(back to ask max)
Archive for October, 2005
Sunday, October 30th, 2005
What are your thoughts on “trick or treating?”
I think it’s an excellent idea. I don’t even know why you have to wait for Halloween to do it. I beg for treats all the time. On Halloween “trick-or-treating” specifically, that’s a bit of a sore spot for me—since I don’t get to go. I would LIKE to. And nobody lets me. Let’s discuss: Humans eat meals…and snacks. Who eats “treats?” Dogs, that’s who! Armed with that knowledge, are you gonna tell me it’s fair that dogs don’t get to go? Even though I get dressed up in insufferable costumes every year? (See: Koby Bryant, a hot dog, and most recently, a dragon) Finally, if you’re concerned about the safety of your Halloween candy, I’d be happy to act as taste-tester.
Maxie I love you and I think you’re adorable. And for that reason alone, I will be honest when I tell you that I think you’re more attractive than my own dogs. Does that make me a bad mom?
Thank you. My good looks are, in fact, widely recognized. But you might be surprised to know my most endearing quality is actually humility. However, it’s all relative. Recently I had the great displeasure of seeing the winners of the World’s Ugliest Dog contest in Peta Luma, Ca. The winner looked like a satanic sock puppet—the love child of a hairless mole and the Crypt Keeper. So, no, you’re not a bad mom. Just charmingly honest. Love the ones you’re with, and count your blessings.
Friday, October 21st, 2005
My name is Tucker and I am a Welsh terrier. My owner frequently takes me out to pick up his sushi at different places in the city. It seems that many Japanese places we go have the same ceramic, fat, Garfield like cat prominently sitting on the counter near the cash register. Why do so many Japanese restaurants have the same ugly cat with a shit eating grin on their counter?
You’ve stumbled upon an ancient Japanese secret. The cat with the shit-eating grin represents what he would say if he *could* talk: “You just paid HOW MUCH for food they didn’t even COOK? Sucker!”
Friends (a message to skeptics):
I imagine that most of my readers ask me questions because they know how smart I am. When people ask for advice, all I can do is give it. What they do with the wisdom I provide is up to them. Recently, I received a letter from a reader, (Frequently Confused Flyer), who confessed that he didn’t follow my advice. As you can imagine…it was a big mistake. He offered to write a testimonal which I gladly accepted.
I asked Max for advice about a girl once. True story. Max advised me to not take a trip and what do you know? I took the trip. Now, the girl wont talk to me and I may have ruined my chances of true love. All because I didn’t listen to the pooch. Here’s a word of advice to all you skeptics: The pup knows!
This is Jessie the Squieles cat. What happens when pets die? One of my furrr-ends passed away and I’m sad and want to know will she be in heaven? Thank you. *licks*
I can see your whiskers moving but I can’t understand a word you’re saying. I don’t speak cat! Just kidding, Jesse. The truth is that for a long time it was conventional dog wisdom that DOGS went to Heaven and CATS went to Jersey…however in these more enlightened times, most educated canines concede that there’s a place in heaven for all of God’s four-legged creatures (you two-leggers are on your own), so it’s safe to believe that your dear friend is watching over you from atop a cloud of catnip. This is assuming that she never 1) stole dog food from an unsuspecting pooch, 2) swiped a good chew toy/squeaky toy or 3) vomited on a rug and let a dog take the blame.
Wednesday, October 12th, 2005
If I have sex with women I openly dislike, just because they offer, does that make me a sex addict? Or does it possibly say something worse?
I’d say it makes you lucky! Why are these women not getting the vibe that you openly dislike them? Do they want what they can’t have? And more troubling are you only happy having what you don’t want? If it makes you happy – go for it – but be careful… you don’t want to have kids with a woman you openly dislike. You know how they say, “If you think she’s neat, wrap your meat?” I’d have to add, “If you’d rather club her, wear a rubber.”
What is “normal”? And why?
Flummoxed in Flatbush
Normal? Say a preponderance of people eat three times a day – with snacks in between. Three is normal. Why? Because it’s standard. It’s what most people get. What then would you call two meals a day of about two handfuls of dry kibble each with the occasional lick of a spoon or errant pistashio snatched off the floor? Abnormal. Not to mention mean.
I have a girlfriend who regularly points out my flaws, so I can work on them. Sometimes it is annoying, although I know deep down that she may be right on a specific point. Am I just being hyper-sensitive?
A Positive Puppy
Does she balance the criticism with positive reinforcement? If not then I have another flaw of yours to point out – bad taste in women. If she’s kind about it and balances her complaints with compliments, then maybe it’s manageable. My mom complains when I chew up garbage, eat used bandaids off the street and relieve myself in the living room. And she’s got a point. But in between, I get so much love that I don’t mind a little constructive criticism once in a while. If you stay with this girl, just make sure there’s more stroking than swatting.
Wednesday, October 5th, 2005
My boyfriend’s father is an asshole. How do I get over the fear that my boyfriend may turn out like him one day? And, in your opinion, do you think there is a chance he might?
Last things first: Yes, there is a chance he might. For the sins of the fathers are visited on the sons. Then again, if he’s aware of his father’s assholeness and determined not to inherit it, that shows an encouraging awareness of the problem. Let’s hope for the best, but be cautiously optimistic…because the dingleberry doesn’t often fall far from the tree.
I you walk 43 miles north, then run 22 miles west, then take a cab 14 miles southeast, what’s your favorite kind of pizza?
I’ve been trying to figure this one out for weeks. I’ve pawed over all my collegiate math texts (such good times!), diagrammed it, consulted an MIT PhD, and then I was walking down the street one day and it came to me. A guy dropped a slice of cheese, ham and sun-dried tomato not six inches from my head. So I’d have to say cheese…ham…and sun-dried tomato.