Ask an Educated Fellow.

 

 

 

Have the seemingly unanswerable questions of life been getting the best of you lately? If so, fear not. The Educated Fellow is here to resolve all of the queries, conundrums and uncertainties that may come your way. Simply write the Educated Fellow in the comment box below, and should he decide your inquiry is worthy of his educated time, you can consider your matter settled – in an educated fashion.

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Dear Educated Fellow,

Why do people ask you questions, if they can only read a few of your replies and understand that your a nut-job who has an impressive skill in making no sense using sensible words. Educated fellow it seems.

 William II

 Dear William II,

When writing a question it is paramount to put a question mark at the end of the sentence. This tips off the intended reader that you have indeed requested an answer from the recipient of said missive. Although I must confess, even if you had placed the proper punctuation mark somewhere in your collection of your nearly coherent word salad, I’m not sure I would be able to decipher exactly what it is you are inquiring.
Of course, if English is your second language, than kudos to you, sir. If not, perhaps you should either think about giving up drinking while typing, or going back to 4th grade. Perhaps both.

 Yours, The Educated Fellow

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Dear Educated Fellow,
In an earlier response, you used the phrase “…and the rest, as they say, is history”. This leaves the reader in suspense. I mean, what if they don’t know history? Further, couldn’t I just collapse the history of the Universe by saying, “Well, there was the big bang, and the rest, they say, is history” There, I’ve captured the history of the universe in once concise sentence.

Signed,
Stuck in Suspense

Dear Stuck In Suspense,

Your correspondence leads me to believe you’re one of these types who feels himself more clever than he actually is. I have to assume you realize my usage of the phrase “and the rest is history” was just a concise way of wrapping up a pithy little answer to a long pondered question.

If I have in fact made a mistake about your cleverness, and you are indeed actually in suspense over my usage of a time-honored and universally understood idiom, then it reminds me of a joke….

Q: How do you keep a moron in suspense?

A: I’m not sure, but if I ever hear from him again, I’m going to pay my new Italian friend (featured in the missive directly below) to punch him squarely in his nut sack.

The Educated Fellow.

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Dear Educated Fag,
What makes you think you’re better than me?
Vinnie Scungilli
Garfield, New Jersey

Dear Mr. Scungilli,

Three words. “Garfield,” “New” and “Jersey.”

Yours, The Educated Fellow

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Educated Fellow, when speaking of the numbers 11 and 12 why aren’t they pronounced one-teen, two-teen?

Jennifer

Dear Jennifer,

If the numbers 11 and 12 were pronounced one-teen and two-teen, then we’d have an extra 227,320,000 teenagers walking around on this planet, texting their every ridiculous thought, believing with every fiber in their being that their Earth Science teachers have personal vendettas against them, and singing Jonas Brothers songs. Is that a world you want to live in Jennifer? I certainly don’t.

Educated Fellow

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Dear Educated Fellow, What is the correct response to the question “Does my ass look fat?” when you are not a good liar?

Thanks,

Couch Sleeper

Dear Couch Sleeper,

The key to any relationship is honesty, and I’m glad to hear you care enough about your significant other to not want to go down the always perilous road of untruths.

The correct and forthright response to the question, “Does my ass look fat?” should always be, “Not in comparison to your face.” Of course if you’d like to start sleeping in the bed again sometime soon, I recommend, “Not at all honey, you are as gorgeous as the day we met.”

And then, if need be, quietly cough the words “fat ass” into your fist.

The Educated Fellow

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Dear Mr. Educated Fellow,

I fear that one day my toaster will become sentient and try to murder me in my sleep. Is this fear irrational?

Very scared,

Hanso

Dear Hanso,

I’m sorry to inform you that your trepidation is indeed a bit irrational. Your toaster is nothing more than a small 800 Watt household appliance, designed to grill your bread, bagels, and muffins. I’d explain more, but I have to cut this short. My Cuisinart has been extorting me and I need to handle that situation. I’d prefer not to get into the particulars, but apparently there are some questionable photos of myself, my humidifier and  a hair dryer I have never seen before in my life. I maintain it’s a Photoshop job, but my laptop swears it’s the real deal.

Yours,

The Educated Fellow

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What really happened with Lawrence Taylor, the 16 year old girl and her pimp?Thanks in advance Mr. Educated Fellow.

Kindest regards,

Rick

Rick,

Part of being an Educated Fellow is knowing when you’re out of your depth in a particular field. That said, I decided to pass your question over to a few gentlemen who possess a greater understanding of this delicate subject.

There was no hesitation in a single member in my panel of experts. Mr. Simpson, Mr. Dykstra, Mr. Roethlisberger and Mr. Tyson each replied independently and in unison, “The (expletive deleted) is lying!”

I believe this proves even an Educated Fellow can learn from the experts.

The E.F.

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Dear Mr. Educated Fellow,

Why Light beer? Have you ever considered going dark?

thanks,
Xpal

“Oh, I’ve gone dark my friend… I have indeed gone dark,” I recalled, arching an eyebrow in a seductive manner,  “I’ve gone African, Indian, and Japanese,” I added, licking my lips slowly. “Many is the time I have succumbed to the pleasures of the South American plate, and there was that rare visit to Australia when I was treated to the indescribable bliss of 12 separate Aborigines in one magical night.” A nostalgic smile overtook my face as I recounted the conquests of my youth and I concluded, “But I always return to the cool refreshing taste of Keystone Light. Keystone Light. It’s smooth even when you’re not.”

-The Educated Fellow

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Dear Educated Fellow,

What was the best thing before sliced bread?

LittleNell

Dear LittleNell,

The modern day bread slicer was invented in 1928 by Otto Frederick Rohwedder, but it’s fair to say bread has been sliced in some fashion since it was first created some 12,000 years ago.

To answer your question however, the greatest thing before the invention of sliced bread was a Margarita mix created during the Upper Palaeolithic era in 18,000 B.C. Unfortunately, the only flavor it came in was reindeer, so sliced bread was a hands down favorite by the time of its inception.

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Dear Educated Fellow:

Are you a fellow, as in “a member of a learned society,” or just a fellow as in, like, a dude?

And if you’re learn-“ed,” society or not, why haven’t you learn-“ed” folks realized that pronouncing “ed” as a separate syllable has been out of style since the time of Benjamin Franklin?  As Ben hadst learn’d and observ’d, Americans don’t need no stinkin’ extra syllables on their “ed” words.

Inquisitively yours,

BobKM

Dear Inquisitive BobKM,

I assure you my good man, I am both a fellow and a dude. And as such I enjoy the pleasures and pursuits of both the common man, or dude, and as you point out, “a member of learned society.” (A.k.a. “fellow.”)

Why just the other day, to illustrate my point, I stopped by a local watering hole, threw back a few Keystone Lights then proceeded to wolf down a dozen pickled eggs, and 3 hot dogs from the filthy “help yourself” rotisserie. All the while, I kept my nose buried in one of my favorite tomes, “Critique of Pure Reason” by Immanuel Kant.

Well sir, after enjoying 6 brewskis and a number of less-than-savory or sanitary bar snacks, my natural enzymes and intestinal bacteria kicked in to high gear, and lo and behold, I was burping (ever so silently, but nonetheless deadly) through my nicely pleated trousers. Now who do you think the patrons of this tavern assumed was guilty of this heinous offense to their olfactory senses? Not the Educated Fellow reading the philosophy book, I can assure you of that. No, the blame went to the guy sitting next to me, dressed in a well-worn George Thorogood concert tee, and a baseball hat with the words, “Free Moustache Rides Below” emblazoned upon the front.

So to answer your question, BobKM, I find the extra “stinkin’ syllable” to be a reasonable price to pay to fart blamelessly in public.

Yours,

The Educated Fellow

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Dear Mr. Educated Fellow,

How much can I get away with and still go to heaven?

thanks, Hanso

Dear Mr. Hanso,

I like the cut of your jib sir. Undoubtedly you are the type of man who lives life to the fullest, making yours an adventurous spirit. However, you are also prudent enough to be concerned about where the Almighty draws His heavenly line in the sand, and you wish to be on the pearly gates side of said boundary when your day of reckoning comes.

God the father loves us all deeply and unconditionally – but He is also a very busy deity. With billions of people in this world he has quite a bit on his plate each and every day; the daily spiritual turn-over alone would drive a lesser divine being mad.

Just like a real father/son relationship however, God has favorites. If you look innocent in comparison to say, your troublesome brother, you’re sure to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, no questions asked. Hitler’s little brother, Jimmy, was a real dick, but in comparison, he looked like St. Francis.

My advice to you is start committing your sins in your brother’s name. If you like shoplifting, after you’ve shoved all your ill-gotten booty in your pockets, announce in a booming voice at the exit of the store, “I am (Insert Your Brother’s First Name Here) Hanso, and I have absconded with goods from your establishment!” Then run like hell.

Another thing to do is build a phony email account with in your brother’s name. If you enjoy siphoning funds from the online savings accounts of destitute widows, it’s (Insert Your Brother’s First Name Here) Hanso@yahoo.com who takes the fall.

If murder is your passion, ask to borrow your brother’s shoes and mohair sweater before you commit your dastardly deed. When the detectives arrive at the crime scene to look for clues, his footprints and Angora yarn will be all over the crime scene.

Both God and the police will assume your brother is the guilty individual, and you will rest in peace for all eternity on a comfortable cloud.

I hope this brings you some measure of comfort,

The Educated Fellow

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Dear Educated Fellow,

Who put the bop in the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop? And For that matter who put the ram in the Ramma-lamma ding-dong?

-a curious reader

Dear CR,

With 1,093 patents to his credit, it should come to no surprise to anyone, that it was the “Wizard of Menlo Park” himself, Thomas Alva Edison, who indeed first placed the bop among the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop. What may surprise you however, is that it was Edison’s long time rival, Marty Forshpan, who may deserve credit for the ram in the Ramma-lamma ding-dong.

In his autobiography, entitled “Thomas Edison Was a Stupid Lying Scumbag Who Stole All My Good Ideas,” Forshpan claims he had been working on the ramma-lamma formula for some time, and was foolish enough to reveal the secret to Edison at a drunken office Christmas party while the pair were discussing inventing something to make paper copies of their asses that could be later sent to the corporate office. According to Forshpan, Edison patented the idea the very next day, along with the carbon button microphone. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Sincerely

The Educated Fellow

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Dear Educated Fellow,

I find the expression “Naked as a Jay bird” stupid. It would make more sense to compare your nakedness to an animal without feathers or hair or anything. Maybe one of those ugly hairless cats for example. What do you think?

-JohnS

Interesting point, John, but the expression derives from the phrase “naked as Jay Byrd,” originally coined by Connecticut third graders in the year 1980, the phrase pertained to one Jay Byrd, a troubled youth who smelled of incense and Fritos, but who won everlasting fame mostly for his habit of running naked through the streets of Stamford.

In a similar vein, the phrase “dumb as Mark Sapperstein” is also eponymous. Although the expression never caught the popular imagination, man was that kid dumb. – The E.F.

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Dear Educated Fellow,

What’s the deal with these lions trying to attack us?

– Bryana

Dear Bryana,

I know exactly what you mean. These ferocious felines pose a menace to us all. Unfortunately, apex predators aren’t easy to get rid of. The African lion can weigh up to 550 pounds and achieve a top speed of 40 miles per hour. What hope can any human have against such a killing machine?

Fortunately, we have use of our most precious weapon – the human mind.

Simply by airlifting in Kodiak Bears, our lion problem could soon be solved. Weighing in at over 1400 pounds and 11 feet tall, and sporting the largest fangs of any carnivore, the Kodiak bear should have no problem with the so-called “King of Beasts.”

But what do we do once the Bears rule the earth?

Once again, our intellect provides a solution! By creating giant “Mecha-Gorillas,” complete with laser eyes, missile fingers, infrared target acquisition capabilities and armor-plated skin, we should soon rid the world of Ursus Arctos Horribilis. But at what price?

For how can we deal with lumbering cyber-primates programmed solely for destruction?

A call out to space, perhaps? The Search Extra-Terrestial Intelligence program has by now undoubtedly made contact with the Telekinetic Medullans of Regulon 5. The powerful psychic hammers wielded by these ultra-evolved aliens would soon pulverize the rampaging mecha-gorillas to powder.

Alas, the obvious result of this shift in the balance of power would be the complete and utter enslavement of the human race, with all mankind working endless shifts in Nevada’s borax mines.

Indeed, the only thing that stops this from happening today is the Medullans’ love of relaxing in the tall grass of the hot savannas. A slow moving race, reputed to taste like gazelle, they are easy prey to those well-camouflaged masters of the hunt, the lion.

Let’s just let the kitties live, shall we? Because otherwise, we’re in a war we can’t win.

Yours,

The Educated Fellow