Sunday, October 4, 2015

This morning, I caught C.W. reading The Song of Songs, aka the Song of Solomon again. He was even in his common shape of an ungainly 15-year old boy in faded jeans, a long shock of blond hair, a Metallica T-shirt, and faint hints of acne. He was reading earnestly and eating a pomegranate—with a little too much gusto if you ask me.

“You’re going to end up needing glasses,” I said.

“My beloved is to me a pouch of myrrh which lies all night between my breasts,” he said. Then he added, “Wow.” Pomegranate juice dribbled down his chin.

“May I ask what you are doing?”

“Studying scriptures, man,” he said. “Ain’t that what you told me to do?”

I thought for a moment, then recalled. “I was rather thinking of the New Testament,” I said.

“The old is father to the new,” he said. “Besides, this is much more fun than a bunch of do-gooder parables.”

I sighed. “Is there a way I can have you sent back to Falloonia?”

He crunched a bite of pomegranate and, reading from the text, said, “Did you ever tell a girl that her body was like a rolling landscape?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Or that her breasts were like spiced mountains?”

“Certainly not.”

“Someone told me,” he said, “that you once compared a pair of them to a couple of watermelons hanging from the back of a wagon in a tow sack.”

“Who told you that?”

“Never mind,” he said. “Here’s some good ones: ‘Her neck is like the Tower of David, set with warriors’ shields. Her eyes are pools in Heshbon, her nose like the tower of Lebanon, her head crowns her like Mount Carmel.’ Ever try any of those?”

“I’m going to report you to the Falloonian Elders.”

“Hey,” he said, reading, “did you ever tell Mrs. Big Dope that her hair looked like ‘goats leaping down the slopes of Gilead’”?

“I hardly think so.”

“You did, as I recall,” he said, “tell her one morning that her hair looked like a band of mice had held a square dance in it.”

I said nothing.

He laughed. “You never did that again, did you?”

“Uh, no.”

“Here’s a sure-fire winner,” he said. “’Your teeth are like a flock of newly shorn ewes which have come up from their washing, all of which bear twins, and not one among them has lost her young.’ I’ll bet that one would work out well for you.”

“C.W.,” I said, “I don’t think the Song of Solomon was intended as a dating guide, sex manual, or source of pickup lines. In fact, some Biblical scholars don’t believe someone should read it until they are over 30 years old, lest they kindle ‘the flames of lust.’”

“Thirty years old? Yuck. A lot of good it will do them then.”

“Someday,” I said, “I think we need to have a long talk.”

Some Biblical pickup lines seem to
work better than others. Trust me. - C.W.
“Your long talks,” he said, “confuse me more than your Bible.”

“Are we finished?”

He ignored me. “So what is your take on it? This Song of Solomon.”

“I haven’t a clue. Some say it was written by King Solomon to his wife, or lover.”

He consulted some notes. “Which one? Says here he had 700 wives and 300 concuines.”

I groaned.

He continued. “So this crazy dame over in Kentucky will issue 700 marriage certificates to the same man as long as none of them are for another man?”

I closed my eyes, then opened them as thoughts began to flood my head. “Let me take a look,” I said. “What was that about a pouch of myrrh between the breasts?”

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And ...
Finally, buy Big Dope's book so he'll shut up about it.
- C.W.

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Saturday, October 3, 2015


Dear Ask The Alien:
My wife won't let me post the following work on social media. I worked all morning on it but she says no. She claims that Gomer Pyle left a lasting positive image on the public and that image should be preserved. I say that Gomer, along with all mortals, is not above levity. And I don't care who you are, this is funny. What is your advice?

Besides, I fail to see the resemblance. - C.W.

Dear Humorist:
I think you should say ten "Hail Gomers" and choose another hobby. Also, you should be thankful for having such an insightful censor as ... well ... as your wife.
Your Friend,
The Alien

See also:

Thursday, October 1, 2015


Dear Ask the Alien:
My wife drives me crazy when we go shopping. After we find what we came for, she continues to look. No matter how much I try to explain to her that there may be a good football game on TV, she insists on wasting my time by looking at items she has no intention of purchasing. How can I get her to leave?
Missing Kickoff

Dear Missing Kickoff:
Recently I saw something at a park that might solve your problem. It was designed for a child, but should work with a wife. It is a halter with a leash attached and allows one to control the movements of a …

Please pardon the delay. Someone disagreed with my answer to your question and I had to wait until my knuckles quit hurting before I could type again. I would simply say to you, let your wife have her fun. I’m sure she deserves it. Mrs. Big Dope certainly does.
Your Friend,
Have a question for “Ask the Alien?” Send it via “comments,” below.
Fans tell me that men have actually grown old and passed
 away while waiting for their wives to finish shopping. - C.W.

See: to order Big Dope's book
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Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Ask the Alien: Sulking

Dear Ask the Alien:
My husband sulks. I’m too ladylike to confide in you why he sulks. Let’s just say that he does. I’ve learned to ignore him but it puts the whole house in a somber mood and I don’t get to laugh a lot, and I love to laugh, mostly at my husband, but that only makes him sulk more. Any advice?

Dear Distracted:
First, don’t feel as though you are alone. One of the overwhelming characteristics that I have documented about the male of your species is its tendency to sulk when it doesn’t get, let’s just say it doesn’t get its way. A close— call her an acquaintance—shared her treatment with me and other relief-seekers agree that it works. When the husband goes into what she calls. “full sulk mode,” she simply says, loudly enough for all to hear, “Oh, is de big bad booty mansey wansey upsy set cause him didn’t get his way? Whatsa matter little oopsy doopsy? Can’t you make a smiley-face for mommie?”

As you can guess, it does nothing to change his behavior, but it delights the family cats to the point where they giggle, chortle, and dance around the sulker until gloom is chased from the premises.

Of course, another sure cure is a sulk-induced shopping spree at a super-swank shoe shop.
Your Friend,
The Alien C.W.

If all else fails: remind them that John Wayne didn't sulk. - C.W.

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Monday, September 28, 2015


Dear Ask The Alien:
Our state loves its football team like Donald Trump loves a headline. The problem is that the team is currently losing every game it plays. My husband is near suicidal. One night he woke up in the middle of the night screaming, “No, no, they’ll spend the money on something stupid like science labs.” Our home life is becoming unbearable. Last evening, I walked in and stood between him and the TV, completely nude with my hands on my hips and my feet wide apart. He just looked, shook his head sadly, and said, "We can't handle the spread offense." Believe it our not, he was talking about football. Please help me.
Loser’s Wife

Dear Loser’s Wife:
On Falloonia, when a sports fan becomes over-agitated, we have members of the team come over and read to him passages from our classic literature. I’m afraid that won’t work in this case for a couple of reasons. So I suggest a substitute to watching football games. Finding one of comparable worth was difficult, but no problem is too great for “Ask The Alien.” So I am forwarding you, under a separate post, the location of a TV channel that consists of a camera trained on a large tropical aquarium 24 hours a day. In one week, your husband should be back to abnormal. If this doesn't work, contact me for a personal counseling session.
Your Friend,
The Alien C.W

Oh, that your species could get this
excited over matrix algebra. - C.W.

See also: