This is an occasional series of problems posed to renowned idiot, Jesus Budda. Armed only with a cheap tattered copy of a popular psychology manual and plenty of time to waste writing crap, Jesus will guide you through the trials and tribulations of theSpoof life's up's and downs.
Regular TheSpoof.com contributors posed the Following Questions. Their identities have been concealed to protect their privacy.
Question: Dear Jesus Buddha [sic],
Lets cut to the chase. I'm real angry at a satirical online newspaper and it's contributors.
A long while back I posted some helpful advice, which most writers have found very useful in getting up and running on the site - so to speak. All I asked for was a paltry, miniscule payment of $100 for these kindly words of wisdom. So far I've received a lousy $14 and a stick of used gum. It makes my blood boil. I work 80 hour weeks and but only get paid in jalapeno's. I need real money bad!
The nerve of some folk. One cheap bastard did up his own cut-down version and passed it off as his own work and simply charged a few bucks less for it.(It was pretty good, by the way, but that doesn't matter)
And then there was some other fool who had the neck to writer up a free 'comedy' version that passed itself off as a way to score low points on the site. What a dick.
I am a bit of an expert on the historical details of this so-called website and I've got plenty of dirt I can dish on it's writers if I don't get my money. My careers could be destroyed if I don't get my money.
What should I do?
Signed, Mexican Food Lover.
Jesus Says: "Money isn't everything, Jalapeno-…. - ahem, I mean Mexican Food Lover.
The main thing is that you have lots of food. Who knows maybe the checks just got lost in the mail?".
Question: Dear JB
I'm blushing as I'm typing so please be gentle with me.
I'm a sultry lady from northern England and I've been watching you for some time, big boy.
I couldn't help noticing your gorgeous body and your expressive use of ridiculously crap headlines and pointless story lines.
I'm lonely and misunderstood. The others think I'm a hard-assed bitch but they are so wrong. Inside I'm crying. I desire to be close to someone. Long to feel their tender touch. Someone to go on long strolls across the beach at sunset. Someone to snuggle up to by the fireside on cold winter evenings. Someone who knows how to turn a red blooded woman on. Someone like you. You know what I'm talking about, my little love machine.
I'm not just witty asides, ball-busting one liners and sly quips - I'm a woman! A woman who needs to be loved and cherished.
So what do you say? The only downside is my 300 a day smoking habit, chesty wheezing, alopecia and gangrenous foot. Maybe we could meet for a drink?
Yours , Cigarette Box.
PS: I've enclosed some pictures of me in revealing poses and a pair of panties.
Jesus Says: "Dear Lord.
Good god almighty….
I'm flattered. I really am. Truly flattered.
Oh look, another letter waiting to be answered. Gotta go.
I'm afraid the panties didn't fit so I'm returning them to you.
I'll, erm, hold onto the pictures for…research purposes.
They're laminated and waterproof, right?".
Question: Dear Jesus
I'm new-ish and successful writer on a' pretend-news' website.
Thing is this: I don't think I'm getting the respect I deserve. People think I'm just the 'turd guy'.
I am much more than a turd. I do shit. And piss. I even do excrement from bodily organs that people don't even know exist.
When will people stop p*ssing me off and trying to start f*cking sh*t with me?
I'm so angry I could squeeze the juice out of a turd. That's how angry I am. Very angry indeed.
I'm going to start a fight with someone, I know it. Someone's going to p*ss me off any moment soon.I can see my skin starting to turn a greenish hue….
Help me Jesus!
Signed, Duncan Donut.
Jesus Says: "I've searched through your writers file and incredibly 79% of your stories are non-turd related. But even so, it's very easy for a writer to become typecast. Ride the wave and relax. Deep breathing. In and out. Cool breeze blowing. Gentle thoughts. Nice memories. Stillness.
Oh, by the way, Queen Mudder just called you a turdface! ".
Question: Jesus Budda,
I won't take much of your time. Here's my problem: I've had these…'feelings'…for some time. Feelings for someone special I've found on an Internet website. She's an attractive lady. Beautiful face. Great body. Nice round ass. She's there most days. She stares out at me, longingly. I know she want's me probably as much as I want her but nothing ever seems to happen between us. I don't even know her real name - to me she's simply the 'Threadpit Grlt'. What a woman!
How should I break the ice? Or should I just dive right in?
Signed, Mister M.
Jesus Says: "I don't know how to break this to you, Mister, but that's my sister you're talking about. Now f*ck off".
Question: Mister Budda,
I'm a very funny guy - no problems to report in that department.
But, I want to shake off my 'nice guy' image.
A while ago I tried trading places with the man they call McCarthy. It only lasted a few days, but during that time I tried my hand at being rude and cheeky. I kicked a baby. I beat up some gang-bangers and took over their territory. And I liked it.
Ever since, I've longed to lash out at others on the site -for no particular reason but simply for the shear manly pleasure of it all. But I just can't do it using my regular pseudonym.
Do you know what to do, Jesus?
Yours honorably, CosmicStepladder
Jesus Says: "I feel partly responsible for originally calling you 'a nice guy' on the forums.
It's obvious I got that seriously wrong. Kicking a baby? You are a closet psychopath!
The best thing you could do for yourself is to invent another character and use that one for sheer nastiness. How's that sound?
Oh, and try not wearing those thick white socks with your sandals. It kinda ruins the whole Mr. Nasty angle you're aiming for."
Question: Dear Budda,
I'm don't normally do this kind of thing, but what the heck.
I growing weary with this accursed website newspaper. By Thor, it drives me crazy with all the childish bullshit the young-un's are getting up to nowadays. Not here a wet week and off they go writing stoopid articles and fictional problem pages about other writers. It makes me so sick and sad. Where is the art? The creativity? The flourishing imagination where ideas can be exchanged freely with honorable, knowledgeable upstanding people? When I joined the site I never expected a Nirvana of like-minded folks - I just expected some rational thinking and shared love.
I thought, maybe this song would illustrate my point better:
"I saw a mouse.
There on the stair.
Where on the stair?
A little mouse with clogs on
There I declare
Going clip-clippity-clop on the stair
A right there…"
I'm not a praying man. Heck, I'm not sure even if I'm a man anymore but goddamnit maybe you can do something. If you can't then maybe I oughta do a little hammer swinging.
Signed, Al Aska.
Jesus Says: "Well, Al, I feel your pain. I truly do. But violence is never the answer.
Well sometimes it is but that's not important right now.
What is important is that you appreciate the love and…. hang on a second. You're talking about me! You b*stard
Join Jesus Budda next time where he answer's some more talented writers problems (and not so talented).