Dear Dr. Down-Down,
I write again from Advanced Java class in Antwerp, Belgium. My instructor has just asked the class if anyone knows what hashing is. Incredible, I tell you! I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my skull!
Believing that silence was the better option, I quietly looked up “hashing” in the help file. I discovered that “If two objects are equal according to the equals method, then calling the hashCode method on each of the two objects must produce the same integer result.”
Well Christ, any fuckwit could have told me that. If two hashers of equal size complete the same trail without shortcutting, of course they will drink the same quantity of beer.
Try A Fuck
Brussels Manneke Piss H3
Dear Mr. Fuck,
I must confess your letter has me confused. I understand coffee (I didn’t know Europeans took classes in it, though), and I understand beer, and I certainly understand hashing. So what exactly is the problem again?
Dear Dr. Down Down,
I’m having these weird dreams again. I was about to inquire about the “Great Balls of Fire playing with my nipples” dream (aka the “What the hell r u doing, GBoF?” dream) but I felt that was only minor. This morning I had a most distrubing dream.
First some real life background: There’s Tom, the Starbucks coffee guy. I used to flirt with him every morning, so much so that when he was working my lattes were on the house. Tom left Starbucks and is now a tattoo artist. You may remember my other friend, Big Dog the Bonehead who got in the middle of a “hasher vs. Harley rider” debate that was going on a while back. Well anyway – Tom and Big Dog were merged into this same character in my dream.
In the dream, I go to Starbucks in DCs’ Chinatown at mid-day. It’s slow this time of day so I begin to ask Big Dog questions about tattooing, mainly if he does Henna painting cuz I’m a too chickenshit to get a real one. Sure he does henna painting! Just so happens he has all his stuff with him, he’ll give me a sample. So BD cums out from behind the counter, I drop my drawers in the middle of Starbucks and he paints a big flower on my ass (it was actually quite nice!). Just as Big Dog is finishing up, the rest of the Boneheads (Red Dog, Sheep Dog, Little Dog, ect) walk in and start cheering. Next thing I know these bikers are investigating my new art-piece.
Dr, what’s this supposed to mean? All this butt painting stuff, is my concious trying to tell me to go the next Iguana hash? Or do the bikers symbolize that I should get my butt down to Daytona Beach H3′s Bike Week?
Pay Per View
White House H4
Dear Ms. View,
Dreams can be quite disturbing, especially T&A dreams in women. Have you considered the possibility that you may be a repressed lesbian? If you are, please keep it repressed – I think we guys like you just the way you are.
Dear Dr. Down-Down,
How come you never answer my letters any more, dickhead?
Colorado Springs H4
Never fear – as one of our most regular correspondents, your letters are never neglected here at the clinic. Indeed, they often circulate for weeks among the staff before the doctor ever sees them. But that is not what happened with your last letter.
A few weeks ago the doctor, goaded by some irresponsible twit, decided to buy a motorcycle. We tried to dissuade him, but our efforts were in vain. He came home from the Honda dealer with a secondhand 305 Benley Dream, and that very night cruised down to the local biker bar. He’s been recuperating ever since, and was unable to attend to your letter with his usual alacrity.
I believe, though, that he has recovered enough to resume his practice, and think I can safely say you will see an answer to your disconnected concerns in a future issue of Ask Dr. Down-Down. As for your current maladies, I can only encourage you to soldier on for now.
By the way, how did you know Dr. Down-Down calls me “dickhead?”
Piss Boy & Appointments Secretary
Dr. Down-Down’s Holistic Healing Hospice
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