Dear Dr. Jeff,
Tell me why the hell my printer always gets in paper jams and loves to NOT cooperate when I gotta print out enough paper that would destroy half the rain forest? Do you have any foolproof methods to get my printer back in line and behaving again?
Hugs and kisses,
This is a widespread problem, Killah, and so the obvious conclusion would be that it’s a vast conspiracy on the part of all printers (much like the vast right-wing conspiracy, only less evil, or the vast left-wing conspiracy, only more ballsy). However, this is not the case. True, there are some printer conspiracies of this nature, but they are not vast at all and are generally contained within large buildings. For example, while all the printers in an office building conspire together toward their goal of ultimate evil, your printer is probably just an asshole. Unless, of course, you’re talking about a printer at a workplace and not a personal printer, in which case you can ignore what I just said.
Now, as for foolproof methods, you simply have to prey upon their fears. Unfortunately I don’t have enough information to help you with the specifics, as all printers tend to be fairly individualistic even while synchronizing their evil ways (printers are sort of like cats that way), but there are some common fears shared by various printers. For example, laser printers are deathly afraid of magnum pistols, while inkjets are terrified of ferrets. I won’t get into the psychology of it just now, but suffice it to say that if you do discover your printer’s weakness, it will kneel before you (figuratively speaking), even if that means having to smash its ass with a giant hunk of Kryptonite (literally speaking).
ou est la bibliotheque? aussi, voulez-vous prenez d’argent a moi?
I’m reminded of that scene in Lost in Translation where Scarlett Johansson was singing karaoke while wearing a pink wig. Why? I don’t know. It’s just a good visual.
P.S.: Enough with the French, Frenchie. We call it Freedom Toast for a reason, you know.
What was the deal with Origen? I mean, seriously. What was up with him?
Sincerely, your number one fan,
Well, that self-castration thing is only a rumor.
Dear Dr. Jeff,
What is your ATM card # and pin #?
Love, Mr. X
I pondered long and hard as to whether or not I should answer this question. “Perhaps it’s a trick,” I said to myself. “Perhaps some unscrupulous individual on the internets is trying to get a hold of my information for devious purposes, such as draining my bank account of my fabulous wealth.” Then I remembered that as a brilliant sage, I bring joy, love and knowledge to the world but don’t get much money in return, and therefore my bank account is pretty much empty, so it wouldn’t matter one way or the other if I gave out my ATM info.
However, and here’s the kicker, the info seems to have become mysteriously lost. See, I wrote it down on a piece of paper and sealed it (retro style, with a wax seal and everything) before passing it on to my magic helper sprite Bernice. Now, his sole job is to pass my musings on to the sexy sea nymphs that happen to be in charge of the running of, and content on, the internet. Unfortunately, Bernice was, shall we say, distracted by these sexy sea nymphs, as they tend to run around in skimpy bikinis, if they bother to wear clothes at all. (In fact, the bikinis are mostly for when they’re dealing with malfunctioning and/or overworked servers, but you’ll have to ask them for the specifics).
Now, while I’d been trying to give a direct answer to your question, I feel that perhaps we require a moment to go off on a tangent. You see, this question, and its desperate desire for the temporary orgasmic fulfillment of free money, is an excellent indicator of a deep problem – a problem in your soul. You are currently enslaved by the cruel master Consumerism, and while some people are totally into that master/slave thing, I assure you that BDSM is not the path to enlightenment. Sure, it’s good for a few kicks, just like stealing someone’s ATM/bank information, but in the end, you’ll only render yourself a useless, worn out husk of former humanity, desperately scratching in the figurative dirt of your soul in a vain attempt to find one last redeeming quality in your otherwise evil, cold-hearted existence. So, in conclusion, you disgust me, Mr. X. You disgust me good.
Dear Dr. Jeff,
How do you cure the clap?
One sorry sex addict
Like all good doctors, medical or otherwise, I keep a team of highly trained witch doctors on my payroll. Why? Because they come in handy, especially in regards to things like this “clap” of yours. And since I pity you deeply, I decided to consult them and pass their answer on to you totally free of charge, because that’s what a nice guy I am. Anyway, they say the best way to cure the clap is to “clap while doin’ it”.
On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t listen to them.
I suppose it’s too late to point out that prevention is the best cure? Criminy. You kids these days, you’re always going at it like wild monkeys after a few too many vodka and red bulls, and then you’re all weepy what with the venereal disease and the belated regret. Did you regret it while you were “gettin it on”? DID YOU? I fear you didn’t, for you are clearly a disgusting pervert with no appreciation for the fact – yes, FACT – that the human body is a temple, even your no-doubt gross, putrid, disease-ridden body, so it’s time you take that into account. The first thing you’re going to have to do is break this “sex addiction” of yours. There are many good ways to do this. Personally, I recommend the one where you go onto a daytime talk show and humiliate yourself before a live studio audience who will taunt you with such witty barbs as “All this sex is just makin’ up for your small wing-wang, honey”, thus crushing your soul and grinding it to a fine paprika-like powder beneath their collective heel. Have you learned your lesson? I hope you have, you disgusting pervo. If not, there are more extreme measures. Perhaps you should follow classic Christian philosopher Origen’s example of (rumored) self-castration. And that, as they say, will learn ya good.