Contents of the Gentleman's Purse

Hey Doc,
So my girlfriend got me a little messenger bag for Christmas. She thinks I'm too messy with my stuff and wants me to get all organized and shit. I'm a little uncomfortable carrying a dude purse, but the word on the street is that you totally carry one so i'm thinking its probably not too bad right?
So Doctor Sunday, tell me! Should I carry a dude purse? What does a gentleman carry in his purse? and why?
--Fashion Shy in the NKY

Dear Fashion Shy,

The man-purse is an essential accessory. I actually have a few, for various reasons (size, travel, need-- all of these are factors), but my main bag is a thing of beauty. It is sleek, stylish, and contains many useful items which support and enhance the quality of my life on a regular basis. With my bag close at hand, I am prepared for any number of situations, always ready to assist, amuse, occupy, entertain, create, clean, or do business, as needed.

This is my bag. It's basic black, because that, quite frankly, is how The Doctor chooses to roll, as the kids might say. It's durable, and it's just the right size. Finding a good bag is important, but since you did not make the purchase yourself, let us just assume that your girlfriend knows better than you do how to shop for a bag. So, for the readers who may be considering such a purchase-- nothing at all wrong with asking your best girl for her two cents on the matter. I asked mine, and feel quite good about the outcome (see above).

So, then, what does a gentleman carry in his purse? And why? The contents themselves should explain the reasons. I can only speak for myself, but I carry the following items in my bag at all times: pocket knife, sewing kit, multi-tool, lighter, book of matches, an assortment of pens and highlighters, notebook, sketchpad, small journal, cologne, aftershave lotion, hand sanitizer, ibuprofen, some band-aids, antacids, caffeine pills, and a paperback novel.

The tools should speak for themselves-- a pocket knife and multi-tool, lighter and matches, and sewing kit are all basic essentials to prepare any man on the go for a wide range of needs (and seriously, if you're a guy who can't use a sewing kit, then you need to rethink your worth, because that is a crucial skill for anyone). The pens, highlighters, and various notebooks are creative essentials as well as highly practical things, as are the first aid products. Cologne and aftershave, again, these go without saying--smell good, it's important. The novel is for those moments when I have time to kill, usually while waiting on someone or something.

At times, I augment these needs. Often, I spend time on the road, in which case I might include my ipod (with headphones or speakers), my Nintendo DS (with an assortment of games), or various things I might need for overnight (basic toiletries), or for the weather, such as a hat or a pair of gloves.

It's also fair to mention that bizarre sundries may also make their way into my bag. I recently had a discussion with a friend regarding the strange appearance of some sealing wax (which I needed at the time) and a small package of sculpting clay (which I did not need, but was delighted to locate).

And of course, my makeup, because I'm handsome and sometimes refining the sexy a little bit can make all the difference. Appearance is important--substance AND style, kids, remember that.

See? All of these things are useful, necessary and vital-- and given thought, you can easily ascertain what might be best suited for your bag. Sure, some might ridicule, but you won't care-- you'll have ibuprofen for the headache, your ipod to distract you with music, and something to read, at the very least.

I hope this has helped you. If you need further advice, you know where to find me.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Hate, the Internet, Brokencyde and Michael Jackson.

Hi, I was just wondering why everyone makes such a deal about the band 'Brokencyde'? I, personally, love the band. And, of course, I know that many people don't. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I just don't understand why everyone ridicule and degrade them so badly. I just find it cruel. They don't rape, kill or anything.. they just produce music for our entertainment. Why can't these people just back off? It's downright disrespectful.. and frankly over the top. Haters threatening to boycott the band if they play at the warp tour? Death threats? The insults are just horrendous. Everyone's different. Some like screamo, some like pop, classical, rock, etc. Some people think music is useless and a waste of time. So stating your opinion (i.e. Brokencyde sucks, they have no talent) and passing it off as FACT is just stupidity. What's with all the hate? Isn't hate the reason for suicide, depression, war, etc? Isn't it the reason for Michael Jackson's death? I know for sure that hate is the reason for my depression and my sister's death.
I'd like to hear what you have to say to all this. --S.L.

Dear S.L.,

Thanks for giving me some room to work with on this one. If it was just another question about that band, I wouldn't have even bothered to answer it, but you were good enough to have more than just that to say, so thank you for it.

Should I assume that you read my previous entry regarding Brokencyde? To summarize, I was asked why a man in his early thirties might enjoy their music, and further, what my thoughts on the band were. Needless to say, I'm not a fan, and while I did withhold from unloading hate from both barrels, so to speak, I posited that part of the band's appeal to their audience is the polarizing power of hate-- that the band shrewdly exploits this in order to better market their music, by making themselves targets of the uncensored hate all over the internet here.

It's great (for you) that you love them, but there are plenty of folks out there who just find the music terrible, or the fashion sense deplorable, etc, considering it mere fodder for the lowest common denominator, whatever. But I think your question has more to do with hate than it does Brokencyde, am I right?

Here's the thing about hate and the internet: the internet gives everyone a voice, regardless of message, spelling/grammar skills, presumptive social values, or purpose. Have you ever read the comments section on any youtube page? ESPECIALLY the popular ones. Pick one. Any. For every "oh dude that's awesome" or "OMG i <3 ____'s (music/face/body/whatever) so much!!!!!111!!!," there are plenty of barely articulate rants and gibes, as rife with spite as spelling errors, and all about as necessary as a condom in a convent. It's everywhere. Visit your favorite websites, especially ones where the content has a comments section-- same rules apply. Maybe it's moderated, maybe it isn't-- but if it's not, you can bet your ass it's full of serious garbage.

And why is that? Why do people find the need to vent like that? It's easy-- because people CAN vent like that. Any public forum, unmoderated, if visited enough, will ultimately degrade to the worst of things, because the anonymity of the internet makes it easy. Some people do it because it's funny-- and you know what? Sometimes, it is funny-- especially if it's well-crafted. There are entire websites out there dedicated solely to cutting down things that the authors of the sites despise. Personally, I can get behind that, because I believe speech SHOULD be free and uncensored. I'm willing to put up with the bullshit to be able to say whatever I want to say. Yes, it does sometimes get out of hand, and yes, that's a shame, but these are the risks we as a society have decided to accept in favor of being able to say and think whatever we want.

I could sit here right now and tell you why I think the band Coldplay is God's way of punishing us for NOT executing the members of U2 (for the crime of continuing to put out increasingly terrible records after blowing their collective wad on their artistic zenith in "Achtung Baby"), and I could think of all sorts of clever metaphors. I could use the phrase "languish forever, consigned to the horse-phallus forced-sodomy ring of hell." I might think that was funny, and you know what? I probably have some friends and readers who would laugh, as well. Does that make me right, or just an opinionated asshole? Does it matter? I'm making use of my freedom to speak as I will.

But obviously, there's more to it than that. And there's a difference between internet hate and legitimate, real-life hate. The difference is, people aren't killing people because someone calls your favorite band a bunch of diarrhea-flavored eunuchs. You could write a blog criticizing Brokencyde, for example, and not a single member of that band is going to dive into the Grand Canyon. I'll concur with you far enough to say that "hate" gets out of hand on the internet, but there's personal hate, and then there's spitting for spit's sake.

Hate, internet or otherwise, didn't kill Michael Jackson-- pills killed Michael Jackson. A hard life killed Michael Jackson, and a few decades of bad choices. Personally, for the record, I think he did some fucked-up shit, made a mess of his life, and is probably better off now, but it wasn't bloggers, comment-section ninjas, or internet trolls that killed him. Personal responsibility, you know?

Now, I won't say that NO ONE has ever been killed or driven to suicide by harassment on the internet or even in real life. I won't say that no one has ever cried from some hurtful words, virtual or spoken. I'd go far enough as to say that there are plenty of people who suffer from depression, and getting picked on or hated on, regardless of venue, is a serious problem. I won't offer to excuse the behavior of bullies and assholes-- even when I've been a bully or an asshole. What I will, and emphatically, here, state, is that people suck. Always have, always will. You can't change that, and you can't stop it. Let me tell you, I've tried. It doesn't work, at least not until my Empathy Bomb (patent pending) goes off and teaches the world the real price of every action.

So what can you do? The same thing anyone can. If you can't change the world, you have to be strong enough in yourself to stand against it. Keep things in perspective. You're articulate enough to ask an intelligent question, so I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that there's nothing anyone can SAY to you that, as mere words, will actually alter the fundamental nature of who you are-- unless you choose to let it affect you. Your skin is as thick as you choose. Someone could make fun of you for liking Brokencyde, or the Twilight books, dogs over cats, or McDonald's cheeseburgers or Jesus or the color orange-- but does that make you any less than who you are? People say shit to me ALL THE TIME, because I have a tendency to make myself a target by being free with my opinions. I don't mind admitting that I hate things you may like, or like things you may hate-- but I don't care what your opinion is about it. If you like something I do, or something about me? Awesome. That's cool. It won't make me be your friend, though-- you have to earn that by less superficial means. By the same token, do you hate MY favorite bands? The music I write? This blog? The color of my hair, my cat, my blue eyes, my ethnic heritage, or how clean I keep my toilet? I don't care. Hell, you can hate me PERSONALLY, and it doesn't really affect me because I choose not to let it do so. That's your watch, not mine. If you live your life based on what other people think or believe, you're going to be sad. There's enough sadness and strife in one life that there's hardly any reason to start adding to the pile, you know?

I don't know what factors in your life are tearing you down or making you depressed, but I'm willing to bet that you have the power, inside you already, to be better and stronger than that, or to get whatever help you need to take charge of your life. Seriously.

I don't know if this was the answer you were looking for, but I hope it helps, one way or another. Take care of yourself.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Orange Juice? or....?

Doctor:
What kind of person throws a half full gallon of orange juice out on the highway? I saw this around 8:30 am today on 75 North and felt curious. I have some ideas....

A) The type of person that would take a bite out of a burrito and chuck it out a car window on the highway because "it is filling".

B) Someone on a serious acid binge.

C) Some kind of douchebag that is not satisfied with ordering a large orange juice with his McGriddle.

What do you think?
--Stupefied on 75

Dear Stupefied,

Those are all excellent possibilities. Finding items in strange places does set the mind to wandering. I once found half of a Taco Bell burrito in a dressing room at Macy's, for example, and thought "you could wait long enough to go from Taco Bell to the mall, and on into Macy's, before you started eating, but you couldn't wait until you were done trying on clothes?" My immediate hypothesis there was something along the order of some strange nigh-superhuman, whose metabolism runs well faster than anyone's ever should-- and thus must consume food in strange places and in strange amounts.

Regarding your orange juice conundrum, I could of course speculate, but instead will regale you with an instance from my own personal life that might shed another sort of light on the matter. As many of my readers know, I'm also a musician-- and during various times in my life, must travel for my art. In younger years, I've spent that time in a van, with a group of whatever gentlemen I'd enlisted to my cause in the context of a van. What many people may not realize, is that guys travelling and sleeping in a van may not always be the most mature or well-mannered, and that the rules and customs of the road are not always the rules and customs of civilized people.

My story, which I assure you will rapidly become relevant, begins with one of the many amusements with which we would wile away empty hours. It was a game with no name, and only one implement-- an egg. Just a plain, ordinary egg, which made its way into our van through a complicated series of dares and bets, but became the focus of several hundred miles of the American Midwest. The rules of the game were simple: if you had the egg, you had to pass it off to someone else, without them realizing it. Break the egg, and you lose-- be the one to place the egg last, and you win. *PROTIP: If you want to play this game at home, drawing faces, phalluses, the Batman logo, or the profanity of your choice on the shell of the egg is OPTIONAL.

During the course of this travel, the egg aged and passed many ordeals-- being hidden in pockets, hoodies, shoes, lunchbags, and hats. Unfortunately for me, it came to its final resting place in my pillow. I discovered it upon laying down to rest, somewhere east of Cleveland, it being my night to be too drunk to drive the van. Of course I felt the strange sensation of the well-placed object, under my pillowcase yet above the pillow, as my heavy and heavily-intoxicated head came to break it, but I was too tired to care. In fact, it was the complaints of my bandmates, who could not abide the stench, that awoke me and alerted me to the issue, an hour or so later... when we pulled over to throw the pillow out in a gas station trashcan. Unfortunately, I realized that my hair now smelled of the distinctive sulfur of rotten egg.

Instantly sober and stinking to the high heavens, I vowed my bitter revenge. And, in the custom of Young Men Travelling in Band Vans Across States, it was to be vulgar in its own right.

We went inside to gather supplies, including sodas for the trip and ice for the cooler. Only two of us were Mountain Dew drinkers (one being myself, and the other being the winner of the egg game). This, I would use to my advantage. Procuring two Mountain Dew BIG SLAMS (the one liter-size, a term no longer used on the packaging, but familiar to many), one for myself and one for my quarry, my trap was soon to be set.

Once back in the van, I neglected to go back to sleep, but rather to drink every drop of my soda right then and there. I concealed this fact from my quarry (who was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and due to take over driving in a few hours), keeping the empty close by me. Now, per the customs of the road, had I not finished mine, I was to write my name on it, before slipping it in the cooler. I did neither. In fact, I took my quarry's soda from the cooler and drank a couple gulps of it, wrote my name on it, and put it back in the cooler.

I didn't sleep for the next long while. I used the time, instead, to void my bladder into the empty Mountain Dew bottle-- first a couple of long, tiresome "beer pisses" and then the logical outcome of guzzling an entire liter of Mountain Dew in a matter of minutes. The bottle, unsurprisingly, was nearly full, and thanks to the green color of the bottle, wasn't that far off from what one might expect to see. I wrote my quarry's name on the bottle, placed it in the cooler, and went to sleep.

***Editorial note: For the record, urinating in a plastic bottle while on the road may SEEM vulgar, but if you think it is, you've never traveled long distances overland with males, where the rule of the road is, always, that the strongest bladder is the one calling the "piss stop."***

Some time later, we pulled over to change spots-- my quarry in the driver's seat, myself in the passenger, the rest of our part in the back. Of course, the quarry instantly wanted to crack open his Dew to get started, and thanks to the cooler, it was nice and cold for him. Ice cold, like the revenge I was to have.

It took exactly one deep, thirsty guzzle before he spat most of his "soda" all over himself before closing the bottle and throwing it out the window. "Fucking awful, I must have gotten a bad one," he would splutter later, never once knowing what he had willingly taken into his body. To this day, he doesn't know, and in the off-chance he's reading this, I've spared his name.

Did someone later, though, wonder why an almost completely full bottle of Mountain Dew was discarded? Did someone, perhaps, years later, pull a similar prank with a gallon of orange juice?

We may never know. I hope this has helped you.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

If this one doesn't offend you, you might be worth knowing.

To the ever witty and handsome Doctor Sunday,

Have recently been pondering life. Love, pain, existence, etc. Included in this waxing, and the one I wish to speak on, is the biggest perplexity of all..

Why is everyone a moron?

It seems that quite recently I have been surrounded by more stupidity than deemed necessary. As I have never been naive in the least, I have always had my suspicions of half the general population being sadly afflicted with being an idiot. It has just been growing in numbers more so than usual lately.
To elaborate: Why does my roommate have the time to get weeded/eat all of my food/whine about women daily, but cannot spare twenty seconds to wash a fork?
Why is an ex m.i.a. until they need an outlet to bitch or rant to, i.e., you?
Why does that drunk girl you don't know at The Tavern feel the need to let you know exactly how long she's gone without sexy time (and how horny she is) whilst spilling your beer and attempting bedroom eyes at all your friends?
And then there's even the non-personal. Why is gay marriage illegal?
Why does the creditreport.com guy continue to be allowed commercial time? I could go on for days here.

Is this just a part of human nature that I will eventually have to accept and live with? Is it because Pluto is in retrograde? Am I just unmoving, unfeeling, unkind? (bonus points for alliteration) I would surely hope not as I'm a humanist first and foremost. Please share your thoughts on my, and the world's, dilemma.

xo,
Pissed off Smarty Pants.

Dearest Pissed off Smarty Pants,

This is indeed a tough and challenging question. Why are there so many morons? Can we blame it on modern diet, or perhaps the influx of new avenues of vicarious entertainment that serve to dilute creativity, stunt motivation, and cripple intellect? Is it a sign of some pending apocalypse not predicted in any ancient text or entheogen-addled shaman dreams? Does the Matrix need more RAM or to switch to Linux? All valid questions.

We could point the finger in many directions. While I'm only half-joking when I say that the "information age" serves to leave people more "educated" while growing less intelligent, the truth is, people really do pay too much attention to things that aren't worth it. Take the continued existence of American Idol. Anyone with even just a single pair of neurons that spark even periodically should find that sort of thing to be a slap in the face; particularly anyone who values art enough to NOT wish it to be so BLATANTLY commoditized. Now, I could sit here and insult even some of my close friends by calling them stupid for watching it, but I'd rather not, because some of them are people I see often enough to make social exchanges awkward were I to make that choice.

So looking at the results, we wonder: is there a causal relationship between the modern media and stupidity? Do we support moronic things because we're stupid, or does our stupidity result in a market for stupid things? It's a vicious cycle.

The point is, and I'll be shockingly Nietzschean for a moment, by saying that morons are out there to make the non-morons shine. Think about it. Evolution has created a number of wonders and traits (seriously, click that link; it's awesome, right?), all while leaving others far, far behind. The favorable features provide mating advantages, and social evolution often adopts innovation. Now, the scary thing here, is that natural selection appears to be leading us in the wrong direction, as the proliferation of idiocy is reaching a more critical stage, when the opposite SHOULD be true. We're getting educations, we're travelling more widely, we've got access to so many things beyond the dreams of previous generations-- so why is it that we're consistently producing underachieving, uninspired hacks who consume foolishly, travel seemingly only to prove that a fool in Chicago is a fool in Paris, and allow atrocities such as this to be inflicted upon the general public.

Why? Isn't it obvious? Clearly, we've reached a plateau, and in some metaphysical sense, evolution/God/the Universe is saying "ok, seriously? all this time and the best you can do is this?" This is why we have so many legends, myths, and tales of a Great Deluge. It's an archetype that plugs directly into the forward-thinking psyche of Human Development. We know that the day will come, when rather than "wickedness," "ungodliness" and "immorality," we are damned by "stupidity," "douchebags," and "80's retro."

It's all our own fault, though. In the last few decades, more so than ever, and worse still today, we're raising a society of people who are born and raised without ever having to actually try; people who are fed entitlement and inflated senses of self-worth, who are coddled through situations where character should have been built. LET THE CHILDREN FAIL. IT IS THE ONLY WAY THAT THEY WILL EVER REALLY LEARN. YOUR ILLITERATE, BELLIGERENT, LOUD-MOUTHED BEDWETTER IS NOT SPECIAL-- THAT HAS TO BE EARNED.

Would that I knew the proper spell to incant, to make this all go away-- give our pesky species the chance to install upgrades and restart. Sadly, such is not the case, so these are facts and facets with which you and I must continue to cope. And as logic will dictate, when the facts of a situation are immutable, one must address reality by altering perception and/or altering reaction. For example, to address your sub-questions: your roomie puffs, dines, and whines so much because if he shut up, he'd have to find something else to do, and washing up seems distasteful: in other words, stupid, lazy, and it sucks--keep your food where it cannot be taken, roll your eyes at the whining, and wash only your own dishes. And ex's who only come around when they want something are selfish and stupid enough to believe that you don't have anything better to do than make yourself available to them--be stronger than that, and you can always hang up the phone, hit the "invisible" button in chat, or be clever with excuses. Remember, lying to a moron doesn't count as dishonesty-- so go for it, with my blessing.

The drunk bar slut behaves thus because she is slave to her appetites and impulses, thereby little to differ from the animals at the zoo. I'd recommend throwing peanuts at her and taking her picture until she either starts flinging feces or hides behind a tree. It's 2009, drunk bar slut-- getting laid is easy, and you don't have to play games or reek of desperation while embarassing yourself and everyone who knows you. Put on some underwear and close your fucking mouth-- if you weren't so pathetic, maybe you wouldn't HAVE to whine about "how long it's been."

Gay marriage is illegal because there are too many ignorant idiots holding onto outmoded morality, who want to hold onto their places in the rising divorce rates. Don't worry, we'll have gay marriage before we have legal pot--and both of those are coming down the line, doubt it not.

And the creditreportdotcom guy is still on the air because we are being punished for all of our sins, and for allowing the continued existence of Coldplay.

As for the last part of your message, do not blame yourself-- you are certainly not "unmoving, unfeeling, unkind." You're merely aware and quite realistic, and if the weight of the world makes you a little bit bitter sometimes, it is to be understood. You can be a humanist and still find your heart a bit sour on the thought of your fellow humans, sometimes.

My advice to you is simple. Do what I do: surround yourself with intelligent, charming and attractive people; chances are, you already know some-- seek their company. You can meet new people through those you know already, and that's fantastic, because you can pick and choose. Invite yourself out, invite others in. Participate in activities geared towards your interests, and make friends-- take a class, get up and go out, be creative and use good judgement. Be choosy with those you allow to become close to you. Initiate creative correspondences-- collaborate. Be smart and never, ever, EVER settle for anything less than what will really keep you happy and stimulated. Ignore what you can of the unwashed masses, and learn to laugh at what you can't ignore-- the more you learn to laugh, the easier it is to keep that shadow right out of your heart, and moreso, there is POWER in mockery. Keep your wits sharp and don't drag yourself down unnecessarily. A nice sense of superiority helps, too, but you'll get that anyway.

Your recognition of the problem tells me that you're going to be JUST fine. I hope this has helped you, and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Dungeons & Dragons

Dear Dr. Sunday,

I was wondering why you play Dungeons & Dragons? I would also like to know the back story of your character (I heard his name is Bubbles). That is all.

Love,
Your local Dungeon Master

Dear Local DM,

Yes, it is indeed true that among the many pleasures and private, personal pursuits of the good Doctor, I can often be found rolling the dice with a close-knit group of my most dear and cherished friends. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Some might call such a thing a "guilty pleasure"-- but for me, if it's a pleasure, why should I feel guilty about it?

The whole point of life is enjoyment and personal growth. Well, that and other things, but that's the simplest way to explain the most basic of aspects of human nature. There's a lot to be found in this world, and among the deepest treasures in the rich galleries of life, are the gifts of the human mind and imagination. So, for the same reason that I can't seem to put down my guitar, or stay up late into the wee hours of the morning poring over pages or laptop keys, and have fingered scarred from art scalpels or pins/needles, burned by glue guns, I find my pleasures where I will-- in the realms of the mind as much as of the body.

Playing D&D with my friends is the kind of pursuit that not only makes us smile, laugh, and engage one another, but also provides that close-knit bond of family, something deeply lacking in people of our generation. These are interesting times in which we live, and we must find our own ways to reestablish that drive to family/tribal unit/village that has been taken from the modern person living in more urbanized areas. We form cliques and groups, rotating casts of characters that fade in and out united by fashion or music or love of alcohol-- and that's fine. For me, D&D is something much the same. For our little group, it is as much a pleasure pursuit as it is one more excuse for us all to come together.

Beyond that, it's a callback to the youth that our generation refuses to relinquish. We hold onto those things that keep us young and vital. Lifestyle becomes much more a motivational factor, and thus we choose the lifestyle that fits us best, accessorizing with toys and games and locations and dreams, which we wear like insignia, a complex shibboleth. We choose our faces and dialects in a way that makes sense only in the context of ourselves. This, then, D&D, is just one more way for us to pursue the elusive spectres of happiness that flit in and out of our periphery.

Plus, it's really fucking fun.

To answer the second part of your question, yes, my character's name is Bubbles.

Bubbles is a Warlord of the Tiefling race (something like the above picture), who travels with a group of adventurers who he happens to know from high school. Bubbles wasn't particularly popular in high school, because he was introverted and snide, mostly because he had a quietly cynical attitude, and believed he knew better than everyone else. Plus, a bookish type, he regularly got picked on by the "normals." In his adult years, he came more into his own, but developed a bit of a bossy attitude, which manifests itself as a sort of misguided compassion-- he tells everyone else what to do because he KNOWS he knows better, and wants to do the right thing always. Sometimes, in his minutes just before drifting off to sleep, he imagines himself in another world where he provides advice to friends and strangers, though in a much more handsome and less cynical fashion. Bubbles enjoys good food, but prefers to dine in quiet places, where the wait staff never asks "does everything taste good tonight?" while he has a mouth full of food (he abhors bad manners like that). While he may not always smile, he never hesitates to bestow kindnesses on those closest to him. He's got an amazing singing voice, too-- a rich, velvety baritone; expressive and sensual without any hint of excesses in showmanship.

And that, friends, is that. Yes, I play D&D. No, I won't apologize-- it's a great way to spend time with the people who matter most. That makes it awesome.

I hope this has helped you.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Squirrel Problem

Dear Dr. Sunday,

How do I keep the squirrels from running around in my heating and air conditioning vents in my apartment?

Thanks,
Squirrely


Dear Squirrely,

I had to consult a few experts on this one, but I believe I had a series of thoughts and suggestions that might prove useful.

Firstly, the thing you need to ascertain is the point of ingress. How are the squirrels getting into your vents? Presumably, the squirrels are entering from the exhaust vents on the outside of your building? According to my father, the wisest man I know, the simple solution is to file a complaint/maintenance request with your landlord or superintendent. You're paying rent, so it's their watch to keep the building in proper order. That should solve the problem, in a perfect world.

But of course, we don't live in a perfect world. In fact, we live in a world where oftentimes buildings fall into disrepair and/or are maintained by the kinds of people who wear velcro shoes not for fashion or function, but rather because the motor skills required to tie shoelaces would greatly exceed their intellectual faculties. Should this prove to be the case in your circumstance, as it is in many, there are a few more suggestions that I acquired along the way.

My father said that failing the assistance of the landlord, you could pay a quick visit to the Home Depot, where, for just a few dollars, you could acquire pieces of screen that could be easily cut to shape and affixed to the outer vents where the squirrels are entering. That should keep them out pretty easily.

Beyond that, two alternatives were suggested to me by an acquaintance who I asked merely because I know him to be super practical and handy. The one suggestion involved killing the squirrels and "leaving a dead one up 'ere, as a message to the rest of 'em," so we'll just not talk about that one. The other, however odd, he swore worked for him in a different but similar situation in the past.

Apparently, you can acquire, from any store that sells hunting supplies, or predator pee dot com (not making this up, I swear) in a plastic jug, the urine of a fox or a coyote. Yeah, fox piss, by the gallon. Apparently, judiciously applied, it will keep away any number of small animals by making it seem that predators are in the area. The gentleman who suggested this to me said to dispense it around the base of the building, or soak a small sponge in it and stick that in the outside exhaust vent, or wherever the squirrels are getting in.

I'd advise, either way, that you wash your hands afterwards.

I hope that this helps.

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Three doozies.

Dr. Sunday,

is it better to be good at a lot of things, or great at just one thing?

is it better to make things happen, or to let things happen?

what happens when we die?

-Inquisitive in Illinois

Dear Inquisitive,

All excellent questions, and I appreciate the multi-level challenge.

Regarding Question 1: "is it better to be good at a lot of things, great at just one thing?" That depends on your perspective, but also on how willing you are to apply yourself to life. I'm "good" at a number of things, a "jack of all trades," if you will-- but that's mostly because I rely on natural ability rather than proper training or discipline. For example-- I'm a visual artist, but I never had the patience to learn techniques beyond what I gave myself, so I'm decent and can rely on quirkiness to make people smile, but I can throw a rock at my AIM buddy list and hit the screen names of at least three people I love and know personally, who would make me look like a paraplegic infant with a crayon.

By the same token, I'm a guitarist, but I've never taken a proper lesson (on that instrument, anyway). I rely on my willingness to experiment, and I get compliments for being "innovative" at the instrument, but in many, more technical respects, I'm about as big a joke as you can tell without needing to change your briefs. Could I get better at these things? Sure. Would I be willing to try harder? Only when my passion drives me that direction.

There are a lot of people in the world who walked face-first into their magic gift/talent/etc. These are people who knew their deepest passion, and followed it. Some of them work hard to achieve, and some achieve seemingly without effort-- but it's not about what it "costs," it's about what that says. You always have to follow your heart. I'd trade at least one pinky toe, possibly both, to achieve the elegant, lyrical virtuosity on the guitar of say, Slash (of Guns N Roses fame), but at this point in my life, I don't know that I'm willing (at least not right now, when my new music has little to do with that sort of thing) to take the kinds of training that would require, assuming I can ever get these fingers of mine to move so astutely.

The point is-- and you'll forgive me, I hope, for answering your question with a question, but what do YOU think? Therein lies your answer. Do know what you'd love to do most? Is there something in your life to which you would be willing to devote yourself? Bear in mind, many disciplines are related, and one skill-set by nature/aptitude may lead you to others you had not considered. The world is wide open for the mind willing to question itself.

Question 2: Is it better to make things happen, or let things happen?

EXCELLENT question. I think it depends on the circumstance. While normally, I can say that I believe in taking the reins of your own fate, and choosing the things you desire, I can just as easily point out that statements like THAT one are an oversimplification. I could say, tonight, "I need a new job, something, anything, more money to be the rad person I know myself to be." Now, I could just wait for Fate to kiss me in my sleep, and find that someone I know has a nice new gig out there for me, or I could take steps proactively to choose the career I desire.

Still, let's use that example to go further-- what if I realized that my best bet to get the job I wanted was to go through a very specific friend, someone I don't know that well, perhaps? So I ask this person, but I don't want to ask too often or press too hard, because I don't want to alienate them. Now, I send my suggestion, a phone call, an email, what have you-- and then I wait, because it's the best thing to do. I could make a move, but I risk losing the ground I've gained, and perhaps closing the door for good. Or, I can play it cool, be a pal, and just let it happen as it happens, while hoping for the best. It's a dodgy balance.

The same rules work in romance, if you think about it, and in many other pieces of life. Sometimes, "to let things happen" IS "to make things happen." My advice here, then, is to keep your eyes open and your mind sharp-- have the motive power to act when you must, but have the maturity and wisdom to simply abide, or "let things happen," when the course requires it. Just know yourself, and know your world. You won't fail.

And to your last question: what happens when we die?

Well, according to the tea leaves I just finished reading, and the auguries provided by my cat purring while the candleflame dances in the breeze from my window, there are a few possibilities.

The tea leaves state that there is an afterlife, but it is based on your own beliefs. The universe is a blank canvas, on the other side, so as you believe, so shall you be.

[Reliable and delphic, my cat ponders...]

The cat's purring states that if a soul has a quantifiable existence, then it must endure, and while science has yet to reach the point where it can make a claim on the matter, the fact of existence serves as proof in its own right.

The candleflame says you either turn to dust, go to Heaven or Hell, or we all wind up on the Big Rock Candy Mountain, whatever that means.

Still, it was a very good question. Since I've only died like twice, I usually miss the floor show while I try to find a table near the stage. I can tell you that the drinks are good, but the shrimp is hit-or-miss.

I hope this has helped you. If you have any further questions, you know where to reach me.

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

BC13, my take on the great debate of our time.

Dear Dr. Sunday,

I don't know how old you are, but I presume you're similarly-aged to a friend of mine, whose age-inappropriate superfandom of the band Brokencyde both amuses and perplexes me. From what he's described/coaxed me into hearing, they are a screamo crunk band from New Mexico (also known as BC13) that is popular with the kids these days. I have attached a photo for reference.

Also: http://www.myspace.com/brokencyde



The media HATES THIS BAND. Like, EPICALLY. Which obviously only makes their fans love them more; their latest opus is named "I'm Not A Fan, But The Kids Like It", and what do teenagers love more than an solid in-joke? I get that. My own personal opinion is that they are fine, not my thing as they seem to already know, certainly not worthy of hatred and occasionally provide me with genuine amusement. They sing about getting wasted and being players in a not particularly offensive way. You will have to try harder than that to offend me, Brokencyde.

Anyway so what with you being a man of the world and all, I was curious to hear your take on all this, both on the phenomenon that is Brokencyde, and why my friend (whom I should probably mention is also smart, employed and doesn't live with his parents) might be so taken with them.

- Blasé about BC13

Dear Blasé,

As a worldly man of 31 years who enjoys reaping from the vast Sargasso that is the modern internet, it is simple enough to state that among the detritus dredged from those dark depths, I have encountered the inexplicable Brokencyde phenomenon.

I will go ahead and admit that my reactions to this band span a spectrum from "upturning of the nose in derision" to "vicious, spiteful commentary more for the fun of crafting innovative insults than to ACTUALLY denote an active and consuming hatred." On a visceral level, what we have in BC13 is a group of young men, creating music as boring, tacky, and uninspired as their fashion sense. These are kind of people who would draw the eye just long enough to evoke usage of the term "douchebag," even were they spotted in the kind of environment where dressing like the worst bits of the 1980's just vomited neon colored slushies all over an American Apparel catalog in a men's room at the mall is considered tolerable.

I was exposed initially to the group via that bizarre side effect of social networking; the "dude, check this out WTFLOL" sharing that comes as a necessary result of access to such a broad range of fast and free information. I was relieved, initially, upon receiving the link to their video ("Freaxxx," here provided for your perusal, should you desire), only in that I was not being sent any sort of diarrhea porn, animal porn, amputee porn, or porn in general; but I failed to even make it through the video. I hated it. I hated the song, I hated the music. I hated the group before the one skunk-haired tool screamed his first, or the other skunk-haired tool started spouting the auto-tune vocals. As I've stated elsewhere I'm very sensitive to aesthetics, especially in the context of band names and other sorts of identity-based marketing. So, having provided a link to the context of the statement, let me relate that a group spelling their name "Brokencyde" and offering a song called "Freaxxx" makes my skin crawl, even before I decide to give them a chance. Add to that, then, an MTV-friendly combination of mallrat children co-opting tired "big money" hip-hop cliches, somehow made "fresh" by the addition of judiciously flagellating the deceased equine of emocore/screamo in one big ball of novelty candy, sharted from the bum of pop culture boredom.

Now, here's the key point, after I've exercised my love of vitriol: I stopped caring. I don't think about them, until someone mentions them, in which case I take delight in voicing my distaste. The truth is, I find them guilty of only one unpardonable sin: the joke isn't funny. It's one thing to go through such troubles to create a novelty act, market it, foster an internet presence, all that, but if the joke isn't funny, the whole thing is just sad. The teenage version of me wants to rail here, and start spouting about how this is insulting to "real" music/musicians, and that this music fails to act as a cultural catalyst for a true philosophical change, and that I'm going to go smoke a cigarette behind my parents' shed with the Velvet Underground on my walkman-- but the teenage version of me also wore flares, and took himself far, far too seriously.

I believe that the ease with which the media finds hate for BC13 is a clever aspect of their marketing. I believe that they knew fully well when sitting in the studio that their laugh riot would incite vehement, virulent and vicious disgust among the internet world-- a world known for its excesses in spewing hatred. Of course, unless I give them too much credit for savvy, this would also then indicate the polarizing power of such hatred basically guaranteeing them a stronger loyalty in their fanbase, exactly as you stated in your question.

So, why, then would a man in my age group, such as your friend, have any reason to enjoy, let alone even voluntarily listen to Brokencyde? I can only think of a few possibilities. Perhaps your friend respects their (as he sees it) clever marketing and use of the internet to generate "buzz," and sees them as Machiavellian figures, forward-thinking geniuses manipulating the internet and culture to their advantage through innovative planning. Or could it be, perhaps, that he is merely facing some sort of early-onset midlife crisis, where by attempting to identify with the trappings of youth (through music marketed to children), he believes he can achieve some sort of second adolescence, thereby reclaiming the vitality he feels he has lost as the years begin to take their toll?

Or maybe, just maybe, you simply have a friend who has inexplicably bad taste in music, where this one group is concerned.

Regardless, I hope these thoughts have been enlightening and useful for you. My perspective, such as it is, is merely opinion, except for when I say I'm right. And I'm ALWAYS right [citation needed].

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

OMG shoes.

Dr. Sunday,

Simple one for you, I'm looking into a new pair of shoes; something classy yet able to be beaten on. I was first thinking those semi-boot shoes, well I think of them as such. Always shied away from them really. So I think more like a high top dress shoe. What is you thought on stylish shoes for men?

Fuddled over Fashion

Dear Fuddled,

This is indeed an easy question. Speaking strictly from a personal standpoint, my tastes in footwear for men are as much based on functional utility as they are on style. The ideal footwear in a man's closet should be as follows: Something casual, for daily wear, particularly outside of the office, but something that can be utilized in a multitude of circumstances (in my case, a pair of Diesel trainers, or my low-top Converse). Something "worn-in" or "get-dirty" appropriate is also key, typically something you've retired from daily, public use (I have a pair of Vans prison-issue velcro shoes, for running outside really quick; an elderly pair of Chucks, for when I know I'll get muddy/dirty/grass-stained/etc; and a beaten to hell and back pair of Vans low-top skate shoes, for when I know I'm going to get splattered in paint or things of that nature). A pair of boots is vital, as is something dressy-- of course, the clever and dapper young man can combine these two pieces in any number of ways to the greatest possible effect.

To give you an idea, and bear in mind, I receive absolutely no compensation for any products I mention by name, I own one pair of dress shoes. They are basic black loafers, of a brand I can't even name. I am pretty sure I inherited them from my dad when I had to go a dance in high school, or when someone died. I never wear them, because they are old man shoes-- and not in that fun and quirky vintage "old man" style, they're merely outmoded and pointless. When I need to have my feet dressier, I take the opportunity to make myself presentable while still maintaining my personal style.

I own two pairs of boots, which serve, variously, in the offices of dress footwear as well. They are stylish and functional, simple and utilitarian, yet they state by context that I am no mere office lackey or pencil-pushing d-bag. Pair of boots number one, of course, is my precious and well-loved Dr Martens. They're black, steel-toed, and rise well enough above the ankle that I could wear them without fear that I will be mistaken for the kind of person who voluntarily owns a hackey-sack, but also not so high that I might be mistaken for the kind of person who has questionable piercings in even more dubious locations on my body. They are simple, which is key, yet I keep them well-polished enough to wear under even basic slacks to the office, while still being able to wear them on the streets, under jeans, while presumably spoiling for some sort of fisticuffs, I don't know. They're perfect, and moreso, they came to me as a gift from my lady love, so I feel even better about wearing them.

The second pair of boots, I also utilize, even more regularly than the Docs, as dress footwear. These are a pair of basic black "engineer boots." No laces, just a chrome buckle off to the side. I've removed the brand tags so long ago that the name eludes me, but I've owned these boots for over a decade. They, too, are steel-toed, which I find useful on a number of levels, and typically earn me compliments as they are an unexpected yet flattering addition even to my more professional wardrobe. Of course, I've also regularly worn them onstage, as wicked and imposing accessories to my already sometimes sinister aspect. Frye makes a decent version of these in a more fashion-oriented context, though I acquired mine literally from a store specializing in work-footwear. They rise to just below midcalf, and absolutely kick ass.

While I don't suggest you copy my suggestions directly, I will state that the important message here is not to necessarily purchase as I have purchased, but rather to consider multi-functional utility, and to always remember, in building personal style, regardless of your venue, that true STYLE, whether for a man or woman, comes from making it YOUR OWN, rather than following some idea of what is fashionable or trendy. It's not about fitting in with your culture, subculture, or the magazines you read-- it's about being yourself, no matter what, and making sure the essence of who you are is represented in everything that you do, and indeed even to the shoes on your feet.

I hope this helps. Best of luck shopping.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Woodford Reserve vs Knob Creek

Dear Dr. Sunday,

Woodford Reserve or Knob Creek? It drives me crazy every time I'm in the store and deciding between the two. I usually swing to the Knob Creek due to Woodford being a little more sweet, but I wanted your opinion.

k thx bai,
Towerz of Taylorz

P.S. I only drink these straight, so don't give me some bullshit about using mixers or anything like that.

Mr. Towerz,

I think that Knob Creek is the quintessential choice, especially for drinking straight. It has the kind of bold, manly aspect to it that fits perfectly in anything from a log cabin to a shady dive bar. You're not just buying the taste, you're buying the ambiance and the power. Or maybe you just really want to get hammered like a man.

Also, look at the bottles? Woodford Reserve looks like a bottle of perfume:


Now, look at Knob Creek:

That looks like a bottle of kick-ass barbecue sauce, or at the very least, a rather masculine aftershave.

Plus, think about the name: Woodford Reserve sounds like a golf course. Knob Creek sounds like a Civil War battlesite.

The choice is obvious, sir. I hope this has satisfied your curiosity.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday

Superman, The Mighty Thor, and Green Lantern.

O Dr. Sunday,

Who would win in a fight between Superman and the Mighty Thor? I've often wondered that, and I've only been into comics for a few years. They're both extremely strong, and can fly (well Thor's flight powers apparently come from his hammer, but you know). Also, WHY isn't the Green Lantern considered to be the most powerful of all the characters since he has that power ring which could do anything he imagines??? I'm just really confused by that.

--Comics Confused

Dear Comics Confused,

The victor in a Superman vs The Mighty Thor battle would more than likely have to be the Mighty Thor. Strengthwise, I'd give something of an edge regarding raw strength to Superman, obviously, but the well and often remarked vulnerability to magic that Superman has puts him at a bit of a disadvantage when facing a thunder god whose weapon just happens to be an enchanted hammer. It'd be a rad battle, though, to be sure.

As for the Green Lantern(s), they're not omnipotent. There are always limitations to what they can do-- the rings are powered by will, and depending on when you read, have various weaknesses (the color yellow). But the spirit of your question is a good one: it's a weapon that is often underutilized, because the writers want stories to be interesting. The power rings are usually held within certain parameters, or the rules of the Green Lantern Corp, else the comic would be about two pages long.

For the record, I'd make an awesome Green Lantern.

I hope this helps you.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Warrior Priest

Dear Doctor Sunday,

I have run into quite a problem and I really need advice! Today, I hit level 11 with my Warrior Priest in Warhammer Online (Dark Crag server holler!) and I have NO IDEA what to spec in! I mean, I think Path of Salvation could be great so I can heal ppl more effectively, but I need some specs for damage too! And what about my Renown Advancement?!? It's all so confusing!

Keep in mind that I want to be super leet with heals AND do moderate amounts of damage, as I will usually be using a 2h weapon with high DPS (I don't think I will be using 1h weapons and carrying tomes anytime soon, unless you suggest this).

Below are the calculators for Ability Training and Renown Advancement for the Warrior Priest. They will be very helpful.

http://www.wardb.com/career.aspx?id=12
http://www.wardb.com/renown.aspx?id=12

Thanks in advance for this!

You can find me at the Altdorf club, bottle full of bub,
Mami, I got that mead if you into getting drunk.

Asenca, Warrior Priest (Dark Crag Server)

Dear Asenca,

That's a doozy. I'm a geek, but I've never played that game at all-- still, Ask Dr. Sunday is about me doing my best, no matter the request, so I'll see what I can do.

Ok, here's my initial thought, upon spending some time perusing your question and making use of the tools you supplied. And please bear in mind, I have no actual exposure to this game, though the concept of the RPG in general is very familiar to me.

Clearly, your warrior priest, with your stated goals of super leet healing would definitely want to spec in the Path of Salvation. The healing and support skills are the best, and the Divine Assault core skill seems pretty hefty as well.

Conversely, your desire to bolster your attack skills to be able to do at least a moderate amount of damage seems the best usage of your Renown advancement. For example, Blade Master and Might, just in the first tier should give you plenty of juice.

I hope this helps you, and that your campaigns are successful. Keep me posted, Asenca.

Always listening,
Dr. Sunday

Camels vs. Dolphins

Dear Dr. Sunday,

Firstly, thank you for your thoughts on my ice cream query. I had never thought to replace strawberry in the classic neopolitan combo with mint. Inspired. But I have another one for you: ever since this question was brought to me via my beloved Internets, I have not been able to reach a satisfactory answer. I sit up nights, weighing the options (that is a lie). I asked my friends what they thought on the Twitters some time ago, but they were as divided as I (that is a truth).

My question is, which animal is the most smug: dolphins or camels?

My favorite internet thinker seems to hate them both equally:

Camels: http://www.fupenguin.com/2008/12/camels-are-played-out.html
Dolphins: http://www.fupenguin.com/2008/11/dolphin-swagger-makes-me-sick.html

If HE cannot solve his very important debate, then what hope have I? Dolphins are pretty damn holier-than-thou in general, yet camels often seem inconvenienced to even take the effort to spit on passing travelers. Is there another animal I have yet to consider that is even more smug than these two? I am at a loss. You are my last hope, Dr. S.

- Confused on Chase

Dear Confused,

I had to spend some time, doing a fair bit of research, and consulting a wide range of experts on the topic (and by a wide range of experts, I mean asking my dad over the telephone while discussing unrelated matters). My dad’s answer (what the hell is wrong with you, son?) wasn’t completely useful, but some simple detective work provided much more useful information.

Camels are certainly smug, and they spit, which is rather nasty. They take a great deal of pride in their ability to conserve large quantities of water, and are efficient as methods of conveyance, despite their relative ugliness. Additionally, take a look at any Nativity scene– there are Camels, hanging out at the birth of Christ, having carried the Magi to bring Him some Christmas presents, thinking to themselves “history will remember us, and That Baby Over There, we’re awesome.” These facts do not escape the camel, as any google image search will reveal a very smug and self-satisfied look, although some justification for this can be assumed, if only slightly, because they do, in some respects, meet their own hype. Think of the Camel as Mother Nature’s Prius Owner.

Now, the Dolphin, on the other hand; that’s a horse of a different color. This is an animal who looks like it was designed by the hand of an artist in the early 80’s, the kind of person who wears neon tank tops and Zubaz pants, capped by wrap-around shades. We’re talking about an animal that looks as though its sole purpose in the world is to be airbrushed onto the backs of white tshirts with cheesy slogans and sunsets. This is why the Dolphin smiles– if the Camel is the Prius Owner, the Dolphin is the Cokehead Investment Banker in the Red Mustang, Blasting Whitesnake with the Top Down and Leering at Women while Cutting You off in Traffic. But it gets worse, so much worse.

You see, the Intenet, in its infinite wisdom, also tells us that the Dolphin follows that metaphor of the smug asshole just a little bit farther. There are countless reports, and I’ll just link a couple here, of Dolphins sexually assaulting humans while in the water– which oftentimes causes the victims to drown. That’s right, those smug assholes who contribute nothing to the world except for really bad ankle tattoos are serial rapists/murderers who consider themselves above the law. This is where the old saying comes from: “Never take a drink from a Dolphin, or leave your drink unattended while in the company of Dolphins.” The stories are disturbing, and these links are just the tip of the iceberg:

Shocking.
Deplorable.
EVIL.


And still they smile for the camera... smug bastards.

So, Confused, I think the answer is obvious: Camels are certainly smug, but Dolphins are more smug, and are huge assholes to boot. I hope this helps you, and stay out of the water.

Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday