Q. How's it going?
A. Fine I guess. How about you?
Q. I'm cool. Do you have a FAQ?
A. Uh, hello? You're reading it.
Q. May I help you?
A. That depends on whether or not you can fix a leaky faucet, mow the lawn, bring in groceries, vacuum the floor, wash the dishes, pull weeds, feed the dog, run the brat to school, or pop a letter in the mail on your way out.
Q. What's for dinner?
A. The usual... bagpipe a l'orange, grub casserole, devil's club salad, fried maggots and tapioca pudding.
Q. How would you like that cooked?
A. Wrap everything in banana leaves and bury it in the fire pit under some rocks. Then light the fire and remove it in the morning.
Q. Can I put you on hold?
A. Oh, please do, I have nothing to ask you and better things to do than hang out and listen to your chatter. Besides, I like the sappy muzak you always play; it's even more enchanting than your billboards.
Q. May I speak to Ri-ch-ard Mc..Mac..uh... Go.. uh... Goo... uh... uh... an... please?
A. That's probably the stupidest question I've ever been asked a thousand times, and I always want to answer "no" because it means, without a shadow of a doubt, that the questioning entity is an underpaid dial-a-droid who has absolutely no idea what number it called or who lives here and wants nothing more than to sell me something I don't need or want.
Q. Spare change?
A. Yes! I always carry fifteen pounds of spare change to hand out on the street because money's no object, it grows on trees, and one can't get rid of it fast enough.
Q. What's your sign?
A. It used to be Two Way Traffic Ahead, but lately I've been thinking the Duck Crossing sign across from the Pruneridge Golf Course is pretty cute.
Q. Fill 'er up?
A. No thanks, I've already filled. I just stopped to tell you the place down the street is 3 cents cheaper per gallon.
Q. Can I ask anything? Anything at all?
A. Yes, as long as it's a frequent question. I'm not an oracle so I only answer the high-probability questions in lucid, incontrovertible prose.
Q. Can I get frequent flyer miles for using your web site?
A. Sorry, I'm not a charity. I only give frequent flapper miles. Please follow instructions to the letter and use them wisely.
Q. OK, so is there a God?
A. Woah! Out of my league! Ask your priest, rabbi, monk, astrologer, palm reader, cat, or other authority figure. I only deal in corporeal platitudes.
Q. Is there a Heaven?
A. Of course. Sure. There's just no way every religion in the world could be wrong, is there? I mean, oodles of smart people have crawled all over this question with fine-toothed combs and magnifying glasses for thousands of years using every imaginable scientific methodology, including tweezers.
Q. What about Hell?
A. Absolutely! Hell is a small town in Michigan, with a big advertising campaign and a fine University.
Q. Cool. So where will I go when I die?
A. Ah. The big estates in Heaven are reserved for great people like Gandhi and Mother Teresa. Most of the farms are already spoken for, as well as the tract homes, houseboats, and condos, too. You, my friend, are slated for a trailer park just outside Elko, Nevada.
Q. So where is Heaven again?
A. The location varies greatly, but you enter through the door of the Volkswagen that's being crushed by the big troll under the Aurora Bridge in Seattle, Washington.
Q. Do you know the way to San José?
A. Oh, that's easy. Since all roads lead to Rome, it follows that all roads from Rome lead everywhere else, like Paris and Stockholm.
Directions to San José: Start in Rome and take any road. Ask everyone you meet where you are. Stop when you reach San José. Be sure to bring a large ball of string and unwind it as you go, in case you have to backtrack anywhere along the way. You'll want a few sheets of paper, some tape, and a bright felt-tip marker to label the parts of the road you've already taken.
Q. Where is Jimmy Hoffa?
A. Hey, wouldn't we all like to know. Last I saw him he was smoking a joint with Elvis on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
Q. Does she or doesn't she?
A. Yeah, right... Does the Marlboro man smoke ciggies?
Q. Who is Julia Vinograd?
A. Ho! That's a curve ball, but I'm glad you asked. She is the Ubiquitous Goddess of Telegraph Avenue, Poet Laureate of Berkeley. I saw her just the other day walking into Moe's Books, but she wouldn't know me from Sarasvati. I have three of Ms. Vinograd's books, all autographed. One of them I actually bought directly from her more than twenty years ago for a dollar. She really needed the money whilst I was sitting in a restaurant on Telegraph Avenue (it was Joshuya, which has since moved a few blocks west, to 2441 Dwight Way) enjoying a hearty bowl of natto and raw egg over rice (I'm not kidding). She smiled and signed her name boldly with a felt-tip marker like the one you'll need on your way to San José, only black. Click here for an update
Q. What do you find attractive in the opposite sex?
A. Oh, I never thought about it, really. I guess I'm sort of partial to bright green eyes and hairy underarms...
Q. Jeez! Plug my ears with popcorn! I didn't mean the physical stuff. I meant what else.
A. Aside from the physical stuff? Oh, you mean like creativity, intelligence, good humor, high libido, partiality to little opera and khyal singing, encyclopedic knowledge of Linnean botanical classification, a covert taste for the bizarre, and an overt fondness for highly controlled cacophony? Is that what you had in mind?
Q. Hang on, I'm supposed to be asking the questions!. So tell me, what's the ultimate answer?
A. Douglas Adams' research in seems to indicate that it's "42", but Scientists have recently been able to prove conclusively that "42" is just a loose approximation. Perhaps "42" is good enough for dummies and mass consumers in Amerika, but it's scientifically inaccurate. The real answer is forty-two minus the square root of two over pi, which is a messy little transcendental number that doesn't fit neatly into either two digits or three syllables. There are no easy answers, as Dhoti found out.
Q. How often do you update your FAQ?
A. Once in a blue moon. But remember: blue moons come more frequently if you hold your breath waiting for them.
Q. And whom should we thank for that?
A. Jesse W., who won the prize.
Last updated January 20, 2008
Copyright © 2001-2008 Rick McGowan
