Friday, October 03, 2014

YOUR QUESTIONS ANSWERED! You asked for my advice and I DELIVERED!

On a famous day, a date which will RING OUT THROUGH THE AGES -- or at least until the eco-holocaust renders human civilisation unsustainable -- I posted the following question: "What the FUCK is your problem?"

The day was June 16, 2014.

To that question, I added a second: "And what the FUCK are you going to do about it???" But I did more than simply pose such hard-hitting questions. No, I offered help! I further added, and I quote, "ASK CARLO SANDS THE ANSWER!!!"

Yes, I offered my services as a sort of "Agony Aunt". Only drunker and not an aunt. But I think the "Agony" bit was probably right, because I went through agony to get these answers!!!

Yes, I know what you are thinking! June 16 was like pretty much yesterday! How the FUCK did you come up with answers to the questions asked of you in the comments under that post in SUCH A SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME???

Well, blog reader, I value you all, I really do. I truly care about your problems!

The simple truth is I have been meditating DAY AND NIGHT on all of your questions, and while I appreciate that some of you may feel answering so soon is dangerous or even foolish, all I can do is assure you I am confident I reached a point that us "Agony Aunts/Prophets" like to call "Maximum Wisdom".

And I appeal to you to let my answers be your guide. So... here we go featuring, as promised, a Tom Waits song for each question.





1) The first question was from "Anonymous" and it was:

HELLO????????????????????????????

Well, anonymous, if that really is your name, I am not sure what you are asking me here, to be honest. I mean, I am here to help, but first, I feel you need to find out what it is you need help with, because I am not convinced you yourself know.

However, my conclusion is your issues are probably to do with an addiction to the "?" key, or perhaps it just sticks on your keyboard when you press it. Either way, it is probably something you should get looked at.

As promised, here is your Tom Waits song. I feel it relates directly to your predicament.




She sends me my blue valentines
To remind me of my cardinal sin
I can never wash the guilt
Or get these bloodstains off my hands
And it takes a lot of whiskey
To make these nightmares go away...




2) The second question was *also* from anonymous and it was:

YES??? HELLOO??????

Well really, anomymous, I feel this is just a replay of the first question, only with the addition of "YES???". It is almost as if the author of the post was trying to figure out if the comments bit actually worked, but obviously that can't be true coz I'm the author and I would remember such a thing. Unless I was really drunk.

Anyway, see my answer to the first question, as it is the same. Here is your Tom Waits song.




Got a crazy sensation, stay or go, I gotta choose. And I'll accept your invitation to the blues.



3) OK, now "Fretful Mother" (if that is truly their name and I for one wish to express some doubt as to the truth of the claim) has actually managed to ask a very serious question -- one requiring some very serious thought and a very serious answer:


Dear Carlo, my 17 year old son insists on lying in his undies rubbing his belly while we watch the Mighty Boosh. What can I do about this issue? Thank you! Fretful mother



Ah, yes. The old "17-year-old-son lying in his undies rubbing his belly while watching The Mighty Boosh" issue. Yes. Well, you know this is actually a far more common problem than you might imagine.

And "Fretful Mother", you were right to ask me about this. An issue this sensitive requires the handling of an expert. It requires someone who understands what is truly happening here.

See, an amateur Agony Aunt would just be lost, totally out of their depth. They might suggest all kinds of crazy things, like asking him to put on some pants and maybe a top of some sort, or possibly even to switch to watching a different British sitcom from the first decade of the 21st century, such as The IT Crowd.

But obviously, that is just not going to work, and not simply because both sitcoms feature Noel Fielding in some capacity. No, the reason is far more simple: Your son is in love with what we experts call a "Jersey Girl".

And, you see, "nothing else matters in this whole wide world" when "you are in love with a Jersey girl". It makes you crazy, it causes you to behave in all kinds of nutty ways, from taking "my baby" to the carnival and taking "her on all the rides", to watching The Mighty Boosh in your undies while rubbing your stomach.

No, your son has "no time for the corner boys", you know the ones "down on the street making all that noise". He is too busy thinking of taking "that ride, across the river to the Jersey side" and/or rubbing his belly while watching a sitcom starring Noel Fielding on the TV. (Don't bother trying a sitcom not involving Noel Fielding, he is actually irrelevent to all of this and there is no reason at all why I keep mentioning him, so I shall stop henceforth.)

So, what can you do about this problem? Well, how much do you like people from Jersey? If you don't mind Jersey-ites, then just go with the flow and accept that your grandkids will speak with a Jersey accent.

If you don't like folk from Jersey, and I believe many don't, then all you can do is disown your son. It may sound harsh, but the bitter truth is you will never succeed in stopping his love for a Jersey Girl.

No, not while she "thrills him" with "all her charms". It is just a cold hard fact that, whatever you do, "someday" she'll wear his ring. That's just how it is. Once a Jersey Girl gets her hooks into your son, he's gone.

I hope that helps. Your Tom Waits song is "Downtown Train"... haha, just kidding. It's "Jersey Girl".




Down by the shore, everything's alright. You with your baby on a Saturday night.



4) This next question is nowhere near as profound or important. Someone called "John Passant" (and I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would invent such a patently false and frankly ridiculous name) wants to know:


How can we get rid of Carlo Sands? Send him to interview Tony Blair? Only one would be left alive. But who?


Now, this is actually a hard one for me to answer, because I simply do not understand this desire to rid the world of Carlo Sands. I mean, have you not SEEN my cheekbones??? The world needs such beauty at a time of such ugliness.

As to who would be alive after I interview Tony Blair, the answer is I would not interview a wanted war criminal. I mean that is just fucking stupid.

Obviously a war criminal who has evaded capture for so long is a dangerous man and would not be willing to accept an interview from one such as me without arriving heavily armed and with extensive back-up.

I mean, as a journalist of sorts, I would obviously do anything for a story -- so long as there was no risk whatsoever to my well being. So no, you'll have to try harder if you want to bring Carlo Sands undone!!!

Here is your Tom Waits song. It is highly appropriate to your question, but I'll leave it to the reader to decide whether Tom is growling about my good self or Mr Blair.




Some say they fear him
Others admire him
Because he steals his promise
One look in his eye
And everyone denies
Ever having met him
Ever having met him...




5) Ah, now here we go. This is more like it. My old friend and occasional "Alcoholic's Guide To" contributor Conehead the Barbituate has a highly pertinent and topical question:


Know anyone who can lend me some cash?


Well, yes. A very good question indeed. And one to which, to be honest, I wish I knew the answer myself. What I suggest, Conehead, is you ask absolutely everyone you can think of and, if you get a positive response, make sure to tell me who they are and give me their phone number, email and home address.

Failing that, do you know anyone called Frank? Coz here is your Tom Waits song.




See you tomorrow, hey Frank can I borrow a couple of bucks from you?



6) OK, someone called "DMCDF's dhopec lyric's blog" (seriously, some of the parents out there... they should be jailed for child abuse the names they lump their kids with) wants to know:

Dear Carlo, Waleed Aly claims that the arab spring was a byproduct of the invasion of Iraq. Is that true?

Ah, finally! A question about geopolitics! Well, you have come to the right place. I am very glad you asked me this question, because few others would have the courage and common sense to say to you straight out: "What the FUCK are you ON ABOUT???"

This Waleed character clearly has no clue what he is saying and you referrencing him as some sort of "expert" does you no credit, DMCDF (if I may call you that, only "Mr blog" sounds terribly formal).

Arab Spring a by-product of the invasion of Iraq??? HA!!! No, I think you'll find the Arab Spring was a by-product of the fucking repression, brutality, exploitation and betrayal of common people's interests that the regimes targetted by the Arab Spring were responsible for!

This, of course, was combined with their support for neoliberalism and worsening social conditions caused by the global economic crisis, with rising food prices and greater unemployment!

I mean sure, maybe to the degree these regimes were complicit in supporting the Iraq invasion, I mean that cannot have helped the sense of alienation from their rulers ordinary people felt. Sure. I will conceed that. But really. I mean come on! This is a serious blog. Such pathetically infantile questions and approaches to serious matters is unworthy.

You want to know what the Iraq invasion led to? You really want to know? I will tell you. It led to songs like this one, which is your Tom Waits song.




I had a good home but I left
I had a good home but I left, right, left
That big fucking bomb made me deaf, deaf
A Humvee mechanic put his Kevlar on wrong
I guarantee you'll meet up with a suicide bomb
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce




7) Someone calling themselves "Simon Ronald" asks the next question (and for fuck's SAKE people, if you MUST make up a name, at least TRY to make it believable). "Simon" wants to know:


Dear Carlo, I keep touching my eyebrows and I have bald patches and a little sore. What can I do? Simon


OK. Well, first of all, what KIND OF FUCKING *FREAK* are you??? You keep touching your eyebrows??? WHAT THE FUCK???

I am not in the least surprised that you have bald patches and a little sore! And, actually, I now fully understand why you chose such a patently false name under which to ask this question. You are quite rightly utterly ASHAMED of your actions.

I don't know how I can help you. I am not sure you CAN be helped. You are a degenerate who cannot resist the temptation to touch your own eyebrows, even though you know full well the horror of your actions. I pity you. Here is your Tom Waits song. It is for degenerates like you.




My will has disappeared
Now my confusion is oh so clear
Temptation, temptation, temptation
Whoa, whoa, temptation, temptation
I just can't resist




8) OK, the FINAL question comes from Andrew Bolt. I'll admit to being a little flattered that Andrew took some time out of his busy schedule inciting race riots to ask me something. At least, that was until I read the fucking question! Which is:



How do we reconcile quantum theory with relativity?


Oh Jesus FUCK! Now I know why so many people have a serious beef with this prick! How do we "reconcile quantum theory with relativity"??? Look, I am a FUCKING BUSY GUY, ANDREW!!! YOU FUCKING THINK I HAVE THE FUCKING TIME TO FUCKING SIT DOWN AND FUCKING STUDY GODDAMN QUANTUM THEORY JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO GODDAMN LAZY, YOU RACIST FUCK?!?!?!?

SERIOUSLY, YOU UTTER PRICK, STOP TRYING TO DRAG THIS COUNTRY EVER CLOSER TO A FASCISTIC TOTALITARIAN DICTATORSHIP FOR THE MASTER RACE AND TRY TO *EDUCATE* YOURSELF IN *AT LEAST* SOME OF THE FUCKING *BASICS* OF QUANTUM MECHANICS!!!

Fuck. Jesus, I mean... just FUCK YOU!!!

Here is your Tom Waits song. I am not sure you deserve one, but I *DID* promise and Carlo Sands is a man of his word. And this one truly is for you, Andrew. You should study every word.




There aint enough raised right men, there's your trouble.



ALRIGHT! There you bastards go! You asked me the questions you most desperately wanted answered and I complied! I worked night and day to get you these answers! And more than just answers... I gave you, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU, a Tom Waits song too (which can all be heard via this very handy YouTube playlist).

Jesus, sometimes I think I do TOO MUCH, you know? If you want to give a little something back, then I strongly suggest you consider buying me a beer, which can be achieved via the PayPal button down the right hand side.

DO YOU HAVE *MORE* QUESTIONS FOR ME??? HUH??? JUST CAN'T STOP HARASSING CARLO SANDS??? Then by all means, ask them in the comment section under this post and I shall answer them PROMPTLY! And this time, I shall give you a song by Americana/roots/folk/country duo Shovels and Rope to go with each answer!



9 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. That is NOT a question! I SAID ASK ME A FUCKING QUESTION!!!

      Delete
  2. Conehead the Barbiturate3 October 2014 at 14:58

    Thanks. I'll try Frank

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. OK great. Be *absolutely sure* to let me know how it goes, and exactly how much he was willing to cough up and any particular "hardluck story" angles you sensed might work.

      Delete
  3. Sorry, is this Room 101? I was told to report to Room 101. It looks ... scarier ... than I imagined it to be.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hello. Welcome to Hell. We have white writing on black background, just like you hate.

      Delete
  4. how often should one "treat oneself"?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh Jesus, NOW you ask me when I have nearly finished my response to the one question asked so far!!! OK be patient I do have an answer and you shall recieve it. In due course. But FUCK get quicker with your QUESTIONS for FUCK'S SAKE!

      Delete
    2. is this question posed as a physician, or as an ordinary member of the public who enjoys treats? I feel clarification of this point is important as it will likely have no bearing on Carlo's answer.

      Delete