollars monthly to view of these images. I be not one to begrudge a man his chosen vices. Yet, I canst not help but pose the query: How know they that these be the innards of strumpets and not men?

Needless to say, the titilating material (that which you call "porn") of my day wast not so specifically designed to one's individual tastes. Images of the type thou hast referenced were quite popular, as were carvings of stone and wood that didst depict wenches denuded, man and wench in full display of coital congress--and various and sundry other captivating scenes. However, these artifacts were quite costly, and the average yeoman didst not possesseth of the money to purchase of it. Thus, t'was the onus of every common man to furnish for himself the objects to which he might pleasure himself or merely gaze upon in succulent adoration. Given the poor learning of these persons, the artitic merit of these objects wast most lacking. Some were nothing more than a plank with a suggestive hole cut into't. Mounds of mud vaguely shaped as wenches were also most popular.

Most often men didst avail themselves of any salacious image that wast at there disposal. There wast hardly a women's piss stall in Londontown that didst not have myriad holes drilled within't for the viewing pleasure of whatever goodman might happen to be passing by. Hospitals for the insane were also locations for the congregating of men who wisht to catch a flash of breast of flank. Mad wenches, you see, being dispossesed of their right and canny minds, be disposed to rave wildly, shouting into the air and at brooms and cabinets that be nearby. The gowns of the insane being quite loose, 'twas most common that a wench, while amok, would nearly divest herself of all her garments.

I am open and most eager to learn of new and exciting outlets of carnal learning. If thou has a mind to pass on any information of this nature, please do so.

Nosy Lesbians

Dear Roger:

I have a problem in my office. One of my bosses is very nosy. She's always asking people what they did over the weekend, and if you happen to be a person who has a hot date, she is all over it! She has to get all the information - their name, age, profession etc. It is really annoying. I don't want to share my sex life with her, but she won't let up. I've even tried to keep the details out when she asks me. Like if she asks me what I did over the weekend, I can say "I saw a movie" and she'll ask with who! If I say "friends" she'll ask what friends. It's getting ridiculous. I understand as an over 50 lesbian, she doesn't do all that much with her life, but I don't want to share my personal life with everyone at the office. How do I stop her from asking so many personal questions?

Thanks,
Tired of Nosy Lesbians

Dear Tired,

Methinks thy boss's inclination towards prying has naught to do with her sexual proclivities. Some people be inherently nosy, and they shall be nosy whether they do dally with women or men or beasts. In other words, thy boss's sapphic tendencies art not to blame for thy current problem. Having said that, however, they shall be the grounds for thy solution.

Allow me to enlighten thee:

The lesbian woman, you see, ist abhorred of men. She findest them most foul in appearance and report. She should much prefer to pass hours in the company of a goat than to consort with a man. Merry, she should much prefer to be ravaged by a den of gnarwals than to even think of accepting the slap and tickle of a stout and ruddy fellow. The reasons for these most unnatural wonts are the subject of much debate, and I shall not attempt to settle the matter here. I will point out, however, that if thou considerest carefully, thou wilt discover that lesbians do generally answer to a certain set of a dozen or so names. These names do change from generation to generation, and there art, of course, exceptions. However, 'tis too constant to be mere coincidence. As I am but new to these times, I know not the current appelations most affixed to lesbians. I wilt state, however, that in my day a man having a ladywife called Judith, Meredith, Samantha, Joanna, Naomi, Elizabeth, Anne or Rogina was to be much pittied indeed.

For sooth, whilst I did dwell in the Virgina Colony, there wast a well-known band of lesbian natives who didst roam the land. They had relations not with the larger native population, nor with the peoples of the colony. I saw it not myself, but I didst hear tell that they ate only the flesh of men who they had kidnapp'd. Always being one for a challenge, I did one particularly wine-soaked night approach their encampment. 'Tis probable lucky for me they were not at home. But whilst rummaging about in their empty tepee, I didst see various personal chattles lying about--a bow and arrow, a comb, a tomahawk and a softball glove. On the glove wast writ the name "Judith."

Now again to thy predicament.

Though't may run quite counter to thy intuition, thou wilt only relieve thyself of thy boss's pestering by giving her exactly what she seeketh.

As I have gathered from the general tenor of thy query, thou art a most brazen and lascivious slut. I canst well understand why thou wouldst seek to keep secret the details of thy life spent on thy back. In this case, however, sharing in detail of thy various bodily exchanges will in the end be thy salvation.

'Tis quite simple. When thou returnest to thy workshop of a Monday morning, and thy boss inquirest what thou hast done at the week-end, fight thy nature as a lying strumpet and merely speaketh the truth.

For example: "I didst drinketh a goodly portion of gin my neighbor didst distill in his bathing tub. In short order I wast hence rendered quite literally blind for the duration of the night. Thus, I cannot say with accuracy how many men I didst welcome into my body, though I shouldst put the number somewhere between twenty and seventy."

Or: "I paid five American dollars to have a native man urinate upon my feet."

Or: "I helped to lance a boil on my brother's John Thomas."

Thou wilt immediately see a shift in demeanor in thy boss. She wilt attempt to smile at first, as if she ist not affected. However, her nature getting the better of her, she wilt excuse herself to some remove and vomit liberally. I should think two or three days of this process shouldst rid her of any desire to inquire upon thy doings.

Baseball

Dear Rodger,

I wonder if you can straighten out my confusion with regard to the baseball metaphor and sex. I mean, how do I know if I have gotten to third base? Second base? Also, what about lesbians? What is a home run for them? Do they play with the same rules? I always thought metaphors should help explain things, but this one only confuses me. Can you help?

Sincerely,
Confused Baserunner

Dear Baserunner,

Surely thou knowest, given the peculiarities of my age and origins, that I be not learned in the ways of baseball. And yet, I do understand why thou hast sought my counsel in this matter. Firstly, I am most expert in the ways of love. There be no need for further explanation or debate on this point. Secondly, with regard to the game of baseball, I am decidedly objective. I know not of it, and therefore I am a prime candidate to explain its metaphorical relation to lovemaking without the modern-day cultural biases that might otherwise vex he who seeks to lay bare the relation.

That said, in order to answer thy query 'twas necessary that I acquaint myself to some degree with the rudiments of the game. To this end, I hath sought the counsel of a ruddy goodman I didst encounter whilst holidaymaking in Florida. During said trip I didst have occasion to oft visit the oval 'round which dogs didst ramble, and where men in most colorful tunics didst lay wagers upon which of the mongrels wouldst complete the circuit with the greatest speed. The goodman I hath made mention of wast a fixture at the oval, and I didst share many a tankard of strong liquor and amiable chat with him. I be not conservative in matters of gaming, and hath lost my fair share of pounds in the pursuit of a goodly windfall. However, this man didst gamble with a gusto and depravity that didst shock even myself. When I asked how he didst avail himself of the cashfold he so casually squandered, he didst reply that he hadst at one time been a most successful and illustrious baseballer, and in his prime hath even bedded a most famous strumpet who calleth herself Madonna. I know not of this wench, but the sparkle that didst play upon his eyes whilst he did uttereth of her name leadeth me to believe she be, as the name might suggest, some sort of religious figure.

In any case, this man wast calleth Jose Canseco. Upon receiving thy query, I didst use the telephonic array to enlist his help in learning of the game of baseball. After some haggling, we didst agree that for five American dollars he wouldst teach unto me all he knew.

So, now that I hath armed myself with this knowledge, allow to be enlighten thee.

Firstly, 'tis my understanding that only men speaketh of reaching "bases" when they do frolic with a lusty lass--the exception here being the lesbians thou hast previously mentioned. Thus, I shall address the two in a separated fashion.

Here be the bases for men who do dally with women:

First base: First base hast been reached when thou hast shared a buss with a lass. This buss may be of the English, Spanish or French style. Busses of the Flemish, Frisian or Viking style denote that thou art engaged in a hardy game of football and thus it applieth not herewith.

Second base: Second base hast been reached when thou feelest of the breasts or buttocks of a wench. If thou needest both of thy hands to firmly hold the entirety of her bosom or arse, this be stronger stuff and dost signify third base.

Third base: Third base hast been reached when thou caresseth, with thy tongue or thy finger, the bearded cockel of a strumpet. Likewise, if she do wield thy staff with her hand, or place it within her gob or betwixt the crevace of her bosom, this be third base. Third base also hast been reached if thou inserteth within thy lass a loaf of bread or bottle of ale. An ear of corn ist considered second base.

Home run: A home run hath been achieved if thou dost penetrate with thy rod either the old hat or puckered hindmouth of thy lady. If thy lady plungeth a bowling pin within thy hindmouth, 'tis also a home run.

Here be the bases for women who do dally with women:

First base: First base hast been reached when one wench doth buy a flagon of ale for another wench after softball practice.

Second base: Second base hast been reached when the two lovers exchangeth compact discs containing the chanteys of the Indigo Girls.

Third base: Third base hast been reached when one strumpet do insert her hand into the other.

Home run: A home run hath been acheived when one strumpet do place her entire arm into the other.

'Tis my sincerest hope that this humble lesson hath been of use to thee. If there be one thing more joyous than the making of love, 'tis the boasting of it to any and all who wouldst listen. Having the right and proper tools and lexicon for said boasting is of utmost importance.