Ladies and gentlemen... Buckethead!

Q: I know it's cliche but I'm putting together a list of all the things that I want to do before I die.

The thing is, I'm a terrible procrastinator and have already wasted 13 weeks making the list... please help.


A: I've got a counter-question: When are you going to die?

I mean if you're dying of cancer or venereal disease complications in 1 week, lets try to keep your "bucket-list" a little realistic! We may not be adding "solve world hunger", or "write the best symphony the world has ever heard" if you're gonna keel over in less time it takes a tick to raise its young!

Better we put things in there like... keep an empty bowel, so you don't shit the bed when you fade away... and hide (or disguise) your wanking cream - whether it be vaseline, KY or some sort of hand cream with soothing aloe - so your mom doesn't know you're such a horn-bag after you're dead

If you've got a lifetime to live, then you can possibly hope to make the Guiness Book of World records (most likely with some lame stunt that becomes a record because no one is dumb enough to try it before), win a gold medal, or achieve that one thing that escapes most human beings before they die: shagging a supermodel.

These types of concerns are exactly the reason most people don't commit suicide. If you had to achieve all this stuff before you did it, you'd never get the noose around your neck!

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Aussie Born and Bread

Q: Hey Harv sup!!!

Heres a curly one for you - what is the minimum time one must examine loaves of bread at the supermarket to ultimately find the loaf that has no holes in it and is not squashed. I would appreciate your answer because I feel my life could be better spent doing more important things!!!!!

Thx Harv xxx


A: I would guess from your question that you are from Australia, as this is a major concern in your home country.

When the fresh bread arrives at an Aussie supermarket, it has customers salivating more than Pavlov's dogs when they hear Santa's sleigh approaching.

Even in non-peak times, it can resemble the cream puff stand at a 'Fight Obesity' Expo.

I read that bread-related crime in Australia is still on the rise, and in 2008 was 400% higher than any comparable country. The holes you mentioned in your question are usually bullet holes and stab marks from over-zealous shoppers.

I had a cousin bludgeoned to death in an Australian supermarket over a packet of English Muffins and a bag of Damper.

Hence, the best method for buying bread in Australia is to avoid it, and make your own.

This problem does not occur to the same extent in other regions, but every system has it's issues:

• England: if two people approach the bread stand at the same time, they are usually caught in an infinite cycle, "no, after you, I insist" to each other over and over.
• America: people don't use the bread stand at all. Instead they just stand nearby and loudly announce they need bread NOW and wait for someone in customer service to get it for them.
• Europe: people don't have time to get their own bread, as they are too busy drinking, smoking, looking cool and having casual sex.
• Asia: there is a stand in the supermarket that is clearly labelled "bread", but it is invariably stocked with rice.

You've certainly raised a major issue, and I'm glad it had been brought to my readers' collective attention.

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Breeding Frenzy

Q: Hi Harv, I noticed you don't talk too much about your private life, but I'm curious. Do you have any children?

The reason I ask is I just got one and I don't like it at ALL! I'm actually surprised how much I hate the useless little putz. I haven't even named him yet, because all I can think of are derogatory names, like "re-gurge", "snot-flaps" and "ye-olde-blob-of-shit-piss-and-vomit".


A: How ironic, going from a question about death to a question about life!

Dear reader, I couldn't disagree with you more. I've travelled the world and impregnated more women than I could possibly count, even if I used the antique abacus I keep under my pillow.

Actually, you could say it's kind of a hobby of mine. I've impregnated every race, creed, religion and gender that you could possibly conceive of, and many times over each! One time I even impregnated a woman without her knowing about it. I don't want to publish the details and risk her getting wise to my ruse, but let's just say it involved a small cup, some tin-foil and a long piece of dental floss.

The point is, I love children, and I have hundreds! In fact if there are any volunteers out there with a decent-sized womb and child bearing hips, I'm always up for another litter.

Here's a pic of one of my many family get-togethers last year!

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A dead issue

Q: I was just sitting around thinking about shagging corpses and it occurred to me there's a gap in my knowledge. What is the difference between a Necrophiliac and a Necromaniac? And while we're at it, what the hell is a Necromancer?!

A: Well, dear reader, I am in the privelleged position of having a friend who is all of the above, so I'm somewhat of an expert on this issue!

A necrophiliac is someone who is interested, or even obsessed, with corpses and death.

A necromaniac takes the next step and finds himself sexually attracted to dead bodies. You may find such a person hanging out in cemeteries, exhuming corpses, picking the maggots off it, and perhaps grinding a bit of inanimate skeletal bone.

Note that an early indication of necromania is an attraction to Gwynneth Paltrow.

And a necromancer is all of the above, but more of a gentleman. He will usually take the corpse out for dinner, maybe a chick-flick or a nice museum trip (apparently corpses love Madame Tussaud's!) before taking it home to a bed scattered with rose petals, scented candles and romantic music.

And pounding the shit out of that corpse till the twilight hours.

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Costume Tomfoolery

Q: What's that fetish called where the people dress up in costume and bang? Do you know anyone with this fetish?

A: Well, dear reader, the name of the fetish varies with the type of costume.

Here are a few examples:

Beastial-naughty:
Deriving enjoyment from wearing an animal costume that allows you to perform sexual acts without anyone knowing.

Asdyxiation:
Being almost addicted to wearing costumes that contain one or several phalluses.

Paedomasochism:
Being turned on by wearing a costume suggesting you like hurting babies.

And yes, dear reader, I unfortunately know people with every one of these fetishes!

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Be a gentleman, biyatch!

Q: Are the days of chivalry towards women really dead and buried? It seems to me gone are the days when a man would open a car door for his woman, give up his jacket when she was cold and express such qualities as bravery, courtesy, honour and gallantry.

How does a man sweep a woman of her feet in the 2010's ?


A: Yes, so true, dear reader. There aren't many of us left, kind sir.

The other week, I was at a restaurant, dining alone, when a couple came in and was shown to their seats. The young man came around to the other side of the table, nudged the Maître d' aside and pulled out the chair for his lady-friend. "Please," he said kindly, "Plonk your sexy ass down 'ere, biyach".

And when she sat down, the chair made a squeaking sound and he accused her of farting.

It seems feminism has quashed all hopes of the nice guy winning in the end, dear reader. Women these days like leather-wearing, beer-swilling, tattooed rock-star-types.

Or, even better, an actual rock star called RAED2THEMOTHERFUCKINEND, who was actually dumb enough to change his name officially by Deed Poll.

Isn't that right, Veronica, you whorish tart?

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Tied in knots

Q: IF I SAW A NICE TIE FOR 97 EURO BUT HAD NO MONEY.

I BORROWED 50 FROM YOU AND 50 FROM BROOKSIE AND BOUGHT THE TIE.

MY CHANGE IS 3 EURO.

SO I GAVE 1 EURO BACK TO YOU AND 1 EURO BACK TO BROOKSIE.

I NOW OWE YOU BOTH 49 EURO BUT ONLY HAVE 1 EURO LEFT FROM THE CHANGE. THATS 99 EURO.

WHERE DID THE 1 EURO GO ?


A: I wasn't sure about whether or not to answer this question, but I can tell by the use of CAPS, it's very important to you.

I'll leave the math to my erudite readers, as the calculations far too rudimentary for my advanced brain. You might as well challenge a rabbit to poop and shag.

My answer: If you're paying 98 Euro for a tie, nice or otherwise, you've got more money-management problems than losing a dollar in the transaction. There are very few ties worth that much money, enclosed picture excepted.

Unless it's a bowtie? Is the bow tie coming back into fashion!? We can only hope...

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Phua Soon Hacker?

Q: My son just called me in an insane panic and told me about this Facebook Hacker called Phua Soon Hock! I'm utterly terrified, because I found the AUTOMATION-LOG user on my list, just like my son said I would!

Is my Facebook account compromised, and does this Phua Soon Hock guy now have access to my personal details, credit card information and my new washer dryer with the fuzzy logic feature?

Concerned!


A: There is nothing to worry about, dear reader. I have heard about this so-called Facebook Hacker and I assure you it's a complete hoax.

That's because I know the REAL Phua Soon Hock and he's a lovely guy with a PHD in biblical journalism and jet engine propulsion. He's a genius before his time, but he's no computer hacker.

Last I checked Phua Soon Hock was still using his mouse upside down, which of course results in the cursor going in exactly the wrong direction. He referred to the keyboard as a typewriter and the monitor as a television. And one time, he told me he preferred a wired mouse, because it was chained to the PC, so couldn't get into his fridge at night and eat all his cheese!

I haven't seen him for a couple of years, but if he's hacking Facebook, I'll run naked through silicone valley!

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I'm back!

Q: Harv, where have you been? We need you! You haven't answered my question about impotence and two girlfriends have left me in the meantime... one of which I quite liked.


A: Well, dear reader, this email reached me just as I arrived home from my various travels. I covered some of the most obscure corners of the globe, but let me give you a few highlights:

• Saving whales on the east coast of Antarctica, then sucking the delicious blubber direct from small stab wounds in their still-breathing bellies -- before sending them back into the ocean with their new-found weight loss and mobility. Of course this was all part of the marketing campaign for Gwenneth Paltrow's patented Cigarette Ash and Abalone diet. When you see the TV spots, you'll understand.
• Winning the confidence of famously skittish male Ferret Monkeys in the Amazon and being the first to talk to them about their long-standing misogyny issues in a time of a declining female population. Turns out it was just a misunderstanding.
• Wooing one of the tribeswomen of the Alaskan Inupak tribes, and finally gaining acceptance after a courting process of 7 months. I was subsequently asked to perform a final feat of dedication to prove my worth. I was surprised to learn it involved plummeting to certain death off the precipice of a local cliff face. I was in love, so I agreed, and as I stepped off the edge, I had barely a notion of danger or regret in my head. At the last moment, my bride relented and grabbed my arm to stop me. It was too late and we both toppled off the cliff face. If it wasn't for her landing between the rocks and my own body, I can't imagine I would be writing this answer today.

Dear readers, this time the answer is simple: I'm back.

I'm heart broken and probably not the same man you knew; shooting off positive whims of wisdom at the drop of a hat. But I'm here again, at your service, and ready to answer your questions. Fire away!

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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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