Greetings from the Torrid Zone

Greetings from the Torrid Zone, where the natives cast little or no shadow at noon. (Don't believe me? Look it up!) While in pursuit of our mysterious goals far from the warmth of hearth and home, my Assistant and I have had to overcome many obstacles, not the least of which is the lack of correspondence from my many dependent advice-needing fans. The Tradewindes have made up this deficit, however, and rendered to us a grabbe-bag of noodlings from You the Viewer. Arriveing by the demi-gross fortnightley are glass bottles of every description, with the faithfull's penscratchings and occasionale drawing. I rather much like the version of Self contributed by Billy, aged 10, of Sarasota, Wyoming. The heavily shaded eyebrows give me a commandeering stare, and the fireworks coming from my brain suggest either deep thought, or electrical problems with my hunting wig. Congradulations, Jimmy, and we'll route a commemorative edition of this column to you, suitable for framing, as soon as my Editore discovers I have made this generous offer.

As for the bottles themselves the mails arriv'd in, it's goode to see that Old Overholser is still a viable brand of rye in the provinces.

As to the most freqwently-asked concerns about my existence/non-existence, I am in the peak of the tip-top and I do not intend to die in the South Pacific, but rather in my homely moth-eaten bed at home.

Now, on to the Qwestions!

1)Hey, Finknottle, How do I land a supermodel wife?

Rod Ocasek

A) Dear Rod, the way to land a fish is to gaff 'im and bring 'im over the side of the boat. Gaff work is for the underclass of seamen, and according to rank, even on a small-staffed vessel. The gaff should be of at least ten percent above the weight of the catch i.e. the quarryl, and similarly the strength of the gaffer should exceed the necessary demand of the task, lest you see your prize, gaff, and gaffer go al-together to the sea. (A good surplus of gaffers is wise as well for obvious reasons.)

2)Mr. Finknipple,
Is there no escaping technology? The other night during sex, my girlfriend checked her Blackberry. I was hurt. She says she was just multitasking. What should I do?

Henry Pilot

A) Any girl that would check her 'blackberry' in public... I hesitate to finish the thought.

4)Dear Sir Finknottle,
What is the best cure for a sick little monkey?

Congo Boulonnais

A) The best way to cure a sick monkey of any size is to smoke it on a spit overnight. A dry rub of spices is a good finishing touch.

5)Esteemed Right Honorable Finknettle,
I have a question about party logistics. Let’s say you had the following people at a dinner party:
Mark Twain, Albert Einstein, Madam Curie, Joseph Goebbels, Jackie O, Liberace, Joan of Arc and Mariah Carey.
How would you seat them?

Reservedly,
Antoine Adirondack

A) I have had the above named persons at a gathering, and I seated them thus: Mark Twain is an incorrigivle flirt and has harrassed M. Curie even before her husbands death, so place someone between them. Goebbels will do, as he is unpleasant, smug and bizarre in his speech and will tempt Twain's satirical attention toward himself.
If you have any sense at all, seat Mariah Carey on your lap. Do not allow her to drink.

6)Herr FinkenNottle,
You ignored my last correspondence. Again, I say, the pirate is a penguin.
How do you answer, knave?

Regards,
Arturo Rhodesia

A) The chair is against the door, and the lemon merchant plies his trade on the boulevarde. I repeat: the chair is against the door. Tell Mary the hippo has had kittens, and there is a hole in the roof. I repeat: there is a hole in the roof. End transmission.

8)I've been checking out this site since it has started. You don't seem to spend a whole lot of time helping your readers. How do I know that if I send you a question, it will be addressed in a timely manner?

Bottled up in Rochester,
John

A) How does one know that a bird dressed in cook's twine and baked for three hours in a kiln will not sqwak and fly away after it is removed? How indeed. These are not mysteries we are qwalifi'd to answer, they are in the realm of metaphysikal inquiry and subject to Laws unproveable. Nay, we may stir and fret for lifetimes before the riddles of the Implicit Understanding are unraveled. Did you know, par examplé, that 'unravel' means to destroy a woven cloth, but 'ravel', its opposite cognate, means to weave And unweave?! That will keep you up at night.

That is the first batch of trans-oceanic traffic I have been able to address. My Editore is certainly contemplating replacing me with an Advice-o-matic or the stylish Eurovisor-311i robotic advice generator. Which is as may be, for I now have enough stored up bottled qwestions to start my own franchise and bury his efforts in the deep shade of anonymity. With that happy thought I bid you adieu.

-Finknottle, Ambassador without Portfolio