Dear Doctor Down-Down,
When I was a wee wee tot, my mummy went out to work, and we (my brother and I) had a live-in nanny who was married to a sailor who was always away somewhere, and she had a daughter, Valerie, who lived in as well. I was blamed for a wet toilet seat–none of my doing, but the grown-ups argued that since girls did it sitting down and my brother was away at the time and adults would never do a thing like that, it must have been me! And I was punished, and felt very hard done by . . . now that I am a hasher, I have discovered that lots of ladies do it standing up! My argument is that men can aim better because they are facing the right way, and so I think it was that Valerie who was to blame . . . all my life I’ve had a deep-seated (pun) hostility to women caused by this childhood mishap. Can you suggest a way to overcome it?
On On, Yogi
East Grinstead H3
Fascinating! I, too, was unjustly blamed for a bathroom-related accident in my youth, and have felt hostility toward women ever since. My parents accused me of soiling my breeches, and when I tried to explain that it was my sister, not I, who’d shat in them (she being the nearest person I could blame), they didn’t believe me! But that’s neither here nor there . . . you asked if there’s a way to overcome your own hostility toward women. The short answer is no. Hostility as deep-seated as yours is there for keeps. So instead of worrying about getting rid of your hostility, you should embrace it, celebrate it, express it!
Women have tyrannized men in the bathroom for centuries, and I say it’s high time we evict them from the throne! I say to men everywhere: piss all over the seat, and always leave the lid up. Better yet, leave the lid and the seat up, and laugh like hell when she sits on the cold wet porcelin rim in the middle of the night! Take the toilet paper off the roller and turn it round the other way. Before you drop a load, turn the vent fan off, not on, and close the window. Make plenty of noise. Never, ever, flush. Let her know a man’s been there!
There . . . don’t you feel better already?
Dear Doctor Down-Down,
I actually had to burn a pair of hash shoes because I had them so long my shoe size increased. It seems a heinous crime. Do I owe a down-down or five or twelve, one for each size increment? Is there any relation between shoe size and penis size? Mine seems to be a lot bigger.
Somewhere Out There
In my experience, shoes don’t increase in size no matter how long you keep them. I would have burned ‘em too . . . they didn’t, by any chance, start speaking to you, like (in a deep voice) “Get Out”? You should do one down-down per week for the next six months as a gesture of thanks for getting rid of those shoes before they got rid of you.
Although my shoes haven’t changed sizes (I’m going to start checking them nightly), my penis has definitely grown smaller. I attribute this to the following letter.
Dear Doctor Down-Down,
As you know, I haven’t had much luck with sex lately. Well, for about the last three to four years, but who’s counting? The problem is not with my hash name, but with my hash dog. Or at least I think it is. I dunno, so I thought I’d pose the problem to you for resolution (I sent it to “Dear Abby” but it was returned “RTSAU”). I recently got a black Labrador retriever (no, not a bimbo, a puppy). He’s a cute pup, but at 9 months already weighs 55 lbs. Well, I thought I would exercise him regularly morning and night, and I do. But he gets soooo smelly! Not like tunafish, but something like, *ack* Rumsonfish. When the neighbors began complaining, I decided that I must toss the pup into the tub and give him a good scrubbing. So I did.
But . . . I decided to do it right before I took a shower . . . meaning I was nakid. But thinking “Gee, why not? No matter how much water splashes, I won’t give a fuck, ’cause I’ll just jump in the shower afterwards . . .” The thing was, however, that the dog wanted to get OUT of the tub as soon as I put him in it. Well, circumstances being what they were, we ended up with me holding the dog around his sides, the dog had his head between my legs, and he started giving me the most fantastic blowjob I’ve ever had in my life! I, of course, was repelled by this situation, but could not retreat, lest the beast jump out of the tub and soak the bathroom. So what could I do, but stand there and assuage the animal?
But my question is this: I know that “Dog is Man’s best friend” and all that, but I feel compelled to bathe my dog often now, sometimes two to three times a day. I feel that this is best for hygiene, but my dick is getting licked raw. What should I do? And does this mean I’m into bestiality?
Maryland Dirt Road H3
You seem to have learned your interpersonal skills from dogs, so I guess it’s only appropriate you should have sex with them as well. I wouldn’t want to be around when little loverpooch coughs up his first hairball . . . gaaaacccccck!
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