Mailbag: I am so, so sorry for that last unreadable mailbag

The_Post_Office_Microcosm_editedI’d like to buy the world some coke. But that’s not legal or practical, so instead, I’ll write another mailbag that will hopefully clean out your mind a little from the last one. Say, that’s an idea for killing nose goblins! Start doing powder cocaine. It’s almost too easy! Unless you don’t like the Champagne of Drugs®, which some of us don’t. It just makes me twitchy and paranoid and want more in two minutes. Really not a good time. I don’t recommend it, but I don’t like uppers at all. Except caffeine, and only in small doses. Anyone who’s eaten a box of No-Doz will tell you that is one of the worst ideas in the world. Sick as a motherfucking dog. You will vomit, I promise you, and when you aren’t vomiting, you will have the dry heaves. Don’t fucking do it. Shadow Fairy will back me on this–she chased hers with two pots of coffee. Oh, the things you’ll do when the town is dry.

What the…oh yeah! Mail call!

Dear Occipital Hazard,

I like my meat wild! Got any ideas for freaky bacon?

Carnivorous Fetishist

Dear Carny Fetish,

Well, there’s been quite a lot of viral buzz lately for this stuff that will make you smell of bacon. So if you’re looking to attract people with high cholesterol to get down with, maybe this is the product for you. There is much talk of the bacon personal lubricant. I cannot find this product for sale. I can find a video of the people who make Bacon Salt, bacon lip balm, bacon flavored envelopes, and Baconnaise (among other fascinating products), and who proposed the production of this product, taste testing the sample of it in their warehouse two years ago. I can’t find where to buy this product online. You might want to contact the company and ask. (I actually just did! We’ll see what happens. I’ll get back to you. Oh, the service I do for you all.)

Stay loose,

Seer

Dear Seer,

Can you tell me the story of the whale shitting out Jonah? I kind of forget how it goes.

Much obliged,

Heaven-Bound

Dear HB,

Yes, I can understand; the Bible is very confusing. But I think you’re a little turned around here. Jonah was a little unusual in the food chain–he came in and went out the same end. Spat out, not shat out, is what I’m saying. I have a rendition of the tale here, but I do curse a bit. You don’t seem averse to that in your religion, so I don’t think that will bother you.

Pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our deaths,

Seer

Dear Occipital Hazard,

Do you know of any charities near Long Beach that accept cans? Thank you for your assistance.

Sincerely yours,

Canned

Dear Canned,

White Darryl on East 10th near Cherry Avenue takes them. He’ll give you a gram or some expired Cup O’Noodle in exchange, depending on the size of the sack. (Due to too many ladies and gentlemen weighing the cans down with rocks, he usually goes by volume, and he has you pour them into a bin so he can see that they are indeed cans.) And you can camp in his back yard, but you may not fix in his bathroom.

Sincerely yours,

Seer

Hey Seer,

Fuck.

Your pal,

The Explicator

Dear The Explicator,

Gee. I’d really like to, but the people who want to fuck me aren’t really the people I want to get down with. I still am blessed with two or three standards. Or so I think. We’ll see if I get literally hungry and if I’m denied unemployment or something. Then I might turn to prostitution, and your orders will be obeyed, sir, miss or madam.

I’m trying,

Seer

Hey Seer,

I meant you’re a fucking fuck.

Hope that helps,

The Explicator

Dear The Explicator,

Indeed! That clears things up mightily.

Go take a shit!

Hope that helps,

Seer

Dear Occipital Hazard,

I forgot to put celery in my red beans and rice. What should I do?

Concerned

Dear Concerned,

I hope I got to you in time. Whatever you do, don’t eat them or you will die of an anorectal abscess. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like: a butthole infection. How embarrassing would that be? So never, ever forget to put celery in your red beans! This is the keystone of this recipe, all that is keeping you from falling off the precipice into death by swollen butthole.

And here’s our last question of this mailbag.

Dear Occipital Hazard,

I have read your newsletter. I would like to take this time to tell you I’m so disappointed in you.

Sincerely yours,

Wilfred Brimley

Dear Mr. Brimley,

I am very glad you have been paying attention.

Go take a shit!

Yours Truly,

Seer

Well. I feel better. I hope you feel better. If not, I would like to recommend evacuation of the bowels; it does wonders. And you can’t do it if you’re dying of a butthole infection, so take one for the team.

Remember, you can ask us anything! Really! We get so lonely. Especially since the stats are broken and have been since March 6th and we can’t see you anymore, in the United Kingdom and Hungary and Germany and Canada and Vietnam. We just clap our hands and believe in readers.

Until next time, which will probably be very soon, because this is 500 yards away, the judge said so,

Seer

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