Monday, March 27, 2017

Dear John: Special Grass-Fed Edition!

Hard Core Advice From
Hard Core's Hardest Core... John Leslie!
Dear John,
     What's up with grass-fed beef? It's SO expensive. Can it really make a difference to my health?
     --Organic Wannabe
Dear Wannabe,
Don't worry about it. I spoke with your doctor. You have two weeks to live.
Dear John,
     The other day, I started sobbing when my boss criticized me, something I've never done before, but my mother has been sick and I've only been getting three hours of sleep a night.
     How do I do damage control?
Dear Crybaby,
I never met a boss who couldn't be swayed by a gratuitous offering of meaningless sex.
Dear John,
     My doctor interrupts me when I'm trying to describe my symptoms. Why doesn't he pay attention to me?
Dear Ignored,
Confidential to Oldtimer,
Sorry to disappoint you, grandpa, but they pass out Viagra at retirement homes to keep the old men from rolling out of bed.
American Chimpanzee

Monday, March 20, 2017

Dear John: Special Fat-Free Edition!

Hard Core Advice From
Hard Core's Hardest Core... John Leslie!
Dear John,
     Sometimes I wake up from a sound sleep feeling as though I'm having an orgasm. Am I just imagining this?
     --Not Complaining
Dear Complaining,
It depends where your husband's head happens to be at the time.
Dear John,
     I'm hosting a New Year's Eve party and want to invite a male friend who is newly sober. Is this insensitive of me?
     --Hostess With The Mostess
Dear Mostess,
You're only insensitive if that person is a transsexual Muslim of color in this country illegally
Dear John,
     My parents are leaving more money in their will to my sister because she's had major financial struggles. Am I wrong to feel hurt by this?
     --I Feel Like I'm Number Two
Dear #2,
Your parents can't help loving your sister more.

Confidential to Confused:
The difference between oral and anal sex is that one makes your whole day and the other makes your hole hurt.
American Chimpanzee

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Fake News: Special New Mexico Edition!

Susana Martinez, the governor of New Mexico, has announced that she tore her ACL in a recent skiing accident, and admits she shouldn't have been skiing and vetoing legislation at the same time.
     "We're keeping a close eye on it," reports her doctor. "After all, this was how the zombie apocalypse got started."
     Meanwhile, the New Mexico senate has determined that some of Governor Martinez's vetoes don't count.
     "As everybody knows," a spokesman for the senate insisted, "a torn ACL automatically disqualifies a veto. Besides," the spokesman continued, "a veto is not a sentient being, and therefore cannot perform even the most basic forms of math, such as counting."
     A recent poll reveals that a majority of the American people believe the United States Supreme Court is split along political lines.
     "Let me assure the American public that THAT is completely untrue," Chief Justice John Roberts said, unassuringly.
     "You don't speak for me, you conservative hack!" cackled Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, deftly avoiding a bucket of water tossed at her by a young girl in a blue dress.
     In a related poll of the obvious, it was determined that lungs are necessary for us to breathe.
     According to USA Today, congratulations are in order for actress Amanda Seyfried and Thomas Sadoski. What for? I don't know, I only read the Las Cruces Bulletin.
     Road closures on Melendres and Hadley Avenues will begin on March 17th, which has already passed, so never mind.
     The New Mexico nine dollar minimum wage bill is on its way to the governor's desk. Will she sign it? Won't she?
     Poker-faced, our shrewd Governor will only admit, "My ACL really hurts."
     In breaking news, Indiana FIRES men's basketball coach Tom Crean after nine seasons, despite his sad handicap of not knowing how to properly spell "cream."
     Readers of the Las Cruces Bulletin quickly respond, "Hey! We live in New Mexico, buddy. Why are you reporting on something that happened in Indiana?"
     A contrite, but still proud, Jim Duchene quietly retracts his story.

American Chimpanzee

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Dear John: Special Willie Nelson Edition!

Hard Core Advice From
Hard Core's Hardest Core... John Leslie!

Dear John,
     I'm 65-years-old, recently divorced, and dating again after 20 years. Since I can't get pregnant my boyfriend doesn't want to wear a condom...
     ...but doesn't that put me at risk of an STD?
Dear Wondering,
As close as you are to death, does it really matter?
Dear John,
     My husband and I have sex often, but he rarely kisses me passionately anymore, and I miss it. What happened?
     --What Happened?
Dear What,
You got old.
Dear John,
     Sometimes during yoga, I feel like I might orgasm. Am I a freak?
Dear Deaky,

Confidential to Country Fan:
I agree. The last thing a girl orally servicing Willie Nelson wants to hear is him saying, "I'm not Willie Nelson."
American Chimpanzee

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Dear John: Special Dead Cat Edition

Hard Core Advice From
Hard Core's Hardest Core... John Leslie!
Dear John,
     My coworkers seem really cranky lately. Is it them, or am I just more thin-skinned?
Dear Curious,
I've seen your picture on Facebook. One thing you're not is thin-skinned.
Dear John,
     There are days when I just can't seem to focus. I'm 49 and my period has been wacky, so could it be PMS?
     --Also Curious
Dear Also,
I don't want to hear about your periods.
Dear John,
     I always wear makeup to the gym so I look presentable, but someone told me I'm ruining my skin that way. Tell me I don't have to show up barefaced.
     --Curious Too
Dear Too,
What difference does it make? You're ugly either way.
Dear John,
     My sister-in-law can drink coffee after dinner and sleep like a log. Why doesn't the caffeine keep her up like it does normal people?
     --Curious As Well
Dear As Well,
Who cares?
Dear John,
     Do men really cheat on their spouses more than women do, or do they just get caught more often?
     --I Am Curious Yellow
Dear Yellow
Men don't cheat. That's just an unfortunate myth.
Confidential to Curiouser & Curiouser:
In my experience, the surest way to paralyze a woman from the waist down is to marry her.

American Chimpanzee

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Queen Elizabeth's Sapphire Jubilee

It was Goldman who called me last month with the news.
    “It’s the Queen's Sapphire Jubilee,” he said, speaking words that could get him hung for treason. He was her official biographer and an old friend of mine.
     I shook my head wistfully. It was hard to believe that my one true love has sat on the throne for 65 years, which, coincidentally enough, is the same amount of time she's been Queen.
     I guess I should begin at the beginning.
     Once upon a time, at the start of World War Two, when Elizabeth was still a princess in her teens, I was hired to clean out the royal stables. Back then, her two favorite things to do were riding her horse and teasing me. She knew my name, but refused to call me by it, and nothing made her happier than bossing me around.
    “Stable-boy, polish my horse's saddle."
    “As you wish,” I said.
    “As you wish,” was all I ever said to her.
    “Stable-boy, feed my horse.”
    “Stable-boy, give him water.”
    “Stable-boy, brush him down.”
    “As you wish.”
    And then one day she realized that when I told her, "As you wish," what I was really telling her was, "I love you."
     That's when she discovered that she loved me too.
    “Stable-boy, fetch me that pitcher…. please.”
    But I was a mere stable-boy, and had no money or prospects, so I left the palace to seek my fortune across the pond, in America. When I left, she locked herself in her room.
    “I'll never love again,” she told herself, but that wasn’t completely true. There was one thing she loved more than me. The kingdom she would one day rule.
    And that love was true.
    I thanked Goldman and left immediately for Great Britain. It was Morgenstern, the head caretaker of Buckingham Palace, who met me at the gate and snuck me in the back door of the palace.
     "You must hurry," he told me.
     I did, and, man, what a great time I had at the Jubilee.
     You see, I've been persona non grata since the time the Queen and I snuck off to Tijuana. We didn't come back for four days. Boy, that lady can party. When we finally made it back to England, I had to leave her passed out in a shopping cart at the front gate of her castle. A trick I learned back when I was a freshman at Faber College.
    The whole extravagant affair reminded me of when I was invited to the royal wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it. I had jury duty that day.
    Prince Charles was upset, but he's been upset with me ever since he found out I knew Lady Di before she was a lady.
    Years later, after his divorce, he called to ask me to perform the marriage ceremony in his then up-coming nuptials to Camilla Bowes. I refused for religious reasons. I don't believe in inter-species marriages.
    "Jim, you were right," he told me. "I never should have married Diana."
    "I never said you shouldn't marry her," I clarified. "What I said was: 'Why buy the cow...?'"
    So, although I didn't perform the ceremony, as a personal favor to the Prince of Wales I kept the Queen Mum out of everybody's way during his wedding. Her stories tend to be long and tedious. She's used to her subjects having to stand there and not fall asleep. Unfortunately for her, I'm not one of her subjects.
    "Did I ever tell you," she rambled in that high-pitched squeal of hers, "how, during the Great War, after each bombing by the Germans, I would go for a walk outside the palace gates to reassure my subjects?"
     "Yeah, but only fourteen times," I replied, stifling a yawn. "Tell me again."
    And she did!
    Royalty never gets the hint.
    So I excused myself.
    "I need to see a man about a horse," I told her.
    "Why, I never!" she sputtered.
    "And, after I leave, you never will."
    I turned and bumped right into her husband, the Duke of Earl.
    "Who are you?" I asked, not recognizing him at first.
    "I'm her husband," he confessed.
    "Then why aren't you the king?"
    "Well, that's a long story," he said, taking a deep breath in preparation for the exhalation of many long, boring words.
    "Then I don't want to hear about it," I said, and exited stage left.
    But I digress...
    Prince William was disappointed that I wouldn't be there to throw him one of my legendary bachelor parties. He had heard about the one I threw for his father in Las Vegas. His father ended up missing and the rest of us ended up stealing Mike Tyson's pet tiger that night. I took a few of Mike's pigeons, too. They make for some good eating. And, man, what a hangover we had the next day.
    It was during that night in Vegas that we met the Runaway Bride, Jennifer Wilbanks. She was celebrating her own personal bachelorette party by throwing back tequila shots, falling down a lot, and laughing hysterically for no reason whatsoever. By the end of our night of debauchery her eyes were permanently bugged out. They never went back to normal.
    "This is too much, even for me, dude," Charlie Sheen said disgustedly, and left.
    But, once again, I digress...
    Prince Charles made a final attempt to get me to go to his son's wedding.
    "Don't forget," he reminded me, "someday I'll be King."
    "Don't you mean Queen?"
     “What? How dare you,” he lisped, angrily. “Get out!”
    “As you wish.”
American Chimpanzee

as published in Desert Exposure Magazine