Construction Site Snub

Q: Do blue-collar workmen still harrass attractive young ladies with wolf-whistles and lewd comments, or has political correctness found its way into the construction site too?

The reason I ask is that I passed one the other day and... not a sound! I could hear crickets chirping!


A: Yes, they most certainly do! The construction site is the last place on Earth that political correctness is likely to surface.

Believe it or not, these guys spend hours training in front of the mirror at home to achieve their signature wolf-whistle. In fact, eventhough the public isn't usually privvy to it, the construction industry actually carries out its own bi-annual wolf-whistling olympics!

The current event roster includes:

• "Fright-jump", where competitors wolf-whistle at skittish women to see how high they can make them jump in fear. The current record is 139.2cm, during which the skittish woman was actually badly injured, causing controversy within the construction industry ranks.
  


• "Smash-athalon", where contestants attempt to wolf-whistle at just the right frequency and volume to shatter the car windows, eyeglasses and jewelry of passers-by.



• "Wrong-frump", where competitors are presented with a series of women of varying degrees of attractiveness and challenged to decide whether or not to perform a wolf-whistle. If they choose unwisely, it's called the "wrong-frump" and the erroneous competitor will be beaten within an inch of his life by the others.

But I digress. The point is that, while I'd like to tell you that the silence you experienced was simply due to the workers' chapped lips restricting their ability to whistle, the fact is that there is really nothing in heaven or on earth that will stop any self-respecting construction worker from issuing a loud, demeaning whistle at pretty much any half-decent looking female that walks by.

I'd consult your bathroom mirror before investigating any further.

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Penile Denial

Q: Recently I discovered a pimple on my penis. I decided to get a second opinion and opted for a friend to inspect my meat mallett and give me his expert advice. His diagnosis was that it was just a pimple and immediately declared my trouser snake "as clean as a whistle".

If its a pimple, how would it appear in that region? Could it be anything else?

A: I certainly don't want to worry you unneccesarily, dear reader. But yes, it could well be something much worse than a harmless pimple.

Let's investigate the odds that you really could have a pimple on your penis. I've never had one myself and never heard anyone complain about one. But that's hardly science, is it?

To get a better idea, I rang a sweaty, obese, lard-eating, vegetable-adverse and uncircumcised friend of mine named "Beefy". This guy has had pimples on every visible surface of his body, and, I aways assumed, even the (mercifully) non-visible spots. He verified that he has had pimples almost everywhere conceivable, including his nipple, under his fingernails and even his eyeball. Apparently the latter was painful.

He has, however, never had a pimple on his penis.

So despite the comforting, albeit slightly homo-erotic, assertion of your presumably non-medically-trained friend, you should probably get yourself to a speciallist medical professional.

Because it's very likely you have herpes.

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The Butterfly Suspect

Q: How the hell can a butterfly flapping it's wings start a hurricane???!

A: Even though I always liked the theory of the butterfly effect as it pertains to chaos theory and theoretical time travel, the reality of it appeared to be much less enthralling.

I was fortunate enough to spend several years in Brazil, and spent most of my time with a tribe of sweaty, caniballistic descendants of the Tupinambá tribe, conducting experiments to investigate Lorenz's famous theory. We captured several million butterflies over the course of several years and couldn't even get one to so much as move a blade of grass, or scare an old lady on her death-bed, let alone disturb weather patterns in a distant country. It's actually amazing how lame and powerless butterflies are!

Truth be told, all we did was prove that the odds of a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil and causing a Tornado in Texas are several quadrillions to one.

Time went by, but I never quite forgot about the butterfly effect. One morning earlier this year I awoke in a cold sweat from a dream which depicted giant butterflies attacking tribal villagers with chainsaws and I realised I had to resolve the issue.

I tracked down Lorenz, and, completely unannounced, visited him in his small, but well-guarded, Swiss chalet. When he opened the door, I asked almost exactly the question you dropped into my inbox, dear reader, with a couple of extra expletives added in for dramatic effect.

Lorenz studied me for a long time, scratching his stupid spotted nose with one hand and patting his shiny bald forehead with the other. Then he said, "fine", dragged me inside by my lapels, grabbed a butterfly from his in-house enclosure and took me to his time-travel room.

We went back to the dawn of time. Lorenz exited the time machine, and before I could even start to think about the wonderous prehistoric world before me, he let the butterfly go, stepped back inside and took us both back to 2009.

Well you could knock me over with a feather (that does not relate to the theory!). The recalcitrant twatt had caused the current global economic cirsis. Yes, that's right, before we got into that confounded time machine, everyone was happy and rich, and humanity had finally found a perfect harmony with nature.

And everyone was getting laid.

Thanks very much, Lorenz! Must be a real joy to be right!

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Cockamamie Q&A

Q: The age old question, does penis size matter?

A: How is this an age-old question if I've never been asked it before?

To be honest, I'm not sure if you asked it correctly... Does penis size matter to who? To Abraham Lincoln? I doubt he's lost any sleep over your penis size, dear reader. To God? Seriously, does anything you do matter to God? If it did, he surely would have struck you down with lightning or swatted you to meaty pulp with his massive God hand by now.

If you're asking if penis size matters to WOMEN, well... let me answer that with another question: Would it matter to a woman if you had NO penis?

School's out.

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Close Encounters of the Wrong Kind

Q: Does extra terrestrial life exist ? Have you had any encounters ? is it possible for humans to breed with ET's ?


A: This is a bit of a sensitive question. I've been instructed not to talk about this issue by so many governemnts that I've completely lost count!

But let me just say this... Yes, humans can breed with aliens... and they like to spoon.

Screw you United Nations!

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Pogo Challenge

Q: I have a question about your response to the Bruce Springsteen question.

What a coincidence he was named "Pogo" and then happened to have "an unfortunate accident which involved a juicy t-bone steak, a malicious neighbourhood bully, and a lawmower..."

The whole thing smacks of complete bulls**t to me.

A: First of all, I have to point out that, gramatically, your messge contains no question. Notice the absence of a question mark?

However, since I get your meaning and I suspect you're not the first to question my credibility, I decided to respond.

Pogo was very young when the accident occurred... in fact he was part of a large litter and had not yet been named. When he had his accident, his owners were inspired to name him Pogo and keep him instead of selling him off with the rest of the litter.

Geddittt!?

I posted a photo of Pogo... there was hardly any doubt.

Now, I know it's my job to answer questions, but let me ask one for a change: how was it you were brought up so badly, you felt it was appropriate to make fun of a poor deformed, useless puppy, whose only pleasure in life is popping bubble-wrap three bubbles at a time, and exploring the texture of his disgusting scarred testicles with his tongue?

Are you an insane sadist? I'm curious... Would you also laugh at a mobility disabled person, or someone who is height challenged?

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Body Issues

Q: With the advent of modern medicine and a rather strange need to nurture the weak and disabled, humankind has effectively dashed any evolutionary hopes of improving the species.

What changes would you make to the current model if you had the opportunity?


A: While many people marvel at the elegance and intricacy of the human body, I'm not so easily impressed.

In my opinion, the human body is a flawed, over-complex and highly redundant machine that is not only unworthy of marvel, but completely worthy of contempt.

Hence, I'm well prepared for your question, dear reader, as I've often had pause to contemplate how the human body might be improved, revamped or even totally redesigned.

Allow me to point out a few ridiculous design flaws and let you decide for yourself.

1. Breathing. So we breathe oxygen into our respiratory system, which then passes it into our blood stream, which then delivers it to our brain? Am I nuts, or would a couple of inflatable bags on the side of the head would cut out the middle-man here?

2. The heart. Assuming you're going to keep the pointless vascular system because you're not imaginative enough to find a way to distribute energy to the limbs without it, then come on! At least toughen the heart up a bit! It's a pathetic little piece of pulsing meat right now, just waiting to fail, get clotted or be crushed and destroyed.

3. Nervous system. Oh, well done, human body, let's make a warning system that completely distracts and disables the subject it's trying to warn. Wow, genius, really! [slow, ironic clap]

4. All other organs. Come on, surely there's a better way than just lumping a bunch of specialist substance processors together inside a chest cavity and then closing it up? How about an organ that can process calcium AND complex sugars, hmm!? And I don't want to be too critical, but most organs are downright ugly... how about a little aesthetic consideration?

Oh yeah, and while I can't say it's entirely legal, I have been doing a little human experimentation in my lab. And without giving away too much detail, yes, I have managed to grow an entire human being using cloning technology.

He is completely normal in every way, including strikingly attractive and perfectly symmetrical features -- but this guy has an upgraded digestive system, so he will never need to shit. Ever.

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Wouldn't you know-et, again the poet wroet!

Q: What do you think of THIS poem?

Want a fat Mac,
Crack?
Lickety splat,
Ping pong hack,
Roger McCor...
Mack!
@


A: I spent three days sobbing hysterically trying to digest the enormity of the message behind this one, and then another three vomitting into my lap trying to reconcile the implications.

Never has a thing of such lyrical beauty, majesty or wisdom ever graced the written word. It encompasses the enormity of the universe, while also acknowledging the tiny ant-like problems of the insignificant human individual.

It is everything, and it is simultaneously nothing. And that's the point.

You've changed my life, AskHarv poet.. again!

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Wrestling with lyrical logic

Q: Just listening to the new Bruce Springsteen album and he mentions "Have you ever seen a one legged dog?" Seems odd...I certainly haven't !!!

A: Yes, dear reader, I have. His name is "Pogo" and he had an unfortunate accident which involved a juicy t-bone steak, a malicious neighbourhood bully, and a lawmower. But he manages to carry on with his one mangled testicle poking out from his backside like a very bad anal haemorroid.

The only remaining leg is a back one, so he has to slide himself forward along the ground in a sort of spastic kicking motion. His lower jaw is worn down quite badly now from contact with the rough ground, so he can't help but lick the dirt as he moves, and sometime he'll get his front canines hooked on a rock and will take hours to shake himself free. Many times, I've caught him struggling to swallow a piece of broken glass or to flop his useless body over a large cliff, but I think he is essentially positive and content with his pointless, deformed existence.

But, now that you mention it, I do have issue with the remaining lyrics of Bruce Springsteen's "The Wrestler". He claims that if I've ever seen a one legged dog then I've seen him. Well the fact is that I did see a one legged dog when I was quite young and had no idea who "The Boss" was -- and it gave me no insight whatsoever into the pop star's appearance.

And before you catch me out, no, it didn't give me any insight into what Mickey Rourke or Marisa Tomei looked like, either.

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Readers or writers, that is the question...

Q: Why do you refer to people who write to you as "readers" when they are "writing" to you. Shouldn't you refer to them as "writers" or perhaps "followers" as in the Twitter domain? I don't read much of this s**t...

A: Good point, let me try it out, dear writer.

No, see, it just doesn't have a good ring to it, does it? It seems a pretty fair assumption that, if you've written a question in, you've quite obviously read the site, haven't you? I mean if you weren't a reader, how could you ever be a writer?

And even if you weren't a reader before this - say, someone gave you the AskHarv email address and you emailed in blind - you're gonna be a reader eventually, aren't you? Because if you're reading this now, I can call you a reader, can't I?

To be honest, you've confounded me somewhat, and now I will have to go to my therapist and get her to give me reaffirming mantras, such as "I am an intelligent, astute and powerfully sexual being" to repeat over and over again.

Thanks for costing me $780 and two hours of my time, dear reader!

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Deathbed Definitions

Q: On his deathbed, my father said to me, "Son, whatever you do in life DON'T shirk, beefle or toodlehop".

For the last 27 years I've been trying to honour his advice... but it's really hard because I don't have a clue what he was talking about.

Perhaps you can help me?


A: Yes, of course I can, dear reader. These are all straighforward slang English language terms.

Shirk: To wear a shirt with a big K on it. This is a fashion no-no unless your name is Kevin, with the nickname "Big Kev".

Beefle: to be led to believe something that is leading you to believe your beliefs are unbelievable. People like this drive me nuts and evidently your father agreed with me.

Toodlehop: To say goodbye on the phone, then restart the conversation over and over again.

Your father was a wise man, and hopefully this will help you straighten out your life. Because if you've been doing any of the above for the past 27 years, your father is gonna hate your guts from beyond the grave.

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Mortality Musings

Q: If I'm gonna die tomorrow, why can't I just die today???

A: I had a friend ask me that exact same question once, and I'll give you the same answer I gave him: you CAN!

It's called suicide and it's a fantastic concept because it gives us all an option to choose the method of our own demise.

When I told me friend this, I added a piece of advice. If you're going to take your own life, you might as well go out with a bang.

Kick a clown in the balls and see if it makes a comical honking sound before shooting your face off. Eat your cat and grin at yourself in the mirror before flattening your testicles with a steam iron and bleeding out. Calculate a divide-by-zero and multiply the N/A result by 10, THEN drop your intestines onto the floor with a Katana.

Of course, my friend chose, possibly unwisely, to donkey-punch a Vietnamese hooker, drench himself in urine, and run around the local mall screaming "I am the ORACLE" -- I assume he'll get back to killing himself by throwing ninja stars at his own face when he gets out of prison.

Anyhow, the idea is: be creative. Death is a once-off experience, so do something crazy in your last moments.

I wish you the best of luck with your self-immolation.

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Latin language lapse

Q: There are many words for sexually active women, such as slut, whore, or tart. What are the equivalent words for men?

A: You've picked up on a rather hypocritical English language deficiency here, one which often bothers women in Western cultures.

There are very few words to describe promiscuous men with negative connotations.

However, while this is a language problem shared by most Latin-based dialects, it does not apply to most other languages. Here are a few examples:

• The Arabic "Ackkharr bashdikkhar", which means, "he who sharpens his sword and uses it to slice many ovaries."
• The Hebrew word "Manditara-hassar", which translates to, "he who is likely to, and fully deserves to, have his penis rot off from AIDS or Syphillis."
• The Cantonese word "Dik wok dong willy dik-dok", which means "a man who would enjoy rape, paedophilia and necrophilia if his partner were unwilling, underage, or dead."

However, sexual liberation should be viewed as a positive thing, and instead of adding negative words for sexually promiscuous men, perhaps we should endeavour to endear words such as slut, tart and whore with positive connotations. We can do this in our own lives by simply beginning to use the words in positive light.

Maybe call your mum and greet her with a simple, "Hey slut, what's going down?". Visit your grandma in the nursing home, don a wide grin, and repeatedly refer to her as a massive hoe in front of staff and friends. Or even help promote your favourite female government representative by putting up sign that proclaims her as "the smartest old tart in politics."

Initially, such language usage would probably be frowned upon, but if you manage to avoid injury and jail-time, you'll be furthering the noble cause to unbias the English language permanently.

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Veronica is a whore

Q: I've heard that some men are lazy, impotent morons who couldn't even get it up for a supermodel. Is that true?

A: Yes, Veronica, that is true. However it is also true that some women are annoying, insatiable, alcoholic hypocrites who should just shut their whore mouths instead of harrassing their ex-husbands with banal questions.

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Birds, bees and burials

Q: Why do they refer to life's lessons as the "Birds and the Bees" ?

A: In primitive times, religious beliefs dictated that, to receive sexual gratification, one must also pay homage to nature. Insects represented the masculine and birds the feminine sides of sexual relations.

This led to various ritualistic habits. The most common was to cover the woman's body in honey, and make love in a pile of feathers, which would eventually coat the woman, transforming her into a human bird.

The man would, in turn, represent the insect world by stinging her repeatedly like an angry bee.

Eventually, it was discovered that many women, in a heightened state of extacsy, actually believed they had tranformed into birds and tried to fly out their bedroom window. In addition, men became convinced they were bees and began eating flowers and pollen, which was often poisonous.

These odd ecstatic behaviours led to many unexplained deaths until the church investigated and backed off their suggestions of naturallistic homage.

However, the term remained, and is still used today by parents who want to teach their children about sex, but are too scared to use terms such as p****, c****, or a*** lubricant.

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Toxic Longevity

Q: If poison expires is it still poisonous? I have an old bottle of cyanide lying around and was contemplating suicide, but am not sure if it'll work.

A: Some people will tell you it depends on the poison, but this simply isn't the case. The expiry date printed on poison is the date that the poison loses it's fatal toxicity and becomes a harmless and often tasty beverage.

In fact, expired poisons are often recycled to become ingredients in popular soft drinks and fruit juice blends. Some of the more popular juices on the market are blended with expired arsenic, sarin and anthrax, should they not be used for callous murder or genecide before their expiry date arrives.

So you better get yourself a new vial of cyanide, dear reader, because the one you have most likely tastes just like a delicious gulp of Dr Pepper, with twice the health benefits.

PS: Please don't poison anyone but yourself with this advice.

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Ass about?

Q: I understand why men like breasts; breasts are AWESOME!

But why do men like asses? I mean, everyone has an ass, right?

A: Men's attraction to breasts is a logical anthropoligical phenomenon, as breasts are one of the key distinguishing factors between men and women.

However, what about so-called ass men? Despite the differences between men's behinds and women's, the buttocks of each sex are similar enough to assume that an ass man would be equally attracted to male and female rear-ends.

Anthropologists used to expound that men like women's buttocks because they remind them of breasts. This explanation always bothered me, as buttocks do not have nipples, and of course, breasts don't have an anus smack bang in the middle of them.

However, recent tomfoolery in the northern Arctic has shed light on a new possibility. A group of scientists, supposedly studying the Aurora Borealis, decided it would be amusing to constantly urinate in exactly the same spot in the ice. This went on for several years, until they managed to drill a hole so deep that they accidentally uncovered ancient carvings buried in the ice core.

These carvings, although primitive, clearly showed pregnant women carrying babies in their buttocks and giving birth through their anuses. This indicates that the ancient method of child birth may have been to effectively poop the baby out instead of the conventional vaginal birth we know and accept today.

So perhaps man's primitive brain still recalls a time when a woman's engorged buttocks was a sign of fertility, and hence craves booty as a result. It is too early to tell, but the science is certainly exciting!

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Friendly Fling

Q: Is it ok to have sex with your toyboy's best friend if toyboy has decided he only wants you for a fling?

A: Not only is it ok, but in some cultures it would be expected.

For instance, in the Mayan culture in 2000 BC, assumed every woman would have both a husband and several sex slaves. The husband would prefer that his friends were used as sex slaves, because he could keep an eye on them and spread the love of his good wife to people he knew. In fact, by 200BC, when the Mayan culture was exiting the Preclassic period, sexual orgies involving several family groups were common and encouraged.

How do we know this? Fossils were discovered recently that involve 4-5 skeletons in complex sexual positions, such as the "tri-way 69", "dirty quadrangle with observer" or "sexy surprise six-pack". I have included a picture of one of the tamer configurations.

There are even theorists that believe the bizarre sexual activity of the Mayans was ultimately responsible for the culture's collapse. What a way to go, though.

Makes the supposed sexual liberation of our time seem kind of redundant, doesn't it?

So go ahead and sleep with your toyboy's friend. Chances are your toyboy will thank you for it in the long run.

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A trillogy of triumph!

Q: What do you think of my latest poem:

There will come a day,

A day not far away,
A day when they,
When they want to play,
To play in a way,
A way that pays,
That pays in clay,
In clay say nay,
Say nay to pray.

Eat pie together. Moist.

A: AskHarv's resident poet has done it again!

Wow, I'm almost speechless. The pin-point rythm & timbre, the biting social satire, the ryhminess, the sheer thematic desolation mixed with a surrealist sensibility.

Everything about this poem works.

I look forward to a day when you can unmask yourself, as you, my friend, are a wonderful gift bestowed upon humankind. You should be showered with wealth for your endeavours to unravel the meaning of our world and empart your insights to the rest of us.

Of course, a person with your wisdom, insight and heart-breaking sensitivity wouldn't be interested in wealth, and, would naturally shy away from the corruption of the limelight.

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You can lead a horse to tequila...

Q: I live in the Philippines and recently my boyfriend took me on a tour of the lovely Spanish village of Intramuros, near Manila.

Anyway, we were transported around on a horse-drawn carriage and I noticed all the horses wear weird eye-patches, like double-blind pirates.

The horses can't ALL be blind, can they, so what is the explanation?

A: In most other countries, draft horses wear what are known as blinkers, or blinders, as a way to avoid getting distracted and rearing up, potentially injuring others and embarrassing themselves.
 
However, in the Philippines, the draft horses are all female, and (rather inhumanely) kept high on cheap anti-anxiety medications, so the reason for the blinkers is, if you'll excuse the pun, harder to see.
 
It turns out that the above-mentioned medication is taken orally, so is watered down with strong tequila - as it is cheaper, and more easily obtained, than water in the Philippines.
 

This exposes the draft horses to a scientifically well-understood phenomenon that occurs when tequila enters the blood of a Filipina.

 

Before the blinkers were administered in 1932, Intramuros draft horses would often be found dancing semi-naked on tables, performing "body shots" and other sexually-themed drinking games on each other, and, later in the day, passed out in a corner in a pool of vomit.
 
These promiscuous horses weren't particularly tourist-friendly, so the blinkers were added to avoid the horses getting attracted to each other and lezzing off.
 
Interestingly, there was a small group of core customers who actually petitioned to have the behaviour brought back in 1967. They were unsuccessful.

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Croquet Q&A

Q: Is croquet the same as pall mall or are their origins tied together ? I'se got ta know.

A: If you are aware of the game of Pall Mall, or Paille-maille, as it is more accurately known, then I suspect you don't need me to inform you about its roots, or its relationship to modern croquet. However, for the beneficial of less learned readers, I will humour you nevertheless :)

The names Pall Mall and Paille-maille are both derived from the French "pôle mal" which means "bad pole". This was an expression of the frustration, humiliation and emotional degradation associated with using a mallet to get a ball to go through a small hoop dozens of metres away.

In fact, it is little known that Paille-maille was originally designed by the Mongols as a torture device to be used during their empirical rule in the 13th and 14th centuries. The Mongols would force their prisoners of war to play Paille-maille for hours on end, while the guards would stand by and make inane and unhelpful comments, such as "it's a baby ball, come on, it's a baby ball, be gentle, don't hurt the baby ball..." until eventually the prisoner would give up in frustration and submit himself voluntarily to a merciful death, such as castration or having his spine ripped out.

The Mongols eventually moved in to China and brought their torture techniques with them. The Chinese experimented with Paille-maille until eventually it was ruled far too cruel, and was replaced with the Chinese Water torture, bamboo finger nails and various others that are well-known today.

Eventually the torture technique spread throughout the world and various more sadistic societies, such as the French, took it up as a sport for the sheer enjoyment of watching each other suffer. Unexpectedly its popularity soared, and Pall Mall led to Ground Billiards, Croquet, and, eventually modern Golf.

Whenever I feel the urge to play any of these sports, I simply drive a couple of bamboo shafts under my nails and save myself a valuable afternoon.

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Panthera palate preferences

Q: My friend wants to make a bet with me that Tiger's like pepper but utterly despise cinnamon. I know it's going to turn out to be untrue and want to take his stupid bet, but how can we prove it? And do you think it's true?

A: To my knowledge, and vague disappointment, there has not yet been a comprehensive scientific study on the palate preferences of the mighty big cats, incluiding the Tigris Panthera. Most research money these days goes to bleeding-heart animal-causes like giant pandas or baby seals.

I once nursed a litter of baby tigers in Africa, and found that they were quite happy to eat almost anything. Bread, milk, leftover steak, one even took a great big bite out of my love handle, much to everyone's amusement.

I'm not sure exactly what my love handle would taste like, but, if I had to guess, I'd say it would be more like cinnamon than pepper, which completely invalidates your friend's statement. If I were you, I'd take the bet, and bet big.

As for proving it, that's easy. Just put some cinnamon on your friend's hand and some pepper on yours and then together thrust your hands into the tigers enclosure at your local zoo.

Whichever hand the tigers bite off first will be the hand of the loser.

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Feline facial fallacy

Q: I recently had cosmetic surgery to reconstruct a dramatically sunken jawbone. The surgery went well and I'm very happy with my new chin.

But now, suddenly, my cat, Mr. Tinkles, appears to hate me.

He screws up his face when I pet him, keeps urinating on my laundry and will often cross to the other side of the yard when I come outside to sunbake. Sometimes I suspect he is trying to kill me.

I'm at a loss! Should I get my chin changed back?

A: Yes, I'm afraid the only option - if you love you Mr. Tinkles, as you claim - is to change your chin back to its previous semi-deformed state.

Cats imprint on their owners, much like ducklings or platypus elders, and once this imprinting is complete, it cannot be undone or re-taught.

Mr Tinkles memorised the appearance of his food source long ago, and now you've put him in the uncomfrotable position of living with some weird stranger in the house, waiting until his real owner returns to resume their symbiotic relationship. To be honest, you're lucky he's only peeing on your clothes and witholding affection - he's just as likely to claw your face into red flesh-ribbons during the night.

Choice time, kiddo. It's either your own vanity, or the love of your feline companion. Make your choice.

PS: If you're having trouble funding the cosmetic reversal, may I suggest going to bar, approaching the toughest guy in the place, and calling him a flaming homosexual. He will gladly perform the corrective surgery you need free of charge, albeit with a marked lack of precision.

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Tipsy tomfoolery

Q: Its 2am and I is pissed. Everyone else is sleeping in bed and I feel a need to comment on peoples latest Facebook status. Should I just go to bed or get another drink??

A: If you're drunk, commenting on peoples' Facebook status can be hours of fun.

However, I've found, after a nice bottle of Pinot, tagging photos with incorrect information is far more rewarding.

For instance, my attractive female friend once posted a sexy photo of herself, in which you could clearly see her nipple through her blouse. I immediately tagged the nipple with the name of an extremely conservative Facebook friend. I could imagine his surprise when he opened up his Facebook in the morning and saw that his name was attached to a nipple! Haha!

When I found out he had been out of town and offline for 2 weeks and had given his wife access to his account in his absence, I was, naturally, quite surprised. I was also surprised to learn that they had become divorced and were arguing over custody of their 7 children (in the end they got half each, which was painful for the middle child).

So, in answer to your question, go to bed and never give your wife access to your Facebook account.

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Love leper

Q: Hi - how should a 33 year old single mother go about picking up some weekly casual cuddling/sex?

A: You present your question as if your age and situation are disadvantages. Perhaps in a vast majority of male eyes they are, but let me tell you from experience that there is someone for everyone out there.

I once met an extremely obese girl who was virtually swimming in offers for sex, relationships and even marriage.

Personally, I found her appearance - with her metal-shop-teacher arms, papier-mâché midriff and seventeen-point-two chins - distasteful, repugnant and nauseating, so I asked her out of curiosity how she did it. She said she had simply found a website that offered to hook up freakish male fetishists with the chubby funsters they craved.

Sadly, she is no longer with us, as one of her suitors turned out to be a serial killer who liked to take the fat from overweight women and deep-fry their eyeballs in it.

Not to worry, though - the internet is a great and fun way to turn what you see as disadvantages into advantages. Because, cliched as it sounds, one man's trash is another man's treasure.

If all else fails, I have a one-legged, mentally-retarded, midget half-brother called Norkie who's hard-pressed for a date. He's does have a horrifically vicious violent streak, but would be much more grateful for the attention than a "normal" guy. His penis seems to function fine when he rubs warm wasabe all over his body and masturbates like a wild orang utan.

We keep him confined to a padded room in my sister's basement, but we could set up a foam table with plastic wine glasses and cutlery for a nice candlelit dinner. Actually scratch the candles, as the sight of fire sometimes makes him scream incessantly for weeks.

Worth some thought in a pinch.

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Barfnie

Q: I was drinking booze with my stupid friend the other day when he slightly vomited on the crotch of his pants, giggled and then said, "Barfnie.." before passing out. I then rolled him into the gutter and waited for the garbagemen to collect the trash.

What does "Barfnie" mean? It's puzzled me ever since..

A: I very rarely have to research my answers before I post (in fact I actively avoid research, as it can only serve to corrupt the purity of knowledge I have amassed first-hand over the years), but I must admit this one befuddled me a little.

Of course, I needn't have worried, as it turns out "barfnie" is not the only word in the English language that I am unaware of. It's simply not a word at all, in any language, anywhere in the world.

Google turns up only 45 results, which consist mainly of a combination of the English slang "barf", which means to vomit, and the German "nie" which simply means not. Perhaps your friend lapsed into German language before passing out.

It's not as silly as it sounds. There are many instances in history of people spontaniously speaking a language they have never learned in cases of extreme brain trauma or an intake of copious amounts of hallucinogenic drugs. In Medieval times, this was often interpreted as speaking in tongues, which was an indication of demonic possession.

I'd suggest lots of asprin, a quick bloodletting, and an exorcism in the morning.

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Be alert, we need more lerts.

Q: Why do I hate being prompted, but not mind so much being alerted? They're almost the same thing aren't they?

A: The human brain's capacity to process multiple simultaneous inputs varies from person to person. How the brain interprets each input and converts it to rational thoughts, images and sounds is something that has boggled science for years.

I am the only person in the world today to have studied and understood it thoroughly, and am in the process of writing a nobel-prize-contending journal on the subject. Unfortunately, that means I cannot reveal too much of the contents here.

I can say this, though: I hate both alerts and prompts equally. Prompts are so needy and alerts are so alarmist, that I cannot stand either one. So each to their own, eh?

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Prunes and prejudice

Q: What is it about your generation? Always slagging off at the expense of older people or children. Do you put this down to self obsession, pathological insecurity or blind prejudice? Or is there some other explanation?

A: Firstly, let me say, for the record, my answers are all based on scientific fact and the only prejudices they contain are slanted toward perfect truth.

However, I did have a problem with this several years ago and actually saw several therapists about it. Eventually, they tracked down the problem to a mild form of Terets Syndrome, which is best known as the brain disorder that causes people call out swear words and obscenities involuntarily. Phrases such as "whooop! F***K", "RapeMaggot" or "HickoryDickoryC***k" are often called out with no cause or warning.

In my case, the disorder was very WHIPPERSNAPPER mild (kind of a 24-hour-thing that lasted 5 years), and caused a very slight intolerance of people outside my generational age-bracket.

One doctor ironically noted that, if the disorder had escalated, I would have lived into old age with an involuntary self-loathing which would have resulted in me sitting in my LONGJOHN rocking chair on my porch hurling insults at myself and probably sobbing at the sting of my own wit.

It was a call to action that I did not ignore, let me tell you!

Hence, it has completely cleared up now, thank God, and hasn't manifested itself for several OLDFART years.

So maybe just pour yourself a cup of warm cocoa, eat some warm porridge with DANGLYBALLS prunes, put your travel rug over your knees, and sip a port pipe, old timer. Best of luck for your morning bowel movement.

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Olds dogs, new tech

Q: My folks are in their 80s and want to know all about computers. How to use them etc etc,,, Problem is they are both very impatient and still call the radio the wireless, still use the outside toilet, hot waterbottles and kerosine heating. What is the best way to teach them?

A: You simply need to find a way to communicate to them without confusing them with modern terminology.

For instance, you should refer to a keyboard as a typewriter. Call the monitor a television. The mouse is ok as a mouse, but paint some whiskers on it and pretend to feed it some cheese. And the CPU probably shouldn't rate a mention at all. Just call it the black box if you have to refer to it. If it's not black, paint it.

Remember, your folks are old, so medical research has shown us they are vulnerable to anneurisms and heart attacks if they are overloaded with new information. The saying you can't teach a dog new tricks is not quite correct -- it should say you can't teach an old dog new tricks without risking severe brain malfunction and corrective neurosurgery.

I had a friend who tried to teach his parents to use a computer and ended up slashing his entire family to death with a machete. Which was weird because he only tried for twenty minutes. He may have had issues with them already.

Either way, best of luck, you tread a treacherous path. Godspeed!

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For crying out loud!

Q: What's the most tactful way to tell a baby to shut the f**k up?

A: Babies respond to soft rhythmic words, with generous helpings of rhyming, asonance and illiteration. Words such as "mama" "dada" or "diggy-diggy-goo-goo" are music to a baby's ears.

While "shut the f**k up" has strong asonance and a snappy rhythm, I think we can do better.

I would suggest, instead of going with a witty line such as "hey babio, how about you cry me a big bag of shut the f**k up?", you try to make it more conducive to a baby's sensibilities. Try "coo-coo-bippidy-boo-shut-the-f**ky-wucky-uppy-wuppy". Maybe cover and uncover your eyes in a peeky-boo gesture for added effect.

If the baby won't shush immediately with lines like that, note that there's a fairly painless elective surgery that one can get to remove a baby's voicebox. Remember, the baby is the one being unreasonable here, not you.

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This question is a mite weighty!

Q: How many dust mites in a kilo? Do female dust mites (non pregnant) weigh more than males? How much methane is in a dust mite fart?

A: For a minute there, I thought you were going to ask me which weighed more, a kilo of dust mites or a kilo of feathers!

Believe it or not, reader, I'm a bit of a dust mite fanatic myself! It's an amazing creature which has made it through the ages without evolving significantly, or selling out and becoming cute to parasitically prey on other species' sympathies, like puppies or human babies. No, your dust mite is ugly, angry and inexplicably proud of it, much like Beyonce's Sascha Fierce.

There is, indeed, a fairly slanderous rumour going around that female dust mites are heavier than males. There is no science behind the rumour, and I believe it was started by anti-dust-mite movements to discredit female dust mites and cause them to diet excessively, possibly even into starvation. I even saw a new magazine on the stands the other day called Cos-mite-politan, which is cover-to-cover with unrealistic body-images for female dust mites. I'm not one for causes, but this has to stop.

Admittedly, female dust mites do carry the burden of excessively large genitals, but this is offset by the fact that their heads are marketly smaller that males.

As for the weight of a dust mite, that can vary significantly from region to region. If you've ever heard the myth that dead dust mites and their fecal matter can double the weight of your mattress or pillow after just one year of use, then you've probably heard it immediately dismissed by scientists and medical professionals as fanciful fiction.

Well, evidently those scientists and medical professionals have never been to Venezuela, where the average dust mite weighs in excess of 1E-14 milligrams, which is a lot for a dust mite, believe me! Not only can dust mites that heavy contribute to a significant portion of the weight of a pillow over time, eventually, they can BECOME the pillow.

And interestingly, dust mites can't fart.

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Cloning around!

Q: I recently downloaded an article about cloning, and, during some basic experiments to verify the information, managed to clone my brother from a pubic hair I found under the toilet seat.

I know I can't keep him, Mum would FREAK! But what do I do? Is it ok to kill him, or is that technically murder?

Plus, wouldn't a clone made from a pubic hair naturally turn out a little twitchy?

A: Well it sounds like someone is not going to flunk high school science class!

But before we spend too much time patting you on the back, kiddo, lets acknowledge that scientists generally don't admit to the public is how easy cloning really is. In truth, it's completely possible to create a clone from a flake of skin, a box of corn flakes and a steam iron. The powers-that-be create the illusion of complexity to discourage the average Joe from attempting to clone, because of the obvious moral issues that arise.

One such issue you seem to have run into. What happens when you get bored with the clone and want to incinerate it? Is it ok to burn the clone on a pyre, or see how many times you can twist it's head around before it comes right off?

I would imagine your conundrum is magnified by the fact that the clone looks exactly like your brother (with slightly curlier hair, of course) and is likely begging for its life, crying, whimpering and clutching at your ankles.

But fear not, there is nothing wrong with disposing of your clone in any way you choose. You created it, so you can destroy it; it's that simple. In fact, clones typically turn out to be quite evil, or at least slightly creepy (think bad twins in an 80's horror movie) and exterminating them is a service to humankind.

And yes, a clone made from a pubic hair would most likely turn out to be a little twitchy, just as a clone created from penis tissue would turn out to be horny or a clone made from ass skin would have serious B.O. problems. However, these anomalies are easily controlled or regulated in most cases.

Just never create a clone from eyeball fluid, or you might end up with a massive cycloptic orang-utan named Blinky Bill who will not, not matter how many times you ask, leave your Playstation alone.

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Brick a broke

Q: How does one throw a brick through a window without making any noise?

A: Seems there are foul deeds afoot! However, like a nuclear arms manufacturer or the tabacco industry, it's not my place to presuppose the intent of my customers -- it's entirely possible you have a legitimate reason for wanting to throw a brick through a window.

It could be for a hollywood stunt, for instance. Or perhaps you really need to have a brick inside your house, but for some innocent reason don't have easy access to the interior of the house. Maybe the brick forgot its keys and you're just helping it out.

Either way, very sensitive of you to not want to disturb the neighbours with the raucous sound of shattering glass!

One needs only a basic knowledge of the physics of sound in order to answer your question. Sound is caused by tiny particles vibrating and disturbing the particles on either side of it. Eventually some of these distrurbed particles knock against our eardrums, which our brain processes as sound.

However, there is a phenomenon called noise cancellation. You may have heard of this in reference to noise-cancelling headphones. This is the process of generating a sound that has the inverse wave of another sound. At the midpoint of two identical sounds, the movements in the particles cancel each other out, and the human ear can no longer detect that any sound was issued -- eventhough it's really two identical sounds being issued simultaneously from an equal distance!

So all you need to do is convince a friend (who, ideally has identical size weight and proportions to you) to throw an identical brick through an identical window, in exactly the same manner, at exactly the same moment, and at exactly the same distance from the location at which you would like to keep the breaking glass inaudible.

Simple, isn't it?

Sure, it may mean losing two windows instead of one, but your neighbours will have a solid night's sleep.

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It's in the game

Q: What should you do if the person you are having an affair with gets cross because you don't text him during his girlfriend weekends about your computer problems but then fails to respond to a text asking who a person on facebook is during a girlfriend weekend? Aren't they both as impersonal as the other? Especially since computer issues imply fixing which imply a home visit?

A: Your situation is so complex even I am not sure if I understand the question properly! Is this guy your boyfriend, or your IT support technician?

However, assuming the former, you've given me enough to go on to suggest your next move. You're obviously in a game-playing relationship, so play some games, girl! Mess with him a little! Get with the program!

Here are some fun suggestions:

• Invite him over for coffee and then drink a coffee in front of him and ask him to leave.
• Let yourself into his house and slightly move every object on his desk.
• Have sex with his mail-man and never tell him about it.
• Tell him he got you pregnant, then hold up a deformed, blood-stained coat hanger and sob uncontrollably.

I've got more, but I'm saving them for my ex-girlfriend Veronica.

Yes, Veronica, you've got it coming.

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Another critic!

Q: What makes you think you've got all the answers Jackass? Why should anyone take any advice from someone who probably just sits at home sniggering uncontollably at the laptop and whacking off to "Big Butts and Pigtails Volume 7: Anal Birthday"?

A: Another critic.

Hey, Mr Negativity, why don't you start up your own Q&A site if you think this one is so bad? Oh, what's that? Huh? Oh... you're not... you're not going to? Oh, is that right? And why... why is that, exactly? Oh, because you're a mentally retarded hermaphrodite who breast fed until he was 32 years old? Oh, and what? And you pee your pants on the hour!? Oh, I see. Wow, interesting!

Now go see if Mummy can make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

PS: I've never seen ANY movie in the "Big Butts and Pigtails" series, especially "Volume 7: Anal Birthday", so the joke's on you, Popsy!

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This funeral blows

Q: Recently I was at a funeral and I saw my mate's brother walk up to the funeral director and exclaim, "Hey rev, if this doesn't give you the heebee-jeebies what would, ay?"

I found this very funny and had to pinch myself to keep from giggling uproariously, which would have been inappropriate at such a sobre occasion.

But it got me thinking; does it have to be this way? Is there a respectful way to have a funeral service that's more enjoyable than the average mourn-fest?

A: Firstly, condolences on the passing of your friend.

Different cultures have their own approach to funerals, many of which are much more lighthearted than the traditional western ceremony.

My personal favourite is held by elders of the Kuki tribe in Manipur, India. The sombre but undeniably irreverend ceremony involves gathering in a large tent, feasting on various curries, beans and spoiled fruits, then attempting to produce a deep, resonating, unified flatulence in honour of the deceased.

If enough elders are present, they can often sustain the cluster-fart for 15-20 minutes, which is an aural treat, let me tell you. The idea is to keep from passing out from the smell, laughing from the humour, vomitting, or soiling one's pants while the fart is ongoing.

The longer the fart goes for, the better chance the deceased has of passing on to the next world. The sound is also considered to be soothing to help the soul remain at rest for eternity.

But yes, you are correct, there is no reason a funeral can't be a little more entertaining. If you feel strongly about it, write it into your will and your relatives will be forced to obey your last wishes!

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Et tu, Jacko?

Q: Is the recent death of the "King of Pop" a publicty stunt or has Michael Jackson really died? Whats your thoughts on the life and times of Michael Jackson?

A: I think, like many others, I don't want to believe that old MJ is dead. Which is fortunate, because I genuinely don't.

Come on, Jacko is just another in a long string of faked celebrity deaths. Maralyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, James Dean, Michael Hutchence, Lindsay Lohan (let me dream)...  the list goes on and on.

A faked death is a celebrity's equivalent to a well-worded letter of resignation. Since a celebrity's boss is essentially the public, a faked death is simply formal notification of intent to resign.

Micky-Jay is probably relaxing on his ranch somewhere, sipping a cocktail with Macauley Culkin, Bubbles the chimp, and the bones of the Elephant Man.

He will certainly be missed, as his contribution to music and pop culture during his tragically shortened career has been tremendous. I still remember nude table-top dancing to "Bad" in an attempt to impress a pretty girl at my local watering hole one night. It didn't work and the bouncers saw fit to beat me within an inch of my life before handing me over to the local authorities... but nevertheless... good times...

As an aside, it was recently discovered that all celebrities (except Paris Hilton, who doesn't count as a person, let a alone celebrity -- seriously, check the US census results, she's not on there) share a particular "faulty" chromosome. This so-called "Z-chromosome" is the one responsible for the wild charisma that attracts others to them, but comes at the cost of sanity, humility and a susceptibility to Scientology.

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Entymological ASS-istance!

Q: Where does the word 'ass' come from? I know it means a donkey but how does a donkey and someone's rear-end relate?

And why do english people say 'arse'?

A: As a big fan of etymology, diction, parlance and nomenclature, I was very excited to receive your question, dear reader. I have many times pondered and researched this very question!

The word "ass" was originally an acronym for "Anally Sensitive Spasmoid", which was a popular insult during the early 1700s. For the sake of brevity, this isult eventually transmorphosed into the abbreviation "ass".

Interestingly, there was a rare disease going around that was spread by donkey meat (considered a delicacy at the time, and used in many stews, steaks & muffins), not unlike our recent outbreaks of mad cow, bird flu or, more recently, swine flu. An afflicted donkey's nervous system would be degraded over time, to the point where the poor creature would begin to twitch and fart uncontrollably, eventually resulting in total bowel failure, drooling, and excessive winking. The symptoms of the disease so closely matched the description "anally sensitive spasmoid" that the word donkey and ass became synonymous.

Once the disease died out and became little more than a agricultural historical footnote, the original anagram lost its meaning and became the word we know and love today.

English people say "arse" in order to sound superior. I suspect it doesn't matter how many countries decide to use the term "ass", England will always insist on their alternative spelling.

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A bit of a downer

Q: How can you make a guy go down on you? Or better yet, if you've been down on him how do you ask why he hasn't on you? And prepare yourself for a brutal answer?

A: In caveman times, women would simply grab a male by the ears, position his head, and then slowly begin to twist. Eventually the man would yeild in the face of having his ears torn off.

Granted, this typically occurred after the male had slammed the female over the head with a makeshift hammer (usually a coconut attached to the end of a stick) and raped her repeatedly.

Things were tough in caveman times, but remarkably simple.

The modern equivalent of this would be to hold back from cooking your man a meal, or washing his clothes, until he has given you the oral sex you require. Soon his washing basket will begin to overflow and his stomach will begin to rumble, and he will instigate radical behaviour modification in an effort to change the outcomes.

Once he stumbles across the answer - oral sex = food & washing done - he will be going down on you at every opportunity.

Trust me, talk is overated.

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A dying breed

Q: As you probably know, few endagered species are threatened as seriously as the wobble-nosed mungbat from Northern Russia. I just returned from a 14 year field trip studying the mungbat with my wife and the experience has changed us at a fundamental level.

I wondered perhaps if you might post this to raise awareness of the poor mungbat's plight and perhaps fill in your readers on what makes this special little creature, well... special.

A: Yes, I am well aware of the plight of the poor wobble-nosed mungbat. It is, however, from Central Russia, not the north.

I have actually been privellaged enough to cradle one of the last remaining half-dozen or so mungbats in my arms, crying openly like a child with no gifts on Christmas day, wailing and moaning over the dying creature's seemingly inevitable fate.

When I was subsequently informed that the mungbats are highly allergic to human tears, and that I had inadvertantly dripped a few onto the mungbat's skin, infecting the tiny creature with an incurable flesh-eating skin disease, my sorrow only deepened.

For those that don't know, the wobble-nosed mungbat is a rare species of mammal whose stool is believed to be one of the most resilient substances on Earth. Once a mungbat drops off a brown boy at the pool, the stool will not decompose, bend, or change texture without complex molecular coersion. This stool can be fashioned into stylish furniture, tools, or even complex machinery that will effectively last forever.

Once the last mungbat dies, so will our best chance at creating a renewable, sustainable society.

Plus, they're just so cute... so, please, readers... help save the wobble-nosed mungbat!

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Harv vs Reader

Q: Most other 'advice' websites tend to enlist the help of individual specialists, depending on the topic being discussed - is it arrogance or do you trully believe you have the best possible answers to all the questions being asked here?

A: We have a cynic!

To answer your question, not only do I truly believe I have the best answers to every possible question that could be thrown at me, I also believe I have a calling to help people in the challenges they face in life.

Previously, I thought this calling was to be a self-appointed health and safety expert at my local supermarket, where I would seek out spoiled cheese, old vegetables and other spoiled produce, and shout frantically at customers who looked like they were considering buying one. But that calling turned out to involve jail time, so I started AskHarv instead.

Or to quote my grandfather, who was possibly the only man ever to live who was smarter than myself "I've never been wrong in my life. Well, once I thought I was, but I was wrong."

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Shark vs Cheetah

Q: What's faster - a cheetah or a shark?

A: I'm guessing you know this is a trick question, dear reader.

If a cheetah were to race a shark on land, the shark would lose because it could do little more than flop around spastically on the ground like a dying goldfish.

Put a cheetah in water, however, and it would presumably attempt an ironic doggy paddle for about 6 seconds before being torn limb from limb by the shark. The shark would then be able to win the race at any leisurely speed it likes, as a dead cheetah in water is reliant on tides and currents to cover any distance at all.

However, if they are both loaded into the luggage bay of an F14 Tomcat (a situation I saw more often that I would like during the Gulf war, where they used cheetahs as impact triggers on their neutron bombs), they both travel at exactly the same speed.

And if they are playing Texas Hold 'em, it depends. Is the shark a better shark than the cheetah is at cheating?

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Are we doing it yet?

Q: What should one do if a penis is too small to be felt in the vagina during intercourse but is otherwise quite pleasant and easy to perform oral sex and handjobs on?

A: Now, Veronica, I thought I asked you nicely not to email in about our personal lives.

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Kin-KY sex!

Q: How does one deal with hemorrhoids during anal sex?

A: When I started AskHarv, I anticipated all sorts of questions, from metaphysical musings about the nature of the universe, to personal queries about the nature of relationships.

However, I must admit, I never anticipated this particular inquiry would ever come across my desk, dear reader.

Now, to the question at hand! I would suggest a rather radical and possibly unconsidered approach to this particular problem: don't mix the two. If you have hemorrhoids, do not engage in anal sex. And conversely, if you are engaging in anal sex, perhaps a quick check that you don't have massive hemorrhoids would be in order.

And if you must have both of these things simultaneously, I'll give you the same suggestion I give to many sexual problems that come my way: lots of KY.

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What's in an insult?

Q: Why can African Americans call each other 'n*****', while a white man would get his eyes cut out?


If I call my friend (who happens to be white like myself) - '****', I really have no objection to a black man calling him the same.

A: I'm sure there are names that someone could call you that would cause offense. What about "urine-cheeks", or "flubber-flub-flub"? What if I called you "baby-pus", or "no-pants-man"? What if you had haemorroids and I kept going "Hey, 'roids, how are those 'roids going, 'roid-man?"

The specific word you asked about has a history going back to before the Big Bang, when God used to use it as a derogatory name for black holes.

I would suggest sticking to more conventional insults, such as "Pup-rape", "Pocky-man", or "F**k-Berry".

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Answering the Bone-A-Phone

Q: I am a chronic masturbator.

Help.

A: Well, dear reader, when I decide to "Charm the Cobra", I like to start by lighting a few scented candles, running a bath, and lathering up my whole body with aromatic oils, lavendar and aloe. I take it slow and really romance myself, as this hightens the pleasure later when I get to the business end of the night.

Try laying down a few rose petals or fitting your bed with satin sheets. I find pastel-coloured velvet on the walls helps immensely.

But most of all, lubricate well, or you'll get choad-chafing, and will have to wait for it to heal before you can do it all over again.

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IQ Q&A

Q: Dear Mr Harv, have you eva had your IQ took? I bet it's reel high!!!

A: Higher than you can likely count, dear reader.

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In LAYman's terms...

Q: Professor Harv, what came first, the chicken or the egg ?

A: Firstly, let me just say you can drop the "professor"; we're all peers on AskHarv (albeit some of us are peers with an intelligence that surpasses his readers').

As for the age-old question regarding the chicken or the egg, the answer is simpler than you might think.

All life-forms on this planet were originally sent down from space in small egg-shaped capsules, from a distant planet called Galaxatron where they were constructed on one of the planet's many production lines. To the Galaxatronics, these "life-forms" are considered household appliances, with no more importance than a toaster has to us.

The factories on Galaxatron have a 0.000000062% rate of product failure, and anything that the QA team detects as faulty is ejected into space. Sometimes these faulty products end up crashing into Earth and the resulting product starts an entirely new species.

So it's the chicken.

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Female form-ula

Q: What is it about the female form that drives men crazy?

I have $50K to spend on reconstruction and I want to use my money wisely.

A: Since your sign off is a non-gender-specific name, I am unable to determine if you are contemplating a sex change, or just enhancement surgery.

Either way, if you want to drive men crazy, the same principals apply. Start with the breasts. Men really like breasts. Often men will tell you they like buttocks, but the truth is they only like buttocks because they look like breasts and are confusing them. The truth is, anthropologically speaking, men are programmed to look for traits that uniquely identify a potential mating partner as the opposite sex. Breasts are the best indication of this, as the only men who have breasts are extremely overweight and can be immediately ruled out as sexual partners. Plus, these are often easily identified as moobs (man-boobs) and not those exquisite, baby-feeding love-humps on a woman's chest known as breasts.

I can tell you this, though: one thing that does NOT drive men crazy is a spliced penis, turned inside out and twisted inside the abdomen to mimick a vagina. I would never advocate dishonesty in sexual relations, but you might want to keep that part to yourself unless presented with a very specific, unambiguous question.

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Mayday, mayday, we're going down!

Q: I suffer from a high degree of self loathing.

At the moment I am trying to boost my self esteem by reciting positive affirmations, such as, 'I am a wonderful, loveable person'. Unfortunately, I don't always remember to do it often enough, and I'm not getting the improvment in self esteem I'm after.

I really hate myself for letting myself down in this way and screwing yet another thing up. What should I do?

A: It sounds like you're in a highly inevitable and self-perpetuating downward spiral.

We call this a downward spiral as a metaphor for a plane falling from the sky, out of control and plummetting to the ground. Such a spin is very hard for a pilot to pull out of, and the more the spiral continues, the harder it is to avoid a full, clataclysmic and devastating impact with the ground.

To get out of this, you will have to do more than meditate or tell yourself everyone loves you. You need to do something drastic to shake your mind from it's natural patterns.

Electrotherapy is one option and you can do this at home if you have a 110 volt power plug (avoid the 240V, as it can often throw you across the room, causing injury -- although in your case that might help, should you survive it).

Try biting off a rat's head while watching yourself in the mirror. Do it naked. The image will burn itself in your mind and will certainly change your outlook permanently. Granted, the effect of this treatment could just as easily be harmful as beneficial, not to mention the hygeine issues involved with swallowing rats' blood.

This is something that psychologists won't mention, but, in my experience, self-loathing is often accompanied by extreme external loathing also. Do other people like you? It's possible that you are actually an unlikeable person, and your self-hated is completely justified. In this case, there's not much you can do except resign yourself to this notion and live with it.

The outlook is grim, Captain, but I hope you can be one of the tiny percentage of airmen who can pilot themselves out of such a deep downward spiral.

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Clear-cut answer

Q: Hey Harv.. What does more damage? A Boomerang or a Samurai Sword? My stupid coon friend thinks Boomerang whereas I beg to differ.. Ur thoughts?

A: Firstly, let me mention that you have (possibly unwittingly) used an offensive word for an indigenous Australian. The correct word to use is "Māori", for future reference.

As for boomerang vs katana (the name for the classic Samurai sword), are you kidding!? Boomerang has a bit of range, yeah, but all it can deliver is an effective bump to the head. The katana will CUT YOU IN HALF.

Take it to the field and test it with your friends.

The victim of the boomerang will be all... oooh, you hit me with a boomerang and I've got a real googy egg on my head, why did you do that, it really hurts...

The dude on the sharp end of a katana would be more like, well, thank you Mr. Samurai, I can't say anything because I'm DEAD; spurting blood 10 feet across the room and my arm came right off and I'm split in two at my sternum and I can't even tell you this because I died almost immediately.

Boomerang, indeed!

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Cruelty to animals, please

Q: Does inflicting cruelty on unwitting animals represent who you are?

A: Yes, reader, it most certainly does. However, the connotation is purely a cultural one, ranging from utter abhorrence to unyeilding respect.

For instance, certain suburban areas in the Republic of Azkhikistan regard a peaceful attitude toward animals as a sign of weakness, and fully expect citizens to immediately inflict the harshest form of violence against any animal within arm's reach. As a result, animals in Azkhikistan are known to be skittish and subserviant, with high stress levels and a much lower life expectancy than most other countries.

I visited once, and without properly researching local customs, I unwittingly failed to slap down a low-flying pigeon which passed close by my head. I was suddenly accosted by a group of heavy-set women who had been celebrating at a nearby pub. I had to retreat to my car until they lost interest in pursuing me and went back to their baby shower.

It was only later that I found out why I had been targetted.

However, in Western society, acts such as slapping down pigeons or tying cats to fishing wire and attaching them to moving ceiling fans are often looked down upon.

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When a yearbook is just a yearbook

Q: When is the best time to tell a girl you don't love her? Before or after she's shown you her high school yearbook?

A: I have searched Google and Urban Dictionary, because I know how tricky you kids can be with your slang and euphemisms.

There were no hits for "show you her high school yearbook" (I did, however, find plenty of links to High School Musical 2, and candid pictures of Vanessa Hudgens with no clothes on) so I'm assuming you mean literally show you the yearbook from her high school.

If that's the case, then I'm not aware of any relationship between high school yearbooks and expressing lack of interest in a girl. If I were you I'd wait as long as possible to tell her, as it may cause disappointment and leads her to lose interest in sex.

On a personal note, the time to leave is not about when she shows you her high school yearbook; it's about when she starts setting the dogs on you every time you try to visit her house.

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K9 bait and switch

Q: If you saw a link on a website that asked you to join a group that was 'against the use of live dogs as shark bait'... you'd think it was a joke as well, right?

A: I'd probably laugh heartily and go on about my day, browsing the porn site on which I found the link.

Watch out, though, animal activism is being used as part of a new internet scam whereby users foolhardy enough to click the link are infected with a virus called "p.42.tech_psych". This dangerous virus causes your computer to emit low-frequency electronic sonic pulses through the PC speaker.

Over time, the sounds interfere with the electronic signals of the human brain and cause erratic behaviour, such as making appointments you don't intend to keep, lurching at unsuspecting commuters on public transport, or glancing at one's watch repeatedly and giggling. In some cases, it has even been seen to cause an unnatural attraction to peanut butter, to the extent that several incedents have been reported at local supermarkets.

This is not a virus you want to get, folks, so be warned.

As an aside, or perhaps more to the point, dogs make excellent shark bait. Dog hairs lubricate the shark's oesophagus and aid in digestion once the animal has been devoured.

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More than one way...

Q: What is the best and most humane way to kill a cat oneself?

A: Poison is the most humane way to kill a cat. It will just fall asleep and never wake up.

But if you're going to kill a cat, my advice would be to have some fun with it. Perform experiments on it, like seeing how long you can keep it alive in a water tank. Feed it asprin until it's head explodes. Stuff it with fish biscuits and kick it in the guts.

Poison is boring.

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The age of reluctance

Q: How should one age gracefully without really wanting to?

A: That's like asking how to choose the prettiest carnival freak. The truth is there's nothing graceful about ageing. It's a pride-swallowing, soul-sucking process that nature imposes on us while laughing uproariously.

Luckily for you, there is a product called "Wobble-Stopper" coming on the market (it's not yet FDA approved) that can actually halt the ageing process. It comes in the form of a cream that completely stops the ageing process on part of the body it's applied to. I've been trialling it for years and it works a charm.

However, I was a little lazy when applying the cream, so now I have a generally youthful appearance with wrinkly ears, eyelids and lips. It doesn't sound so bad, but I do look like a freak.

Oh yeah and I live in La-la land, where I ride rainbow ponies drink from the champagne river.

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Flawed fling: an update

Q: I recently spoke to Cocky 22 who said to me over the phone 'let me give you a hint - I like the chase'. This from the same brain who expects me to speak for 3hrs on the phone, take an interest in his life, be funny etc without him having to do a thing! What should be my response?

A: He seems to be trying to give you a hint here. Let me just gaze into my crystall ball here and see... oh it seems he likes the chase!

But seriously, if he likes the chase, give him one. Move to Bolivia.

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Flawed fling

Q: I am currently enjoying an illicit affair with a very cocky 22 year old who currently has a girlfriend.

Cocky 22 constantly makes remarks such as 'it wouldn't be ok with me if you were seeing someone else' etc etc. This gives me the idea that he wants more. These comments have been going on for weeks. I eventually responded in kind by saying that I like the 'idea' of us being exclusive. He responded to this by saying he's not breaking up with his girlfriend anytime soon and promptly removed his arms from me.

Why?

A: English philosopher Phil Collins (not the singer) once said privately to his wife: relationships should be enjoyed for their flaws, even more so than their successes.

This is very fortunate for you, as this sounds like one of the most flawed relationships I have come across -- there's another woman, he's cocky and evasive, he wants hypocritical terms.

Phil would find plenty to enjoy there!

Did I miss something? Perhaps we are all dead and he is the last man left on the planet?

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Gay abandon

Q: I once saw my auntie's VJ. Does this make me a homosexual? What makes someone gay?

A: I assume by VJ you are referring to your aunt's vagina. If this isn't the case, I apologise for making this answer about genitalia when it was actually about Video-disc Jockeys.

I think the question you've asked completely depends on context.

For example, if you saw your aunt's vagina while tickling your uncle's testicles in the attic, well, yes, that's a little gay. But if you saw it through a keyhole while you were having sex with two female twins at the same time, that's not gay (albeit a little incestuous for the twins).

If you immediately went and had sex with a man upon seeing your aunt's vagina, then you might conclude they are related. But, in truth, your aunt's vagina is probably a massive red-herring'd scapegoat in this case. You were probably gay before you saw it.

There are many things that make someone gay, such as boredom, birth defects or lack of women, but seeing your aunt's vagina isn't one of them.

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A poet - with more than one noet

Q: What do you think of my latest poem?

Alexia cum, Alexia go, I cum all over her tum.
Feeling happy. Feeling ok! Then Haha! Itchy balls!
Laugh at me? Diseased whore!
If only you visited the doctor more.
Love you, warts and all?

But I fret not cos I've got Harv, my own doc,
Soothing, calming, he is my rock.
I wish I could be like him. But I am nothing.
Eat plastic spoons till my gums bleed.

A: Well, AskHarv's resident poet, thanks for posting again. I think you realise by now that I'm already a fan of your work.

But you've simply outdone yourself here. This poem personifies passion and exposes the deepest recesses of humanity in a way I have never seen before.

I'm not even going to urge you to seek publishers again. I'm going to assume you're published already.

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Keeping your mum... well... mum

Q: The other day some guy set fire to his apartment, and when the brave fireman came to rescue him from his window - sprayed him in the face with pepper spray.

My mum used to say everyone is created equal... but that's bulls*** - there's wack-jobs all around us, right?

A: Hehe, yeah, you nailed it reader, there certainly are whack-jobs everywhere.

We learn to reject our parents' ideals over time, and your questioning of your mother's judgement is just a sign of maturity.

Your mum was wrong. And probably a high class madam.

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Girl gamers?

Q: Why is it that boys like video games and girls don't? Is this a gross over-generalisation, or is that they just suck at them?

A: Girls do suck at video games. It's not just circumstantial, it's Darwinian.

I once saw a girl try to rake some leaves and, boy, it was hilarious. She didn't even move them all in the same direction, she just kept swirling them around the yard. She probably would have kept going forever if I hadn't stopped her. Granted, that was Kim Kardashian on a dare.

In caveman times, men had to hunt, gather and invent fire... women didn't have to do much at all, except learn how to sew and grow breasts that could be used to find the Earth's core. Evolution gave us the tools we needed for the tasks at hand.

Darwin himself threw like a girl and got picked last in every softball game he tried out for. Evolution, it seems, does have a sense of irony.

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Beauty got you beat?

Q: I am an incredibly beautiful woman, and I suppose I should be grateful, but I am getting sick of the attention from men and even other women. It's getting to the point that I can't even take the bus anymore, as I will feel so many eyes on me, it's almost unbearable (I'm quite shy and insecure on the inside). Women refuse to be my friends due to jealousy and envy.

I'm desperate - what can I do to avoid this constant attention?

A: This is becoming an increasing problem in modern Western society, but, fear not! There is a solution!

There is a new cosmetic procedure called de-beautifying, which, while radical, cures the condition of extreme beauty like the disease it sometimes is.

The process involves several weeks of beating, slashing and burning, which results in hideous permanent scars that will avert the gaze of even the most voyeuristic observer. Eye contact becomes a thing of the past, as people are struck by the awkwardness and embarrassment of your vomit-inducing appearance.

A couple of reputable companies you could Google if you're interested in this excellent service:

• Hideoso Inc.
• AAA-WeWhackUHard
• Kavorkian De-Beautifiers
• Pot-Lickers: The Ugly-Makers

Some of these services also double as very effective debt-collection agencies.

Good luck, and may you hit every branch on the way down, on your graceful dive from the ugly tree.

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I dry retch, therefore I am

Q: Is there a point to life or is it all just random occurences that happen until we expire.. You seem like someone who might be able to summarize a complex response in a paragraph or two..

A: Randomness is in the eye of the beholder. The same event can occur to two different people; one may see it as fate or attach significance to it, while the other may just think it's one more dip in the roller coaster of life.

Roller coasters make me vomit and dry retch uncontrollably, often leading to subsequent shivering and anal leakage for days. This is something I attach meaning to. It's ALL CONNECTED!

I think we understand each other, dear reader.

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Anyone seen a dancing star fish?

Q: I've found that girls who dance well are much better at having sex. Girls who show no rhythmical ability or aesthetic beauty when dancing to music are less satisfying to me even if they are smokin hot. Do you agree? I'll take an average looking chick with the dope moves over a smokin hot starfish any day.

A: I will not comment on the statement that you are considering having sex with a starfish, except to caution you that they have tiny, dagger-like bones jutting out of their skin.

Dancing is often considered a rehearsal or preview of the sex act, so I'm not surprised about your preference at all. I once slept with an extremely overweight woman because I liked the way she jiggled.

However, a common mistake men make is thinking that the phenomenon is reciprocated. Women have no interest in the way men dance, and are most often turned off by the attempt, no matter how successful it may be.

Women's sexual response is triggered exclusively by her olfactory senses, so don some Old Spice by all means, but sit the hell down no matter how much you like the song.

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