Ask Dr. Creepy

Dr. Creepy
Dear Doctor Creepy,
I’ve always enjoyed the privilege of being the creepy guy at work, which has meant fewer interruptions of a personal nature and less interaction with my annoying co-workers. However, the company has recently hired another fellow whose creepiness apparently is novel enough that I’m more normal by comparison. This means people are starting to stop by my desk to chat and are starting to invite me to lunches and happy hours. How can I regain my creepiness crown and enjoy merciful ostracization?

Signed,
Not Creepiest

Dear Not Creepiest,
As you well know, creepiness can come in a potion form, so look around the new creepiest person’s desk to see if it’s in a phial on the desk or in the drawers. If not, check the person’s lunch in the refrigerator; if it has mayonnaise upon it, know that this often masks a creepiness potion, and you should lick the mayonnaise off of the target’s sandwich (reassembling it afterwards, of course, to cover your tracks). This will give you the benefit of the elixir and deprive the target of its power.

Additionally, to improve your creepiness, remember the power of the mystical chant; this focuses your energy and chree, the mystical power of discordance that manifests itself as creepiness. I cannot tell you what mystical phrase works for you, but I’d recommend some simple, rhyming chant, perhaps even a nursery rhyme. You should chant this phrase to yourself whenever you’re alone at your desk, in an elevator, or in the men’s room (this works especially well for women). Remember, you can generate some kinetic motion from your chakras by rocking slightly as you chant. Try it now!

Finally, remember eye contact is key in communications. That is, you should never make it. Or you should stare. Don’t do what the straights do, which is break eye contact every once in a while for comfort and then look into someone’s eyes. Overdo it or don’t do it, that’s my motto.

But if you’re going to chant a nursery rhyme, do make the eye contact.

Sincerely,
Dr. Creepy

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Caption Contest

Normally, I don’t do this sort of thing because the paucity of responses is bad for my ego, but here’s a photo begging for a quip:

Patch

Here’s my best shot:

Dude, we know where your treasure’s buried.

Think you can do better? Leave it in the comments. Remember, if there are no comments, I will win by default! You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?

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Counterpoint: Let’s Keep The Mother Fighting Tradition Alive

Some people argue that mother fighting is a brutal sport that civilized nations should prohibit, since in many mother fights, the mothers are often wounded mortally or to the point where they are euthanized. While this might be the case, mother fights are conducted in the most humane fashion possible, without the use of spurs or other sharpened implements to increase bloodiness.

While some people don’t like mother fighting, it’s important to recognize the cultural import of the sport to many nations. In some underdeveloped countries, mother fighting provides much need entertainment in relief of hardscabble lives where people lack sports teams that charge $100 a ticket, concert venues where washed-up acts charge $100 a ticket, or functioning democratically-elected legislatures whose entrances cost millions of dollars. It remains an inexpensive sport participated in village greens, small outbuildings, and wherever like minded individuals gather to gamble, drink, and enjoy the spectacle.

And what a spectacle it provides! Brilliantly-plumed hens strutting and preening as they enter the ring, only to circle on another as in a ballet and come together in a whirling, flashing dance of life and death. Tallons, teeth, and elbows fly through the air gracefully, with the sensuous motion of lovers until one triumphs over the other. The arena bursts into applause at that great cathartic moment!

Mother fighting, unlike many of the organized sports of the upper classes, does not require expensive equipment nor time and minivan commitment. All a boy needs is a mother, time to train, some grain, and a dream. And what dreams the boy has; he can feel the warmth of the lights and the lightness of head that comes when his mother enters the ring and emerges victoriously. The boy’s name will live forever, and the boy will become a proud man.

Some opponents of mother fighting think that it’s barbaric and want to institute prohibition. They seek to transmute Mother’s Day, the annual festival of mother fighting and the day of some of the largest, most festive carnivals and biggest mother fights, into a day of peace, a day set aside to preserve and honor the mother. This foolishness cuts to the very heart of tradition and seeks to impose a set of beliefs not held by the majority onto the world at large. We should not let this come to pass.

(Read the Point, Let’s reclaim Mother’s Day for peace, by Jordan’s Queen Noor.)

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A Word From Our Sponsor

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Freelancing for John Kerry

William Squire posted some ghostwritten jokes for John Kerry, who recently bombed with a "botched joke":

You know, education, if you make the most of it, if you study hard and you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, uh, you, you can do well. If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.

Whereas I do not think Mr. Squire was entirely ingenuous (or whatever the opposite of disingenuous is), I wholly sincerely offer up my own services as a humorist for Mr. Kerry. Here, then, are my sample jokes:

    Why did the uneducated soldier fiddle with his car radio’s FM dial?
    Because it was stuck on 96.7 Z-Rock, and he was looking for some of that hillbilly music they listen to in the Midwest.

    Why did the firemen need the jaws of life for the uneducated soldier who was fiddling with his car radio’s FM dial?
    Because he lost control of his vehicle, rolled it down an enbankment, and was stuck in his IROC.

    Why didn’t the uneducated, not trying to be smart soldier give Senator Kerry the ascot the Massachussetan asked for?
    The uneducated soldier didn’t know it was stuck on the tie rack!

See, I’m marginally more amusing than the senator’s current writers.

I’m available for low, low rates!

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Bush’s Secret War on Oldest People

Can it be a coincidence that so many centenarians and super-centenarians died in the months leading up to the 2006 midterm elections?

It’s obviously a Bush plot. I mean, some would say that it’s statistically probable that really old people will die, but that’s just the insidious cloak in which the Bush cadre cloaks its nefarious activities.

No, these people were killed, many with a special strain of pneumonia that appears to only be a case of pneumonia and not a deadly bacterial agent. Look at the list and note the reasons why they had to die:

  • Many of these Americans over 100 years old were, well, senior citizens, and senior citizens tend to vote Democrat.
  • The Bush administration has often been at odds with the Mugabe government and wanted to send a message.
  • The Bush administration has often been at odds with the French government and wanted to send a message.
  • The Bush administration is displeased with the amount of money that the American trial lawyers are spending in support of Democrat candidates as payback for attempts at tort reform. Of course, it wanted to send a message.
  • The British woman was an innocent killed to make it look like the deaths of the others were “normal.”

You think I am mad? Listen to how carefully they planned it out!

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Ask Dr. Creepy: I Need Some Boss Wheels On A Budget

Dr. Creepy
Dear Doctor Creepy,
I am finally on my own since I have my mother’s basement all to myself! I’ve finally paid my student loans from three semesters of community college with the wages I made at the mall’s Sunglass Hut and then the mall’s theatre after the Sunglass Hut manager fired me because nobody would stop at the shop when I was on duty. Now, I’ve put some money into my “savings account”–a hollowed-out Strawberry Shortcake on my nightstand, and I’m thinking about what kind of car I could get to replace my Schwinn. I’ve looked at some of the cars with For Sale signs on them in my neighborhood. I’ve seen a 1986 Chevrolet Cavalier sedan in grey that I can afford and a 1986 red(ish) Nissan Pulsar.

Now, I’ve never been very lucky with the ladies, and I’m hoping to snare one for a long-term relationship. My question is, what should I look for in a set of boss wheels? Something sporty, or something traditional to indicate that I am a dependable mate, at least until curfew?

Signed,
2 Wheels, 4 Eyes

Dear 2 Wheels, 4 Eyes,
You’re on the right track with your lingo, son. Although kids of today would refer to a pimpin’ ride or something similar, remember, to achieve the zen of creepy, you need to remain slightly asynchronous with your fellow man. Boss wheels works.

Dr. Creepy remembers the days of limited budgets, but only barely, since I’m a doctor now. However, I suggest an alternate to the vehicles you suggest. To really impress a woman, you need a grey cargo van.

I fondly remember the Ford Econoline I drove. It was a former business vehicle, with no windows and side-lettering painted over in a mismatched color of paint. When I drove that truck, I felt my masculinty coursing through me with every chunk-chunk-chunk of the bad bearings in the right front wheel. That sound drew attention, and the people were looking at me.

I customized some of the van myself; I put the “If the van’s rockin'” bumper sticker on the rear bumper and replaced the passenger side mirror with the passenger side mirror from an old Ford Fairlane. I hitched the fuel tank up with a chain and a nut and bolt. Although I didn’t have to do it with mine, I’d recommend spray painting the windows in the back of the van for privacy. Perhaps a couple of moving blankets for private time. That sort of initiative shows a woman that you’re handy.

Yes, friend, you can take the Jaguars and you can take the Porsches of the world, but a woman takes note when you slow down in a grey cargo van to check her out. Who is that man, she wonders. Or the tingle of excitement a woman feels when she comes out of work at night and sees that van in the parking lot. Is he waiting for me? she asks herself, and her breathing quickens.

Would any mere BMW do that for a woman? I think not.

Plus, you can haul your G.I. Joe collection, weight bench, and bed when your mom throws you out.

Sincerely,
Dr. Creepy

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Ask Dr. Creepy: Movie Stars As Inspiration

Dr. Creepy
Dear Doctor Creepy,
I’m trying to find creepy actors whose mannerisms–and creepy characters–I can use as inspiration for emulation in every day life. I like Edward Norton and really like Crispin Glover, especially for his role in
Williard. If I choose one to imitate for maximum creepiness, who should it be?

Signed,
Creeping 2 Creepy

Dear Creeping to Creepy,
For starters, you poser, do not use numbers for words; there is nothing creepy about Prince-hop.

Secondly, you’ve presented Dr. Creepy with a false dilemma in choosing between Norton and Glover. Both have their finer points as creepy character actors, but ultimately their other work will overshadow their best roles.

And although some might suspect that I favor Ronald Lacey, whereas I do hold the immortal Toht close to heart at all times, if I could have all junior weirdos out their emulate one frightening modern character actor, I would recommend David Patrick Kelly. The short, high-pitched actor commands attention and makes skin crawl in any motion picture in which he appears, from his role as Doyle in Last Man Standing to T-Bird in The Crow. Certainly, although Sam the Sleazeball appeared to reform in The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, did you really believe that the flower-toting, woman-defending fisticuffs were genuine and bound to last? I couldn’t. And his pièce de résistance remains the too-brief role of Sully in Commando.

Working his nonhandsomeness together with his diminutive height and high pitched voice (which sounds lispy, even when it’s not), Kelley combines pathetic with the fear that violence might erupt at any moment. My friends, that’s the essence of creepy, and no one has it like David Patrick Kelley.

Sincerely,
Dr. Creepy

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